Bliss

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Bliss Page 1

by West, Maven




  Table of Contents

  Bliss

  Cover design by © pressmaster - Fotolia.com

  Bliss- © 2013 Maven West

  All rights reserved.

  For my wild side

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter seventeen

  Chapter eighteen

  Chapter nineteen

  Chapter twenty

  Chapter twenty one

  Chapter twenty-two

  Chapter twenty-three

  Chapter twenty-four

  Chapter twenty–five

  Chapter twenty-six

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Chapter twenty-eight

  About the author

  Bliss

  By Maven West

  Published July 2013

  Simplyhollyhood.com

  Cover design by © pressmaster - Fotolia.com

  Bliss- © 2013 Maven West

  All rights reserved.

  For my wild side

  Chapter one

  I knew Eric would have wanted me to move on.

  But he would have hated to know I moved on with my grief counselor.

  I didn’t know the first thing about grief, or dealing with it, or how to control the breakdown I went through every night when I went back to the apartment we shared together.

  I was broken.

  I dropped my head back, closing my eyes as Jon’s teeth slid down the flesh of my neck. His tongue visited my earlobe and made my toes curl.

  And he made me forget. There were pluses to banging the grief counselor, and also minuses, his own emotional baggage—his dead wife.

  I wondered why such a man needed to bang in cars before grief meetings. But as I yanked him by his lush head of dark hair down to my tits I knew why. He was a mess just like me.

  “What time is it?” he asked his breath heavy as he worked his gorgeous body back and forth in the perfect rhythm slamming into me over and over again.

  I pressed my hand against his mouth making him stop talking. “I’m about to cum and you’re worried about the time?”

  He went for my mouth, trying his best to plant a kiss on my lips. I shook my head; my lips were reserved for Eric and only Eric. He drew back like a snake bit him, and slapped on the expression of a man with a bruised ego.

  “Not a lot of men want to fuck a girl with issues,” he said.

  I stared into his eyes, flecks of gold decorated the center, and a lush set of dark eyelashes covered them. “You’re fucking me.” I reminded him straining under the weight of his muscular body, twirling my hips around his manhood to get him to forget the lecture he wanted to hand over.

  He pressed his forehead into my chest, doing his best to hold onto the control. “Because I get you.”

  I squeezed his ass refusing to let him stop me. “You don’t get me. You love fucking me. You miss your wife, I miss my husband and you’re the best sex I have had since he died.”

  And that was all she wrote. Jon groaned pressing his face against mine; he had beaten me to the finish line. I liked the sound of his voice against my ear as he exploded inside me.

  And now it was my turn to make it there, around and around I went begging my body to let go, to give in and let me remember what it felt like to release, but it didn’t happen.

  I closed my eyes throwing my head back against the leather of his backseat, hot, and defeated.

  “It’s past six,” Jonathan said snapping off the condom. “Shit, we’re late.”

  I rolled my eyes watching him tie up the end of the rubber. He found his shirt and slipped it on using his elbow to wipe away the moisture on his window.

  I was sure Eric never expected that I would be naked in the back of an old four door wondering why I couldn’t orgasm. He always knew how to get me off;

  He was the epitome of what making love was all about. Anymore I seemed to be chasing the ghost of what once was.

  Chapter two

  I smiled at Ana as we carried our martinis through the bar. The classy bar was nothing like our usual laidback hole in the walls.

  And as Ana rattled on and on about her latest drama I scoured the crowd of classy and sophisticated club dwellers hanging onto their own expensive drinks.

  “He said he wanted the real thing,” Ana said. “Like what I was giving him wasn’t real.” She fluffed her brown locks and saddled up to the table, dropping her martini in front of her as careless as a man on a tightrope above a pit full of stuffed animals.

  “Maybe the real thing means settling down,” I offered, running a hand through my bangs, I tilted my head to the side letting them shield my eyes from all the horn dogs swarming the dance floor. I knew it was only a matter of time before one approached us and tried to persuade the two of us to let him smash his man meat into our backsides.

  “He fucked me at his brother’s graduation ceremony,” she reminded me. “I doubt he wants to settle down.”

  I arched an eyebrow, and started nibbling on my fingernail. The blonde guy and his friend beside us caught my attention. I hadn’t seen arm sleeves since Eric, I loved tattoos.

  “Morgan, are you even listening to me?” Ana whined. I rolled my eyes and forced myself to look at her.

  “You met a guy who treats you like a piece of trash. And now he has broken your heart after you let him get to know your girl parts.”

  She scoffed, shaking her head, her pretty brown surfer waves danced around her shoulders. “I waited until the third date before I gave in. I get the feeling this guy is in it for the sex.”

  I nodded, I didn’t care, but we were friends. She stuck around most days, so I had to care or act like I did about her life. “What did you say his name was again?”

  She groaned. “I didn’t. And anymore it doesn’t matter, because I wash my hands of men.”

  I nibbled on my olive. “Let me guess, you’re going to become a lesbian like every other scorned girl in the world?”

  “We all didn’t find the man of our dreams like you did,” she reminded me. “And I know, before you call me a bitch for bringing up Eric, let me just say he really was the perfect man.”

  I wasn’t about to argue against that. He was, and so much so I married him the day after I turned twenty. We shared three of the best years together. The best life, the best sex and the best friendship I could ever ask for.

  “Be glad you didn’t find him and have to lose him like I did,” I told her. “I got to pee.” I dropped down from my seat and headed through the crowd to the bathroom. Wherever that was, I didn’t care I needed to breathe.

  I blinked away the tears that threatened to come out and make a fool of me in front of god and everybody and squeezed through a throng of drunken businessmen and located a small hallway that lead to a restroom.

  What was I doing? I didn’t know. I wanted to forget about the pain of losing Eric. I wanted to find the love Eric and I shared again, because ever since I knew what it felt like to feel love I felt so abnormal without it.

  Even if only for a brief moment, the touch of a man provided that. And each and every time I hoped something would click and I would find it. I prayed every night that reincarnation existed and that maybe my dead husband found his way into another man’s soul.

  But until that moment I knew my mother would continue to tell me I lost my mind. Everyone would fear for my
safety and the rest of my family would consider talking me into some psychiatric facility in hopes to bring me back from the dark side.

  Depression took many forms they said.

  ***

  “There you are,” Ana said, pleased to see me back. “Good news.”

  I studied my empty martini glass afraid to know what good any news she was about to tell me could be.

  “He’s coming here.” She reached over and squeezed my arm. “Can you fucking believe it?”

  I couldn’t. I didn’t even know who she was talking about. But I knew she was going to tell me.

  “Carter.” Ana said, eyes lighting up like fireworks at the sound of his name.

  I couldn’t imagine she meant the guy she just complained about. “Did you meet someone new since I was in the restroom?”

  A big shake of the head confirmed my suspicion. “Carter is the guy I have been telling you about all night.”

  “The one you switched to lesbianism over,” I reminded her. Well, shit maybe she didn’t but we all knew that’s where she was headed if she was screwed over literally and figuratively again.

  “Will you give him a chance?” She searched the crowd. “There he is. Now be nice.”

  I watched Ana leap from her seat and into the arms of a tall guy with skin kissed by the sun. He surveyed the bar as he wrapped his muscular arms around her. I couldn’t tell whether or not he was happy to see her. If he was, the smug look on his face didn’t provide proof.

  “Morgan,” Ana said releasing her clutch on Carter. “This is Carter Sterling.”

  I extended my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Morgan,” he said taking my breath away. He sensed it too, searching my eyes for the source of my shock. “Are you alright?”

  I swallowed down the anxiety taking over my body. “It’s been some time since I heard somebody speak like that.”

  Ana took her seat while Carter stole the empty chair at the table next to us. “Oh is that right?”

  I nodded. Ana did too.

  “Morgan’s husband was British,” she explained.

  He leaned back in his seat, running a hand across his faded blue jeans. “Where abouts?”

  “Grays.” I said. The first thing that stole my heart was the moment Eric opened his mouth. I knew I was in love.

  “What a small world. I didn’t live too far from there,” he informed me.

  I smiled, and our eyes locked. “What made you leave?”

  “My brother moved here and promised me a job,” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s a lot more exciting than back home so I figure I’ll stay for a while.”

  Ana interrupted. “Did you want something to drink?”

  “Vodka.” He returned his attention to me. “How long have you and Ana known each other?”

  I slipped a hand through my hair watching Ana move through the crowd to the bar. “It’s been a few years.”

  “How does she handle break ups?” He smirked. “Not that we ever made it official. But that was the reason I came out here tonight.”

  I raised an eyebrow. He just confessed to breaking Ana’s heart. Why did I like the sound of it?

  I knew why as soon as his dazzling set of teeth showed themselves. He leaned closer, his elbows resting on the table that kept us separated.

  “She’d probably be very upset.” I leaned in. “Ana’s a good girl. Why do you want to dump her?”

  Sure she could be clingy, and she whined quite a bit, but Ana was beautiful. Long legs, big tits, the body of a skinny swimsuit model, eyes of the finest blue. Everything a girl wanted in life—to be skinny with a big rack.

  “Ana’s not what I’m looking for.”

  “So you’re looking to settle down?” I asked, he didn’t seem to be the settling type.

  “No.” He shook his head. “And if I was going to settle down it wouldn’t be with Ana.”

  Well, he wasn’t holding anything back I thought to myself.

  “Ana’s a cute girl.” He licked his lips, his fingers gliding across his strong jaw. “But she’s looking for prince charming.”

  I was eating out of his hands. His every word pulled me further across the table. Soon I’d be in his lap. “And that’s not you?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Definitely not me.”

  I felt creepy and wrong sitting in a bar talking to my friend’s really hot soon to be ex, even if they never made it official.

  “I noticed Ana said was when she mentioned your husband. Don’t tell me, you thought you found prince charming as well?”

  I cringed at his comment. “Oh I found him. He just so happened to die in a horrible car accident.”

  His dark brown eyes clouded. He knew he royally screwed up. I waved a hand dismissively, he didn’t have to apologize. But I knew he would. So I waited for it.

  “Sorry to hear it. What do they say? Get back on the horse?”

  I nodded, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “They say a lot of things. I don’t think that’s one of them when it comes to a dead husband. But maybe that’s why you’re not prince charming and why you’re here to dump my friend.”

  “I wouldn’t know the first thing about being somebody’s prince charming,” he crossed his arms, watching me toy with my napkin.

  “At least you’re honest.” I told him.

  He worked himself out of his black jacket, his muscled arms on display. “On my good days.”

  “You have tattoos,” I said, pausing to examine the arm sleeves underneath his gray t-shirt.

  Ana set three shot glasses down on the table destroying the moment.

  “What did I miss?” She asked, sitting in his lap.

  Carter met my eyes, it was pathetic, and he didn’t seem to care either way if I ratted him out. Maybe he wanted me to.

  “Carter and I were talking about fate,” I lied. I adjusted my tight black top. “Amongst other things.”

  Ana nudged the shot in front of me. “Here’s to a great night.” She tossed her head backwards swallowing her shot.

  Carter and I followed suit. “Hey, Ana.” He took her by the chin gaining her attention.

  Ana smiled moistening her lips as she stared into Carter’s smoldering eyes.

  “Get us a couple more rounds,” he leaned in, his perfect mouth connecting with hers. His fingers toyed with her face as he planted the most sensual well planned kiss on her lips.

  My tongue found my bottom lip, a slow build of a smile formed on my face. This man made me crazy.

  They broke apart, Ana brushed her hair from her face, her cheeks a new shade of warm pink now that Carter assaulted her with his tongue. Where she found this guy I didn’t know. And were there anymore like him?

  “I’ll be right back. Promise you’ll think about me while I’m gone?” She drug her nails across his pants, toying with the seam and the bulge underneath.

  Carter raised an eyebrow an arrogant smile on his face. “You have to leave for that to happen.”

  Ana skipped away on cloud nine. I rolled my eyes.

  “Ana never mentioned you,” Carter said, with a tilt of the head.

  “Maybe she didn’t see it as important. Or is to into you to worry about anything else,” I said. Carter was a playboy, just one look at him proved that.

  “What about you?” He leaned in. “Do you see what all the fuss is about?”

  I held back my laughter. “I think you know you’re hot.”

  “I also know that I fuck like a god,” he said drumming his fingers against his leg, which he knew would bring my attention to his crotch.

  I blinked forcing my gaze back to his smug mug. “Another thing Ana failed to mention.” Besides what did God’s fuck like anyway?

  He leaned back in his seat; sort of an open offer for the entire bar to get a good look at what he was working with and it was quite impressive. God why did he have to have tattoos? Or the killer smile he used as foreplay. And since when did smiling at a girl count as foreplay? I wasn’t sure but Carter w
as the one living man capable.

  “I think we should hang out sometime,” he said.

  I cleared my throat. “Why would we do that?”

  “I think the better question is why we wouldn’t.”

  I knew why we wouldn’t.

  “You act like you seen a ghost,” he said.

  I pulled my eyes away from his tattoos. Closing my eyes to the image of Eric, was I nuts or maybe Ana was stupid? Carter Sterling bordered on my husband’s doppelganger in more ways than just physical.

  Chapter three

  Eric would have never wanted me to be in so much pain. I knew that. This was the reason I attended the grief meetings. Some days I went more than once. Most morning I woke up with such overwhelming anxiety that I went to make it through the day.

  “What about you, Morgan?” Jon asked me, he dropped his head back to his notebook and scribbled some random thought about the meeting down.

  I bit my lip and ran a hand through my hair. “Today has been tough. That’s what brought me here.”

  Jon lifted his head. “What’s been tough?”

  I squeezed Eric’s ring in my hand. “Everything is tough. Just making a simple meal is hard anymore.”

  Jon’s eyebrows met in the middle. “Have you been working on what we talked about last week?”

  Last week Jon and I had sex in the back seat of his car and his apartment. I wasn’t sure what he meant.

  Jon rubbed at his nose. “Coming to grips with our partner’s imperfections?”

  I nodded, of course that rung a bell, but Eric as far as I was concerned was flawless. It was hard to find someone so perfect imperfect.

  “There was nothing imperfect about him,” I said refusing to look at anyone in the meeting. They all were miles ahead of me when it came to their own losses. I just wanted to be alone to deal with the fact my husband was gone and no longer a part of the universe.

  I realized my choice in showing up for the meeting was a big mistake as soon as the tears overflowed and spilled down my cheeks. Several of the women attending the meeting shifted their gazes away from me as if I was some poor pathetic lost cause.

 

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