Mr. Write Page 6

  She sighs dramatically, her sweet breath bathing my cheeks. “I know, I know. A stallion like you cannot be tamed.”

  I screw up my face because I would never refer to myself as some steed. Images of a bare-chested Fabio riding a white horse into the sunset assault my brain, and it takes all my willpower not to throw her off my lap and reach for the whiskey.

  I try another tactic. “On the plane, an air hostess—”

  She interrupts me, not allowing me to be honest. She shakes her head, proving that denial is bliss. “I don’t care, Jayden. You’re here with me now. And I don’t plan on letting you go.”

  I gulp.

  Images of Daisy calling me Paul and shattering my bones with a hammer while I’m tied to a bed suddenly don’t seem so farfetched.

  “After the holidays, you’ll be so in love with me, you’ll never want to leave.” I grin, thinking she’s joking, but when she makes it clear she’s serious, I fear for my safety.

  There’s no point in bursting her bubble because the odds are I won’t last long. I need to make headway with Axle, and soon. I don’t know how long I can partake in this little charade without losing my sanity.

  “So is your father at the lake house already?”

  She nods, toying with the curls at my nape. “Yes. He flew down in his private plane yesterday.”

  That’s not all bad news then. Her admission confirms why I’m here, and what I have to do. “Great, I’d love to talk to him about my new book and…”

  Daisy slaps her hand over my mouth, surprising me with the harsh whack. Leveling me with a dogged stare, I don’t dare speak, afraid she’ll take my insolence out on my balls. “There will be no business talk while we’re away. I’ve already told Daddy. These next ten days are all about me.”

  “Splendid.” I don’t bother checking my sarcasm at the door.

  “Now…” When she reaches over and presses the button to slide up the privacy shade between the driver and me, I know things are about to get dirty. “It’s time I showed you just how much I missed you.”

  She advances forward, but I’m too fast, and she’s too predictable. My turned cheek is where her lips land and where they’ll stay. “Sorry,” she teases. “I forgot about your no kissing rule.”

  She can mock me all she wants. I have no intention of breaking that code—ever.

  “Poor baby. She broke your heart, didn’t she?” No guessing to whom she’s referring to. “What a silly woman. Oh well…” She slips a hand between us, rubbing over the front of my slacks. “Her loss”—untangling herself from my lap, she slithers down my body—“is my gain,” she concludes when she comes to a stop on her knees between my splayed legs.

  She peers up at me from under her lashes, wetting her lips—she’s mastered the art of seduction. It’s times such as these that it’s easy to forget that Daisy is only twenty-four. She knows how to work a man, and when she walks her red painted nails up the front of my legs, coming to a stop just an inch away from my groin, she reveals what a true seductress she is.

  I need to stop this, but when she unbuckles my belt with deft fingers and snaps open the button on my pants, all I can do is lean back and try to forget. I can try to forget that there is no part of this scenario which doesn’t end in me going to hell. I can disregard the fact that hours ago, I was nestled between the legs of a stranger much how Daisy is nestled between mine. But what I can never overlook is the reason I am where I am. No matter how hard I try, Liz will always be the shackle that I will never break free from.

  Losing myself in the rhythm of Daisy’s hand working its way into my pants, I close my eyes and lean back against the headrest. Each lewd act is tearing me further and further away from who I once was, but I don’t even know who that person is anymore. My entire life was mapped out for me, but now, I have no idea what comes next.

  But right now, right this second, all I want to do is get laid.

  Daisy goes straight in for the kill, bypassing my boxer briefs. A hum escapes me, the feeling of surrendering unburdening a small part of my regret. She increases the speed and friction, working my length with skill. My body has become accustomed to her touch and craves a release like an addict seeking his next fix.

  She isn’t gentle, and it’s exactly what I need. Her hand pumps me in an almost hypnotic tempo, and nothing else matters but crossing the finish line a winner. Soft, breathy moans slip past Daisy’s lips, and it’s a turn-on knowing that she’s as into this as I am. “I love every single, hot, hard inch of you.” She pauses between each word, accentuating her love by stroking me faster and faster.

  The L word bothers me somewhat, but she’s used it in a context I can deal with.

  Daisy is a master manipulator and the ball, well, balls are in her court when she suddenly slows down, revealing I’m at her mercy. “I really like you, Jayden.”

  “Thank you,” I reply with strain. I’m in physical pain, and she decides now is a good time to have a heart to heart.

  She slides her hand up and down my knob, dragging out my release. “I know we agreed to take things slow, but I lo…” My eyes pop open, and I peer down at her, shaking my head. However, Daisy’s sentence remains unfinished because I’m saved by the bell.

  The cell vibrating in my pocket isn’t exactly the vibrating I was counting on, but it’s suddenly the throbbing of the best kind. “Sorry, love. Duty calls.” I lift my hips and retrieve my cell, not bothering to look at the screen. I’ll talk to Satan himself if it means I never have to hear those three little words slip past Daisy’s lips. “Hello.”

  Silence.

  “Hello?” I repeat, worried that whoever was on the other end has terminated the call.

  Just as I’m about to see who the caller is, blackness overcomes me, and I get metaphorically kicked in the balls. “Hi, Jayden.” I’ve never hated my name more than I do right now.

  I haven’t heard her voice in over three months, but the pain it brings is like I only heard it yesterday.

  “Please don’t hang up,” she pleads. “I just want to talk.”

  Elizabeth Sparrow is the opposite of Viagra. My hard-on goes into hiding, not interested in listening to whatever lies she wishes to spew.

  “I’m hanging up now. Please feel free to lose my number.”

  “Jayden! Please! Five minutes is all I ask for.”

  Her plea touches a small, annoying part, and I sigh, frustrated that piece still exists. “You have two minutes. Use them wisely.”

  Daisy is still on her knees with her eyebrows knitted together. All she knows of my past is what she’s read in the papers, which has been utter bollocks. She knows I’ll soon be divorced, but the reason will always remain a mystery. I obviously don’t have a convincing poker face because she somehow knows that my ex-wife broke my heart.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “One minute and fifty-five seconds left,” I mock, not at all interested in her hollow apologies.

  “How can you be so cruel? I’ve said I’m sorry. What more can I do?”

  “You can stop calling me, for starters, and sign the damn divorce papers.”

  She ignores my insolence. “I love you, Jayden, and I know that you love me too.” It seems I’m the center of everyone’s affection today—lucky me.

  A chuckle escapes me, but it’s anything but joyful. “You love me? Is that why you fucked the pool boy in our home?”

  Daisy gasps, but I don’t want her sympathy. I just want to be left alone.

  “It was a mistake. One I wish I could take back every day.”

  “Well, guess what? You can’t,” I bite back, angry she has the gall to call me and expect me to change my mind.

  “I want my husband back, and I’ll do anything to make that happen.” I’d forgotten just how arrogant she can be.

  “What’s the matter, Liz? Run out of money and boys to keep you entertained?”

  “You’re just angry. This will pass,” she says. She must be trying to convince herself because nothing wi
ll change my mind—ever.

  “That’s right, I am angry.” Daisy is still on her knees, biting her lip nervously. The sight gives me an idea. Threading my fingers through her thick hair, I suddenly yank her head backward, exposing the length of her soft neck. She mewls, now licking her lips for a different reason.

  “Of course, you are. You have every right to be. But you’ll forgive me.” Always so presumptuous. Some things never change.

  Ignoring her arrogance, I decide to hit her where it hurts. “And to deal with that anger”—I tug harder, eliciting a moan from Daisy—“I’ve taken a page out of your book and decided that shagging anything in sight is the only way to remedy that rage.”

  Liz’s gasp is a small victory for me. “You’re lying. I’m the only woman you’ve ever been with all these years.”

  I tsk her. “You were, but now your quim is a distant memory, one which has been replaced by many, many others of different shapes and sizes.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Her sniffles are my gain.

  Daisy is still my prisoner, and I wish to punish her in ways we’ll both enjoy. “Believe what you want. Just like always, you know how to ruin a good time. For old time’s sake, I thought you’d like to know that before you called, I was seconds away from getting a blowjob from a smashing, perky twenty-four-year-old.”

  “Liar!” she snarls.

  “On the contrary, love.”

  Releasing Daisy, I skim my hand down the side of her neck, before running my finger along the top of her breasts which are spilling from her low-cut blouse. It’s made of silk. A soft peach in color. Too bad it’s soon to be destroyed. I suppose there are always victims in war. With a sharp tug, I rip it from her body.

  “Much better,” I hum, admiring her bountiful breasts which overflow from her black lace bra.

  “Fuck me, Jayden,” she moans loudly. It’s the response I wanted from her because Liz has heard, loud and clear.

  “Oh, I plan to, darling.”

  “You pig,” Liz spits, disgusted.

  I scoff mockingly. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, but whatever makes you sleep easy at night. As pleasant as it’s been, I must go. Unless you want to wait? Although”—unclasping the clip at the front of Daisy’s bra, her breasts escape their lacy confines, stirring my interest below the belt—“I might be a while.”

  “I won’t give up on you. On us.”

  Her words are ones I wished I’d heard long ago, but now, I wish she’d just give up—period. “That’s a pleasant story, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a bang tidy woman who can’t get enough of my coc…” She doesn’t allow me to finish, and the line going dead is my victory.

  Petty, but still rewarding.

  My good mood has definitely done something to my libido because all I can think of is stripping Daisy bare and having my way with her very willing flesh.

  “Come here,” I command, leaning back in my seat. She moves without pause, and I plan on that being the precedent for the remainder of this car ride.

  She straddles my lap, going to work on the buttons of my white shirt. My pants are already undone, and thanks to my victory, I’m standing at full salute. Daisy’s hands glide up the center of my chest, pushing the shirt from my shoulders in one smooth sweep. Her eyes widen, appreciating what’s on show.

  “You’re so damn hot.” She continues her journey, stopping at the tattoo on my side. It sits diagonal across my top rib, just under my pec. It’s in honor of my soon-to-be ex-wife.

  Dum vita est, spes est

  It’s Latin for where there is life, there is hope.

  She may have sucked the existence from my veins, but I will never give up hope that I will rediscover that vivacity once again.

  Running her fingers through my hair, she tugs at the longer strands as payback for my earlier exploits. Swooping forward, she buries her face in my neck, her small teeth biting over my pulse. The sting is phenomenal—a well-balanced combination of pleasure and pain.

  When she bites me again, harder this time, I can’t help but grin at her cheek. Speaking of cheeks, I snatch up her skirt and slap her on the behind. She yelps, but it’s followed with a well-sated moan. “No underwear? You cheeky thing.”

  “They just get in the way,” she pants, rocking gently, making her needs clear. She reaches into her purse and produces a condom. Good to see one of us has come prepared.

  Once I’m suited up, I don’t see the point in delaying the inevitable, so I lift her, molding her curves to my hands perfectly as I lower her unhurriedly. Her body trembles, anticipating what’s to come. It’s somewhat empowering to know I can drag this response from her. But it’s a two-way street when we connect, and she allows me full rein of her supple flesh.

  She clenches, hugging me tight, and I hum low.

  “Bloody hell.” She sighs, appearing to adopt my native tongue.

  “Bloody hell indeed,” I concur, gripping her hips and rocking her slowly.

  My body certainly likes hers, and although this is purely physical, I can’t help but admire everything Daisy has to offer. Her breasts are heavy and full, accented by perfect pink buds. I lower my head, still coaxing her to ride me as I take one of those pearls into my mouth.

  She moans, tossing her head back and increasing her tempo. “You’re incredible.”

  “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” She matches me stroke for stroke, her sexual prowess a complete turn-on. It’s moments such as these when I wonder if maybe I’m being unfair to Daisy. Maybe if I stopped being such a killjoy, things with her might flourish. But deep down, I know that’ll never happen.

  So for now, I cherish this woman how she deserves.

  Daisy is a greedy lover, and she isn’t afraid to take what she wants. She arches back, allowing me to control the speed with my hands on her hips. The view is spectacular. Her concaved stomach quivers each time I delve deep inside her. Her breasts sway from side to side, pendulums lulling me into a trance. This sight has all the trademarks an author needs to get the creative juices flowing, but as she continues to bounce up and down, taking everything I give, I’m drifting further away from my words.

  The reality is I may never get close to them ever again. It could be that I’ve had my time in the spotlight, and it’s now someone else’s time to shine. I growl at the thought, taking my frustrations out on Daisy as I snake my hand through her hair and curl it around my wrist.

  Maybe I’m a washed-up writer who’s had his heyday, and now it’s time I accept my failures and leave with my head held high. I haven’t written in over six months. If that isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is.

  “Jayden?” Daisy breathlessly asks. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, fine,” I lie, concentrating on the task at hand. At least I haven’t lost my mojo when it comes to this.

  I thrust my hips, showing no mercy as I drive into her over and over again. She screams in delight, surrendering her body over to me and growing lax in my hands. I started down this road hoping I would unearth some form of inspiration, and yes, it feels sodding amazing, but the only time I felt inspired was when I did something I haven’t done in a very long time—I actually spoke to someone, and sex wasn’t involved.

  Thoughts of Carrie have me wondering what went wrong, and that longing I felt when I first laid eyes on her stirs within. She’s been the only woman who provoked me not only physically, but emotionally as well. But now that she’s gone, all I’m left with is white noise.

  I’m pissed off she left the way she did because what if she was the key to unlocking this mental drought? Her mischievous smile, buoyant laughter, and smashing body ticked all the right boxes, and like an utter twat, I let her go.

  Anger courses through me, along with a newfound hunger that has nothing to do with the woman riding my lap. I remember Carrie’s strawberry and cream scent and how it lingered. I can almost taste it on my tongue.

  As I go on to recall her lips, the length of her smooth neck, an
d the way her touch left me a salivating fool, I plunge into Daisy harder and harder, unable to stop. Daisy’s breathless moans hint that she’s close, and suddenly, I am too. But it’s not because of the woman who’s riding me like a stallion. Instead, it’s the woman inside my head, invoking memories far hotter than actually getting laid.

  Carrie has left me frustrated and angered, and surprisingly, it’s a match made in heaven because as I pound into Daisy and she cries out her release, I am hit with words and sentences, just like on the plane. I have finally found the inspiration I’ve sought. Yes, it came to me like an epiphany as I was buried inside a warm body, but Daisy had no hand in unmasking my revelation. It was Carrie.

  Just her name is enough of a tipping point and sends me over the edge in a loud, hungered growl. Lunging forward, I bite Daisy’s neck, imagining I’m surrounded by strawberries and cream instead of vanilla musk.

  Daisy falls forward in a heap, pressing her bare breasts to my chest. It feels amazing, but I’m a fucking bastard because it’s not her body I want pressed to mine. I’m officially screwed—in every literal sense that there is.

  “That was unbelievable,” Daisy hums sleepily, snuggling into me.

  “Yes, it actually really was.” But not for the reason she thinks. I’m still buried inside her, and all I can think about is someone who isn’t her.

  The world can go to hell...and I’ll happily drive the bus.

  As we arrive at the steel gates and the driver opens his window to speak to the security guard in his tower, I regret that I didn’t pack more suits. I had no idea what I was in for, but looking up ahead, I see that the soaring Gothic-style mansion displays nothing but elegance and class. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from Axle Bell.

  We’re granted entry, and as the gates slowly swing open, a sense of dread fills me. I have no idea how I’m going to pull this off. I didn’t plan on ending things with Daisy here, but spending ten whole days with her is going to test my acting skills.