Release

by J , Louise

  The same stunning woman comes into view to my left.

  “Julianne,” Dane says, as his cheeks are cupped between two dainty hands with manicured nails and a display of large, sparkly diamonds on some of the fingers.

  “Hello, Dane,” she says in a voice that’s soft, affectionate and touched with a smile. She kisses each of his cheeks. They’re real kisses, not air kisses. “So good to see you, it’s been too long.” Her lips, coated lightly with pale pink lipstick, show she’s really happy to see Dane.

  Now she looks at me, the same smile remaining, though a spark of … maybe surprise appears in her sky blue eyes. She is absolutely beautiful. Her features are delicate and her blonde hair, fairer than her son’s, is just past shoulder length and wavy. I’m not clued up on designer clothes, but I don’t doubt her cream knit dress costs a fortune. She’s held on to a lovely figure.

  “Is this the lucky young woman I’ve heard so much about?” she says to Dane.

  I manage to avoid frowning in response to the “heard so much about”. Her hands rest lightly on my shoulders before he responds. She’s more than a couple of inches taller than me; she’s probably wearing sexy stilettos.

  “Julianne this Brooklyn. Brooklyn-Julianne.”

  Her palms move from my shoulders to my cheeks, her touch is gentle and her skin warm, but this is all quite strange. I’ve never met someone so tactile and friendly on introduction.

  “It’s lovely to meet the young woman that’s finally captured the heart of this wonderful man,” she says.

  I like the sound of those words, and this lady is adorable. “It’s really nice to meet you, Mrs. Peterson.”

  The most delicate laugh of surprise sounds from her. She’s super hot, super glam, and effortlessly charming. “How well mannered you are. So beautiful, too. Please call me Julianne.” She removes her hands from my face and looks up at Dane. “I’ll expect to see you both soon,” she tells him, and it really is an expectation rather than a request.

  “You will, Julianne.”

  “So now that you’re finally settled, we need to do something about this son of mine.”

  She slips her arm through Gerard’s, and I literally have to put everything into not laughing so I don’t appear rude. Gerard actually rolled his eyes. I hate to admit it, but he looked quite cute. I wouldn’t have considered him the eye rolling type, but he’s probably a different person in the presence of his mother. One thing’s for sure, I can see where he gets his handsomeness from. Up this close, I can see the resemblance he and the glamorous ex-model share. I don’t even want to think about where his morals come from, but I’m quite certain it isn’t Julianne Peterson.

  “If you have any lovely, single friends, Brooklyn–”

  “Okay, Mom,” Gerard cuts in, “let’s leave these two to get on with what they’re doing.”

  If only she knew how well acquainted her son is with one of my lovely friends.

  She giggles and meets his gaze. “How convenient? Is Elizabeth home?” she asks Dane.

  “Not right now.”

  She glances at Ray’s bike. “My goodness, it’s been a long time since I last saw this. We won’t say how many years,” she says with a wink at me. “I love that you still have it. Anyway, I look forward to seeing you both very soon.”

  Julianne bids Dane and I farewell in the same way she greeted us and passes on her love to Saffron, Adam, Joe and the kids. Gerard and I say a polite goodbye, and a humored eye contact takes place between him and Dane.

  I watch Gerard and his mum make their way back to his car. It’s endearing to witness him acting like the perfect gentleman for Julianne; escorting her rather than just walking with her, and opening and closing the door for her. He raises his hand to Dane in a farewell gesture as he walks around the front of the car to get to the driver’s side.

  As Gerard pulls away from the space he parked in, I turn back to Dane. “Wow.”

  “She’s something, isn’t she?” he says, preparing to place the helmet on my head.

  “Yeah, she really is. When’s the last time you saw her?”

  “A few months ago, just before Elizabeth’s trip. It’s longer than usual, but somebody’s been distracting me lately.”

  I smirk. “I’m not sorry.”

  “I’m not, either, but we’ll be seeing Julianne soon.”

  “I’d really like that. You’re all so close and well connected. Julianne genuinely loves you.”

  “Wait until you see her with Saffron, she adores the hell out of her,” he says. “Being the only girl, she was extra-special over all of us – not only to Elizabeth and Julianne, but Adam and Joe’s mom, Faith. God help the first girl born to Saff or the guys. Even as boys, being the first of the kids, Nathaniel and Jack did each other a favor arriving so close.”

  Dane lowers the helmet over my head and a thought occurs to me. Those words were said in such a lighthearted way, and it was probably done subconsciously, but I didn’t miss the “Saff or the guys” reference.

  Before I can process anything further, the visor is slid down, and this suddenly becomes very, very real, and my heart starts up a frantic rhythm.

  Fifty One: Dane

  Glancing sideways at me from behind the wheel, Brooklyn’s trying not to giggle but fails. “You’re so sweet when you complain,” she says. Her lips stay turned up at the corners and she’s got this look in her eyes. She really fucking means that.

  “You’re not supposed to find it sweet.”

  “You just need to be a bit more limber,” she says, trying to sound serious. I might take her seriously if she wasn’t still smiling. “You do make my car look good, though.”

  Face stern, I look at her.

  She laughs. It’s one of those laughs she considers disgusting, one that comes from her nose because her lips are pressed together from where she’s trying to hold it in. Now I get to chuckle, because she hates it. And yeah, whatever, I find it cute.

  I adjust my legs again, pretending to search for more space. “Small-ass piece of shit,” I mutter.

  I love getting her about her ride. But my complaint a moment ago was genuine. We’re heading back from the Peterson’s house and we could’ve gone there and home with Saff in her SUV, or even taken one of the other cars, Joe’s for example, since he got a ride with Saff and Adam. But, no, Ms. Scott wanted to go in her own. I’d prefer something with a little more space, something way more masculine. I think I might need to work on telling her “No” from time-to-time.

  Clearing her throat, I know by her expression that Brooklyn’s going to add some authority to her voice. “You need to stop dissing my car, mate.”

  “What is it with you Europeans and small cars? And stick shifts?” I’m still amazed that Brooklyn chose a stick. I don’t know a single person in this day and age who owns a car that has one.

  “I’ll have you know this is the most popular car in London. And there’s nothing wrong with a manual – it’s real driving.” She uses that argument every time I mention the stick.

  “But you’re not in London. You’re in the freaking U.S., bigger roads and bigger cars.”

  “I like this. It’s reliable and suits my budget. I’m a dancer, I’m not loaded.” The same broke-ass dancer line. She’s not even broke.

  “No worries, I’ll give you the gas money if you go bigger.”

  “I don’t need your stinking money, I’m an independent woman.”

  “Yeah, independent but broke.”

  She’s trying not to laugh. “What I do is about passion, not money.”

  “Yeah, but look at the small-ass piece of shit you drive.”

  It’s not that bad, with the exception of the outside – that’s bad. The most important thing is that it’s safe and reliable, or I wouldn’t let her drive it, period, but hell I really wouldn’t mind some extra leg room.

  “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be your trick. I’ll buy your ride and your gas, your groceries, I’ll take you shopping and get your hair done, as
long as you back that thang up on my command and keep up the insane head game,” I tease.

  “Trick?” She scrunches her nose.

  “Sugar daddy.” I glance in the side-mirror to see how far behind Gerard’s car is.

  “Hmph! If I charged you for this,” she gestures at the length of her body with a sweep of her hand, “you’d be the broke one, I can tell you,” she says all sassy and confidently.

  “Where do I swipe my black card, then? But I want a free sample first.”

  “You’ve got the wrong bird if you think you can impress me with your fancy card and huge bank balance.”

  “I was kinda hoping to impress you with something else that’s huge.”

  She glances at her watch, looking thoughtful.

  “You worried this small-ass piece of shit won’t get us there on time?” Not that we have any constraints, we’re just meeting the guys and Saff at her house.

  “Nope, I’m working out if I have time to show you exactly how spacious my small-ass piece of shit car is.”

  “Now we’re talking. Decided to give me that free sample?”

  Brooklyn makes a show of changing gears and turns into a large parking lot. She’s surprised me more than a few times, but no way is she this brave. It’s dark and the few cars in here are close to the store, but I’m still not convinced. Not even as she parks way over at the back.

  “We’re short on time,” she unfastens her seatbelt, “but I’m already wet from all that talk about black cards and huge bank balances, so don’t worry about the foreplay.”

  I unfasten my seatbelt. “What if I need foreplay?” Yeah, right, I was semi-erect the second she turned into this lot. If that didn’t do it, the floaty, short skirt she has on and the thought of easy access to the sweetness between her legs is working just fine. I’ve been wanting to fuck Brooklyn all damn day.

  Reaching over, she changes the radio station and turns the volume up.

  “Hell no,” I change it back and turn it down so she can hear me, “I’m not listening to that trancy dancy bullshit.” Her music taste is mostly perfect – mostly!

  “My car, my rules.” She turns it back to some heavy-bass crap that makes me feel like I need to be getting high on MOLLY or some shit like that. “I’m setting the mood. I’m a girl looking for a “trick” who can give her a fast and furious ride from time-to-time. This is your audition.” The volume goes back up.

  Holy shit! With talk like that, and the vision of her sliding down those black, lace panties, I’ll tolerate this bullshit music.

  Fuck being limber, I don’t need to be. Not with Ms. Dancer and her bendy body. With the two front seats reclined all the way back, and me all laid out in the middle of them with one leg on the driver’s side and the other on the passenger’s side, as long as I keep my legs bent I fit just right. The last time I had sex in a car I wasn’t even legal.

  Brooklyn, straddling me, unbuttons my jeans and unzips my fly. “Looks like somebody doesn’t need foreplay,” she shouts in my ear, before lowering my boxer briefs and curling her palm around my cock.

  Shit, yeah, positioning herself, her warm, slick pussy tightly encases the tip of my dick. She slowly slides down my shaft. When she reaches the base, she catches her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes become heavy, the long curled eyelashes flickering. It’s dark in here, I can’t see her with full detail, but I’ve seen that reaction many, many times.

  Remaining in place, motionless, Brooklyn pushes my button-down shirt up all the way to my upper chest. Lowering herself toward me, she gently bites my bottom lip and starts moving her hips, sliding up and down my cock.

  I raise her shirt and the cups of her bra and, yeah right there, I get exactly what I was looking for. Her nipples press against my chest and with her movement they rub against my skin, getting harder by the second. Placing my hands on her hips, I thrust up as she grinds on me. Maybe this bullshit music isn’t so bad after all, the way she’s moving sure as shit justifies it. I can’t hear her, but when she sucks my tongue into her mouth, I can feel her moans. I love the way she sounds.

  Lifting her upper body a little, she presses her palms to my shoulders and her head falls back. With total abandonment, she rides my thrusts. I’m pretty sure she’s forgotten where she is. Brooklyn not giving a shit about anything is Brooklyn at her best.

  For some time, I forget where the fuck I am; I’m all caught up in the feel of her, I don’t even hate the heavy crap I’m hearing. She’s kind of making me like it, in a weird, intense erotic way.

  Fuck, her pussy starts to clench around me. With that extra pull on my dick and the vague view I’ve got of her throat and chin as her lips part wide, I can see and feel her coming, and that’s enough to take me with her. Fucking hell, as I blow hard inside her I kick something. Small-ass piece of shit car.

  Brooklyn becomes still at the same time I do. Closing my eyes, I can barely breathe through the combined scents of heat and sex. With the back of my hand, I wipe at the moisture across my forehead. Brooklyn shifts and suddenly the music volume gets lower, almost inaudible.

  “We need to do something about these steamy windows,” she says.

  She winds down the window on the driver’s side – winds down! The temptation to take matters into my own hands and replace this car is almost overwhelming, but she likes it. She actually likes it. I think it’s because it’s purple and the previous owner put a pair of big red kissing-lips on the hood. Admittedly, it suits her. It does not suit me. It’s gotta go. I think I finally have to get my own ride, and then I can gradually get her using it more and more and before she knows it, this little thing won’t exist and she’ll have a new one and it won’t even cost her a cent.

  The cool air sweeps through the moment the other window, on the passenger’s side, is down too. I rearrange my clothes, zipping up and buttoning up.

  Brooklyn gasps. “Someone’s heading our way.”

  I sit up and shift into the driver’s seat, turning my knees out enough to fit either side of the wheel, and start readjusting the backrest.

  “They’re gonna think we’re doggers,” she says, panicked.

  “Doggers?” I gaze out the window, at the car approaching. Hell no, of all the fucking people.

  “I’ll explain when we’re not here,” she says, fixing her clothes. “Why are you just sitting there? Oh great,” she says as she realizes the answer to that for herself. She flops back in the seat and turns her head away from my side. “I forgot about them. This is sooo embarrassing.”

  Looking out into the car now parked beside us, I meet Gerard’s gaze. He leans across Joe, who I know, even though I can see what he’s thinking, will spare Brooklyn’s blushes. Gerard on the other hand…

  “Hey, man, Joe and I saw you turning into the lot and followed. We parked up by the store entrance and waited for you. Started to get concerned when we realized after like twenty minutes that you hadn’t even gotten out of your car yet,” he says, sounding genuinely concerned, but I know this motherfucker, the way his mind works and what his tone alone translates.

  We were all supposed to go straight from the Peterson’s to Saff’s – she and Adam left right after Faith and Matthew Williams took Nathaniel and Jack home with them. Then Brooklyn and I left, taking Elizabeth home first. Joe and Gerard were finishing a game of pool in the games room. They were four cars behind us. I forgot they even existed the second I started to get hard.

  “Is that a new air freshener I can smell, buddy?” he says, making a show of breathing in deep, his scheming gaze observing the windows, which are less steamed up now. “It’s real nice. Can I get it in this store? Or is it only available overseas?”

  “Cheeky fucking bugger,” Brooklyn whispers to herself.

  Joe coughs to hide his laughter. It’d be nice if he could elbow Gerard in the gut for me, since they’re in ideal proximity of each other for that.

  Gerard knows I won’t respond. Anything I say will only encourage him, and he won’t pass up this
opportunity. Even though it wouldn’t be malicious, it would embarrass the shit out of Brooklyn, and their not-so-smooth relationship won’t be enough to stop him. So I have to sit here and take it like a pussy. I’m gonna kick his ass for this. I’ve got some serious ammunition with his recent stalking activities, and a couple other things.

  I key the ignition, and allow my gaze to translate that this isn’t over.

  His mouth slowly forms a sly, but humored grin.

  I reverse out of our spot and turn to head out of the lot. “You haven’t convinced me that this car is spacious enough, baby.”

  Brooklyn pulls her brush out of her purse and starts running it through her hair. “As I said, you just need to be a bit more limber.”

  Fifty Two: Brooklyn

  Sitting on the grass in the park across the street from Dane’s apartment, I’ve enjoyed an afternoon of girlie chatter. Kayla and I have been filled in on Leona’s two weeks in Mexico with Xavier and checked out the photos on her tablet.

  After Kayla leaves for the studio, Leona and I remain. I lie back on our blanket and close my eyes, enjoying the warmth from the sun on my face. It’s true what people say about the weather in San Francisco being lovely in September and October. October is nothing like this in the UK.

  “Who’d have thought,” Leona says, “we’d both be loved up within four months of coming here.” The sound of her voice carries in a way that suggests she’s now lying beside me.

  “I know, it’s crazy, isn’t it? We wanted this experience to be life changing in the best possible way, though. It’s definitely looking promising.”

  “After nine years with Pete, I never thought my heart would heal.”

  I smile, so pleased that my best friend has moved on after having her heart broken by the man she thought she’d spend her life with. “Then Xavier came along and showed you differently.”

  “He’s showed me perfectly. What I felt for Pete was a shadow of what I feel for Xavier. This is all-consuming soul-mate stuff.”

  “Aww, I like that. Kayla and Chase are doing well too – he’s massively into her.”