by Anna B. Doe
My fingers dive into the lace covering her and after parting her, I find her slick and ready for me.
“You like listening to me telling you how I’m going to fuck you, don’t you, Brit?”
“Oh god,” she cries as I circle her clit.
“That’s it, baby. There’s no one to hear you now,” I whisper, thinking of all the times we’ve had to remain silent while in her gran’s bungalow.
Pushing farther back, I find her entrance and push two fingers inside her.
“So fucking tight,” I mutter, dropping my other hand to my waistband and opening the button. “Now, put your hands flat on the wall and stick your ass out.”
The second I release her, she does exactly as she’s told.
Shoving the fabric of my pants and boxer briefs down my thighs, I take my length in hand as she watches me over her shoulder.
“Jake,” she warns as she stands there fully exposed to me aside from the small scrap of lace covering her.
Hooking my finger through the fabric, I pull it aside to discover what I really want.
“So fucking beautiful, Brit. And so fucking mine.”
“Argh.”
I surge forward and fill her to the hilt on my final word, just to prove a point. Not that she needs it. She knows who she belongs to.
My hand wraps around her hip, my fingers digging into her skin as I begin to piston in and out of her.
She locks her elbows and pushes from the wall as I take her.
“Fuck, Jake. Fuck,” she chants.
Reaching forward, I twist her long blond locks around my hand and pull until she has no choice but to arch her back.
The move allows me to take her deeper.
“Oh, oh… shiiiiit,” she cries, falling over the edge in record time.
Unable to hold out any longer as her pussy clamps down around me, I growl out my release as my cock twitches violently inside her.
“Fuck, Brit.” I gather her up in my arms. Both our chests heave with exhaustion as we try to catch our breaths.
Seconds later, a car door slams outside and the doorbell rings.
“Perfect timing, don’t you think?”
“She’s going to take one look at us and know exactly what we were doing,” Amalie says, making quick work of straightening her clothing.
“I hate to burst your bubble, baby, but I’m pretty sure she’s known what we’ve been up to for a while.” A smirk appears on my lips. There’s no way she’s oblivious to me sneaking into Brit’s room night after night and doing all kinds of wicked things to her. Her gran is not an idiot.
“Oh stop.” She swats my shoulder playfully. “Go and answer the door. I need to clean up.”
Chapter Two
Amalie
Swiping my bag from the floor, I walk through to the adjoining en suite bathroom, shaking my head as I do.
This is my house. I own this place.
It’s unbelievable.
Everything about my life in the past few months is pretty bloody unbelievable.
By some weird turn of events, I snagged Rosewood’s most eligible bachelor despite the fact he wanted to ‘end me’ or whatever bullshit he spewed at me when I first arrived. And now here we are, living together in a house I bought.
Thankfully, I find a packet of tissues in my bag seeing as this house has literally nothing inside it right now, not even a roll of toilet paper.
I clean myself up after that little impromptu christening of our new bedroom. I’m not sure why I’m surprised that it was the first thing he wanted to do almost the second we were inside.
Hearing voices downstairs, I wash my hands, drying them on my skirt before heading out.
The second I look at my gran who’s in the living room, looking around, everything I’m trying to push down bubbles up.
A lump forms in my throat and my eyes burn with sadness.
The house has been a great distraction from this time of year and everything it drags up for me, but now that we’re here, I fear that I’m going to have to deal with my reality.
It’s almost Christmas. No matter how much I pray that it’s going to pass me by, I know it’s not and in only a matter of days, I’m going to have to try to figure out how to celebrate what used to be my favorite time of the year without the two people who made it what it was.
A noise escapes my throat and alerts Gran that I’m here.
She spins, her eyes finding mine immediately. They soften as if she can read my mind before she walks over and wraps me in her arms.
Part of me is relieved she didn’t look at me and immediately know what just happened upstairs, but I can’t help but wonder if that would be easier to deal with.
She doesn’t say anything, and I couldn’t be more grateful because I can’t help feeling like having to talk about it will only make it more painful.
When she eventually releases me, she looks into my tear-filled eyes for a beat and nods.
“So, are you going to show me around?”
Her own sadness never leaves her and reminds me that I’m not the only one going through this right now. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t rush this move. The thought of leaving her alone over the holiday season fills me with dread, but she assured me that we were to move in and embark on our new lives when I got the call that we could get the keys today.
“Of course.”
I show her the downstairs and point out where we’re considering putting the furniture when most of it arrives tomorrow while Jake keeps himself busy carrying box after box from both mine and Gran’s cars.
“Don’t worry, I don’t need any help,” he shouts as we make our way upstairs.
“It’s about time you made yourself useful,” I call back down.
“You weren’t saying that a few minut—”
“Jake,” I snap, cutting off his words before he announces to my gran what happened in our bedroom not so long ago.
His chuckle of amusement floats up to us. I know how much he loves torturing me. It’s one of the things he’s not been able to stop since he first set out on his mission to make me leave, only now, he just tortures me until I scream his name.
My cheeks are flushed red when Gran looks back at me with a knowing smile on her lips.
“Just because you’ve got your own house now, it doesn’t mean I’m old enough to be a great-grandmother.”
“Thank god for that because there’s no way we’re old enough to be parents.” My words make me think of Chelsea and her very small bump. I should hate her, but life’s too short to hold that kind of grudge. She’s said her peace, and I’m more than happy to put everything in the past. We’ve all got enough on our plates; we don’t need to put effort into disliking each other on top of everything else. It’s much easier if we can just all be friends. It might not have been so easy if she didn’t create said baby with one of my closest friends.
I show Gran the bedrooms, en suite, and family bathroom before we head back down to help Jake.
Although our furniture isn’t coming until tomorrow, I’ve been collecting everything else we might need over the past few months and filling Gran’s house with it. I think she’s more than ready to get rid of the boxes that are in every available space.
It’s going to take us a few trips this weekend, but I’m hoping that by our housewarming party on Christmas Eve, that we’ll have everything sorted.
“I didn’t realize that finding homes for everything in a kitchen was so stressful,” I say to Jake, who’s got his hip resting against the counter and his phone in his hand.
“Huh?”
“Can you help me, please?” I want all this put away before we make our bed up.
“I am helping,” he argues.
I lift a brow at him and wait for him to drag his eyes from whatever is so exciting on his phone.
His eyes widen slightly when he does look up.
He pockets his phone and walks my way, his eyes darkening and his steps turning predatory. “Jake,”
I warn, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.
“Brit, baby. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself. We’ve got the whole weekend to sort this place out. Deciding where the plates go really isn’t that big of a deal.”
I sigh. He’s right, I know he is. But worrying about that masks the other issues that I’m trying to keep down.
“I’ve just ordered dinner. All we need to do is find the forks. We don’t even need glasses,” he says, grabbing a warm beer from the side, popping the top and handing it to me. “To us and our new house,” he says, holding his own up for me to tap. “We’ve got the rest of our lives to stress about plates, baby. Just enjoy.”
I nod at him, taking a swig and allowing it to wash away some of the stress.
He runs his knuckles down my bare arm until our fingers tangle together and he stares deep into my eyes.
“Talk to me, baby.” His eyes search mine as if he’s trying to read the words that I’m not saying.
He’s not an idiot, he knows what the issues are, but as much as I’m afraid to talk about it, he’s equally as scared to bring it up.
“I’m fine. I just can’t wait to get everything in place.”
He nods, accepting my words although knowing they’re a lie.
He looks up briefly. “I think the plates should go there. It’s near the oven and above the counter that would be great for serving. Then the glasses over there.” He nods and my heart damn near explodes.
He was listening and he does care.
“I love you,” I say softly, closing the space between us, pressing my lips to his.
“Hmmm…” he mumbles against my kiss while awkwardly putting both our bottles down before he takes my face in his hands. “I love you too, Brit.”
He backs me up against the wall and we make out until the doorbell rings once again with the arrival of our dinner.
When he backs away from me, his eyes are almost black and his chest heaving.
“You can’t answer the door like that,” I say, nodding toward his tented trousers.
“Guess it’s your turn then.” Dropping his hand, he makes a show of rearranging himself before I turn away and toward the front door.
We eat our Chinese straight from the boxes crossed-legged on the floor of our living room.
“Couches are overrated, don’t you think?” Jake asks with a laugh.
“I can’t feel my feet,” I complain, shifting my position as I continue stuffing my face.
After abandoning the boxes along with all the other stuff in the kitchen because I’ve no idea where the bin bags are I bought, we head upstairs, me with sheets under my arm and Jake with the air bed that Gran’s loaned us and the TV from his trailer.
We make quick work of setting up a little home for ourselves for the night, and after sharing a shower that doesn’t involve any soap because we’ve yet to find it, we fall into bed together to enjoy our first night in our own home.
It’s long after midnight by the time we turn the TV off and drift off to sleep in each other’s arms. And despite everything I’m feeling right now, I can’t help the smile that plays on my lips.
We’ve got our own house.
Chapter Three
Jake
I know what the problem is with Brit. She’s blaming the stress of the house move but that’s bullshit. There’s been nothing stressful about it. From the moment we found this place, everything’s been smooth sailing, probably because she’s got more money than sense thanks to her parents.
They are the issue, but she’s locking it down and refusing to deal with it.
I desperately want to make her talk, to communicate how she’s really feeling, but at the same time, I’m terrified of making it worse.
My own family might be one big clusterfuck, but on the whole, I’m glad not to spend the holidays with them. The same can’t be said for Brit. She misses them daily, knowing she’s about the spend the holidays without them is killing her.
I’ve tried to do everything to help, I’ve ensured that we’re busy over the holidays in the hope of keeping her occupied and to give her good memories of her first Christmas in Rosewood, but I can’t help feeling like every decision I make is the wrong one.
Today is our housewarming-Christmas Eve party, tomorrow we’ve been invited to Camila and Mason’s and then we’re spending Boxing Day with her gran before going to Ethan’s in the evening.
I just want to give her the Christmas she deserves. This year has been hell for her, not helped by me for a while, and I’m desperate for her to really see this place as her home.
“You look beautiful,” I say, walking into our bedroom, which is now full of furniture as is the rest of the house.
Everything is perfect and exactly as she imagined all the times we visited. I hoped that would help her relax, but now the house is done, she’s more uptight than before.
“Thank you,” she says, looking at me in her mirror. Her eyes hold shadows that I hate.
She’s hurting and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m fucking drowning not knowing how to help her right now.
Pushing from the little bench, she turns to me.
She’s wearing a loose-fitting simple back dress that shows the swell of her breast and sits high on her thighs. The perfect kind of dress for all my fantasies.
“Are you wearing any panties under that?” I ask, running my hand up her thigh, intent on finding out.
“No, I thought I’d flash our friends,” she quips.
My palm smooths over the curve of her ass and I find a small pair of lace panties. They’re so small that they may as well not exist.
“Those motherfuckers get one look at what’s mine and I’ll fucking kill them,” I mutter into the soft skin of her neck.
“They’re all taken, I doubt they’d be interested.”
“I don’t give a shit. This,” I say, cupping her over the lace. “Is mine and mine only.”
“Okay, caveman.”
A buzzer sounds from downstairs and Brit jumps from my arms.
“Hey,” I complain.
“No time for that. We’ve got people due any minute.”
“They’ll understand.”
“Don’t care. We’re not fucking up our first party before it’s even started.”
I allow her to go and do her things and listen to her crashing around in the kitchen while I get changed.
I’ve only just hit the bottom step when the doorbell rings. Pulling the door open, I find Mason, Camila, Ethan, and Rae before me.
“Fucking hell, bro. This place is niiiice,” Ethan sings.
“My girl’s got good taste,” I say, giving her the credit she deserves. I might have been involved in house hunting and doing all the things, but the reality is that she was the one who was paying, so she was going to get exactly what she wanted.
I welcome them all in and close the door behind them.
“Where is she?” Camila asks.
“Kitchen.” Lifting my arm, I point her in the right direction.
“How’s she doing?” she asks quietly.
I shrug. “Still won’t talk. I don’t know what to do.”
“Trust her to tell you when she needs you, Jake.”
I nod, knowing that she’s right but hate that I’ve got to wait and continue to watch her fall apart.
“If all else fails, we’ll just get her drunk,” she says with a laugh before disappearing toward the kitchen while I follow the guys into the living area.
I’d hoped that once we had company, that she’d relax, but it never happens. Brit’s need to host the perfect party seems to overtake her common sense as she continues to refill the food that mostly isn’t being eaten and to ensure everyone has a drink at any one time.
Everyone else notices the difference in her, even Ethan comments on her uptight behavior, which means it must be really obvious because that fucker tends to not notice anything until it hits him upside the head.
Eventually, I
manage to get her to sit down with me.
Things seem to get better as she slowly gets drunker beside me thanks to the Screaming Orgasms that Chelsea keeps supplying her with. It’s the only thing she seems to be chilled about, yet due to what happened in the past should probably be the one thing she is worried about right now. However, I’m really fucking grateful and hope that in the near future, she can have a screaming orgasm of another kind because that dress is still doing all kinds of crazy things to me, and the shots that Ethan got us all to do are only helping to give me ideas.
It’s not until Shane opens his drunken mouth that Amalie finally snaps. I don’t know what it is about his joke that pushes her over the edge, it’s not like I’ve kept the fact I slept with Chelsea before she even arrived in Rosewood a secret. But even still, his comment about him being better than me is the straw that breaks the camel’s back and after tensing in my arms, Amalie slams her glass down on the coffee table and storms from the room, leaving us all stunned by her reaction.
“Man, I think you’d better go and prove your worth. Give her a real one of those screaming orgasms,” Ethan says eventually with his signature smirk firmly in place. He’s clearly enjoying the fact that I was a shit lay that night. Asshole.
“I’m so sorry,” Chelsea says, guilt written all over her face.
Knowing that she’s probably about to rip me a new one doesn’t stop me from pushing from the couch and going to follow her, sadly my need to defend my performance that night gets the better of me.
Stopping at the doorway, I turn back to look at everyone.
“I was really, really drunk. I’m surprised I stayed awake long enough to finish that night.”
Other than Shane, who’s so drunk he’s almost passed out, the rest just about manage to stifle their amusement.
“Well, I know for a fact that one of us didn’t finish,” Chelsea says, not making the situation any better. My ego is seriously getting a kicking right now.