by L. A. Fiore
“I’m glad I didn’t know you had nothing on under that gown because we would have missed the play.” He nipped at my lips as his hands roamed over my body. I worked his zipper; pulled his cock free and dropped to my knees. The sexiest sound rumbled in his chest. It broke free when I closed my lips around him and sucked him deep into my throat. His fingers curled into my hair as I tongued his cock, swirling around the tip while squeezing the base, the heel of my hand pressing into his balls. I was just getting a rhythm when I felt myself flying through the air. I landed on the bed; Greyson stripped in record time and pounced. Grabbing my ass he lifted my hips and slammed into me. My legs wrapped around his waist as my hips moved into his thrusts. His fingers threaded into my hair before he kissed me, mirroring with his tongue what his cock was doing. When we came, it was together. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.
Greyson 2006
I watched her sleep, though what I wanted to do was wake her up and taste every inch of her. She was exhausted. Her play ran for two years, the box office consistently busy and the reviews shining. It was hailed a success. She went every week for two years to show her support; she had started a novel, not the one I caught her working on from time to time, this was something new, trying her hand at a psychological thriller. She was also working on a script for a cable television show. And on top of all of this she was planning our wedding. We weren’t in a rush to get married; she’d been busy with her play. My ring was on her finger and she was in my bed, but she wanted the dress and flowers and cake. I just wanted her. Paige was helping with the planning. I offered to help, but Alexis knew all I cared about were the words so she graciously spared me discussions on fabric and colors. She was on her stomach, that beauty mark on her neck staring up at me. I didn’t kiss it like I wanted to, because that would lead to more than kissing. I brushed my finger over it then headed to the shower.
Colin scheduled a meeting for later, a possible commission piece. It had been a long time since I’d done one. I was eager to take it.The hot water felt good, pressing my hand against the wall, I lowered my head and let it pour down on me. I felt her a second before her hands moved around my waist.
“Good morning,” she said then kissed my back.
“It is now.”
I turned, pulled her close and kissed her, taking a minute to suck on that fucking beauty mark I loved. Her hands roaming over me went right to my balls. Digging my fingers into her thigh, I lifted her leg and slid into her. Her head dropped back, exposing her neck, I licked the long, delicate line of her throat. Her heel pressed into my ass as we found our rhythm, one arm wrapped around my neck, pulling my mouth to hers. When we came it wasn’t hard or fast, it was so fucking sweet.
She didn’t unwrap herself from me, I wouldn’t have let her. Our eyes met. “Good morning,” I whispered.
“It is now.” I grinned hearing her use my words back at me. “What are your plans for today?”
“I have a meeting with Colin and a client for a commission.”
“Nice. You’ve been itchy.”
I had been. I liked that she knew it. “What about you?”
“My agent sent me a script for a television series that’s writing is getting a little tired. They asked me to have a go at it. It’s a prime time show.”
“Holy shit. That’s incredible. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked down, but I didn’t let her get out of it. Touching her chin, I asked again. “Why?”
“I wasn’t sure I was going to do it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure I’m good enough.”
“That’s bullshit, but you’ll never know until you try.”
She brushed her fingers down my neck, my body humming in response. I could watch her for hours when she was working. She talked to herself but that was part of her process. How easily it all came to her, the concepts, the characters and the story. She truly was an artist and words were her medium.
“When’s your meeting?” she asked, looking up at me through her lashes.
I pressed into her then rocked my hips. She moaned. “I have some time.”
Breathlessly she said, “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Colin and I lingered on the phone after the client hung up.
“I’m guessing you’re going to take it.”
Mrs. Ellis was looking for an original Greyson Ratcliffe oil painting for her husband’s sixtieth birthday. She gave me a year and half notice, free reign on design and a nice purse. Sold.
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll send them the contract.”
Colin sounded off; he had for the whole call. “Is something wrong?”
He was rather abrupt when he asked, “Did you ever go to the cops?”
It took a minute for me to shift gears then a knot formed because I hadn’t. “Shit. No. Did you get another one?”
“Yes. This one is even more disturbing than the last.” A pause before he added, “She mentions Alexis by name.”
Rage hit as fast as alarm. “What the fuck does she say about Alexis?”
Her exact words are, “You’re mine. Leave that bitch.”
I felt sick and numb and pissed as hell. Pulling a hand through my hair, I paced my studio. “Do you think it’s the woman who broke into my hotel room?”
“I called the detective on the case after our last conversation. She’s still locked up and the ward she’s in doesn’t allow correspondence with the outside. I can hire an investigator,” Colin offered.
I tried to think about the situation rationally, hard given the link it had to Alexis. Statistically these things never amounted to anything. They were frustrating and hair-raising, but not an actual threat. I’d been here before, I’d be here again, but I did want to know who this person was. Liked being able to keep tabs, like we could with my uninvited hotel guest. “Yeah, let’s do that. Send me the letter you have. I’ll take the others to the cops now.”
“I’ll have it overnighted.”
Samuel was in his fifties. Thinning brown hair and a pot belly likely the result of donuts, one sitting half eaten on his desk. A mug that was so stained from coffee it looked more tan than white was half filled. He studied the letters before he dropped them on his desk and leaned back in his chair. It made a painful sound like it was struggling to hold his weight.
“I understand your concern. These are definitely disturbing. Would you mind if I had the in-house psychologist look at them to give us an insight into the author?”
“Not at all.”
“You said there was a third one?”
“Yes. My agent is overnighting it.”
“Please bring it in when you have it. We don’t have jurisdiction, you understand that, right?”
“Yes.”
“Without a postmark they are likely a resident of San Francisco or somewhere close. I’ll reach out to the local cops, see if they can get a hit on the stationery. I would recommend you talk with your fiancée; she needs to pay attention to her surroundings, to not go anywhere alone. That’s just safe city living.” He slid his business card across the table to me. “Anything happens, call me.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s most likely that this person is across the country, their letters their only way of connecting with you. Try not to worry, though I know that’s harder to do than say.”
World’s biggest fucking understatement.
Alexis
The expression, time flies when you are having fun, was so true. It was hard to believe we’d been engaged for two years. My play had run throughout that time as well. We had done well, not Broadway well, but for my first play I was thrilled. And now I had time to work on the screenplay for the prime time show I was dabbling with.
I hadn’t seen my father since opening night. I didn’t really think I would, but there was a part of me that hoped him showing up was a prelude to reconciliation. I should have known better.
I had a lot of work to keep me bus
y, but I had a wedding to plan. I found my dress, an exquisite lace and tulle fantailed gown that I fell in love with the second I saw it. Greyson had a suit custom-made, an exquisitely cut linen suit that he was pairing with a white linen shirt, no tie. Six months from now we would be saying I do. I couldn’t wait, but we had to plan it. Greyson wasn’t much help.
“Whatever colors you want works for me.”
I opened my mouth, but he stopped me. “Same goes for the flowers.”
I had a binder and a checklist. He was making it very easy.
“All right, what about food?”
“Cheeseburgers,” he immediately suggested.
I loved cheeseburgers. “What else?”
Silence. I glanced up at him, he was grinning. “You’re serious? You would be okay with cheeseburgers for the reception?”
“Why not. We’re having it at the diner and they make a damn fine cheeseburger.”
He leaned across the table and kissed me, stroking my lower lip with his tongue. As tempting as it was to drop what we were doing, we were running out of time.
“We have to finish this,” I said between kisses.
“I know.”
He settled back in his chair. “I imagine Paige has ideas for the food. I’m fine with whatever she picks.”
“Me too. The cake?”
“I like chocolate.”
“Chocolate chip?”
“That works. I’ll take care of the topper,” he offered cryptically.
I stopped writing and met his gaze. “You’re going to make our cake topper?” I love this idea.
“Yes.” He touched my cheek. “What else is on your list?” List? What list? He smiled, which only distracted me more. “Cake, food, flowers,” he reminded me. Right the flowers.
“Are you okay with Stephanie Peck doing the flowers? You remember Stephanie from school?”
I was watching him so I saw the shadow that moved over his face.
“Greyson?”
He looked unnerved. I didn’t think I’d ever seen that look on his face before. “What’s wrong?”
He stood and started to pace. “You’re scaring me.”
He stopped and turned. “I’ve been getting some disturbing letters.”
Unease had a chill moving through me; it was chased with fear. “Are they coming here?”
“No. The office in San Francisco.”
I exhaled on a sigh. “How disturbing?”
“Enough to cause concern. I’ve been to the cops. They’ve reached out to the San Francisco police.”
“Wait. Are they threatening?”
He hesitated to answer, but reluctantly did. “The last one was. Colin has hired an investigator, the San Francisco cops are looking into it and the cops here have their psychologist giving them a profile.”
Worried, I asked, “Do you think it’s that woman who showed up in your hotel room?”
“You know about that?”
“It was on the news.”
“No, Colin looked into her. She’s still locked up with no contact to the outside.”
I looked down at my notebook, to Stephanie’s name marked in red. My head snapped up. “You don’t think it’s Stephanie?”
He pulled a hand through his hair and started pacing again. “I don’t think it’s Stephanie. I really don’t, but the proximity of where she lives and where the letters are being sent, it’s only smart to look into her. She was persistent when we were kids, showing up at my house, loitering outside of it. She’s still watching me. It could be simple infatuation, most likely it is, but if there is more to it…” He didn’t finish; he didn’t need to. “Let’s let the investigator look into her, so hold off on the flowers.”
“Okay.” I stood and crossed the room to him. His muscles were tense when I wrapped him in my arms. “You’re worried.”
His arms came around me. “My worry is for you. Please be careful when you’re out, mindful of your surroundings.”
“I am, but I will be doubly so.”
His expression shifted, serious but beautiful. “I don’t need the flowers or the food or the cake. I just need you saying I do.” He touched my hair, focusing on those strands. There was a touch of wonder in his tone when he said, “We’re getting married.”
“In five months, two weeks and four days. But who is counting.”
“I will be eternally grateful that my art led me to you.”
“Not as grateful as me.”
“Wanna bet,” he challenged.
I kissed him then moved to the stairs, reaching for my shirt and yanking it off. His eyes went hot. “First one upstairs…”
Greyson
I should be working, but I couldn’t focus. Standing in my studio, I looked down on Manhattan, the people hurrying to get somewhere. I had been that person, hurrying to get somewhere; well, to get to someone. Now she was right outside the door, at her desk in the living room probably talking to herself as she brought the stories in her head to life through her words.
She hadn’t seen herself writing for television, but I knew she loved it. Comedy she definitely had the talent for, but it was the drama scripts she let me read that showed a deeper depth to her writing, pain drawn from her own experiences.
Her father remained a ghost, but Alexis drew comfort from the knowledge that he lived in the same city and that even unseen, he was there on the periphery of her life, not part of it, but an observer.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about those fucking letters. The likelihood anything would come of them was slim and still there was a sense of foreboding that slithered through me. I understood a bit about how Finn felt. The situations weren’t the same, there was no immediate threat on Alexis, but to know someone’s unstable fixation on me had such animosity aimed at Alexis was really fucking with me. What Finn lived through, knowing he was the cause of his wife’s death, knowing how much he loved her and Alexis and yet he had the strength to let her go. Feeling as I do for Alexis, letting her go…I don’t know that I could do it. And I hoped like hell I was never put in a situation that found myself having to.
My cell pulled me from my thoughts.
“Colin, give me good news.”
“Stephanie Peck is not the one writing the letters.”
Relief hit hard and fast. I hadn’t thought so, but I liked hearing it confirmed.
“He tested her handwriting and it doesn’t match. He also learned she hasn’t been on vacation since taking over the florist eight years ago. None of the shops in or around Mendocino sell the type of stationery the letters are written on. He is looking into the stationery to see where it’s sold in San Francisco. That will help narrow down the search. He’s on it, so don’t worry about anything but your wedding.”
A grin curved my lips because Alexis could get her flowers now. I was relieved but Mendocino was close to San Francisco and this fruit loop lived there. I wasn’t taking any chances; nothing was going to fuck with our day. If I had to hire a fucking army to watch Alexis’ back, I would. She was getting her day that’s been a long time coming, we both were.
“That’s great news. Thank you, Colin.”
“Easier said than done, but try not to worry and enjoy this. You’ve waited a long time.”
He wasn’t wrong. “I’ll see you in Mendocino.”
I disconnected then called Grant. He needed to be in the loop.
“Greyson what’s up?”
“We need to talk. Do you have time now?”
Alexis 2007
The car was waiting out front to take Greyson and I to the airport. The Cantenellis and Callum were already in Mendocino helping Paige and Grant with the last minute details. I couldn’t believe that in two days Greyson and I were going to be husband and wife.
I was checking and double-checking that I had everything, tap dancing on the edge of crazy, but our wedding had been in the making for a long, long time. Greyson strolled into our room and looked as cool as a cucumber. He was even eating a Toaster Strudel. How the h
ell could he eat at a time like this? He leaned against the doorjamb, the heavenly scent of his little pastry treat wafted over to me. My stomach growled.
“The car is here.”
“I know. Where’s your stuff?”
“Already loaded.”
I looked under the bed. I didn’t even know why I did that. Like I said, I was tap dancing.
“What are you looking for?”
“Just making sure I didn’t forget anything.”
“Under the bed?”
“I looked in the toilet tank too.” I really had. Maybe I wasn’t tap dancing anymore.
“Alexis.”
I glanced over at him; damn I was marrying that man in two days.
He moved in that way of his. “You need to relax.”
“I can’t.”
He remedied that when he kissed me, the taste of his strudel still on his tongue. My bones liquefied. He spoke against my mouth. “All that matters is you say I do. The rest is just wrapping.”
Calmer, I marveled that he could do that for me with so few words. He was right; I was getting lost in the details. “Promise you’ll always be around to talk me off the ledge.”
“I promise. You promise me you’ll always be around for me to talk off the ledge.”
Easiest promise ever. I kissed him and said against his lips, “I promise.”
We arrived in Mendocino. Greyson left with the twins and Grant to take care of honeymoon details. I was with Paige and the girls and Mrs. Cantenelli. Dee and Mel were taking care of the last minute menu crisis that arose. They didn’t work the diner anymore but they had a lot of friends in catering. Paige had said, and often, she wouldn’t have gotten it all pulled together without them. I’d been thinking about asking Greyson to paint the diner for them. It had been their lives for so long, it would make the perfect thank you gift.
We were in Paige’s bedroom. My wedding dress was hanging up next to her pale pink sheath and the girls’ dresses.
Heather ran over to hers. “Don’t you love my shoes?” Heather’s dress was silk, straight lines, cap sleeves and paired with it, hot pink Doc Martens. It was so Heather. I loved it.