Loving Her
Page 1
Loving Her
An Obsessed Novella
Jeanne St. James
Copyright © 2017 by Jeanne St. James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editor: Proofreading by the Page
www.jeannestjames.com
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Contents
Disclaimer
Books by Jeanne St. James
The Obsessed Series
About Loving Her
You never forget your first…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Tempting Him Sneak Peek
About Tempting Him
Tempting Him - Chapter One
If You Enjoyed This Book
Also by Jeanne St. James
About the Author
Only Him Sneak Peek
Only Him - Chapter One
FREE Erotic Sampler Book
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice (BDSM or otherwise) without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. The author will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.
A BIG thank you to my beta readers:
Whitley Cox & Krisztina Holló
Keep an eye on her website at http://www.jeannestjames.com/or sign up for her newsletter to learn about her upcoming releases: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup
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Author Links: Jeanne’s Blog * Instagram * Facebook * Goodreads Author Page * Jeanne’s Review & Book Crew * Newsletter * Twitter * BookBub
Books by Jeanne St. James
Made Maleen: A Modern Twist on a Fairy Tale
Damaged
Rip Cord: The Complete Trilogy
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Brothers in Blue Series:
(Can be read as standalones)
Brothers in Blue: Max
Brothers in Blue: Marc
Brothers in Blue: Matt
Teddy: A Brothers in Blue Novelette
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The Dare Ménage Series:
(Can be read as standalones)
Double Dare
Daring Proposal
Dare to Be Three
A Daring Desire
Dare to Surrender
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The Obsessed Novellas:
(All the novellas in this series are standalones)
Forever Him
Only Him
Needing Him
Loving Her
Temping Him
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Down & Dirty: Dirty Angels MC Series:
(Can be read as standalones)
Down & Dirty: Zak
Down & Dirty: Jag
Down & Dirty: Hawk
Down & Dirty: Diesel
Down & Dirty: Axel
Down & Dirty: Slade (Coming Soon)
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You can find information on all of Jeanne’s books here:
http://www.jeannestjames.com/
The Obsessed Novellas:
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(All the novellas in this series are standalones)
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Forever Him
Only Him
Needing Him
Loving Her
Tempting Him
It’s not just a love story, it’s an obsession...
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Noah:
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I’ve loved Bree my whole life. We were each other’s firsts when we were young and inexperienced, and I totally screwed up. I disappointed her, causing her to cry and run away. But over the years, I’ve learned, I’ve perfected, and I’ve dreamt of one day getting another shot with the love of my life.
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When I finally get the chance never in my wildest dreams did I think Bree was like this. The girl who used to wear yellow sundresses is no longer Bree, she’s Brianna, my new mistress. I’ll do whatever needed for her forgiveness, even go to my knees and grovel.
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However, there’s just one thing... I want Bree back, not Brianna. Once I get Bree, Brianna can do to me what she will.
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Bree:
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Maybe Noah doesn’t realize it, but he’s been mine ever since we were teens. I tried to apologize for disappointing him our first time, but never got the chance.
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Now, when he approaches me at the bar, I can only think about all the things I want to do to him and with him. I plan to show him the skills I’ve honed over the years.
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Little does he know what’s in store for him because I know his secrets, his desires, his needs. And I plan on giving it all to him.
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However, just when I think I’m in control, he turns my world upside down.
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Note: All books in the Obsessed series are standalone novellas. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual situations, including BDSM.
You never forget your first…
Chapter One
Noah:
I’ve loved her my whole life. At least since I can remember, which is all the way back to when she was in kindergarten and I was in first grade. I’d chase her through the backyard and around the jungle gym, trying to catch and kiss her.
If I’d succeed, she’d curl her little fingers into a fist, sock me in the gut, then run and tell her mother.
Yep, I had no game.
And, apparently, I didn’t leave an impression. Because now, at thirty, she’s still avoiding me.
Even though she can’t go very far at the moment since I’m her brother’s Best Man, and she’s the Maid of Honor.
Let me tell you, I hate weddings.
I hate them even more when I’m forced to stand across from her and can’t touch her, drag my fingers through her long, dark hair and run my lips along her delicate neck.
The only time I can touch her is when I escort her up the aisle. I’ve done it twice so far. However, she won’t meet my eyes, she feels stiff on my arm and she’s hardly said two words to me. And now I stand here while the wedding planner drones on and on about what’s expected of us during the ceremony tomorrow.
Yawn.
Look, Ms. Wedding Planner, it’s easy. Put one foot in front of the other, walk (without tripping) up the center aisle (can’t get lost while staying in between the rows of pews and aim for the front of the church), then stand to the side (no picking noses, asses, or adjusting your junk).
Simple.
Oh, and don’t pass out. Otherwise, the video will go viral across cyberspace.
One more thing… the rings. Can’t forget to put the rings in my tux pocket.
Got it.
Yawn again.
It isn’t as if I’m not happy for my buddy, getting married to a great woman (although, not quite as stunning as his sister) who makes him happy, but I’m not thrilled with being a part o
f it. But I have his back. And I’d love to have his sister on her back.
Again. But in better circumstances.
We lost our virginity together at seventeen in her parents’ pool shed. I was in love with her then, too. Her with me? Not so much.
And in those forty-five seconds of bliss, I fell in love with her even more. I don’t think she thought it was even close to bliss, though. In fact, she had run out of the shed crying while pulling down her sweet yellow sundress.
I was devastated, and that was a major blow to my seventeen-year-old ego.
I’ll admit it, I had a lot to learn.
However, I had to learn it elsewhere since she was no longer game. In fact, she avoided me (just like at this rehearsal).
But I did learn. I was determined to improve, to not make her cry next time. But, unfortunately, there never was a next time.
Eventually, Mrs. Callahan down the street was kind enough to take me under her wing. Teach me the ins and outs of women. Of pleasure. Of discovering what I wanted and what I wanted to give in return.
Mrs. Callahan.
Yeah.
She made me call her that, too. And I did (when I wasn’t calling her Mistress).
I learned.
I perfected.
I dreamt of one day getting another shot with the love of my life.
Now here we stand, across from each other. My eyes on her. Her eyes on everything but me.
I want her.
I need her.
Still.
Even after all these years.
As I stand across from her, I’m mesmerized by her unforgettable, stunning beauty.
I love her.
But I can’t have her.
And that fucking blows.
Bree:
At dinner, I watch him over the rim of my wine glass. My eyes narrow as he leans over to say something quietly into the ear of one of the bridesmaids. The single one with the big boobs that made sure she snagged the chair next to him. She throws her little blonde head back and laughs. He smiles in response, his golden-green eyes sparkling. They have a secret. Apparently a funny one, too.
She can laugh with him all she wants, but she needs to know... he’s mine.
He’s been mine ever since we lost our virginity together all those years ago.
Maybe he didn’t realize it then. He doesn’t realize it now.
Maybe, just maybe, he needs a lesson.
One different from what that whore Mrs. Callahan taught him.
Yes, I know all about Mrs. Callahan and Noah.
And what she did to my Noah.
Days later I followed him, trying to catch up with him to apologize for running out crying after he popped my cherry. I even called out his name, but he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he was ignoring me. Probably because I disappointed him that day in the shed and he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.
But then he went to her house. I watched (in shock) as the door opened and he was pulled inside. He had just turned eighteen. Barely legal. That bitch was like a hundred at the time.
Okay, probably the same age as we are now. Though, back then, it might as well have been a hundred.
She opened the door wearing some sexy almost see-through nightie. One I would have killed to own (and fill out like her). Her eyes flicked up to me and I froze. She smiled like a predator at Noah, snagged his arm and dragged him inside. Then she aimed that smile at me as she shut the door behind him.
I ended up following him more than once. More than twice.
I’m embarrassed to admit how often it truly was.
But what he learned, I did, too. I watched them.
And one day when I was hidden, I saw it happen.
She had her husband’s belt. And she whipped him with it while he was on his knees, his head to the mattress.
I watched him twitch with every strike. His ass getting redder with every blow. And she wasn’t gentle. No. She struck him hard, often, but I couldn’t hear if he made a noise. If he cried out, if he asked her to stop.
Though, it didn’t appear so.
He could have escaped, gotten away. He wasn’t tied in any fashion, he wasn’t restrained. He moved into position willingly with, from what I could see, his eyes showing excitement.
A smile curled that witch’s lips as she did it.
I got scared while watching her hit him.
Not for him.
No.
But for me.
Because I realized what she gave, what he willingly accepted, did something inside of me. It lit a fire in my belly, caused goosebumps to break out all over my body, tightened my nipples, made me slick between the thighs.
What Mrs. Callahan was doing should have disturbed me. It didn’t.
It excited me.
I wanted to switch places with her.
Now, I not only wanted Noah, I wanted to do things to him I never expected.
Chapter Two
Noah:
At fifteen, Bree and I kissed for the first time (or the first time without me being punched in the gut) when we played Spin the Bottle at a party she tagged along to with some friends. Our kiss was quick, wet and warm. Totally fucking glorious.
When it was her turn again, I watched with dismay as it spun to a stop in front of Donnie Carson. Their kiss lasted a lot longer than normal, so let’s say I was relieved when she finally pushed him away and made a face, wiping the back of her hand across her lips.
My relief was two-fold. First, because I thought I would have to kick his ass (and that would ruin the party) and second, she hadn’t made that face when she kissed me (which made me hope I kissed better).
Since a couple of the guys had stolen some booze from their parents, we were mixing vodka with Kool-Aid. By the time the clock turned ten, we were pretty much smashed out of our gourds and Spin the Bottle had turned into Seven Minutes in Heaven. There were only a few of us left sitting in the circle, so my odds were good.
I held my breath the whole time when she spun it, because if it landed on someone other than me, there would be a problem.
It was bad enough watching her kiss other guys (and girls), but being locked in a dark closet with someone other than me for seven minutes... that was a big fucking N-O. I wouldn’t stand for it. No, I would not.
Did it land on me? Fuck no. I couldn’t be so lucky. However, it did land on Mary Jane Pavlovich. I watched in fascination as both of their eyes widened, they giggled, then MJ grabbed Bree’s hand and dragged her into the closet, slamming the door shut.
I have no idea what they did in there, but there sure was a lot of laughing mixed with long periods of silence.
Yeeeeaaaah. Talk about a teenage boy’s wet dreams. That was it right there.
When someone finally forced the door open, their hair was messed up, and they both wore a wistful smile.
Now, as I approach her at the hotel bar, I know no matter what, I want to see that wistful smile on her face again.
And I plan on putting it there.
I’m done fucking around, playing this game with her where she won’t look at me, won’t acknowledge that I even exist.
No. Stick a fork in me, I’m done.
Time to step up my game.
Bree:
I take another sip of my Merlot and give the sloshed man next to me at the bar a polite but dismissive smile. He’s been talking my ear off for the past five minutes and I need to get away because he’s starting to lean toward me and I’m well aware of what comes next. Hand on my thigh. An “accidental” brush of my boobs. Plus, I need to go home before I drink too much (like him) and can’t drive.
That wouldn’t be good. Although, it would be the perfect excuse to go knock on Noah’s door and crash in his room. I know he’s staying here because he had to fly in from out of town—
A hand lands on my shoulder interrupting my thoughts and at first, I think it’s the toasted schmoe next to me. Then I realize it isn’t because his glazed eyes are glued to someone standin
g behind me.
The hand squeezes my shoulder, and my eyes widen as a deep, oh so fucking deep, masculine voice murmurs in my ear, “Need an excuse to escape?”
Without turning around, I know who it is. Noah. His name whispers through my mind.
About. Fucking. Time.
Nodding, the pounding of my heart radiates through my whole body and lands south where it turns into another type of throbbing.
I slide my wine glass away from me and turn in my seat. He looks so fucking delicious, I lose my breath.
A lock of his dirty blond (and too long) hair has fallen across his forehead and I want to sweep it to the side with my fingers. Since it’s late, a five o’clock shadow graces his jaw. It fits him. If it was up to me, he would never shave again (trim, yes, shave, no).