Truly, Madly, Deeply: Book 2

by L. S. Scott

  “Cheer up man. This is big time,” Nick said as he took the seat next to the emotionless fighter.

  Blaine forced a half-hearted smile.

  “I’ve never known a man that was so unexcitable, as you, especially about Vegas,” Nick nudged Blaine.

  Blaine took a deep breath. It was impossible to explain to anyone what was going on in his head, when he had no clue himself. He couldn’t come out and tell Nick that Blaine Black was a fake identity, that he had amnesia and didn’t know anything about himself other than what his sister had told him. And he was pretty sure she had left out a lot, but he didn’t know why. Blaine looked at Nick, the only person in the world he could call friend. Nick waited anxiously for him to speak. Blaine took a deep breath as if he were going to, then stopped, leaned his head against the seat, put on his headphones and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Six

  Blaine scanned the room inconspicuously, from his perch at the end of the bar. He had the perfect vantage point to see the whole room. He had decided to take Nick’s advice, unwind, get laid and within thirty minutes or so of sitting at the bar, he already had one on the line. It was too easy really, like shooting fish in a barrel, to the point of being boring actually. He supposed it was natural, in a sea of soft, pot-bellied rich bastards that a man like him would draw some attention in his form fitting t-shirt, muscles and tattoos. Add to that the tortured bad boy look in his eyes and women were all too eager to lose their panties and their self-respect.

  She was the typical bar room hottie, looking for a good time; crowded around a table of laughing women, girls night out no doubt. Her hair was too blonde, her lips were too red and her dress was too tight, but the body underneath was long and lean and would serve his purposes just fine. The way she kept smiling over at him, biting her lip, being overly attentive to the straw in her drink as she sucked it, he knew she would be easy, and that’s all he was looking for in a girl.

  He finished his third drink, rose from his stool and sauntered over to the table of cackling half drunken women. He held blondie with his stare as he approached. A hush fell over the table as they waited for him to speak. He leaned down and whispered in her ear as they watched wide eyed. She grinned and tilted her head toward his lips, her thighs pressing together reflexively.

  “See you girls later,” she smiled impishly as he pulled her chair out for her and she stood.

  Moments later the two were entering his suite. It amazed him how trusting or plain stupid women could be. It was no wonder women were raped and killed, they made it so easy.

  “Would you like a drink,” he asked as he crossed the room to the bar.

  “Sure,” she answered in a low sultry voice.

  “Do you often accompany strangers to their rooms without even knowing their name,” he asked as he poured the Sprite and Crown, sounding a bit more insulting than he intended.

  She cleared her throat. “Uh, no. You don’t have bad intentions do you,” she asked trying to hide the nervousness under a forced giggle.

  “That depends on what you classify as bad intentions. I don’t intend to hurt you, if that’s what you mean.”

  She smiled a relieved red lipped smile, as he crossed the room and handed over her drink, passing by to sit on the couch.

  “What’s your name,” he asked as he sat, coolly propping an arm along the back of the sofa.

  “Lisa, and yours,” she asked.

  “Nathan,” he answered, looking up at her still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

  “Well, Lisa, I think you’re overdressed.”

  A flash of confusion crossed her face and quickly faded into a seductive smile as she moved closer and set her drink on the coffee table in front of him. With his head tilted to the side he watched stone faced as she slowly slid the straps of the little black dress off her shoulders and shimmied it down her hips to the floor.

  “Turn around,” he ordered softly.

  Lisa turned to display her black lace covered ass to him. It was small and heart shaped, nice but not the best he had ever seen, but was sufficient. She turned back to him and moved forward, eager to join him on the couch. She stood between his knees looking down at him. He pushed the table away with one foot.

  “Get on your knees,” he demanded before she could climb onto his lap.

  Again, she looked a little surprised, but only for a split second before she was on her knees in front of him. He placed his drink on the side table as her hands slid up and down his thighs. He spread his legs wider and scooted down a bit, sprawled and comfortable as he stared down at her. Without blinking, without a word, he slowly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down. When he slid his fingers in her hair she reacted instinctively, as he thought she would, and took the initiative.

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as Lisa’s red lips slid up and down his length. He read her right. She had given her share of blow jobs. She barely reacted when he pulled her all the way down on him and held her there for a second; only the slightest gagging, before she lifted her head and vigorously bobbed up and down, sucking and slurping. He felt his balls tighten. He knew she was the kind of girl that would gladly take a mouthful and swallow hungrily, but he knotted his fingers in the back of her hair and pulled her away.

  He stood, pulling her to her feet. With his hand still tugging at the back of her hair she looked up at him, eyes foggy, mouth open and begging to be kissed. He reached down between her legs, sliding his hand under the black lace and two fingers inside her. It was really just a test, to see if she was wet, he couldn’t have cared less about her pleasure, but, she moaned her approval. When she craned her neck, her mouth seeking his, he turned her and held her tight against him as he walked her toward the bed. His hands clasped her jaw as he trailed the obligatory wet kisses up her neck to her ear.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered as he undressed her than himself.

  She stood trembling with anticipation as he ripped open the condom from his jeans pocket. He gently pushed her forward and lifted one leg onto the bed. He palmed her ass in both hands and spread her wide before skillfully driving into her slow and steady, balls deep. She let out a long, low cry as her head dropped between her shoulders and her fingers dug into the comforter.

  He gripped her hips and began increasing his pace, faster and faster, harder and harder. She was dripping wet but he was sure she wasn’t as close to coming as he was. He pressed into her and leaned down. His hand trailed from her shoulder, down her arm to her hand. He pulled her fingers from the bed and with her hand in his, reached down between her legs. He pressed her fingers into her clit and began rubbing. Her back arched and her pussy tightened around him.

  “Make yourself come,” he whispered demandingly. For her it seemed erotic, for him it was an easy means to an end.

  He rose back up and began sliding in and out of her, slow and deep, as she worked her clit. He could feel her tighten as her ass pressed against him and her hips began rolling. She shivered and cried and muffled moan into the bed. When she stilled and dropped her hand, he lifted her other leg to the bed, gripped both hips and began banging into her. She placed both hands on the bed to brace herself as he pounded her from behind. Pitiful whimpers left her body in rapid succession, one for each time he rammed into her. Her ass began to glow bright red, light bruising starting to show. When he was sure she couldn’t stand anymore, his cock swelled and jerked and spewed into the condom. He took a second, still inside her, to catch his breath, watching her back rise and fall as she laid her head against the bed taking deep, slow breaths. He pulled out and walked silently to the bathroom.

  Blaine discarded the condom and stared blankly at himself in the mirror for a second before getting in the shower. He couldn’t stand the smell of sex, desperation and cheap perfume Lisa had left behind.

  When he opened the bathroom door, Lisa was curled on her side, a sheet placed strategically over her waist, a smeared red smile on her face. Her eyes ro
amed the length of his body, wrapped only in a towel. He stopped a beat and took in the sight of her smearing her scent all over his bed.

  “Don’t get comfortable,” he said flatly and moved to the dresser to retrieve a pair of shorts.

  “What,” she said with that dumb blonde confused look.

  “It’s time for you to go,” he informed her holding his place across the room.

  She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Right now,” she question.

  “Yes, right now,” he answered.

  “But, it’s not even mid-night,” she reasoned.

  “Look at this way,” he shrugged, “you still got time suck another dick tonight,” he insulted, knowing it was a sure fire way to get her up and out of his bed, with no worries of her showing up at his door unannounced later.

  Her mouth dropped open and her brows stitched together. “You’re an asshole,” she shrieked jumping up to gather her clothes, pulling them on in record time.

  As the door slammed behind her, he took a deep breath and surveyed the rumpled sheets. He opened the closet and pulled out the extra blanket and pillow and resigned to sleeping on the couch.

  Thursday morning Blaine stood at the front desk waiting for the desk clerk to finish pecking away at her keyboard.

  “Yes, Mr. Black it looks like room 2903 is available. Do you mind me asking, is something wrong with the other room,” the clerk asked him with a big service smile.

  “No, I just want the other one,” he forced a grin back.

  “No problem. Just let me update this information and I will get you your new key,” she explained and commenced to typing again.

  Blaine stood patiently waiting; elbows leaned on the counter, eyes trained on a forgotten paperclip that had fallen in the floor. His mind began to drift to papers paper clipped together, books strewn across a table, flash after flash of nonsense; when a rush of air swept past him. It was an aromatic blast so heady that it spun his head. He turned in time to see long brown hair hanging against the back of a deep purple designer dress as the woman began to climb the stairs.

  “Ok here’s your key. I hope this works better for you. Is there anything else you need today Mr. Black?”

  “Oh, no that’s it. Thank you,” Blaine answered. With his key in hand he headed out the front.

  He turned back as he slipped his aviators over his eyes for one last look at the lavender scented lady. She was stopped part way up the staircase looking back at him, a perplexed frown etching her pretty face. He bowed his head and quickly disappeared out the large glass doors.

  Chapter Seven

  Connor stared at the ceiling and listened to Natalie whimper in her sleep. How many nights had he lay awake, listening to her cry, listening to her call Jaron’s name, feeling helpless and angry. He wasn’t angry at her, but frustrated that he couldn’t fix it for her. He couldn’t take away the memories or the pain. All he could do was hold her while she fought her way through it, hoping she would come out the other side of the whole mess. And she did, slowly, step by step, day by day, the pain began to recede, the haunted look in her eyes began to fade. The nightmares became fewer and far between until at some point it stopped altogether. She started looking at him as if she were really seeing him. And when she told him she loved him, she meant it. He rolled to his side and watched her sleep, her eyes twitching, her forehead crinkling, her lip trembling. He clenched his jaw tight and swallowed the lump in his throat as another soft cry left her lips and he wondered what demons were after the woman he loved now, and how was he going to fight them?

  “Where is my phone Connor?” Natalie’s voice was clipped and angry.

  “I don’t have your phone Natalie. Why would I take your phone?” Connor tried to contain his growing panic over Natalie’s irrational behavior.

  “Because you think I’m crazy,” she snapped.

  Connor stopped in mid stride. His shoulders slumped, his head tilted to the side and he looked at her with a crinkled, hurt expression.

  “I have never said that, and I’ve never thought that. What is wrong baby? Please talk to me,” he pleaded.

  “Nothing is wrong. I’m just pissed. Can I not get pissed every now and then? Why do you have to think it’s something more than that?”

  Connor followed her into the bedroom and spotted the missing cell phone sitting where Natalie had left it, peeking out from under a magazine on her night stand. He picked it up and crossed the room to her.

  “Because you’re picking fights for no reason and crying in your sleep,” he said holding the phone out to her.

  She looked from the phone to him accusingly. “It was on the night stand,” he explained defensively.

  She reached for the phone. He pulled it out of her reach. “What’s so important, you expecting a call?”

  “No, I just want to play candy crush,” she answered, concealing a pouty, guilty smile.

  He smiled back, that eighties heart throb smile, complete with dimple as he slid her phone in his back pocket. “If you want to play…” he left the statement unfinished as his hands snaked around her waist. She twisted out of his arms and made for the door, smiling impishly. Just as she pulled it open, he slammed it closed and snagged her, pulling her tight against him.

  “What game are we playing now Natalie, hmm,” he asked, his voice gruff and serious as his warm, moist breath caressed her neck.

  She tried to turn, he held her tighter. “No,” he said. With his free hand he placed her palm flat against the door above her head. “Tell me Natalie,” he asked again, trailing his hand down her side.

  “No games Connor,” she answered breathlessly.

  He turned her in his arms, capturing her lips with his. He pulled the straps of her sundress from her shoulders and it easily fell to the floor, to reveal her naked body underneath. No panties, no bra required for a lazy day around the house. Connor groaned his approval, cupping her ass and lifting her, he carried her to the bed.

  Lying sweaty and sated in tangled sheets, Connor held Natalie tight against his side, fighting back the fear that if he let her go she was going to get up and leave, something she hadn’t done in years. But he knew the signs and he could feel the winds of change as the mysterious storm was brewing inside her.

  “Are you sure everything’s ok, we’re ok, you’re ok,” he asked softly as he stared at the ceiling and stroked her scarred hip with his fingertips.

  “I’m not going to try and kill myself, if that’s what you mean,” she smirked.

  “That’s not funny Natalie, not at all.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m ok. I’m a woman. We’re all a little crazy sometimes, right?”

  “I guess so. Just promise me you will talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

  “I will. I promise.” She paused. “So are you happy about seeing your dad tonight,” she was happy to steer the conversation in another direction.

  “Yeah, we’re meeting him for dinner tonight at eight, if that’s ok?”

  “Sounds good to me. I think I’m gonna soak in the tub for a while, play some candy crush,” she smiled, raising up and kissing him before she rolled out of bed. She bent over to retrieve her phone from his pants and he watched appreciatively as her sweet, naked ass twisted across the room and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Natalie sat staring at her plate, prodding at her food as Connor and Randall Flynn discussed business. Natalie hadn’t really been listening, but from what she had picked up, Randall seemed to be keen on Connor looking into a property somewhere down south, near the gulf. Connor seemed to be humoring his father by discussing it.

  Connor placed his hand on Natalie’s knee and squeezed gently. “You okay,” he mouthed, leaning over and smiling at her.

  Natalie smiled sweetly and nodded with a wink. A few minutes later she excused herself and headed for the ladies room. Standing in front of the mirror she took long, deep breaths, fighting back the butterflies beating her ribcage; the ones she had been battling ever si
nce she turned to see the intimidating man staring up at her from the front door of the hotel. Between his sunglasses and full beard, she couldn’t see his face, but there was something eerily familiar about him, something that had her distracted, edgy, nervous even. Once she felt collected and calm, she stood and straightened her black chiffon dress and exited the ladies room.

  “Excuse me,” he said in a deep but gentle voice, catching her by the shoulders to steady her. The halo of lavender scented air, that surrounded her, engulfed him.

  She reflexively placed her hand on his chest as she stumbled. “Sorry,” she said sweetly looking up at him, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment.

  She stepped back, her mouth gaping, her eyes pooling, all the color instantly draining from her face. His mouth went dry and his breath caught in his lungs. His chest ached where she had pressed her hand against it. The restroom door swung open and under the cover of a gaggle of cackling women, Blaine wheeled and disappeared, leaving her standing in stunned silence. When the commotion was over Natalie gasped for air, unaware that she had been holding her breath. She turned, pacing down the hall, and turned back to see Connor at the other end.

  “There you are. Everything ok?”

  Natalie struggled to pull herself together but managed a smile. “Yeah, I was just about to come back to the table.”

  “What are you doing,” he quizzed as he approached her at the end of the hall near the men’s room door and took her hands in his.

  “Oh, my hips a little stiff, I was just walking it off,” she lied.

  “Are you ok, do we need to go,” he asked sincerely concerned, massaging her hips gently.

  “No babe. I’m fine, really,” she pulled his hands away. “Let’s get back to your dad.”

  Blaine escaped to his suite and sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, eyes shut tight, rocking as scenes flashed behind his lids.