by Jaid Black
Harry pretended to flinch while smiling good-naturedly. “I’ll see you and Gwen tomorrow night then. Goodbye, Sam.”
“Bye, Harry.” Sam inclined his head to his brother-in-law’s assistant. “Monique.”
“Well then,” Harry intoned after Sam left his office, “I believe you said there is someone here to see me?”
“Yes. Mr. Camp from the Miami Herald.”
Harry nodded. “Thank-you, Monique. I hope he hasn’t been waiting long?”
Monique shook her head. “No. And I served him coffee and donuts, so he’s just fine.”
Harry inclined his head toward his assistant, clearly approving of her actions. “Excellent thinking. What would I do without you, Monique?”
Monique’s heartbeat quickened until she was certain everyone from here to D.C. could hear it thumping wildly. She smiled tremulously. “You couldn’t do without me, Harry?” she asked softly.
Harry glanced at her absently. “Of course not. You are, after all, very efficient.”
Monique’s face fell and her shoulders slumped. Her heartbeat returned to normal. “Yes,” she mumbled, “efficient.”
* * * * *
Sam winced at the sound of slamming cupboard doors. It wasn’t going to be as easy to smooth things over with Cupcake as he’d hoped it would be. Gwenyth was currently in the end all be all of black moods. The sight of her flared nostrils and heavy breathing—breathing that made her breasts heave up and down seductively no less— was as much a turn-on to Sam as it was a reminder of how he kept getting himself in his wife’s bad graces. And they’d only been married less than three days, he thought grimly.
Gwenyth was wearing a pair of faded, worn blue jeans with a black tank top that fit snugly around her breasts and hips. And no bra. Sweet Jesus, didn’t the woman understand what she did to him when she pranced around the apartment with those sweet, soft breasts bouncing and her tight nipples puckered up? Apparently not. If she did, she’d realize he was no longer in the mood to argue.
“I still cannot believe you had the nerve to reprimand me in front of an outside party.” Gwenyth slammed her coffee cup down onto the kitchen counter. Reaching for the coffeepot, she shook her head and clenched her teeth. “Detective Anderson must think I’m a weak-willed, ignorant, submissive woman.” She laughed mirthlessly as she poured the Irish Creme flavored coffee into her mug. “And, of course, he’ll have to go on thinking that because unlike you, I refuse to publicly humiliate my spouse.”
“Now Cupcake—”
“Don’t ‘now Cupcake’ me, Sam, because I don’t want to hear it!” Gwenyth slammed the coffeepot down onto the warmer, then whipped around and eyed her husband belligerently. “But what galls me the most, what well and truly slays me, is the fact that you had the unmitigated nerve to demand that I go home and think about what I’d done.” Her nostrils flared to wicked proportions. “Ooooh that just makes me so damn mad!”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “You did go behind my back, Gwenyth Marie.”
“And stop calling me Gwenyth Marie!” Gwen picked up her coffee cup and stormed from the kitchen to the living room, her husband hot on her trail. “I’m not a little girl you have the right to scold, Sam! I’m allegedly your wife, remember?”
“What do you mean ‘allegedly’?”
“I mean that I’m tired of you treating me like a five-year-old! Somehow or another I actually managed to get through these past eleven Sam-less years on my own without serious incident.”
Sam made a rude noise. “An apparent idiocy on my part. You never, ever would have spoken to me like this eleven years ago, Gwen.”
Gwenyth stopped in her tracks and whirled around to confront Sam. “That’s just it! I’m not sixteen anymore! If you wanted a child bride you should have married someone a little greener and more amenable!” She slapped her mug onto the nearest table with a thud, then raged into the hallway and headed for the front door.
“Where are you goin’?” Sam bellowed, rushing after her.
“I’m walking over to Candy’s,” she gritted out, picking up her house keys as she continued to fume.
“Like hell you are! We’re havin’ a discussion here!”
“No we’re not, we’re having an argument,” Gwenyth informed him as she slipped into her black, faux leather jacket. “An argument, I might add, that has reached a serious impasse.”
Sam regarded his wife warily. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“What it means,” she countered as she swung open the front door, “is that I think you are the one who needs to sit here and think about his actions.” Gwenyth craned her neck around long enough to impale her husband with a heated gaze. “And you best figure out what you want in your life, Sam. Do you want an obsessive, doting fan that has no mind of her own and therefore does everything you say, or do you want a wife who loves you for who you are and isn’t afraid to be herself?” She shook her head sadly and took a deep breath. “Because if it’s the fan you’re wanting, I’m afraid we made one hell of a big mistake in Las Vegas.” The door slammed shut and she was gone.
Sam stared at the closed door for an extended moment, uncertain as to what he should do to get Gwenyth to forgive and forget, or at least to forgive. He knew she was right. He didn’t even need to think about it to know it. Sam didn’t want a groupie for a wife. He wanted Gwen.
The need to pound on something, to take out a little aggression, was foremost in Sam’s mind. It was either that or storm after his wife all the way to Candy’s apartment, which would only serve to set her further against him. Realizing the wisdom behind allowing Gwenyth time away from him, he picked up the phone and gave Brian a call, knowing his plane didn’t leave for several more hours. They could go shoot some hoops or play a little tennis—anything. Anything was better than sitting around the apartment feeling sorry for himself and worrying that his wife was starting to believe she’d been better off single.
Chapter 17
Gwenyth and Candy spent an enjoyable afternoon together. They took in a movie at a Hyde Park cinema, then lunched on salads and drank wine at an outdoor café across the street.
Gwenyth smiled nostalgically as she watched the late afternoon crowds meander the streets of this small, trendy section of the city. At this time of day, the majority of the throng consisted of businessmen and women wheeling and dealing with potential clients at Happy Hour, and upper-class housewives pushing fashionable strollers into the various local shops. It was a sight Gwenyth was accustomed to, having grown up in this tiny enclave and lived here all of her life.
Gwenyth finished chewing on a crouton as she gestured with her wineglass toward Candy. “So what’s the deal with you and Brian?”
Candy’s eyes widened as she blew out a bubble that made a smacking sound when it popped. “There isn’t one. Nothing has happened yet.”
“Oh?”
Candy sighed. “Brian’s going back to Boston tonight. He gave me his phone number and asked me to call him.”
“And will you?”
“I don’t know.” Candy shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know if I’m ready to have a man like Brian in my life yet.”
Gwenyth grinned. She batted her eyelashes mockingly. “Yes, I can see how it would be difficult to accept the attention of a handsome, virile man who just so happens to be a millionaire jock. You’re much better off asking out Trevor.”
Candy smiled mischievously as she threw a braid of dark hair over her shoulder. Another bubble popped in its wake. “You’re in no position to give advice. I seem to recall the words ‘domineering jerk’ and ‘infuriatingly arrogant Neanderthal’ used in conjunction with Sam’s name more than once this afternoon.”
Gwenyth frowned into her wineglass as she sipped from her Merlot. “That’s different. Sam and I share a colorful past,” she muttered defensively.
“True.”
Gwenyth sighed. She had shown up at Candy’s door and nagged her to spend the afternoon together to
take her mind off of her impossible husband, yet her thoughts kept straying back to him. The man could behave like a big, dumb oaf at times, but she still loved him desperately. There could never be another love in her life that held a candle to Sam. Therefore, she could only hope that her husband’s recent primeval attitude did a complete 180—and soon—preferably before she checked into the insane asylum.
Determined not to dwell on Sam while spending time with Candy, Gwenyth quickly changed the subject from the topic of relationships altogether. They spent the next hour sharing a bottle of wine and laughing uproariously with a group of tipsy businessmen at the next table who were clearly doing their best to impress the women.
When a handsome corporate lawyer named Devin asked Gwenyth for her phone number, she thanked him for flattering her, but held up her ring finger and grinned. “As my Grandmama would say, this cow’s been bought.”
The group of business associates laughed. Marc, a friendly accountant with aspirations of opening up his own restaurant, gestured toward Gwenyth animatedly. “That’s right. I think I saw your picture in the paper. Aren’t you the woman who married Sam Tremont from the New England Crusaders?”
Gwenyth smiled sweetly, though the last thing she wanted was to be embroiled in yet another conversation that revolved around her husband. “One in the same.”
Devin whistled through his pearly white teeth. “Damn. I never even stood a chance.”
The group laughed again and this time Gwenyth joined them. The conversation turned to other things after that, and before she and Candy were aware of it, another half-hour had passed.
When Gwenyth next glanced toward the street, her eyes zeroed in on the sight of Sam alighting from his rental car and heading toward the group she was seated with. Her stomach lurched, knotting up at the prospect of her husband committing a big and embarrassing display of jealousy over her having shared wine with a gaggle of men he wasn’t acquainted with.
Sam surprised her though. Rather than rudely pulling her to her feet and forcing her to follow behind him as she was half expecting, he smiled engagingly at Gwenyth, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Hi honey. Did you and Candy have a good time?”
Her eyes wide with disbelief at the sincerity in Sam’s voice, she nodded her head up and down emphatically. “Y-yes, thank-you. We had a great time.” Gwenyth smiled tremulously at her husband, then introduced him to the others at the table.
For the next forty-five minutes, Sam talked and laughed with Candy and the businessmen. He even seemed to take a genuine liking toward Marc. And even though half of the conversation revolved around sports talk, Gwen was delighted with her husband’s behavior. She simply couldn’t get over how charming he was being. He had even signed several autographs for the café’s various patrons.
Stunned, Gwenyth threw a look Candy’s way to get her reaction. Her best friend smiled back at her, a dreamy, romantic look that spoke volumes. He’s trying, the smile said. He loves you, the smile proclaimed. Meet him half way, her eyes implored.
So a few minutes later when Candy made her excuses and Sam asked Gwen if she was ready to go home, she relented with a nod and stood up to leave. Gwenyth thanked the gentlemen at the table for the bottle of wine and great conversation, then laced her fingers through her husband’s and walked toward the rental car with him. Sam opened the Lexus’ door for her, then closed it gently after she slid in.
The ride home was a quiet one, though it took only two minutes at best to get there. Sam parked the car in front of their apartment, but rather than suggesting they go inside when he shut off the ignition, he turned in his seat to face his wife.
Sam ran a bedraggled hand through his black hair with a sigh. “Listen Cupcake, I want to apologize for the way I’ve been behavin’ lately.” He smiled with an air of self- depreciation as he reached for Gwenyth’s hand and clasped it gently in his own. “I know I’ve been actin’ as bad as you said and then some. I’ve been jealous, demandin’, overbearin’, and downright rude, but I’m here to tell you that I’m really workin’ on it.”
Sam reached over and pulled Gwenyth onto his lap. It was a tight fit in the car, but they managed. “I need you, baby. Don’t ever think I’d rather have some fawnin’ fan for a wife than you.”
Gwenyth wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck and smiled wistfully. “I love you, Sam Tremont.”
Burning sapphire eyes met sparkling jade ones as Sam searched his wife’s gaze. He wanted to say the words, almost felt as though he needed to give them to her, but couldn’t quite bring his lips to form the sounds yet. “Then kiss me, Gwen Tremont.” His Southern lilt was gruff, his tone hoarse. “I missed you so much today.”
Gwenyth turned her body all the way around in the seat to straddle Sam’s lap. The car horn let out a groan of protest when her backside accidentally brushed against it. Sam laughed, patted her lovingly on the rear, then hit the latch to the recliner and laid back. Gwenyth followed him, her pelvis grinding into her husband’s as she leaned forward to kiss him properly.
Their lips came together in a sweet, agonizingly slow assault. They both needed this tonight. Slow and sensual, as opposed to fast and wicked. Tender and loving, as opposed to two animals rutting. They kissed for what could have been five minutes or an eternity and neither of them would have noticed the difference. Their mouths explored, enjoying the sweet, Merlot taste of each other’s tongues.
Sam tugged at Gwenyth’s top, indicating he wanted her to rid them of the barrier. She sat up long enough to comply, pulling it over her head and throwing it into the passenger’s seat as she visually confirmed the windows were well-tinted. Sam sucked in his breath. “Mmm baby, I’ve been wantin’ to see these all day long.” He grabbed one heavy breast in each hand, rubbing his thumbs over their crests. His eyes narrowed in a haze of longing. “Put them in my mouth, Gwen.”
A knot of arousal coiled in Gwenyth’s belly. Not only were Sam’s words provocative, but there was something altogether sexy about sitting topless before a fully clothed man. Highly aroused, she lowered her breasts toward Sam’s mouth, shivering as his tongue curled around one taut nipple. He suckled first one peak and then the other, long and leisurely, causing Gwenyth to gasp and moan. She clutched the back of his head and shoved it more forcefully to her chest. Sam reached for her jeans and unzipped them. “I want these gone,” he gritted out.
A minute later, Gwenyth straddled her husband’s lap fully naked. Groaning, Sam tugged at her nipples, his need growing stronger. “Unzip my pants,” he whispered thickly.
Gwenyth complied immediately, her own need gaining momentum as she watched Sam’s hard length spring free of his jeans and jut out. “Touch him,” she heard Sam groan. His breathing was choppy, the muscles in his arms and neck corded tightly.
Gwenyth did. She touched and caressed his shaft with one hand, while her other hand gently kneaded the sac below it. Sam sucked in his breath and placed his hands behind his head, enjoying the feel of his wife’s silky hands feathering over and around him. He closed his eyes and groaned, then opened them to watch.
A minute later, when the sensation became unbearable, Sam pulled Gwenyth’s hands away from his erection, not wanting to spill himself anywhere but inside of his wife’s body. Reaching around her to cradle her buttocks in his palms, he arched his hips up meaningfully. “Put him inside of you, Gwen. I can’t wait anymore.”
Sam gritted his teeth as his wife’s velvety wet opening lowered onto him, inch by agonizing inch, until her pussy was at last wrapped snugly around his erection. There was no feeling quite as pleasurable in the whole world. And when Gwen began to ride him, her succulent breasts bouncing in time with her thrusts, he could have sworn he’d died and gone to someplace better than heaven.
The sight of Gwen naked, writhing, and moaning on top of his all but fully clothed form gave Sam a feeling of domination and heady power. He extended his thumb to her clitoris, swirling it around and around the hard nub while he watched his wife’s nipples harden furth
er and her breathing grow more and more labored.
“Yes,” she moaned, “Oh God yes.”
Gwenyth’s orgasm hit her hard. She closed her eyes and reveled in the primitive sensation as she continued to ride up and down on Sam’s thick cock. Sam grabbed her hips with a growl, meeting her thrusts like a wild animal. “Faster, baby,” he gritted out, his jaw clenching. “Give it to me.”
Gwenyth picked up the pace, riding up and down his impressive length harder and faster. Sam threw his head back and groaned, and with one final thrust, spurt his hot cum deep inside of her body.
Gwenyth fell on top of Sam, sated and exhausted. She lay there replete, basking in the feel of his hands wandering around her backside to cup and caress, knead and rub. And five minutes later when his manhood lengthened while still inside of her, Gwenyth felt desire stir to life again. She raised her head and grinned wickedly down at her husband. “Is that for me?” she asked coyly.
Sam grinned back, kneading her buttocks with his large fingers and callused palms. “All of it, sweetheart,” he rasped out.
“What a thoughtful gift.” To show her appreciation, Gwenyth leaned down and kissed Sam soundly and suggestively on the lips. She sighed happily. To find a lover as skilled as her husband would be a hard thing indeed.
Pun intended.
Chapter 18
The next several weeks were some of the busiest Sam and Gwen would ever know in their marriage. There were so many decisions to be had, so many things that needed to be ironed out before the end of the year.
Harry and Monique were set to leave for Washington the day after New Year’s. January would also take Verlene and Gwenyth to southern France to catalogue the “Touch Me” line, and of course, both of their husbands had decided to accompany them. By the time the foursome returned to the States, Gwenyth and Sam would have maybe a week or two at best before the Crusaders intense spring training season began. Then the couple would head for Boston until the regular baseball season’s end.