One more vision and by God’s grace,
You’ll come running back to me…
He went on singing beautiful words like pearls strung together in a precious necklace fit for a queen.
Soon the music stopped, but Jameson had not moved in some time, his arm still around Lizzie’s waist, his chest heaving, and his fingers gripping her right hand almost to the point of hurting her.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a song my very best friend and the most talented singer-songwriter I know, our groom, Mr. Jameson Daniels, inspired.”
The audience clapped. Thomas and Jameson shared a look Lizzie couldn’t decipher.
Lizzie tried to stay positive, but something had blackened Jameson’s mood. He was even distracted when Charlotte came running to give him a report on Nick and Devon’s baby girl. The guests would not notice, but Lizzie felt a growing sense of doom rising, taking over the timbre of the party. He avoided Thomas’ rather long looks and seemed to awkwardly place himself at opposite sides of the room from his Best Man.
Guests were beginning to say their goodbyes, so Lizzie asked if they could head off for the Waterwheel Inn for the night. They had plans to go wine tasting with several others the next day. Now she worried something had buried itself in her wedding plans. She hoped the night would even out whatever had happened. She was hoping that in the intimacy of their bodies, their tangled legs and bed sheets, they’d find themselves and the miracle of their partnership.
The rest of the world could go to hell.
Chapter 4
‡
Jameson gripped the steering wheel all the way to the Waterwheel Inn. His bride sat stoically at his side, no doubt thinking about him, about his dark mood. He didn’t know how to feel about Thomas taking his song, adding words and embellishing it. Yes, it was better than Jameson had written. He knew that was part of what got to his gut. But Thomas hadn’t asked. He publically played it, gave Jameson credit as inspiring it, but played the version he’d altered and added to, without asking him first.
Was this true betrayal or jealousy he felt towards Thomas? He’d worked so hard to get a contract. He now saw the song he’d written and then abandoned as being marketable. This was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, yet he couldn’t get it out of his mind. He should be focused on Lizzie and their wedding. And yet his irritation was eating a hole in his gut.
Was he making a mistake getting married? Would there be something like this that would set him off with the Teams? Would he see something, do something that would give him regrets, nightmares, or take him out of the real world and pull him back like a bungee cord to that familiar place of regret.
Why couldn’t he let Thomas have the glory? He knew it was the right thing to do. There was no logical reason he should feel off.
But there was no denying he was mad. It was like how he felt if he gave a bad performance. He’d wind up back at the motel room, alone and feeling sorry for himself, in a rotten mood until that knock on the door. Some angel would come and be his temporary lifeline, breathe the life back into him with her body, with her kisses, with all the magic and allure those groupie kittens could provide him. He needed that tonight.
Except tonight he was with his lovely new bride. His blushing bride. On the first night of their marriage. When he should be Prince Charming and end her Cinderella day with the bedding of a lifetime. With a night she’d remember her whole life. That’s what Lizzie deserved. Could he pretend enough to give that to her? What did that make him then? Did he deserve her?
He took a peek at her face in profile, her chest heaving, her lovely red lips and the errant strands of hair framing her face, one long curl brushing against the mounds of flesh that undulated like the waves in the ocean in San Diego. She had saved him in every way but one. She could not save him from himself.
She didn’t meet his gaze as he sneaked his looks. She remained focused on the bugs on the windshield like they were museum finds. She was letting him off the hook, dammit. His internal sense of justice pushed him out of the airplane without a parachute. He was freefalling.
Help me Lizzie. I don’t know how to ask. I’m broken.
It was just a song, after all. Not like he had stolen it. Jameson had willingly shared it with him. Given him permission. Never said, “This is mine, not yours.” He’d in fact said, “See what you can do to tighten this one up.”
Dammit. That’s what had happened. And it had nothing to do with Lizzie and her plans for the rest of her life. He was being an evil, self-centered son-of-a-bitch. Robbing her of the time she would remember forever. It was his job to lay all that aside and rock her world. The song, his past, the music business, and his relationship with Thomas—all that could go hang. This was Lizzie’s night.
“I’m sitting here thinking how you’re going to look as I peel that dress off you, layer by fucking layer.”
Her eyes were filled with tears when she returned his gaze. “Oh yeah?”
“Most definitely, yeah.” He faced the two lane road that wandered through vineyards, small country antique shops that sold quilts and milk paint, tasting rooms and tiny restaurants that were some of the most expensive in the whole USA. “I’m wondering if I should start with your underwear or unzip your back and nibble from the top down.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. And if you don’t, I’m gonna kiss you until you do. And then I’m gonna kiss you until you don’t care again.”
She inhaled. “Jameson, do you know how hot I am right now?”
He felt her eyes on him just before he felt her hand travel over his thigh and find his cock buried in the black dress pants he couldn’t wait to get rid of.
“You’re hard as heck, Jameson.”
“I always am around you, Lizzie.”
“No, I mean, you gotta relieve that. Dangerous, and I am so hungry.”
He squirmed, adjusting his hips forward, widening his knees to the sides to give her more access to his cock. She squeezed him and then lovingly rubbed the length of him. If he weren’t careful he’d run off the road. Her touch was the perfect combination of sensual and firmness, telegraphing her need.
She moaned as she leaned into him. Damn the short bench seats in Nick’s Hummer. Her knee was already over his thigh. A few movements later and all that white organza would be the death of both of them, obscuring the windshield. He had to think quickly.
“I want to fuck you before we get to the Inn. Is that wrong, Lizzie? Tell me it’s what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me hard, Jameson, in my dress, I want you to find my pussy under all these skirts, rescue it from all this proper bridal bliss. I want you to fuck me senseless, dirty. Make me your slave. I’ll do anything you want.”
Geez. He was going to come, and maybe it would be a good thing. He could press against the fabric of the trousers and just spew. No taking these back without first going to the dry cleaner, and not the one they knew, someone who he could face when he told him he’d have to clean jiz off the pants. Probably wouldn’t be the first time either. But he’d need to be able to look this guy in the eye like a stranger.
“How long before we get there?” she whispered.
“Honey, you just unzip me, and we’re there.”
Her little tinkle of laughter made him start to buzz from his groin to his toes. He hoped he could get her to do that when he came inside her. He knew what that would feel like.
She took instruction well. His Lizzie was a quick study, and it was easy to play sex games with her, always had been. Her fingers unzipped his pants and he erupted into a stiff column of pink flesh of need. Her little inhale and moan just before she squeezed him, thumbing over his crown, spreading his precum way too slowly over his head.
“If I put my lips on it, will you promise to fuck me hard later?”
“I promise.”
“Will you eat my pussy too?”
“Not while I’m driving, but yes, sweet Lizzie, and goddammit, p
lease suck me right now or I’m going to spew all over the windshield.”
That tinkle of laughter again nearly made him spill.
She placed her other hand around him, cupping him like a gourmet morsel, bent over, licked him with her hot tongue which forced a gasp from him involuntarily, and then her full lips were around him as she sucked, making those delicious noises. He didn’t want her to be delicate. He wanted to be devoured.
On cue, she went down on him, allowing him to feel the back of her throat as she pulled him deep. Her fingers fondled his balls, coaxing him. It was painful to hold back, but he was trying.
Up and down she slowly worked, her tongue wrapping around his shaft, long strokes that ended in a popping noise when she released him. She grabbed his hand from the steering wheel and licked his palm. With one hand firmly encircling his shaft, she leaned back, tossing that one leg over the back of his seat, pulling up her petticoats between her arched knees and showing him that she had no panties on. She grabbed his hand and guided him to her while he tried to concentrate on the road.
It was no use. The vision of her pink petals, glistening with her own arousal, made it impossible to continue. He pulled to the side of the highway, grateful for the huge oak tree they could hide the Hummer behind. That is, if it was green camo and not bright wine red.
“We’re almost there, Lizzie. Only a few miles up the road.”
“I’m gonna come before then. I want to come on your tongue, Jameson.”
“Baby,” he said as he turned off the ignition and pressed the parking brake. He dove into her petticoats as she arched back, raising her pelvis to him, with that tinkly laugh again.
He pulled the scratchy fabric away, so he could fully see her again. His fingers followed into her deep core, sliding in where she was wet and so ready for him. She arched back just before he descended upon her lovely lips, lapping her juices with his tongue, rimming her opening and then sucking on her bud, making her jump.
“You taste so good. Never tasted anything so sweet.”
“All for you, Jameson.”
He angled back and watched his fingers slip inside her again, reveling in her desperate moans as his two fingers went to the hilt. His thumb pressed her nub, rubbing and reveling in how her lower torso began to vibrate, her knees hugged his ears as she pulled his head into her crotch again.
He sucked at her petals, spreading her apart with his thumbs, stopping to watch and then partaking of her juices again and again.
Her hand had found the front of his pants, with his cock bobbing out in front. She pulled him to her opening, ringing her fingers around his shaft as he entered her, squeezing him, and then squeezing his balls as he began to move his hips against her to the same rhythm.
Grateful they had some cover, he didn’t worry about the bouncing cab or the noises they made. They were not visible to the two-lane highway or anything nearby. He was rooting deep, making her liquid with each thrust. She’d folded her bodice down and her breasts were available to him, bulging out of the brocade lined with seed pearls. He took her right nipple in his teeth, and then encircled it with his tongue, pulling as he sucked the areola stiff.
He couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get enough of her. His kisses up her neck, into her ear, then under her chin and finally on her lips drove him wild with need. His undulations began a fierce convulsion, holding as she spasmed around him. He found her butt cheeks under the layers of fabric, pulling her up to meet the angle of his hips as he held her firm against him and spilled.
He was still chuckling to himself how messed up Lizzie looked, her face still flushed, sweat still on her brow, her upper lips, her red lipstick smeared halfway to her nose. He wouldn’t tell her, and hope he could grab her and kiss her until she stopped being mad at him when she looked at the mirror and discovered it. He loved making her mad.
His thoughts nearly made him miss the turnoff for the Inn.
“Fuck me, hold on, Lizzie,” he said as he hard-righted the Hummer, nearly losing control on the crushed granite shoulder that led to the courtyard outside the reception area beyond. Sounds of the highway were strong, but he heard water running all around which muted the noise. The stucco exterior was covered in green vines that snaked randomly to the roof overhang. The red tips and new growth added color and made the outside look like some ancient French provincial village, not an inn in the Wine Country. They walked up the few shallow steps into an inviting lobby area lit with pleasant clean-scented candles.
The room was divided into two sections, both fed by an enormous fireplace, roaring and sending shadows upon memorabilia: swords, African spears and crests, maps, artifacts, shelves of pottery and cases housing old texts, journals and faded photographs. On one wall was a painted map tracing Northern California highways and the Silverado Trail, as well as trails long traveled by early explorers, identifying native peoples of the area and noting important events. A route was painted from San Francisco Bay north, through Sonoma Valley up through the gold country where the ’49er gold rush was located. It was the story of a 19th century explorer and his experiences traveling through the region.
“Welcome to the Waterwheel Inn,” the bright young man with a bow tie greeted them.
Lizzie and Jameson were engrossed with thoroughly enjoying the ambience and history of the entire foyer.
“You checking in?”
“Yes.” Jameson gave the clerk his paper reservation.
“Daniels. Ah yes, upgraded you to the Grande Romance Suite, compliments of some of your friends and the house.”
Lizzie turned around, hoisting her dress as she wafted over next to Jameson. The clerk noticed her state of fluster, raising his eyebrows but keeping his eyes on Jameson after that.
“We have a suite?” Lizzie asked, forcing the clerk to focus on her again nervously.
“Yes, ma’am. A nice one. Across the highway is the famous Old Sonoma Winery vineyards you’ll see at sunrise tomorrow. It also overlooks the pool, and the waterwheel is around the corner with the spa inside the wheelhouse. We shut the wheel off at midnight so you can get some…” he looked at the two of them again and blushed, “rest.” He cleared his throat. “We can leave the waterwheel on all night, if you prefer. Whoever stays in this special suite, which is not connected to any other part of the hotel, has the say on the water features.”
Jameson could see the clerk was trying to concentrate on the details without sounding too stiff and proper, but was failing miserably. He liked that. It brought a smile to his lips. He leaned against the counter, placed two fingers under Lizzie’s chin, leaned forward for a wet lingering kiss, and then said, “I think leaving the waterwheel on all night might be a good thing, don’t you?”
Lizzie was blushing now. Her fluttering eyelids told him she’d gone somewhere else with the kiss. He loved that one tiny touch from him would stir such emotion inside her. “Yes,” she said through her beautiful rosy blush.
The clerk cleared his throat again, hiding a smile by covering his nose and mouth with his palm. “Very well. Your wish is our pleasure.”
That was a perfect word, Jameson thought.
After check-in, they were given directions with a map to their suite. Heavy curtains covered a private patio with padded lounge furniture at the top of brown tiled steps leading upstairs to their suite. Jameson inserted his key and opened the heavy wooden door with a creak, revealing a grand bedroom suite with another larger fireplace fully ablaze, across from the foot of the king-sized bed. The light yellow walls were framed in dark hand-hewn wood and punctuated by deep windows with wrought iron hardware. A big bouquet of red roses stood at one of the pair of tables adjacent the bed, and their fragrance infused the space.
Lizzie ran to the bathroom and squealed to find the two-person shower and double soaking jetted tub. “I could live here.”
“Well, for the next two days, you can. After that, well, we gotta sell Nick’s truck to pay for it.” Jameson was enthralled seeing how excited she was.
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“You arranged all of this?” she said to him, approaching, her eyes wide, her hand sweeping over the entire room, stopping at the ice bucket stuffed with a champagne bottle. “I’ve never stayed in anything so nice.”
“Sweetheart, I’d spend the next two days in the bunkhouse at Nick and Devon’s as long as it was with you, but if you like it, I’m happy.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “No bunkhouse, Jameson. I want you in that bed, after we take a bath and have some champagne.”
Chapter 5
‡
The champagne was sweet and the bubbles tweaked her nose. The warm bubbles and steamy drips from the faucet were relaxing. She leaned back against Jameson’s chest, his familiar man-scent competing with the lavender-vanilla bath salts to make a heady mixture. The glow outside made it seem like they had a fireplace in the stone and granite bathroom suite that was bigger than her dorm in college. The two windows framed a bright view of turning green vineyard leaves and bright rosy sky that would descend into a Maxwell Parish-esque painting.
Lizzie felt fortunate she’d grown up on her parent’s horse farm in North Carolina—a place of bucolic beauty in an unhurried place and time. Her mother had loved her horses, and her father accommodated her every dream as best he could. When they passed, working the farm alone and having to hire help, Lizzie didn’t find it was the relaxing, wonderful place she’d known before.
But this part of the country, Sonoma County, now this was a place she could live in forever. She even liked it better than San Diego. Even though the hills were brown, in wine country there were colorful patchwork vineyards against the bright blue clear sky. Life was laid back but filled with quality and fine things like eating well, bike riding and drinking wines overlooking vistas as beautiful as anything she’d ever seen. With several from Jameson’s Team considering their options for SEAL retirement, she wouldn’t mind it if Jameson also felt the calling to return here. Nick and Devon had paved the way, and now, one by one, Kyle’s old squad was turning in their body armor for wine glasses and work gloves. Zak and Amy were from here, and with them caretaking the vineyard the team was trying to negotiate, Lizzie figured she’d bone up on the wine industry. If she couldn’t get a teaching job, perhaps she’d take a job working a tasting room or doing wine sales while Jameson was on deployment.
Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs Page 3