“Goodbye, Blake.” I slowly let go of him and head towards the desk, looking back every few seconds—making sure he’s still watching me. Until he isn’t anymore.
For some reason, my chest is tightening, and I can’t help but feel like I’m making a huge mistake.
“Welcome back, Miss Weston,” the desk agent says as she hands me my boarding pass. “Have a safe flight.”
I look over my shoulder, telling myself that if Blake is still there, it must be some type of hopeless romantic sign, but he isn’t. No one is.
I make my way through security without incident. There are no random alarms, no TSA agents emptying and re-emptying my bag, and unfortunately, no one I’m in a rush to get away from this time.
By the time I make it to my gate, almost everyone has boarded.
“Enjoy first class, Miss Weston.” A woman scans my ticket, and I smile.
I’d told Blake that my ticket home was coach-class and that I didn’t need an upgrade, but he’s done it anyway. I want to send him a text, to playfully berate him for going against what I said, but I can’t.
I don’t want him to get the wrong impression.
We’ve already said goodbye.
As I buckle my seatbelt, I look outside my window. I’m halfway expecting Blake to come on board at any second, to say, “I’ve decided I want to fuck you in Nashville, too,” but no one takes the seat next to me.
“Ladies and gentlemen aboard flight number 3718, the main cabin doors will be closing in two minutes...”
I tap my foot in anticipation, still holding on to the same hope.
“The main cabin doors have officially been closed. Please stow away all personal electronic devices until we reach the proper altitude.”
I shut my eyes and lean back in my seat. The second Blake’s face crosses my mind, I know for a fact that I’ve made a big ass mistake.
I could’ve stayed for four more days...
***
I bypass baggage claim and make my way to the escalators.
As the steps descend, I see David standing in line with the other sign holders. He’s written “Pear Pear” in red marker and drawn what appears to be a tongue and a vagina underneath it.
“Seriously?” I snatch the sign away from him. “Why are we friends?”
“I have no idea.” He laughs and takes my bag. “How were the last few days of your trip? Please withhold all sex stories until I put on my headphones.”
“They were okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to all the ‘OMG-his dick actually fits into my mouth’ excitement?”
“Really, David?” I shake my head. “I enjoyed it. We pretty much had sex over and over again. Oh and we watched a few terrible movies in between him cooking for me.”
He stops walking and puts his hands on my shoulders. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Do not. I barely know him. The sex was just really good and we understood each other’s sarcasm.”
A little too well...
“Call him and ask if he can come visit you sometime. It’s not like you have anything else to do on the weekends. Plus, you’re practically homeless and unemployed right now.”
“Am I not staying at your place anymore? We’re not going to hang out on the weekends?”
“Not at night.” He scoffs. “You’ll need to stay on your side of the house whenever I have company. As a matter of fact, I amended one of my resolutions just for you.”
“Your number eleven?”
“You’re not that special. I can’t remember what number, but it said, “Help Paris find female friends to discuss dicks with.” If I don’t make any of the other ones, I‘m definitely going to make that one happen.” He leads me to the parking garage.
Today he’s driving his black Mercedes and I can’t help but think about Blake...
“What are the benefits of having a boyfriend?” Blake kisses my lips.
“I’m the worst person to ask right now. Don’t you think?”
“You said things were great in the beginning. How so?”
I smile as he moves on top of me. “Um...Well, you can talk to that person about any and everything, and he won’t judge you. He’s your shoulder to cry on whenever you need it...He remembers all the little things that make you happy on your worst days and vice versa. You’re completely comfortable with him and...You know, there’s unlimited physical stuff...”
“Sex?”
“Kisses.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, sex.”
“It sounds intriguing.”
“Intriguing enough for you to actually try it one day?”
“Maybe.” He runs his hand across my thighs. “If I found the right woman.”
“Make sure you hide all of your true colors when you first meet.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if you show her who you really are, if she knows how blunt you are and that you don’t have a filter, you might ruin your chances after a first encounter.”
He laughs and grabs a condom from the dresser. “We’ll see...”
“You really do like this guy, huh?” The sound of David’s laughter cuts through my memories, and I realize we’re on the expressway.
“No. The sex was just that good.” I lie. “I’ll be sure to fill you in on all the details later.”
“Please don’t.”
“Whatever. Hey, you didn’t tell me the rest of your resolutions yet. Spill.”
“No, thanks. I’ve repeated them to your mother countless times over the past three days. When you finally decide to call her back, you can ask her all about them.”
I roll my eyes.
“You, however,” he says, “can read me yours so I can pretend like I care.”
Smiling, I pull out my wallet and unfold my list.
I rattle off numbers one through seven—ignoring David’s request to enunciate the word “orgasm” properly, and then I notice that while the next two are the same, the rest of my list has been changed:
7. Write everyday...I’m supposed to be an aspiring journalist, but this list is the first thing I’ve written in months. MONTHS.
(I called Vanderbilt...One of my old law professors works in admissions. Call them on Tuesday.)
8. Have passionate, hot sex...with someone who can give me an ORGASM...
(I think you’ve satisfied this one...More than once...)
9. Start working out...Ha! No. Scratch that...I’ll come back to number nine.
(Start smiling more. You’re too beautiful not to...)
10. And number ten, too...
(Stop worrying about what your mom, your sister, or the rest of your family thinks regarding your decisions...Live your life for you.)
11. And I still need a number eleven ...
(Pick Blake up from the Nashville airport in four days...He wants to make sure two of the things on this list are ALWAYS taken care of...)
***THE END***
A Letter to the Reader
Dear Incredible Reader,
Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to read this book! I hope you were thoroughly entertained and enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
If you LOVED it and have any extra time, PLEASE leave a review on amazon.com, B&N.com, goodreads.com, OR find me here on Facebook so I can personally thank you :-) If you hated it, well...keep that shit to yourself! LOL (Just kidding. Feel free to let me know how I can improve next time!)
I’m forever grateful for you and your time, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release. (Speaking of my next release, if you’d like to be a part of my mailing list so you can be notified of my upcoming release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link. )
Love,
Whitney G.
A Sneak Peek of Reasonable Doubt
By Whitney G.
Prologue
Andrew
New York City is nothing more th
an a shit-filled wasteland, a dump where failures are forced to drop all their broken dreams and leave them far behind. The flashing lights that shined brightly years ago have lost their luster, and that fresh feeling that once permeated the air—that hopefulness, is long gone.
Every person I once considered a friend is now an enemy, and the word “trust” has been ripped from my vocabulary. My name and reputation are tarnished, thanks to the press, and after reading the headline that The New York Times ran this morning, I’ve decided that tonight will be the last night I ever spend here.
I can’t deal with the cold sweats and nightmares that jerk me out of my sleep anymore, and as hard as I try to pretend like my heart hasn’t been obliterated, I doubt that the agonizing ache in my chest will ever go away.
To properly say goodbye, I’ve ordered the best entrées from all my favorite restaurants, watched Death of a Salesman on Broadway, and smoked a Cuban cigar on the Brooklyn Bridge. I’ve also booked the penthouse suite at the Waldorf Astoria, where I’m now leaning back on the bed and threading my fingers through a woman’s hair—groaning as she slides her mouth over my cock.
Teasingly darting her tongue around my tip, she whispers, “Do you like this?” as she looks up at me.
I don’t answer. I push her head down and exhale as she presses her lips against my balls, as she covers my cock with her hands and moves them up and down.
Over the past two hours, I’ve fucked her against the wall, forced her to bend over a chair, and pinned her legs to the mattress while I devoured her pussy.
It’s been quite fulfilling—fun, but I know this feeling will only last for so long; it never stays. In less than a week, I’ll have to find someone else.
As she takes me deeper and deeper into her mouth, I tightly tug her hair—tensing as she bobs her head up and down. Pleasure begins to course its way through me, and the muscles in my legs stiffen—forcing me to let go and warn her to pull away.
She ignores me.
She grips my knees and sucks faster, letting my cock touch the back of her throat. I give her one last chance to move away, but since her lips remain wrapped around me, she leaves me no choice but to cum in her mouth.
And then she swallows.
Every. Last. Drop.
Impressive...
Finally pulling away, she licks her lips and leans back against the floor.
“That was my first time swallowing,” she says. “I did that just for you.”
“You shouldn’t have.” I stand and zip my pants. “You should’ve saved it for someone else.”
“Right. Well, um...Do you want to order some dinner? Maybe we could eat it over HBO and go at it again afterwards?”
I raise my eyebrow, confused.
This is always the most annoying part, the part when the woman who previously agreed to “One dinner. One night. No repeats.” wants to establish some type of imaginary connection. For whatever reason, she feels like there needs to be some type of closure conversation, some bland reassurance that’ll confirm that what just happened was ‘more than sex,’ and we’ll become friends.
But it was just sex, and I’m not in need of any friends. Not now, not ever.
“No, thank you.” I walk over to the mirror on the other side of the room. “I have someplace to be.”
“At three in the morning? I mean, if you just want to skip the HBO and go for another round instead, I can...”
Her irritating voice fades into my thoughts, and I begin to button my shirt. I’ve never spent the night with a woman I met online, and she isn’t going to be the first.
As I adjust my tie, I look down and spot a tattered pink wallet on the dresser. Picking it up, I flip it open and run my fingers across the name that’s printed onto her license: Sarah Tate.
Even though I’ve only known this woman for a week, she’s always answered to “Samantha.” She’s also told me—repeatedly, that she works as a nurse at Grace Hospital. Judging by the Wal-Mart employee card that’s hiding behind her license, I’m assuming that part isn’t true either.
I look over my shoulder, where she’s now sprawled across the bed’s silk sheets. Her creamy colored skin is unmarred and smooth; her bow shaped lips are slightly swollen and puffy.
Her green eyes meet mine and she slowly sits up, spreading her legs further apart, whispering, “You know you want to stay. Stay...”
My cock starts to harden—it’s definitely up for another round, but seeing her real name has ruined any chance of that for me. I can’t stand to be around someone who’s lied to me, even if she does have double D tits and a mouth from heaven.
I toss the wallet into her lap. “You told me your name was Samantha.”
“Okay. And?”
“Your name is Sarah.”
“So what?” She shrugs, beckoning me with her hand. “I never give my real name to men I meet on the internet.”
“You just fuck them in five star hotel suites?”
“Why do you suddenly care about my real name?”
“I don’t.” I glance at my watch. “Are you spending the night in this room or do I need to give you cab money to get home?”
“What?”
“Was my question unclear?”
“Wow...Just, wow...” She shakes her head. “How much longer do you think you’ll be able to keep doing this?”
“Keep doing what?”
“Chatting someone up for a week, fucking her, and moving on to the next. How much longer?”
“Until my dick stops working.” I put on my jacket. “Do you need cab fare or are you staying? Check out is at noon.”
“Do you know that men like you—relationship avoiders, are the type that typically fall the hardest?”
“Did they teach you that at Wal-Mart?”
“Just because someone from your past hurt you, doesn’t mean that every woman after her will.” She purses her lips. “That’s probably why you are the way you are. Maybe if you tried to actually date someone, you’d be a lot happier. You should take her out for dinner and actually listen, see her to her door without expecting an invitation inside, and maybe bypass the whole ‘let’s go fuck’ in the hotel suite thing at the end.”
Where are my keys? I need to go. Now.
“I can see it now...” She can’t seem to shut up. “You’re going to want more than sex one day, and the person you want it from is going to be someone you least expect. Someone who will force you to give in.”
I pull my keys from underneath her crumpled dress and sigh. “Do you need cab money?”
“I have my own car, dick-face.” She rolls her eyes. “Are you really this incapable of having a regular conversation? Would it kill you to talk to me for a few minutes after sex?”
“We have nothing more to discuss.” I set my room key on the nightstand and walk toward the door. “It was very nice meeting you, Samantha, Sarah. Whatever the hell your name is. Have a great night.”
“Screw you!”
“Three times was more than enough. No, thank you.”
“Things are going to catch up to you one day, asshole!” She yells as I step into the hallway. “Karma is one hell of a bitch!”
“I know.” I toss back. “I fucked her two weeks ago...”
***
Reasonable Doubt is now available in a full series boxed set!
Also by Whitney G.
To be a part of my mailing list and be notified of release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link.
Reasonable Doubt Full Series
Reasonable Doubt #1
Reasonable Doubt # 2
Reasonable Doubt #3
My Last Resolution: A Novella
Mid Life Love Series:
Mid Life Love
Mid Life Love: At Last
**UPCOMING WORKS**
Turbulence
(Early 2016)
Twisted Love
(Spring 2016)
The Jilted Bride Series:
(Summer 2016)
> Book 1: Scorned
Book 2: Tarnished
Book 3: Burned
Malpractice
(Fall 2016)
Whitney G., The Layover
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