by Sabrina Kane
But Amy interrupted her.
“I wanted it to be a surprise!” she insisted. “Sorry.”
Sally took hold of Amy’s shoulders.
“Sorry?” she asked, chuckling. “Oh my god, don’t ever say that! Well, except when you’re wrong but, trust me, you are soooooo not wrong now! Baby, I came here to do the same thing!”
Amy blinked.
Did she just hear what she thought she just heard?
So, wait…that means…
“You came here to buy me an engagement ring?” she asked, staring up at Sally.
Sally nodded.
“I also wanted it to be a surprise,” she said. “After we split up in the mall, I walked over here as fast as I could.”
Amy smirked.
“Should have taken a car, like I did.”
Sally laughed.
“I should have,” she concurred. “Anyway…Amy…You need to be my wife! And I need to be yours! It can’t be any other way!”
“Oh my god, I love you!” Amy squealed, wrapping her arms around Sally.
“I love you too!” Sally said, holding Amy tight. “You have no idea how much.”
Sniffling, tears streaming down her face, Amy looked up at her. “I do know how much because I feel the exact same way.”
And then they were kissing passionately and throughout it, Amy felt her soul connecting with Sally’s.
“Oh my god, I can’t take anymore!”
Amy and Sally both looked over at Ekaterina, who was slumped on the top of the display case, her head buried in her arms. Adilah started rubbing her back. She was sniffling also and produced a tissue from the pocket of her slacks with which she started dabbing at her eyes.
The ring Amy bought for Sally fit perfectly, but the one Sally bought for Amy needed to be sized down; however, Adilah made Hector—a middle-aged man who appeared from the back room when Adilah called out to him and who apparently took care of such things—stop whatever it was he was working on to take care of the sizing immediately.
“I want to see the two of you walk out of here with those rings on!” Adilah said.
And so, less than twenty minutes later, Amy and Sally were walking out of the jewelry shop—after tearful hugs with Adilah and Ekaterina—newly engaged and wearing the hardware to prove it.
Amy’s usually bare left hand felt strange with the addition of her engagement ring…
My engagement ring!
…but she knew she’d get used to it. Besides, someday another ring would be added to that same finger.
“So…what do you want to do now, fiancée?” Sally asked.
“Head back to the mall,” Amy answered quickly.
“Really?”
“Yes, please. I believe I promised you some sexy white lingerie…”
Epilogue
Eight months later
“Oh my god, we really have to go, baby!” Sally groaned. It was true. Malibu wasn’t exactly just up the street. If traffic was bad—and this was California, after all—it could take close to three hours to drive to Max’s new house.
But Amy did not seem too inclined to relinquish her current position: head between Sally’s legs, using the flat of her tongue to lick the flesh around Sally’s pussy, which was still recovering from another orgasm. As Amy’s tongue neared Sally’s buzzing clit, Sally flinched a little because the bud was so sensitive now. But Amy expertly avoided it.
“We should just…” Amy began, giving Sally’s wet sex a kiss “…take a helicopter…” another kiss. “We…” another kiss, this time just missing Sally’s clit “…can afford it.”
And then Sally felt herself being penetrated again by that magnificent tongue and she reached down to grab fistfuls of Amy’s hair, holding her fiancée’s head tight against her center which was starting to tell her that it wanted another release.
Yes…a helicopter…
They could afford it; there was no doubt about that.
Shortly after returning from Seattle (thankfully without any near-death drama on the airplane) Max had called Sally and told her that Netflix had contacted him. Well, technically, Netflix had contacted Jillian, wanting to meet Jillian to discuss creating a series based on the Gotham books, written by Jillian. At least, so they thought.
“You’re not about to suggest what I think you’re about suggest, are you?” Sally had asked.
“It could totally work!” Max insisted, and then explained. Sally would meet with the Netflix people and simply pretend to be the author of the books, just like she was already doing.
“Already doing?” Sally had exclaimed. “Max, I get recognized sometimes wherever lesbians happen to shop! A grocery store or when I’m buying shoes! I sign an autograph, I pose for a selfie with the person and that’s it! Now, you’re talking about meeting with movie executives!”
Max had assured her it would be a piece of cake. She’d have lunch with them, they’d suck up to her a bit and in the end she’d tell them she needed to consider it.
“Besides, there could be a lot of money involved, Sally. I spoke with my lawyer and she’s pretty sure that if we can get Jillian named as an executive producer on the show, the payday will easily reach seven figures. Twenty percent of which, might I remind you, would be yours.”
“She wants thirty!” Amy had jumped in, taking the phone away from Sally. She had been sitting right next to Sally on the sofa and had been able to follow the conversation.
“Fine,” Max had agreed. “But she signs nothing and lets me and Nora take care of all the negotiations behind the scenes.”
“Fine,” Amy had said, handing the phone back to Sally.
When the call eventually ended, Sally had looked over at Amy with a cocked eyebrow.
“Shall I just let the two of you plan the rest of my life?” she had asked.
“Babe, with all that money, you can open your own graphic design company just like you want!”
That was true. And, Sally had considered, it would also provide a nice financial cushion for her and Amy to start their married life with.
And Max had been right. The initial meeting with the Netflix people had been a breeze. It had taken place in Bel Air over lunch in a posh hotel’s café and was, basically, just three executives—all women; all gay—treating Sally like she was a star athlete they were trying to recruit for their NCAA basketball team.
Once that was done, Max’s lawyer, Nora, handled all the negotiations—ostensibly on behalf of Sally—and a deal was eventually struck. And suddenly, Sally and Amy had helicopter money.
Now, today, Sally and Amy were due at Max’s place in Malibu—purchased with his Netflix money—in order to watch the premier of the first episode of the new show. They were then going to spend the weekend up there.
But first…
Sally arched her back as she came undone again, her pussy a chaotic orgy of pleasure.
“God, BABY!” she called out, the last coherent words she was able to speak during the entirety of the climax because after that it was just grunts, moans and high-pitched squeals.
This was all her fault, she realized as she flattened her back onto the mattress once the tidal wave passed. She had wanted to dress today with a bit of edgy sexiness and so had chosen a black lace bodysuit that was going to be paired with artfully torn skinny jeans and a black fitted blazer. But once Amy had gotten a look at her in the bodysuit, before she’d had a chance to put on her jeans, it was game over. Amy had pushed her back onto the bed, opened her legs, unsnapped the crotch of the bodysuit and proceeded to turn Sally into a molten puddle of womanliness.
“Now, we can leave,” Amy declared, getting up.
***
“Four shots of espresso?” the pretty barista asked when Sally and Amy stopped for coffee in Malibu before driving the rest of the way to Max’s place. Because Amy had delayed their departure from Carlsbad by eating her out twice—not that she was complaining—Sally had insisted that they hit the road without stopping at La Vida Mocha
for a cup of Amy’s Jet Fuel. But once in the Malibu city limits, Amy had complained of withdrawal symptoms and begged Sally to stop.
“Yes, please,” Amy told the barista. “And make it really hot, too.”
The barista, her mouth open in apparent disbelief, shook her head and rang up the order.
“Coffee with four shots, Troy!” she called out to the guy working the machines.
Troy looked up from what he was doing.
“Four?”
Sally had to laugh. But with her drink in hand a few moments later, Amy seemed perfectly content and they completed the trek to Max’s house, which was only another five minutes away.
“Hiiiiii!” Tiffany greeted, opening the door of the beach house and hugging both Sally and Amy.
Sally had to marvel at this turn of events. When she had first pestered Max about calling Tiffany, she figured one or two dates, tops—if he even called. Now, Tiffany was a fixture in his life and had her own left hand hardware to prove it.
“Max!” Amy called out as soon as they entered the house. “You’d better have my special drink ready! It was a long drive!”
Max appeared from somewhere—Sally still hadn’t quite mapped out in her head the layout of this new place of his. She seemed to remember, though, that the bar was somewhere in that general direction. He was carrying two margarita glasses of Amy’s special drink, which he still hadn’t given up the recipe for and which Sally now drank as well.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, handing the cocktails to his guests. “By the way, what took you so long?”
“She refused to call a helicopter,” Amy stated.
Sally laughed.
“Oh my god, you two!”
Max stared at her.
“What is the point of having money if you don’t use it for helicopters?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Max…I just thought Amy and I could use it to plan our wedding, buy our first house together and, oh yeah, I forgot…I’m opening my own design firm.”
Max turned to Amy.
“I hope you’re more sensible with your newfound success,” he said. He was referring to the fact that Lesbeing—the Podcast was now featured on Canada’s OutTV. The network had told Amy that her personality and her quirky discussion topics about what being a lesbian in the twenty-first century is like put her show a cut above others and that it deserved a wider audience. They especially liked, for instance, the episode where she spoke with a TSA representative about the types of vibrators, dildos and other pleasure toys a woman could pack in her carry-on luggage.
“Helicopters for me all the way, babe,” Amy said, raising her glass to him.
Max groaned.
“How many times do I have to ask you lesbians to stop calling me ‘babe’?”
“Sorry, babe,” Amy said.
Sally laughed. She loved how close Amy had become with him, teasing him the exact same way she did.
“Everything is set up, honey!” This came from Tiffany who appeared from another room. Max gestured for his guest to follow his fiancée.
“I love this outfit!” Tiffany said, taking Sally’s arm as they walked.
“Thank you,” Sally said. “Be warned, though, it drives women crazy!”
“And she loves it!” Amy said.
They all ended up in the living room, furnished in Max’s typical mix of mid-century and art deco styles, though Sally could definitely see Tiffany’s influence on the décor now in the form of some of the throw cushions on the sofa and in the choice of the lighting fixtures. There were also more houseplants than Max used to have back in Oceanside.
On a big screen TV mounted to the wall, Sally saw that Netflix was open to the start page for the first episode of the series based on Max’s Jillian Ashley books. The teaser image was of the two yummy actresses playing Marisol and Karen, in bed together, facing one another as if having a heart-to-heart.
Sally felt herself getting excited. The New York Times had reviewed the first four episodes of the series and given it excellent marks. She had even been interviewed by the Times as part of that review and—entirely without Max’s help—had managed to come off sounding like the top lesfic author the whole world assumed she was.
“Sweetie, I’m so proud of you,” Tiffany told Max as they all sat down. She had been let in on the secret, Max deciding he trusted her enough. After all, they were sharing a life together now.
Snuggling on the sofa with Amy, Sally felt happier than she had ever been. Her and Amy had decided to wait until they received word from all their loved ones—both family and friends—that they had been vaccinated, and until the pandemic was well and truly over, or at least over enough that they could plan the wedding they really wanted, where they wanted it. But Sally didn’t mind having a long engagement. Yes, she was anxious to marry this marvelous woman in her arms now but the only thing which mattered to her was that every day she got to wake up beside her soulmate and every night she drifted off to the uncertain dreamland of sleep knowing that her real life dream—that of having a woman in her life whom she would be rich or poor with; warm or cold with; fed or famished with; sheltered or homeless with, was next to her on the mattress, making sure she was touching Sally in some way as she herself fell to sleep.
Sally felt Amy snuggle even closer with her.
“Comfortable?” Amy asked.
“Perfectly,” Sally replied, stroking Amy’s arm. “Hey.”
“Mmm?”
“I love you, future wife.”
Amy chuckled.
“And I love you, future wife.”
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Falling for Jillian Ashley!
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Follow me on Twitter at @kanelesfic for updates on the next novel in the series, which I have already started. It’s about my new favorite doctor, Ainsley and my new favorite realtor, Rachel.
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If you’d like, feel free to drop me an email at [email protected]
About The Author
Sabrina Kane
...is a Southern California native who is always on the lookout for that perfect beach.
The Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance Series
Join the lovely lesbians of beautiful Carlsbad, California as they search for their Ms. Rights in this funny, heartwarming series, all with HEA endings!
Each book in the series is a standalone work, meaning you don't have to read them in any particular order, and throughout the series you will encounter many of the same characters and come to think of them as old friends.
Nothing But A Fling
Vanessa Murray owns La Vida Mocha, the hip new coffeeshop in Carlsbad, California. But after the Covid pandemic hit, business is practically non-existent.
Megan Baldwin started the year having her heart shattered by her girlfriend but now she has just gotten an exciting new job promotion which will force her to leave Carlsbad and move to New York City.
But one day, Megan walks into La Vida Mocha and lays eyes on the gorgeous barista behind the counter.
Their attraction to each other is out of this world.
But with Megan leaving California soon for her dream job in New York, and Vanessa needing to focus solely on making sure her coffeeshop survives Covid, both women only want a harmless, no-strings-attached summer fling. Just a bit of fun.
But what happens when a meaningless fling develops into so much more for each of these women?
Does the other woman feel the same way?
Or is this truly nothing but a fling?
A Matter of Trust
Chloë Marchand knows everything there is to know about coffee. Her talented palate can discern hints of hibiscus in a Tanzanian peaberry blend and notes of coconut in an Ethiopian Harrar. Which is why she loves working at La Vida Mocha, the hip co
ffee spot in Carlsbad, California. But she also has dreams of opening her very own coffeeshop someday soon.
One night at work, though, Chloë sees the woman she had a huge crush on in high school: her former teacher, Miss Banks, who is just as stunningly beautiful now as she was when Chloë last saw her. Not at all the shy type, Chloë doesn’t waste any time approaching her to say hello…
Morgan Banks doesn’t understand what is happening to her! But ever since she reconnected with her former student, Chloë, Morgan has not been able to get the younger woman off her mind. Not only that, but Morgan is certainly enjoying the way Chloë flirts with her!
One problem, though: Chloë is a woman and, well, Morgan has only ever dated men.
What starts off as an innocent friendship between these two women ends up becoming a passionate and soul-fulfilling love affair, the kind each woman has been looking for.
Yet both of them will have to learn new things about trust—trust in each other and trust in themselves—in order to make this romance work in this funny, thought-provoking and steamy novel by Sabrina Kane.
Falling for Jillian Ashley
The 3rd book in the popular Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance series by Sabrina Kane.