Never Enough (The Enough Series Book 2)

by Taryn Steele

  “Not like this. I want to be inside of you,” He says pushing me away from him.

  “Jameson…” is all I can get out. My mind is a complete foggy mess, high off of elation.

  “Lie back baby.”

  He wastes no time. As soon as my back is flat on the lounger he thrusts into me.

  “Oh-My-God!”

  He grabs my right ankle and puts it on his shoulder. Each time he pounds in to me it’s more stimulating than the last.

  “Jameson, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop!”

  His chest is heaving, his breathing is shallow but the look in his eyes as he stares directly into mine says everything he’s feeling.

  But then he speaks ….

  “I won’t ever stop. I want every day, every minute, every second with you. I want every gorgeous, curvaceous inch of you. I want all of you Hillary, for the rest of my fucking life.”

  There is no time to think. There is no time to speak. Those words just sent my orgasm shooting through the fucking roof. I’m shaking uncontrollably. I grab onto Jameson’s arms in my euphoric state. His breathing picks up drastically and he hits his release. Pushing some of his body weight onto mine as he groans and quivers into me I lay us back down on to the lounger.

  With his forehead against mine, looking straight in to my eyes as if he’s looking for a response he speaks again before I can …

  “I’m wildly in love with you Hillary, and I will be til the day I die.”

  WE DECIDED LAST NIGHT that a day of exploring Algarve was at the top of our agenda, then we could spend the rest of our days relaxing at various beaches. We read up on the town of Lagos, and its magnificent history. We knew we had to check it out. We wouldn’t get this opportunity any other time.

  Strolling around the appealing town hand in hand we come across a fish market. We could smell it at least a mile back. I grew up loving the time I spent fishing with my dad. I would do anything to spend alone time with him. Fishing with him was always extra special though. There was something about the peacefulness. There was no need for words to be said aloud about the special time together. This fish scene I’m staring at right now is on a whole other level of going fishing or going to a fish market in the states. I have never in my life seen so many different kinds of fish at one time and so much of them. They have it all – little sharks, monkfish, dogfish, eels, carapau and prawn piled high in a pink pyramid.

  “This is frickin’ awesome! We should get some on the way back home and have it for dinner,” Jameson suggests. I smile wide knowing I had the same idea. Great minds think alike.

  We overhear another couple talking about the vegetable market upstairs so we quickly go in search of it knowing our dinner will now be complete. Growing up in a small town I had the luxury of having grandparents who had a love for farming. They raised cattle and had one of the biggest vegetable gardens I have ever seen. After my grandpa had a stroke when I was little they had to cut the size back drastically, but there was still plenty for all to be shared with the family. There’s something about home grown vegetables that makes a meal extra special to me.

  Our eyes are wide and our mouths are open big enough to catch flies. Row upon row, basket upon basket filled with vegetables sky high and dried piri-piri hang in bunches all around us. Immediately in front of us in a large wooden barrel filled with tomatoes as big as The Incredible Hulks fist. We take our time walking around, making sure not to skip any rows and just take it all in. Such an amazing experience to see something this size. Sure we have small farmers markets back in the states, but it’s nothing to this measure.

  We decide to wait on purchases until we are ready to head home so we don’t have to lug it around, and so the fish doesn’t go bad not being on ice. We see a sign for a small little cafe nearby, it says Café Odeon so we decide to stop for a refreshment and talk about our next stop. One of the locals standing behind us in line over hears us and mentions the old slave market down the road. He doesn’t elaborate. I’m not sure if he’s trying to scare us or if he really is just trying to give us something to do that is interesting. I look back at the short, dark haired man with dark charcoal eyes to match, I smile and nod thanking him for his suggestion. I take Jameson’s hand and give a tight squeeze to let him know I have that what the fuck feeling. He squeezes back, pulls me closer to him rubbing my back. I love how we can speak no words and still understand each other.

  Seated at a small cast iron table with our drinks the owner of the café called mine “The Wake Up Call” and Jameson’s “The Morning Rooster”. I have to admit I’m kind of scared now that I said, “just make us whatever you recommend.” There is definitely liquor in here, but it is damn good. Now I know why the owner was laughing and saying it was a late morning treat for us. We type in “old slave market in Lagos” into the Google search engine on our phones to see what we can find. What we find is that Lagos´ slave market, built in 1444, was Europe’s first slave market. It was during the 15th century where the first slaves, captured and transported from Africa, were sold. Many Africans were dispersed throughout Europe, bringing a considerable income to the Portuguese monarchy and merchant classes, as well as a cheap labor force. As the major sponsor of these expeditions, Prince Henry the Navigator (There is a statue of him in the plaza) received one fifth of the selling price of the slaves. The demand for the indentured labor force was so high that, by 1450, profit on Mauritanian slaves was 700 percent. The building now holds a museum with ancient findings. On a wall of the building there is a stone dating from the 17th century. The wide and sunny porch where the pan-European trade in humanity began is no bigger than one end of a tennis court - but it seems somehow chock-full of ghosts.

  All we can muster out to say after reading this is “Damn.”

  Out of shear curiosity we see that we aren’t far away so we decide to take a look.

  Strolling hand in hand on the cobblestone street I can’t help but have this eerie feeling the closer we get to the slave market. Just as I was about to ask Jameson if he had the same feeling his phone starts ringing. We pause in the street while he retrieves his phone from his pocket, an exasperated sigh leaves his lips. He presses the ignore button, squeezes my hand and pulls me along. I don’t need to ask. Even if I didn’t sneak a peek and saw it was my frickin’ mother in law again I would have known simply by his frustration. Who the fuck calls their only child constantly on their damn honeymoon. What the fuck? I do my best to quickly push the irritating thought from my mind. Goosebumps are coming alive on my arms as I can begin to see the small off white building. I squeeze Jameson’s hand a little tighter letting him know I’m kind of creeped out a tiny bit. If I was clawing at his arm he would know this girl is about to bounce, but I’m not that creeped out. Maybe it’s the ghosts that people talk about that have me feeling unnerved. As we stand in front of the building it in itself doesn’t have a creepy look, it’s just the feeling it gives off. The slave market building stands two stories high, with four alcove doorways, two on each side with a black cast iron fence preventing entry. The one solid wall is painted red on the inside. I step closer and attempt to read it – O MERCADO DE ESCRAVOS – THE SLAVE MARKET. There is quite a bit more writing underneath but it is too small to read from behind the fence. There are four boxes hanging by rope. The clear acrylic, or maybe it is glass is trimmed along the edges with wood. There is something in all of them but I can’t tell. God I hope it’s not bones of the slaves!

  “Well, I don’t know about you but I think I’ve seen enough. Are you good?”

  Jameson chuckles at my nervous comment.

  “Babe, tomorrow we’re going to the beach. No more slaves and ghosts for you.”

  He loves me.

  JAMESON AND I ARE PACKING up the car for a day at one of Algarve’s longest beaches, Meia Praia in Lagos. After Sonia invited us to her home here in Portugal she suggested spending a day at the beach. She mentioned Meia Praia, telling us about the golden sand, the low key atmosphere and the small beach ca
fés if we needed a break from the sun and sand. I was hoping to have left thirty minutes ago but Jameson is meticulous when it comes to day trips and triple checking to make sure we didn’t forget anything. It’s an annoying quirk but it does save our ass sometimes. I’ll never admit that to him though.

  The drive to the beach is bound by wide grassed sand banks that open onto quiet roads. The roads contain pleasant low-rise residential buildings and a smidgeon of hotel complexes. The entire length of the beach is over two miles long. We are in such complete awe of the beauty of this area that we just keep driving to take it all in.

  “Babe, it would probably help our cause if we actually stopped and parked somewhere,” I remind him while giggling.

  “Oh crap. Yeah, that would help huh? I’m just amazed, I got caught up in the moment I guess.”

  “Me too,” still giggling.

  I point out a large white public parking sign to Jameson about fifty feet down the road. It takes a few laps around the lot to find a spot but we find one. We load up our arms with beach chairs, blanket, beach bag and dart across the street to get to the actual beach.

  After we safely play ‘frogger’ with the traffic I find myself stuck in one place on the sidewalk just staring … staring at the beauty in front of me. I stand there for just a minute to take it all in … the sparkling blue water with just a hint of turquoise, the golden sand, the cliffs, the happy people … then I do what I always like to do when I go to a beach … I close my eyes and breathe in the heavenly sent. There is something so relaxing about the scent of the beach. Before it even touches me I can smell the oil of sunscreen and the crispness of the water. It’s so peaceful.

  “Hell yes this is perfect,” Jameson chimes in snapping me out of my mini trance.

  He heads down the wooden planked walkway that leads to the beach and I quickly follow behind him. It doesn’t take long for us to find the perfect spot. For me, I like being in the middle. By that I mean I don’t want to be all of the way in the back of the beach furthest away from the water but I also don’t want to be on the edge right at the water so when the tide changes and I’m lying on my blanket a wave comes up and soaks me and the blanket. I want to be dead center. For me that is the perfect beach spot.

  We lay out the blanket, set up our chairs, lotion each other up and relax. After two minutes Jameson and I look at each other giggle.

  “This is weird right? Not having a care in the world right now?” I ask him.

  “So it’s not just me? After all the craziness of doing stuff around the house and the wedding we always have something to do. This is definitely weird but a good weird. I’m not going to complain. This is fucking fantastic.”

  It’s nearing five o’clock and we don’t want to leave the beach. We’ve been here all day swimming, sunbathing, walking up and down the beach taking in all of the magnificent views. The one thing I’ve been waiting to check out is the little alcove by the cliffs everyone keeps going in to.

  From where I can see there doesn’t appear to be anyone around it now, and I’ve been dying to get Jameson in there alone. I nudge Jameson and pull him from his chair.

  “Take a walk with me,” I tell him with a devilish grin beaming from my face.

  The closer we get to the alcove the more my desire is yearning to have my way with him. I take his hand and we walk in to the alcove. It’s a little chillier in here than I initially expected, and our echoes are louder. We stand in the middle of the solid alcove, bare feet in the cold, wet sand looking up and all around. It almost seems magical.

  I still can’t wipe my devilish grin from my face. We had sex twice this morning before we left the house, once in bed when we first woke up and the second time on the kitchen counter while prepping our food for today. I can’t get enough of him. Just staring at him now with his short, dark hair all wet and sticking up, his tanned, hard body with his perfect white teeth sparkling every time he smiles. God I’m going to explode!

  I lose all control, and I grab the back of his neck forcing his lips to mine. He gasps in shock from me catching him off guard but quickly recovers like I knew he would and one of his hands immediately goes right to my ass. He grabs my ass hard, just the way he knows how I like to be grabbed. His other hand is at my back and he starts to walk me backwards toward the nearest wall. I want to climb him like a fucking tree. I’m soaking wet, and I know it’s not from swimming. I need to have him right here and right now. I know he feels the same way because his cock is rock solid poking me in the stomach right now. My hands scrape down his neck and all down his back. Jameson groans into my mouth and it makes me fucking hot.

  “You little, horny minx – that’s why you wanted to come in here so badly,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to take you right here, right now in this very public alcove on the beach?”

  “Yes – God yes – I’m aching for you Jameson – Desperately aching.”

  He pulls me behind him into a more secluded corner of the alcove. He grabs me by the chin with one hand crushing his lips to mine. His other swiftly pushes my bathing suit bottom to the side and delves two fingers inside me with his thumb massaging my clit. He muffles my screams of joy by keeping his lips to mine. I use one free hand to return the favor and stick my hand down his shorts stroking his cock. I love knowing how hard I can make him.

  “Please Jameson. I’m going to scream if you don’t fuck me right now,” I plead.

  He doesn’t speak a word. He removes his fingers from me, pulls his shorts down a little further and starts teasing me with the tip at my entrance. I look him in the eyes and see his own devilish sparkle.

  “Is this what you want?” He asks.

  “Yes please.”

  I keep my bathing suit bottom pushed to the side. Jameson takes a look over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear. The last thing we want to do is horrify a child or an elderly couple. He turns back to me, grabs my leg to wrap around his body and slams right into me. Before I can even vocally express my desire he closes his lips on mine so no one can hear us and think someone is being tortured in here and comes running in. With one hand firmly keeping my leg up and his other firmly on my ass Jameson thrusts into me over and over again. I keep one hand on the wall behind me and one hand at his waist. My insides have been burning for this ever since we got here. I’m not going to last long, and by the sounds coming from Jameson’s mouth his masculine, fucking grunts are becoming quite breathy. I can feel the fire at my toes quickly racing up my body, my own breaths are becoming quick and short.

  “Yes, yes, yes…” I whisper in his ear.

  “Almost there baby. I’m right there with you.”

  Jameson grabs my ass tighter. His free hand moves up to the back of my head pulling and tugging at my hair, his mouth is on my neck just below my earlobe. That’s all it takes to send me over the edge. My walls tighten and that’s all it takes to send Jameson over the edge with me. My vision is blurry with stars like the cartoons I watched as a child. Jameson has his face still buried in my neck as he comes down from his high. With my hand on his chest over his heart, feeling it rapidly beat he lifts his head, looking into my eyes and kisses my forehead, then my nose and then my lips.

  LYING IN BED, tucked in Jameson’s arms after a perfect day at the beach we rest comfortably with the moonlight shining in and Lethal Weapon 4 on the wall mounted television. If Jameson didn’t feel it was necessary to recite every single line it would be beyond compare.

  “I’m going to get a bottle of water from the fridge, want anything?” I ask him.

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  Staring blankly into the refrigerator deciding if I want something other than water I hear a weird vibration sound. I close the refrigerator door and turn around to try to find out where the noise is coming from. I follow the noise to the French doors leading out the deck. It’s coming from our beach bag on the floor. I look inside and see Jameson’s cell phone glowing. There are three mi
ssed calls from Marcie today. His text message icon says he has two texts. I open it up and see they are both from Marcie. The first one just says “Hey” and the second reads “I’m bored. Just wanted to talk and say hi.” I can’t help the feeling but I’m immediately angry. She has not stopped calling and texting him since we left the airport. What doesn’t she understand? This is our honeymoon. If she’s fucking bored then go do something. Make some fucking friends, go to the movies, call your parents or your siblings and make plans but leave us the fuck alone on our damn honeymoon.

  I can feel a headache coming on. I let her get to me and now I’m upset. She did this to me on our honeymoon. Is she doing this on purpose? Shit. What if she is? Is she that evil? Who am I kidding? Of course she is. She took my fucking engagement ring. She tried to hook Jameson back up with Pam and possibly even Tess if that skank wasn’t actually lying. The muscles in my back and my neck are immediately starting to tense up which is only going to make my headache worse. I put Jameson’s phone back in the beach bag and stand up, rolling my neck back and forth to relieve some of the tension. I think now would be the perfect time to try out that Jacuzzi tub to relax my nerves. Forgoing the water I retreat back to the bedroom, walk right passed Jameson still in bed watching the movie, into the bathroom, closing the door and start the bath in the Jacuzzi tub. I find some lavender bath salts in the cabinet and add some hoping it helps. I’ve always found lavender relaxing, especially with the headaches I started getting while planning the wedding.

  While the water is high enough to cover my body and the temperature is just right I get naked and climb in. With my arms on either side of the tub I sit down and lean back and with my back pushing towards the jets and I close my eyes. It absolutely feels great on my aching body but it’s my aching heart that it doesn’t help. My head starts pounding again and I can feel the tears about to explode. Marcie is never going to let us be happy. How could she not want her only child to have a happy life and happy marriage? That is a mother’s job, to love, to protect, to take care of your child. What part of that doesn’t she understand? Does she really not care if he’s happy or not, as long as she is? Holy fuck! What am I going to do? How am I going to live like this? If she won’t leave us alone for a few days on our honeymoon she’ll never give us any privacy. The realization hits me like a Mack truck. The tears are rolling down my cheeks, my sobs are becoming louder and louder. I can’t control it.