“He is coming in. How did you know that?” I asked.
“Michael told me,” she said, digging in her bag and pulling out a few magazines.
“What are all these?” I asked as she spread them out on the couch.
“My favorite crush, Jack Hamilton, is supposed to be in these magazines. I thought we could look through them and begin a little shrine for our dressing room!” she screeched, bouncing like a schoolgirl.
I was beginning to wonder if I should tell her about me and Jack. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret so long, but I was following Holly’s directive that we keep our relationship private—out of the newspapers and off the internet—even though I knew Jack was against it. He trusted Holly implicitly, though, and he knew we were only looking out for his career. It wasn’t that it was a secret, we just weren’t public. And me on another coast solved a lot of problems with the press, especially now that Jack was doing so many interviews.
Holly had taught him the phrase, “I’m not dating anyone right now,” and he was sticking to it in the interviews. If those few pictures they got of us in L.A. just stayed on the back burner, we’d be okay. Still, I knew Leslie would eventually find out, and I didn’t want her to think I was keeping things from her.
“Wow…he is so hot,” she sighed, finding the first picture.
It was in a teenybopper magazine, but my Brit still looked fine. I allowed myself a quick glance, which of course made my heart do a little double-time, and then I looked at her.
“Hey, Leslie?” I started.
“I mean, my God, he’s on fire, that boy! I might need to concentrate on booking more jobs in L.A. I wonder if he’s single?” she continued, flipping through the pages of the next magazine.
“So, listen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. My boyfriend, the one that lives in L.A.?” I started again, only to be interrupted by another squeal.
“Jesus! Look at those eyes! I mean, they just scream sex, don’t they?” She tore out another picture and added it to the pile.
“Yes, yes, they do. Anyway, like I was saying…,” I started yet again, determined to get through it this time.
“Holy shit, Jack Fucking Hamilton,” she said softly. I heard her rip another picture.
“Jesus, Leslie, enough already! I’m trying to tell you something about my boyfriend!” I shouted. I looked at her sitting there with a ripped picture in her hand. She looked dazed. It really was a pretty hot picture.
“What about your boyfriend?” I heard a sexy voice behind me, with a distinctly British accent. My eyes grew wide as I slowly turned, now realizing what Leslie meant.
Holy shit, Jack Fucking Hamilton.
He stood in the doorway of the studio, leaning against the door frame. He had a bag over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot, clothes rumpled, and his hair needed its own zip code. He smiled at me, and I was struck stupid by the sight of him.
“You were saying something about your boyfriend, I think?” he asked again. His eyes twinkled, the green getting dangerously dark. Then he bit down on that damn lip.
I was off the couch and across the room in mere seconds, and I jumped at him. He caught me in midair, dropping his bag, and the force of me carried us both out into the hallway. I pressed myself into him, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He stumbled backward, laughing at my exuberant welcome, and his back hit the wall.
I didn’t see the other cast members in the hall. I didn’t see the ballet students in their tutus on the way to a dress rehearsal on the main stage. I didn’t see Leslie, still dumbfounded on the couch, mouth hanging open, surrounded by pictures of my very own Sweet Nuts. I didn’t see Michael standing at the end of the hallway, watching.
I saw nothing but the front of Jack’s T-shirt as I clung tightly to him, the colors beginning to swim as I blinked back tears, sudden and hot. I smelled nothing but the scent of warm pipe tobacco, chimney smoke, chocolate, and Hamilton. I felt nothing but his strong arms enveloping me and his hands running up and down my back, soothing my shaking body. I heard nothing but his quiet laughter, and then his perfect voice whispered, “Aw, Gracie, I missed you too.”
And then I tasted nothing but his sweet lips, pressed firmly to mine, as I kissed him like it was my job.
After things almost got out of control, I finally peeled myself off the Brit and brought him back into the studio, where Leslie was still sitting and waiting.
“I can’t believe you took the red eye and didn’t tell me, you ass!” I yelled, pummeling him.
“I know. It was last minute. But I finished up what I needed to in L.A. yesterday, and it seemed silly to wait until this morning to go. I couldn’t wait any longer, Nuts Girl,” he said, ruffling my hair and tucking me into his side like he always did.
I looked at Leslie, and while she’d recovered somewhat, her eyes were still as big as dinner plates.
“So, Leslie, this is my boyfriend who I was trying to tell you about. This is Jack.”
He extended a hand, and to her credit she took it, beginning to realize this was in fact real. She was meeting her celebrity crush.
“Leslie, it’s nice to meet you. Grace has told me all about you. Sounds like the two of you are quite a handful together, yes?” He grinned wickedly at her.
He was doing that on purpose…that flirty fuck. Those fans didn’t stand a chance.
“Hi—hi—um, hi,” she stammered, and then quickly got control. “Sorry, I’m not usually so ridiculous, but we were just cutting up pictures of you, and then you’re standing there, and Grace is trying to mount you in the hall—it’s a lot to take in. It’s nice to meet you, and wow, you sure are hot,” she finished.
I heard someone else come in, and when I turned I saw Michael.
“Hey, I heard there was soft-core porn going on in the hallway,” he said. I noticed his fists were clenched.
“Hey, Michael. Sorry about that. Jack kind of surprised me. You remember Michael, right?” I asked, turning to Jack.
They looked at each other for a second, then Michael held out his hand. “Hey, man, good to see you again. That was quite a surprise. Grace wasn’t expecting you until tonight,” he said, pumping Jack’s hand twice, then dropping it.
“Good to see you too. Yeah, I have to keep her on her toes. I’m good like that,” Jack said, running his hand down my back and wrapping his arm around my hip.
We all stared for a moment, then Michael cleared his throat. “So, obviously, Grace, why don’t you skip rehearsal this afternoon? We can block around you. Why don’t you take off?”
“Are you sure? I’m sure Jack has things he has to do…,” I started, but Michael interrupted me.
“Nope, we’re cool. Get out of here, Grace,” he said, nodding his head toward the door.
“Well, if you’re sure, then I guess we’ll take off,” I said, thrilled at this sudden turn of events. Jack grinned down at me. I knew he was thrilled as well.
“That’s cool, man. Thanks,” Jack said, grabbing his bag and mine and throwing them over his shoulder.
I hugged Leslie goodbye. She was still slightly dazed. I gave Michael a hug as well. “Thanks, O’Connell, I appreciate it. See you tomorrow?”
“Yep, have fun.” He nodded vigorously, eyes distant, as Jack clasped my hand and pulled me to the door.
I waved over my shoulder, and we left. We grinned at each other the whole way downstairs as I took him in. Seeing him, being able to touch him and breathe him in—wow. I had missed me some Hamilton.
When we got outside, Jack had a car waiting for us. It wasn’t quite a limo, but it was longer than a town car. It was long enough that it had a divider between the front and the back.
I saw him, and I saw the car, and I knew we were in trouble. We simply were not going to make it to the hotel in time. When the driver opened the door for us, I asked him to take us to Grant’s Tomb. He nodded, we both climbed in, and we were off.
I quickly found the button for the divi
der and raised it, sealing us in our own little leather-embellished world.
“Grant’s Tomb, Grace? What’s that about?” he asked, his hands beginning to roam across my shoulders.
“Simple. It’s all the way uptown. It’ll take us a while to get up there.” I shrugged, swinging one leg over and sitting on his lap.
“Okay, but why are we going up there, love?” he asked again, sweeping my hair off my neck so he could kiss it.
I moaned as I felt his warm lips caress my skin. It had been too long.
“Well, I could’ve asked him to just drive around while you fuck me until I black out, but I wanted to uphold at least a modicum of decency,” I purred in his ear, my hands digging into his silky curls.
He groaned under me as he understood, and his eyes blazed liquid emerald. “Gracie, you want me to fuck you in the car? You bad girl…” His voice trailed off as he buried his face in my neck, beginning to nibble. I could feel myself getting hotter by the second.
“George, you have no idea how bad this girl wants to be.” I sighed as he found that sweet spot on my neck. He was determined to find out.
He pulled me back so he could look in my eyes. The green was on fire.
“Be my bad girl, Grace,” he whispered. It was like a dam broke.
I lost all control. It was on. I roughly pulled his shirt off his body, and my hands moved across his warm skin, desperate to feel him. I flew through the buttons on my own shirt, not even bothering to remove it, just letting it fall open to the sides. I flicked the front clasp on my bra, grabbed his hands, and brought them home, to me.
His hands surrounded my breasts, and I moaned at the touch. He bent his head to my collarbone and swept long licks across my skin, making me shiver. I heard him groan as his mouth found my nipple, and my head fell back as I indulged in the feeling of his mouth on me. I began to circle my hips, feeling him rise beneath me, wanting me.
This would not be slow and sweet. I needed it too badly.
I slid down to my knees on the floor of the car, in a Hamiltonian frenzy. I needed to taste him. I needed him to fill me up. I snapped open his button, unzipped, and had him in my mouth—fast.
His hands came to my hair and guided me up and down as I sucked at him furiously. I heard his groans, and as he said my name, I ached for him. I gave him one last long, strong pull with my lips, then I released him with a flourish. I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, struck once again by how beautiful he was, especially when he was close to coming for me. Wow.
I nudged my yoga pants down, kicked off my shoes, and sat back next to him. “On your knees, love,” I instructed, and his eyes widened. A wicked smile crept across his face.
He sank down and pulled at my hips, positioning me at the edge of the seat.
“Take these off,” I said, hooking my fingers through the band of my white lace panties, which were already positively soaked.
He obliged, scooting them down over my hips, my thighs, my knees, and finally my ankles. He threw the panties over his shoulder, then appraised the situation. I kept my knees firmly locked together, and when I saw him begin to pant heavily at what I was keeping from him, I slowly parted my legs, revealing myself to him. I felt the cool air rush in to hit me, and I saw his face change to something very close to abject worship.
I wrapped my hands in his hair and brought him down to me, pushing him where I wanted him to go.
“I need to come at least three times before you can fuck me. Can you handle that?” I asked, my breath beginning to hitch in my throat as I anticipated the work he was about to do to make me see stars.
Bossy Bad Girl Grace was in full effect. My Jack loved a challenge.
“Consider it handled, Crazy,” he whispered, grinning that sexy half grin. Then he pulled me, roughly, closer to his mouth. My hands clutched tightly in his hair as he kissed me, first on the insides of my thighs, and then—sweet Lord—he kissed me right on my gonna-see-God.
I bucked up wildly. Feeling his mouth on me after so long was almost more than I could take. His fingers swept me open so he could focus more thoroughly on my center, and his tongue fluttered lightly against me, bringing me to the edge quickly. Maybe it had just been that long, or maybe it was all those nights imagining exactly this, but within seconds of that magic tongue touching me, I was coming in his mouth. I screamed, and all the tension that had been building over the last weeks poured forth in a wave that left my brain scrambled and my sex pulsing.
“That’s one,” he whispered, immediately beginning to work me again. Not letting me down from the first, he pressed his tongue against me, licking me from top to bottom, his lips searching me out. He sucked me into his mouth, encircling me with his lips as his tongue worked feverishly against the tiny bundle of nerves designed for the sole purpose of pleasure.
Now that is intelligent design.
I could feel myself building again, and as I pressed his face into me, he moaned, sending the vibration straight into me. I threw my head back against the seat as I came again, thrashing about under his tongue. He leaned back a little, licking his lips.
“That’s two, love,” he said, winking at me.
“I changed my mind, get inside now. I need you,” I said, trying to get him to crawl up my body.
“Hell, no! I need you to really be ready for me, Gracie,” he said in a bookish voice. His fingers now began to dance around me, and when he grazed me with his knuckle, it was shocking. My back arched into his fingers as one, then two slipped inside.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, his own voice becoming uneven and husky. I panted, and he watched as I began to shake. His fingers, strong and sure, stroked me, and finding that J-Spot, he brought me to another rough orgasm.
“And that’s three,” he said with a triumphant grin.
“Unbelievable as always. Now get up here, please. I need you inside me now,” I growled, my face flushed with passion.
“I think my bad girl deserves one more, don’t you?” he asked, slipping back down.
As his fingers plunged back into me, his tongue found me once more. His teeth nibbled lightly, and I almost came out of my skin. His fingers stroked me from the inside, manipulating my J-Spot as his tongue teased out another earth-shattering orgasm. I could feel this one—it was huge. The combination of textures and rubbing and sucking and licking and stroking and pushing and incredible sweet invasion was too much. I let out a long, lusty scream, which became his name, over and over again.
“Oh, God, Jack! Oohhh!” I screamed, collapsing against the seat. He kissed the inside of both of my thighs, and when his lips found the site of my original Hamilton Brand, he bit down, marking me once again as his. I hissed and dragged him back up to me.
I pushed him into the seat, swung my leg over him, and sat down. I felt every inch, every perfect inch of him as he sank into me, and we both cried out.
“Jesus, I missed you, George,” I said as I felt my body clench down around him, never wanting to let him go.
“Fuuuuck,” was all he could get out as I began to move my hips, encouraging him to sink deeper into my body. He drove into me as I bounced above him, his mouth capturing my nipple and teasing me with his teeth. I rolled my hips back and forth, letting him feel all of me, his cock exploring me from the inside. His hands were rough on my hips, guiding me, slamming me up and down harder and harder as we both felt the explosion building.
“I missed you, Jack. I missed feeling you inside me,” I chanted as he moved me up and down.
“Oh, God, Grace, you feel amazing. You’re so warm, and wet, and tight around me.” He groaned. He sped up, and I matched his rhythm. He looked me in the eye, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. I knew this sweet face. My Jack was about to come.
I squeezed him with all I had, feeling my own orgasm begin to rip through me as my walls crashed down around him, taking him with me.
I screamed loudly.
He grunted lusciously.
And we came together. In the back of a town
car in the middle of Manhattan. What must that poor driver be thinking?
Bossy Bad Girl and her Johnny Bite Down. This long weekend was going to be insane.
Chapter 3
Now that Jack was in New York, things felt right. They felt good. I know my oonie felt good for sure…
After the town car incident, we headed to Jack’s hotel. I’m sure the driver was mildly curious about why we didn’t spend any time at Grant’s Tomb once we got all the way up there, but no matter.
We pulled up to the Four Seasons on Fifty-Seventh, and as we climbed out I suddenly remembered we weren’t supposed to be seen in public. Especially checking into a hotel. Bad idea.
“Hey, why don’t you get checked in, then call me and let me know what room you’re in, and I’ll come up,” I said quietly, beginning to move off in the direction of Madison.
“Grace, that’s silly. Hey, Grace…” he protested as the bellman took his bag inside, and I walked away toward the avenue.
I pointed at my cell and mouthed the words, “Call me.”
He grimaced, shook his head, and went inside. I walked around the block, waiting for his call. I knew he thought I was being stupid, but based on the press coverage he was now getting—ugh. I didn’t want the scrutiny that would surely accompany another “unidentified redhead” sighting. I was taking no chances.
His premiere was coming up so quickly, and he was about to start a huge press junket. Then he’d be traveling all over the country to make personal appearances. He wasn’t sure how many people would actually show up to see him. I didn’t want to tease him, but I had a feeling it was going to blow his mind. He was going to be freaking swarmed.
And speaking of the premiere, nothing had been said about whether I was invited or not. I’d mentioned it to Michael just in case I would maybe need to head back to L.A. for a weekend. It would be tricky because our rehearsal time was so limited—the show was set to go up the first week of December. We’d locked in three weeks of performances initially, and then we’d wait and see what kind of response we got.
I was almost around the block entirely when I got a text from the Brit: