“Only for you,” she breathed.
He pulled away from her and she moaned. He forced her onto her stomach, slapping her on the ass before pounding into her again.
Sex between them had always been different, special, because of the innate trust they had in each other. Jameson liked rough sex, liked to have heavy hands and heavier words. He wasn't practicing some “art form” or “lifestyle”, he just got off on calling a woman a cunt and grabbing her throat. Tatum wasn't looking for a “master” or a “sexual adviser”, she just got pleasure of out of being called a cunt and someone grabbing her throat.
For some people, sex was about leading a certain lifestyle, or almost a kind of performance art, and that was completely fine. Jameson believed people should do whatever worked for them, but it wasn't what he and Tate were doing. They were just two people screwing. Fuck safe words – they didn't need them, because it wasn't a game for them. Jameson would never hurt her, and Tate knew that. It was trust. It was sex.
It was making love.
“Oh my god, we should get married again if this is how you're going to act the next day,” Tate moaned. Jameson slapped her on the ass again.
“What the fuck does it take to shut you up?” he demanded, hiking her hips up higher and pumping as hard as he could. She groaned, pressing her hands flat against the headboard and pushing herself back into him.
“Not sure. Maybe you should keep trying,” she panted. He grabbed her hair and yanked, forcing her upwards. She moved her hands to grip the top of the headboard.
“I gave you a fucking wedding. I gave you a fucking ring. I gave you my fucking name. The least you can give me is what I want,” he snapped at her.
“I always give you what you want,” she moaned.
“Always,” he agreed, letting go of her hair and sliding his hand around to her jaw. She turned her head towards him, taking his index finger into her mouth. He groaned as she sucked on it, working her tongue around it like it was his dick.
“Fuck, Jameson,” she cried out as he moved his hand to her throat. Circled his fingers around it and squeezed.
“Jameson, Jameson,” he mocked her. “Now she says my name. Remember when you tried to call me Kane? Now that you share the name, you won't say it.”
“Because it sounds good on me,” she chuckled.
“Fuck you. I made this name, it doesn't mean anything on you, you stupid slut.”
“You may have made it, but I'll make it better.”
Jameson let go of her throat and put his hand in the middle of her back, forcing her down so her face was flat on the mattress. Then he reached around her, forcing his fingers in and around all of her warm heat.
“It's time for you to shut the fuck up and come.”
For once, Tate didn't have any smart ass comeback – she complied. Tate was a full-body orgasm-er, he could watch it take hold of almost every inch of her. Watch as a blush spread across her shoulder blades, just like he knew it would be spreading across her chest. She cried out, dragging her nails down the headboard, and he felt her pussy lock down on him. He growled, dragging his nails down her back, and her whole body shuddered.
When all her muscles had relaxed and she was panting and gasping for air, her head half buried under the pillows, Jameson pulled away. She mewled in protest, moving her face so she could look at him.
“What are you doing, why didn't you finish?” she breathed.
“Oh, don't worry Mrs. Kane, I plan on it.”
Another thing Jameson thought was beautiful about being in a completely open, loving, trusting, sexual relationship – he could come whenever, wherever, he wanted to on Tate.
It's the little things in life.
~14~
Tate rolled over and looked at Jameson. Smiled. He was asleep.
They had spent all day in bed. All day. Well, there was a trip to the shower, and another adventure on the balcony, so not technically all day in bed. But they did stay naked all day, which was pretty awesome.
She held her hand up, looking at her wedding ring in the moonlight. It was a gorgeous ring. Almost old fashioned looking, it had a large pear-shaped stone that was surrounded by lots of little diamonds, and it was all set on a thin, platinum band. But that didn't really matter to her – she had married him thinking that there wasn't any ring.
No, what she loved about the ring was what it symbolized. He had told her that he would never get her that ring, yet there it was; he had asked her to marry him. He had changed. He had given her everything she'd ever wanted. More.
Tate moved onto her side, ready to scratch Jameson awake, when something dinged behind her. She rolled over and saw that the laptop, which was still on the floor, had pinged to life, for whatever reason. The screen was ridiculously bright in the dark room. Jameson grumbled in his sleep and shifted onto his stomach. Trying to keep quiet, Tate slid sideways out of bed, then crawled on hands and knees to the computer.
She was just going to shut it, but the screen caught her attention. She'd totally forgotten about what she'd been trying to look up. She almost burst out laughing, had to cover her mouth with her hand. She glanced back at the bed before pulling the computer closer, scrolling down the screen.
There was a picture of her and Jameson at the top, walking out of a subway station in New York. He was holding her hand and his free hand was held up, blocking the camera flash. There were a couple pictures farther down, of them just two weeks ago, outside of the night club in New York. Tate wearing his jacket, giving the paparazzi the bird. That made her snicker even more. Then of course the oldie but goodie, Jameson and her standing in the rain, him holding an umbrella over her and kissing her.
But her new favorite picture was at the very bottom. It was the only picture she had of them on their wedding day. Jameson bending her into a dip, kissing her deeply. One arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand cupping her jaw. He was wearing one of his expensive, custom made suits. She was wearing a tube dress she bought at Forever21 for twenty bucks. So like them. So perfect.
Everything is so perfect.
~News Flash~
Financier Jameson Kane Keeps Girlfriend in the Dark, Ruins In-Laws
Late last night, thirty-three year old financial mogul Jameson Kane married long-time girlfriend, twenty-eight year old Tatum O'Shea, in a secret beach side wedding in Hong Kong. Speculators have long wondered when – or even if – the nuptials would ever take place. No engagement was ever announced, and the wedding itself seemed to have been spur of the moment.
Mathias O'Shea, father of the bride, and his wife were also spotted in Hong Kong, having dinner with the couple, but it is assumed they weren't invited to the wedding. Shortly after their visit, O'Shea was forced out of his position on the board at J.P. Morgan, and shares in several of his companies began dropping. The O'Sheas are also being audited, and thus far the IRS has discovered several years worth of unpaid taxes and unclaimed income. As of yesterday, it is rumored that O'Shea is putting his family home on the market, to pay off some of their debts. It is unknown if the O'Sheas even know of their daughter's wedding.
Sources close to the event claim that it almost didn't happen, with Ms. O'Shea showing up to her own wedding an hour late. But the vows were exchanged, and there is officially a Mrs. Kane, something most people thought would never happen.
Women the world over are weeping as the man known affectionately as “Satan” is officially off the market.
Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Kane. And if you have a wedding stateside, please send an invitation our way.
~15~
Deleted Scenes
Author's Note: This scene was written at the request of a reviewer – she asked me very specifically how I thought Jameson would handle it, if he were to find out through other people that Tate would like to have a baby. This is literally straight from my brain and into an e-mail I sent her. None of this has been edited or beta-read or proofed.
Jameson walked into the kitchen.
Time to cut the shit.
"Tatum," he barked out.
She was sitting at the island, reading a magazine, and glanced up at him. Smiled briefly before going back to her reading. He scowled. Once upon a time, that tone of voice would've set her on edge. Now she just smiled at it? Not good.
"What's up?" she asked, yawning and flipping a page.
"I've been talking to Sanders," he started, leaning on the opposite side of the island.
"Awesome. Don't you talk to him every day?" she chuckled, before picking up a glass of water and taking a drink. He glared at her.
"Yes, but usually when we speak, there's not quite as much talk about how many fucking babies you apparently want."
Tate spit out her water. All over him. They stared at each other for a second, her with water dripping off her chin. Him with water dripping off of ... everywhere.
"I'm sorry ... what?" she squeaked out. He leaned back and grabbed a dish towel.
"I think you heard me." He mopped the water from his face, then tossed the towel to her.
"Why would he tell you about that!?" she demanded, cleaning up the mess on her chin and then on the counter.
"The question is, why are you talking to him about it? I think if you wanna have kids, the key person you should be talking to is the one you're fucking," Jameson pointed out.
"Well, you're not exactly easy to talk to!" she snapped.
"That's a shitty excuse."
"See!? This moment, right here, is why I didn't talk to you about it! You're being a dick. Why can you just be a normal human being?" she demanded, before hopping off her stool and stomping over to the sink, refilling her water glass.
"Because someone has caused me permanent brain damage with all her mindless chatter. Now. Babies. You want them," he said it as a statement.
She stayed silent.
Jameson wasn't gonna lie, the idea of kids terrified him. He knew what kind of person he was, was very aware of his disposition. Knew that people described him as "scary", and was usually proud of that fact. But he didn't want to scare his own children. Didn't know if that was something that could be avoided.
And Tate? As a mother!? It was almost laughable.
"Someday," she finally started speaking again as she turned to face him. "Yeah, someday I want kids. Did you see Ellie's son last time he was here? He's adorable."
"It's not a puppy, Tate. Babies don't stay babies forever," he reminded her. She threw the dish towel at him.
"I know how kids work, Jameson. And I'm not saying I want them right now, this second. But I do want them, and it freaks me the fuck out cause I know you're not exactly keen on the idea," she snapped.
They glared at each other for a second, and Jameson let his eyes wander over her features. Let his mind wander over the past. She was a very loving person. A very forgiving person. She was loyal and giving and kind. She laughed a lot, and wasn't scared of anything. And best of all, she loved him. Only him.
If those aren't top qualifications for being a mother, I don't know what are.
"I'll make you a deal," he started, making his way over to her. She watched him warily.
"Oh god. What kind of deal?" she asked, folding her arms in front of her chest. He stopped right in front of her.
"I'll let you have my babies if -,"
"Oh, you'll let me? How magnanimous of your, sir."
"- if, you can promise me that they'll have your smile."
"Huh?"
She blinked up at him, clearly caught off guard.
"Your smile. It's one of my favorite things about you," he told her, tracing a finger along her jaw.
"You want our kids to have my smile?" she asked in a soft voice.
"Yes. But my brains. You're shit with money," he added. She managed a laugh, though her eyes were tearing up.
"Okay. I think I can handle that," she sniffled.
"Good."
He leaned forward and grabbed her around the waist. She let out a shriek as he threw her over his shoulder before stomping out of the kitchen.
"What the fuck are you doing!?" she demanded.
"You said you wanted kids," he reminded her, starting up the stairs.
"I know that! But what are you doing!?"
"Taking you to give you what you want."
She laughed all the way to the bedroom.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS is an interview between Beauty and Her Beastly Books blog and Jameson and Tate. I thought it was funny and had a fun time doing it. None of this has been edited from the original blog's posting. Thanks to Carol for the interview, and for allowing me to share it here.
It’s such a pleasure to have both of you here in Beauty and the Beastly Books! And by Beastly I’m not even referring to you, Jameson. *winks*
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: So, you’re here, together. And we all know what it took for this to happen. Do you think you’ll both settle and become one of those boring, acommodated couples?
Jameson: Well, I’m not sure what you mean, Tate’s already boring.
Tate: HEY! Truth, I don’t think we’ll ever be boring – ONE OF US has a flair for the dramatics (hint, it isn’t me). And you can call me boring all you want, Satan, because I’m damn accommodating.
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: Tate, I particularly have NO problems with the way Jameson talks to you or treats you, because coming from him that is a sign of love (sorry, Jameson) and you obviously gets a kick out of it too...But is there anything you won’t do for him? And is there a name you don’t like and won’t have him call you?
Tate: Hmmm, it kinda depends. Calling me “stupid” in bed is different, we’re playing, it’s not real. If we were at the store, and he was like “hey, stupid bitch, what kind of cheese should we get?” I’d probably punch him in the balls. But in bed ... no, I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for him or a name he can’t call me. Except I wouldn’t do a threesome with Pet. That’s disgusting.
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: I have to agree with that, Tate. Pet should just die, I mean, disappear. *winks* Jameson, what is a thing you’d never ask of Tate (in and out of bed)?
Jameson: I would never ask her to let me hurt her if she didn’t want it. I would never ask her to hurt herself. But that’s about. Asking permission isn’t really my thing.
(Is it my impression or it’s suddenly hot in here?? *fans herself*)
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: Is there a Jameson/ Sanders threesome in your future, Tate? *looks at Jameson apologizing* Please don’t kick me, Jameson!
Jameson: That question just made me physically ill.
Tate: Oooohhhh, my birthday is right around the corner! What a good idea! hahaha, no, even as freaky as I am, that might get a little weird. Maybe for my birthday I’ll ask for a weekend where I get to do whatever I want to Sandy, we could go-
Jameson: NO.
(Ooops, I better change the subject *thinks to herself*)
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: Jameson, what do you say about all these ladies having their panties melting because of you? *looks to the side and checks out underwear number 2 to see if it’s still holding*
Jameson: I’d say it’s more of the same, and clearly they have excellent taste. They should just stop wearing panties all together. Very bothersome article of clothing.
(In that case, let me go out just for a minutes. *thinks to herself, but refrains from getting up from the chair*)
Tate: Now I’M physically ill.
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: Tate, a lot of ladies compare Jameson’s looks with Nick Bateman and David Gandy’s. I particularly think he’s a younger looking Gandy but with a better cock I like to think...Which of the two do you think resemblers him more? (Actually could you also tell us if he’s a potato like Gandy or a cucumber like Bateman?) *tries guessing looking a Jameson’s penis. I mean, PANTS*
Tate: I don’t see the Bateman at all – too scrawny. Do you see this broad-shouldered-beast sitting next to me!? Much more like Gandy, but ... meaner? HAHAHA An
d there ain’t no potato hiding in those pants.
Jameson: Jesus, if we’re going to spend the majority of the time talking about my dick, I could just take my pants off.
Tate: No one likes a show-off.
(I DO!! *raises hand*)
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: Tate, can you tell us what this cheap “pearl” necklace means to you? We all saw it/ read about it, but I’m sure there’s more people than me wanting to know more about what it means to you?
Tate: Oh, my precious. It actually sits in the safe at home, now. To me ... it was a sign. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but doesn’t it kinda seem like not a whole lot gets through that thick head of his? He’s got an amazing poker fake, I always think he’s not listening to me, or doesn’t care about what I’m saying. That necklace showed me that he hears everything, every word I’ve ever said, and remembers them. It tells me that he loves me enough to do something against his nature, against his inclination, against what HE wants to do. Jameson rarely does something he doesn’t want to do. It just ... it meant a lot. It meant everything.
Jameson: I swear to god, if you start crying, I’m leaving.
Tate: You’re such a dick.
(But he is a hot dick.*sighs*)
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: Jameson, what about you? We know you’d love to replace it with a real, expensive pearl necklace, but it’s so touching and swoon-worthy that you chose to give her a cheap one! What were you aiming for? Being sweet and romantic or just staking your claim?
Jameson: I was aiming for a reaction. A good one. I don’t know shit about being sweet or romantic, but Tate kept saying that I never listened to her. I wanted to show her that I hear everything. She said if a gift was given with love, she would see the true value, not the price tag. So I got her a piece of shit and prayed that she would see the value. Women are so fucking strange.
(Hey, I’m proud to be strange!)
*Beauty and the Beastly Books: Tate, now for real and without embarrassing Sanders, because I absolutely LOVE him...What’s up with asking to take his virginity? Would you really do it? And Jameson, what would be your reaction to that?
The Kane Series Boxset Page 92