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“Hmm…” There was so much going through just kind at that moment yet at the same time, it was blank, I couldn't string along a single thought, not with the way his tongue danced acrossed my skin, leaving a trail of wetness from my nipple to my neck. My hands were all over his body, itching to touch every part of him, craving the feel of his hot skin against my palms. I pulled his shirt out of his pants and trailer my fingers up his sculpted abdomen. He was hard, yet his skin was smooth, soft. I wanted to touch him more, enjoying how he stilled and groaned into my neck. “Amelia…” “Mm…” I felt his dick jump, growing harder as it pressed dangerously close to where I wanted it. My hands trailed down slowly, mimicking the actions of his tongue. I unbuckled his belt with one hand, using my other hand to hold on to his shoulder and steady myself. I lowered his zip, my thumb brushing against his dick from his briefs. I held him in my hand, weighing and squeezing gently,
ROMANThis wasn't supposed to happen. Still I found myself laying her naked body down on the mattress. Her smooth skin gleaming with sweat, slick from our pent up desires. She was tired. I should have considered that. She fell asleep the second she came down from her high and I sobered up. I lowered the temperature in the bedroom and covered her up, my fingers lingered, on the sheets, on her skin. My gaze rested on her breasts. Her pink nipples were still hard, taunting or maybe calling for attention. I inhaled sharply. Trying to think straight. This wasn't supposed to happen. But still, I watched as her chest rose and fall steadily. Low moans still escaped her lips as they stretched into a satisfied curve. Her eyes were closed, those defiant green orbs were no where in sight and she looked so peaceful, so soft. For weeks I've imagined what it would feel like to be inside of her. I wasn't sure when it started, if it was before her accident or the kiss. I found mysel
AMELIASomehow, I knew I should have expected it when I woke up alone in that bed. I was spent, sore, deliciously so. I couldn't remember the last time a man made me feel…the way I did. The memory of him inside of me now seared into my brain and a part of me was gleeful. Reminding me that I've just gotten what I've wanted for the past five years. To be with him. But have I really? He wasn't here. I doubted he even spent the night. That shouldn't matter. There were fresh clothes folded neatly at the foot of the bed. I got down and observed my surroundings. It was a studio apartment with one room, and quite a view behind the curtains, I realized. We were at the top of a building. Why did he leave? Probably post-nut clarity or what not. He probably regretted it immediately after. Which only served to make me feel worse. Sure what happened complicates things but…does he truly still hate me that much? “What were you expecting? Roses?” I snorted, running my fingers
“Miss Amelia,” Trenton greeted warmly, helping me with my luggage and handing them over to the maid, Fiona, who looked rather ecstatic to see me. I was unable to show mych enthusiasm though, I was angry exhausted and quite frankly, resisting the urge to break down in tears. I've had many one night stands, I've gotten used to men not wanting me after the first night. After all, they never found me attractive to begin with. But with Roman…I felt insulted. There was no one to blame but myself though. My lack of self control, my inability to remind myself that I am no longer that woman that fell for him all those years ago. I forced a smile. Hugging Trenton. I could tell it caught him off guard. The man and I barely ever showed anything affection to each other. Though I know he cares just as as much as I do. Trenton his slow, but he hugs me back, his large palm patting my back comfortingly. Waves of emotions washed over me, every pent up emotion threatening to be let out.
JESSICA“Jessica Timothy,” My mother's voice came came through from the other line, stern, cold. Just as I was used to. I looked down at my watch, fest stomping impatiently. I wanted this call to be over. I so desperately wanted to end it. But then again, that would warrant another lecture. “I have warned you away from that family countless times…I have warned you away from that child of the Guerreros,” She sighs, “Why do you not listen?” “Amelia is my friend, Mother,” I said stiffly, “She isn't just a child of the Guerreros, she is my friend.” I heard a scoff, “That family is not one to be messed with, do you know who her mother was? If they find out they have family this close, will you be able to handle the aftermath of their wrath?!” She practically screeched over the phone. “I have left you to do whatever you choose, being a stupid doctor, running off with countless men like a fucking prostitute but don't you dare put our family in jeopardy because you so desperately want
AMELIAI spent the next two days trying to understand why Roman wouldn't come home and most importantly, why I was here. I should have left. I should have packed up my things and found a small apartment. Yet, something was keeping me in here, it wasn't the fact that I cared for his reputation or what the people would say once I left. No. It was because I just couldn't bring myself to leave. He's lonely. He will be lonely. That shouldn't have been the least of my concern but it was. After getting dressed in my denim overalls, I made my way to the basement Trenton had led me to the previous day. Apparently it was my studio. A place even Roman hadn't seen ever since I moved in my supplies. I was working on the painting Vincent had asked for, just as I was preparing myself to attend his family event, as he had called it. He didn't want to go alone. And God knew my weakness was loneliness. Watching someone I know go through that is something I will be unable to handle,
A coward. That was what I realized myself to be in that moment. I spent days wondering if he truly intended to fight about it and dismiss it and now that he claims not to, I chose to run. I walked out of the basement in a rush, unable to keep still, unable to find the right words to say to him. This was far too complicated. And I hate complicated. After taking off the denim overalls, I took a quick shower, washing off the colors that had no doubt stained my skin and then proceeded to stare at the tiled walls blankly for almost an hour. Then the hot water had began to cool and I realized I'd used it all up while being lost in thought. With a reluctant sigh, I stepped out of the shower to get dressed. I had to meet up with Vincent. He said he would be taking me to his gallery so as to pick a spot and get a feel of the place. A good opportunity to leave the house before the shareholders meeting coming up at Grayson Holdings. I rummaged through my closet, finally sett
I nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on my lips. "I'm sure," I said, stepping closer to the painting. "Look, right there in the corner. That's her signature. I'd recognize it anywhere," Vincent leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he examined the delicate swirl of initials in the bottom right corner of the canvas. The strange look in his eyes disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a warm smile. "You must be very proud of your mother," he said softly, his gaze shifting back to me. Yes, I knew my mind should have lingered on how strange the exchange between us slowly became, but when it came to my mother and the memories she left behind, it was easier to just block everything out. I felt a lump form in my throat. "Yes, I am," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "And I miss her... so much." Vincent opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a melodic voice interrupted us. "Vincent! There you are!" We both turned to see a tall, strikingly