Rebecca Sherwin's Blog, page 4

Second Chance Hero - A Musical Message

Music plays an important role in every aspect of my life, especially when I'm writing. I try to provide my son with a music education the way my dad showed me the wonderment that is Bon Jovi, The Rolling Stones and The Jam to name a few. So every Saturday I plug in my iPod, hit shuffle and see what comes up. Today, out of the 3120 songs on the music playing device I would be lost without, a song played that reminded me of everything I tried to encompass when writing Second Chance Hero. Yes, it's a love story, yes it's romantic and yes there are steamy sex scenes. But there is also the message behind all of that.
When I mention the word affair, what comes to mind? Pain for the person being cheated on? The anger you feel towards the individual doing the cheating? The idea that it's a simple decision to walk away from one person and into the arms of the other with no repercussions?
Many times when affairs occur there are feelings of conflict, confusion, guilt and fear. Love is never black and white. If it was that simple, would it be worth it? That is what I have tried to show in my debut novel.
The video has a different interpretation, but listen/read the lyrics. Every line, every note is how Jenna feels.




"Thinking Of You"
Comparisons are easily done
Once you've had a taste of perfection
Like an apple hanging from a tree
I picked the ripest one
I still got the seed

You said move on
Where do I go
I guess second best
Is all I will know

Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into your eyes

You're like an Indian summer
In the middle of winter
Like a hard candy
With a surprise centre
How do I get better
Once I've had the best
You said there's
Tons of fish in the water
So the waters I will test

He kissed my lips
I taste your mouth
He pulled me in
I was disgusted with myself

Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into...

You're the best
And yes I do regret
How I could let myself
Let you go
Now the lesson's learned
I touched it I was burned
Oh I think you should know

Cause when I'm with him
I am thinking of you
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one
Who was spending the night
Oh I wish that I
Was looking into your eyes
Looking into your eyes
Looking into your eyes
Oh won't you walk through
And bust in the door
And take me away
Oh no more mistakes
Cause in your eyes I'd like to stay...

**Second Chance Hero can be downloaded from Amazon and Smashwords**
 

New Images - Volunteer Your Favourite Quotes

I posted some picture quotes a while ago, before the release of Second Chance Hero, but I decided to take them down shortly after, not as happy with them as I would have liked. A few readers have told me their favourite excerpts from the book so I decided to try again with the images and I think they've come out better this time around. I would love to hear what your favourite lines from the book are, and attempt to make some more pictures. I love seeing images from my favourite books; I think it really brings the quotes to life. So if you would like to offer up your favourite lines for me to put to an image, comment on this post or contact me via Twitter/Facebook   ]

  

 If you haven't downloaded Second Chance Hero, you can do so by clicking the icons below:

An Amazing 5* Review by an Amazing Author.

I just thought I would publish a review received on Amazon. Mary Palmerin (@palmerin_mary), author of Succumbing to Scars and Sorrow (The Sorrow Series) left an incredible review for Second Chance Hero and I wanted to share it with you, as well as recommending you download hers.
Succumbing to Scars and Sorrow is a story not for the faint hearted, but one of romance, love, trust and healing, and I highly recommend you click the link at the bottom of the post and give it a go.

Reviews are always appreciated, whether they are a couple of sentences of criticism, or paragraphs long and full of praise. It means you've read it, and you've felt enough about the story to give your opinion. So please, if you ever read a book, no matter how insignificant you think your thoughts are, leave a review.
Writers exist because readers do, and vice versa.
A review is like one big hug to an author.
Here is Mary's review (posted on amazon.com) for Second Chance Hero:
5.0 out of 5 stars Outstanding Story of True Love
'Ms. Sherwin told a beautiful story about Deacon and Jenna. They were best friends for as long as both could remember. They are from a small town and their families are very close.

Second Chance Hero is the epitome of never giving up on love, no matter the lapse of time, circumstances in life that arise, and tragedy that happens when life decides to throw a wicked curve ball.

Once I had the time to start her book, I was glued. I couldn't put it down. Every sentence pulled at my heart and I had to keep turning the page.

Not only is this story about never giving up on love, it's also about growth, redemption, family, passion, second chances, and believing in yourself.

Family is everything to both Deacon and Jenna. Not only did I instantly fall in love with Deacon (what girl wouldn't? Tall, muscular, smart, driven, sexy as hell, and an accent!), my heart became attached to Jenna. She is strong, beautiful, charismatic, and intelligent.

In Ms. Sherwin's story, she described the characters and their feelings so well. I cried when they were sad and laughed when they were happy. I also got mad a few times, and cursed them under my breath! Evoking such strong emotions from readers is not an easy task, and Ms. Sherwin surpassed that.

Ms. Sherwin has a very promising future in her young writing career. This book is definitely in my top ten favorites. I look forward to reading more of her work in the future.

This is a MUST READ! Keep in mind, you will need a box of tissues for some tears!!'

Download Succumbing to Scars and Sorrow NOW!

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Second Chance Hero - All the information you need.

Here is the cover and description with links for where you can download Second Chance Hero 
'He owns me. Completely, irrevocably. He always has. My heart, body and soul belong to this man and I wouldn't have it any other way. I just hope I'm not too late...'
 
Two best friends. One Christmas. Unpredictable events that tear a perfect friendship apart.
 
Jenna Rivera changed after the night on the beach where her heart was broken and she lost everything she thought she had. Gone is the girl who was raised by the sea, replaced by the city girl she swore she'd never be.
 
Deacon Reid, owner of D R & Son Property Development and the town playboy spends his days avoiding everything his life was before the death of his father five years ago. After losing his dad and his best friend in the same night, Deacon went in search of the trait girls...
 
Five and a half years, countless one night stands and a stockbroker boyfriend later, Jenna and Deacon reunite. The past and present collide as they mask the all consuming love they feel for each other with a dangerous cocktail of anger, jealousy and lust.
Deacon makes it his mission to win Jenna back, to save her from the years of pain he caused. He swears to be her hero, grasping with both hands at their second chance at the kind of love many dream of .
 In life nothing is certain, and every day must be treated as if it's your last. Can they save their love, and each other, before it's too late?
 

Here's the link to download Second Chance Hero on smashwords.com:Second Chance Hero - Smashwords.comHere's the link to download Second Chance Hero on amazon.com:Second Chance Hero - Amazon.comHere's the link to download Second Chance Hero on amazon.co.ukSecond Chance Hero - amazon.co.uk
 

Second Chance Hero - An Excerpt

Here is a scene from chapter 10 of Second Chance Hero that I have decided to share. Enjoy! x


“That food was incredible.” Jade says rubbing her washboard stomach.
My big sister, the oldest of the three Rivera children is gorgeous. She’s lean with subtle curves, sparkling hazel eyes and thick dark hair that frames her face and makes her olive skin glow. And she got the height I was denied; at five foot nine she looks like a Spanish supermodel. A real senorita.
            “Mmm hmm.” Grace agrees. I stopped eating halfway through, unable to stomach food after this morning, “Did you see the state of Brad’s face this morning?”
            I choke on my lemonade and Jade glares at Grace like she wishes she had a gun in her hand.
            “What happened to Brad’s face?” I ask, just above a whisper. The other Reid brother had a maimed face this morning when I saw him too.
            “Oh, I thought you knew,” Grace says. and as always I can't tell if my brother’s girlfriend is being genuine, “He and Deacon had a fight in The Duck last night. Sue had to throw them out.”
“What?!” I shriek. Deacon hadn’t been with a woman. He had a drunken fight with his big brother and I went all Queen Arsehole on him this morning. Oh god.
I put my head in my hands and Jade and Grace fall silent.
“You okay, Jen?” Jade puts her hand on my shoulder, obviously confused by my reaction.
“I went crazy, like mad-woman crazy at him on the beach today.”
Jade narrows her eyes at Grace who quickly jumps up out of her seat in response.
“Need the loo.”
“What happened?” Jade asks when she’s gone.
“I was horrid. I’m a horrible person.” I sigh, “I thought he was with one of his trait girls. I went crazy, told him I wanted him out of my life and that he was self-obsessed. He was only drinking with his brother.”
Jade bites both of her lips together and winces.
“What am I missing?”
“My answer will depend on if you’re a sucker for self-punishment.”
“Tell me.” What have I done?
She pauses, taking a huge mouthful of her drink, tension hanging in the air like an approaching storm.
“Steve went with them, Deac wanted a boys reunion. He finally wanted to go out with them again.”
“That’s good.” I nod. All okay so far.
“It was. Until brad mentioned something about you.”
“Me? What about me?”
“Steve wouldn’t give me details. He said Jonas had to walk away because he didn’t want to hear it. Whatever Brad said had Deac all riled up. And he hit him. It turned into a brawl, took Jonas, Steve and Sue to pull them apart. They were pretty drunk. Deac left and walked home, stayed at Emma’s last night. She’s freaking out about the fight but neither of them will tell her what happened.”
Grace arrives back at the table and hands me a glass of water; I bring it to my lips with trembling hands.
“Steve said-” Jade stops but I nod for her to continue, “That Deacon defended you like you were a princess.”
“Shit.”
I drop my head in my hands again, wondering what was said between two brothers to make them fight. How many relationships am I going to jeopardise?
“I have to go.” I manage, with my hand over my mouth to battle the nausea creeping into my body.
“Where are you going to go?” Grace asks.
“I have to go.”
As if she reads my mind, Jade hands me her car keys. I rush from the table, I think I manage a goodbye, before I run to Jade’s car. I jump in, pull on my seatbelt and stab the key in the ignition. I pull away as quickly as I can, thinking about nothing except my urgency to make what I did this morning right.
 
 
I pull up on the driveway, noting all three cars are here. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing he’s home but I’m petrified of the reception I’m going to receive. He didn’t follow me this morning, didn’t make me listen to another one of his explanations. Except this time he was right. And I didn’t let him explain; I tarred him with the same brush everyone else does and walked away from him. Again. When all he’d done was to defend me against a drunken comment his brother made.
I climb out of the car with shaky legs, with butterflies stampeding in my stomach and make my way to his house. I knock on the door and wait... I knock again and wait...
I push the door and it opens slowly. It’s silent inside, maybe he’s sleeping. He must be in pain from the state of that bruise on his face his morning; maybe he’s got a headache and he’s gone to sleep it off.
I find myself walking to the staircase, but I veer off towards the French doors when I hear a rhythmic pounding coming from the garden. I stop at the threshold.
Deacon is outside, flipping a tyre that looks like it’s from a monster truck over and over. He’s wearing black boxing shorts that stop below his knee and a white vest. I lean against the door and knot my fingers together as I watch him. Bend, lift, drop. Bend, lift, drop. It’s mesmerising listening to the rhythm, watching his back muscles straining against the vest and his calves so tight they show no signs of struggling with his exercise.
When he reaches the barn at the end of the garden, he stands up and wipes the sweat from his head with a wristband. There’s something so sexy about that band around his arm, that my stomach quivers and I gasp and reach for my throat. My eyes follow him as he walks over unfazed by his last activity, to a tree with a punch bag hanging from it. He stands beneath a branch and jumps to grab hold of it, his body hanging in mid air. What’s that f-
Oh. He crosses his feet at the ankles, bends his knees and pulls his body up to the branch. One, two, three... After twenty, I’m beginning to get tired. My pulse is racing, I’m breathless, my hands are sweating and my insides are quivering. And I’m not the one doing the gruesome exercise. I lose count watching his muscles contract and release, his stomach tightening with every pull. I’ve never seen anything so painfully erotic in my life. The sweat is pouring from him from the burning heat of the sun  and Deacon’s face is taut, the only part of his body showing the effects of his relentless discipline.
He stops and so does my heart as he swings his legs up and curls them over the branch, falling back and reaching for the floor. I watch him again, as he pulls his body up to his legs; the sounds of his deep inhales and exhales the only sound above the birds and the sea in the distance. He slowly lowers himself off the tree after thirty of those crunch things and pulls his vest off, wiping the sweat from his head. He still has his back to me and my eyes trace every muscle, defined and breathtaking.
“Did you want something?” He calls and my heart leaps. He knows I’m here?
I step out on to the patio and shield my eyes from the sun as Deacon pulls on a pair of black boxing gloves and goes to town on his punching bag. I’m half tempted to stop if he has that much rage to get out.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t spying, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“What do you want?” He grunts between fast punches.
“Can you stop?” I step closer to him and he slows, breathing out loud hisses every time his fists connect with the bag, “I want to talk.”
He slows again, but says nothing. And he doesn’t stop.
“I know you weren’t with anyone last night. I’m sorry for what I said. I was out of line and I’m sorry.”
He stops and turns to me, his breathing heavy and his fists clenched so tight they’re shaking.
“You believed it when you said it. Whether it was last night you were talking about or every other time, you meant it.”
“Because I thought what you said to me on Friday was a lie. I made an assumption and it was wrong. I’m sorry.”
He takes me by surprise when he presses the gloves to my stomach and pushes me against the tree.
My breath escapes in a rush as my back hits the trunk.
 

'Second Chance Hero' - The Park.

Here is a scene from Chapter 17 of 'Second Chance Hero' that I have decided to share.
Enjoy!


            We get to the playground, the swings swaying and creaking in the breeze. I hold the gate open and Jenna steps through, making a beeline for the swings – apparently still her favourite.
            “It’s spooky here at night.” Jenna says as I sit on the swing next to hers and watch her work her legs to get going.
            “It’s quiet. Quiet is perfect.”
            “I thought you loved the city.” She says on an exhaled breath as she swings past, her intoxicating scent surrounding me.
            I don't answer her question; just continue to watch her swing, while digging my feet into the sand beneath us.. The wind flies through her hair, blowing it in all different directions and it whips across her face. Her excited smile takes over and she giggles, swinging her legs in and out. In and out. Everything about this woman is like a work of art; and she has no idea how perfect she is.
            “How are you feeling after yesterday?” Jenna has stopped swinging and I guess I zoned out, because I didn’t notice her stop and look at me. Through me. Whatever it is she does to make me feel like this.
            I shrug; I don't really want to talk about yesterday.
            “Okay,” she says, understanding that it’s not something I want to discuss, “but I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
            “I’m more interested in discussing your refurb.”
            “Deacon-”
            “Let me talk,” I interrupt her, “I know you need it done. Just let me do it.”
            She’s quiet, and isn’t looking at me, “I’m not in a rush for it.”
            “I know that’s bullshit. How much money are you making?”
            She shakes her head, and jumps off the swing. I don't know if I’m supposed to leave her – if she’ll be angry at me for asking about her finances. But I follow her to the skate park, and watch as she runs up one of the ramps and sits at the top, her legs swinging as she looks down at me. This girl amazes me.
            “Am I supposed to join you up there?”
            She nods, smirking and it takes me all of three strides to get to the top, and I sit down next to her.
            “It’s too much,” She says.
            “What’s too much?”
            “This. Us,” She takes a deep breath and looks at me, her eyes sparkling under the orange lamps scattered around the park, “I can't stop thinking about you. I dream about you. I look for you wherever I go. Working with you... You’d consume me. I don't know if I could take it.”
            I’m silent. She’s stunned me. Her admission is everything; everything I hoped she felt and everything I knew I felt. She hasn’t said the words, but I see it in her eyes. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.
            “I know you designed your house.” It’s a whisper, I’m almost unsure if she really said it.
            “What makes you think I designed it?”
She said that before, when she was sitting at my kitchen table.
            “Why is it such a secret?” She asks, her eyes narrow as she studies me, “Why are you embarrassed?”
            “I didn’t design it,” I close my eyes. I can’t lie to her face.
            “Deac,” her voice begs me to look at her, so I do. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her, “I found the drawing.”
            “What?”
            “You didn’t come back to the city. Brad and Jonas came to clear out your room and I helped them. I found the drawing in a pile of papers to be thrown out,” she purses her lips and frowns, “I couldn't let them throw it out.”
            “Why?” I have to clear my throat, trying to keep the threatening emotions at bay.
            “It was you. On paper.” She pauses, and we’re both emotional, over an old piece of paper with a drawing of a house on, “I couldn't have you for real. You didn’t come back. That drawing made you feel closer to me than anything else.”
            “Shit.”
            “Sorry.” She sniffs, rummaging in her bag for a tissue.
            “What for?”
            She doesn’t answer me; if I couldn't see her rummaging in my peripheral as I look out onto the deserted playground, I’d think she was gone.
            “Here,” I turn to look at her, and see the drawing in her hand. She’s holding it out to me, and the corners of the paper are blowing in the light wind. “I feel like you should have this.”
            “Jenna.” I reach out to take it from her and hold it in both hands and bring it to my chest, “You have no idea how important this shitty little paper was to me.”
            “I feel it. I had to keep it safe.”
            The paper is worn, curled in the corners and thin where it’s been folded for six years. There are dots on the paper; they’re hard and I rub over them with my thumb.
            “Sorry,” Jenna laughs through her emotion and wipes her eyes with her thumbs, “they’re tears.”
            She’s crying for me. She feels the significance of this drawing before I’ve even told her the story behind it.
            “I designed this with my dad.”
            She gasps, “you did?”
            “I did. I wanted to go into partnership with him when I got back from travelling. We set ourselves a challenge designing that house the summer before he died. To see how long it’d take us to get it done once we were working together. It was the first thing I did with my inheritance money.”
            “I’m so sorry, Deac.”
            “Thank you for giving it back. Can I keep it?” Jenna nods and I tuck in the pocket of my shirt, “I’ve got a box of stuff he kept for me. Brad got one too. I can't look in it, but this is enough.”
            “You’ll look in it when the time is right.”
            I nod, then shake the sombre atmosphere from my mind by shaking my head, before I jump up and stand behind her.
            “I know what the time is right for, now.” I sit down again, behind her this time with my legs either side of her.
            “What?” I hear her smile and curiosity in her voice.
            I push us off the edge and we slide down the ramp, Jenna gripping my thighs and releasing a giggle that tugs at my heart and brings everything I have ever felt for her to the surface.
Comment received from Mary White @blessedxbe36:
"Really heartfelt and sweet. Definitely on my to read list :-) It's really good! Sounds like quite a weepy, am I gonna need my tissues?"

The Grind - Part 4

So, here is the fourth and final (for now) part of The Grind. It was suggested to me that I continue with the theme of Edward teaching lessons, but was also given the idea of expanding the story by adding more of Erin. I hope you like where I've gone with it:



 
                It’s amazing how someone you barely know; someone who fails to notice your existence, can change everything. Turn your world on its axis and consume your every thought.
 
Edward. I know nothing about this man. No last name, no occupation, no small talk the day I screwed up his coffee and blew my chance. That man is my muse, my obsession, my everything.
But he chose innocent Miss Abigail Henderson. A girl who has very little to offer him, nothing to keep him interested and every chance of screwing up more than coffee. She used to blush at the mere mention of sexual encounters and now, as the images of them in the coffee shop and in the restaurant where they didn’t even recognise it was me serving them, I think about what we would be like if I was the girl he focused all of his attention on. There’s no doubt that he could teach me things, with that sexual prowess and the ability he possesses to bring out the tigress in those such as his precious angel. But I could teach him a few tricks of my own.
 
I would have him telling me how much of a bad girl I am, while begging me to let him ride his wave of release. I would scrape my nails down his chest, tickle his arousal to its peak with the strands of my hair brushing his groin. He’d be beneath me, writhing around, desperate for my permission to touch me.
 
But right now, I’m sitting in my tip-paid rented apartment, the bottle of vodka one shot away from being empty. My many intoxicated nights of fantasising about my Edward have provided the best dreams and most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.
And I’m going to do something to make my dreams reality. If Edward is as bored as I think he is - I’m convinced that Abigail lacks the ability to keep him interested - then I think he’ll be out on the prowl. Looking for someone who could put Abby to shame. That girl is going to be me.
 
I toss the Glen’s vodka bottle aside, watching it clatter on the wooden floor and roll under the adjacent sofa, stand up and make my way to my bedroom. My hair is provocatively tussled from raking my hands through it every time I imagine Edward grabbing fistfuls of it; now all that’s left to do is find something to wear. Something that will have him swooning and kneeling at my feet, offering himself to me. I slide a cut off, sheer black top and a pair of tight jeans out of the wardrobe and watch the hangers tumble to the floor, tangling with the pile left on the floor from many nights like this.
I pull my outfit on, the garments gliding across my body, cold to the touch but soon to be warmed from my spiked body temperature as arousal and excitement takes over. And soon to be going cold on the floor of Edward’s bedroom, which I have imagined many times along with the other surfaces in his abode that I plan on christening with him. I doubt Abigail enjoys anything but missionary.
 
When I’m dressed and my make-up is applied I step outside into the fresh summer air and take a deep, victorious breath, flagging down a cab with one recently manicured hand. The driver takes me across the city before dropping me off outside a bar called ‘Concierge’. It’s a few buildings down from where I used to work as nothing more than a lowly coffee maker, and I know it’s a hot spot for bankers and those who have flown over for business. Edward looks like a banker, and I know this place is known for its ‘perks’, so  I step up to the front door and smile as the security men let me in, mentioning something about me being pretty. I don’t care what they think; I know how to wear a pair of clothes and carry myself with confidence. I only care what Edward thinks, and I know he’s going to love it. The reunion, the conversation where he’ll reveal everything he’s wanted to say since he returned to The Grind and discovered I no longer work there, and then the moment when he asks if I’d like to go back to his. I’ll make him work for it, of course, but I’m already excited about seeing the look on his face when I say yes.
I settle onto a stool in the corner of the bar and order a cosmopolitan. I sip slowly on the drink and look around the bar. I can’t see a man in here who isn’t wearing a suit, and while I am flattered by the attention I receive in the short time since I arrived, there’s only one man I’m here to reciprocate that attention to.
 
And his arrival comes so sweetly, as I drain the last of my cocktail and slide the glass across the bar for the barman to take. Edward is wearing a light grey suit with a black shirt, the first few buttons undone to teasingly reveal a chest dusted with dark hair. My god, he looks better than I’ve ever dreamt him looking. And much better than he did in the restaurant, now sans the dirty blonde than clung from his every word and limb. His green eyes sparkle in the light of the bar and my insides flutter as I imagine those worldly eyes raking in my appearance as I stand naked before him. He stops just inside the entrance, slips his hands into his trouser pockets and looks around, assessing the prey no doubt. But what he doesn’t know is I’m the predator, and I’ve already secured my target. I slide off the bar stool and subtly adjust the cleavage that peeks out from my top, and make my way over to him.
He spots me before I arrive, his gaze turning from slightly animated to something dark, his eyebrows furrowed, his head turned down. Recognise me now?
He takes a step towards me and then another, and in a few short strides of those incredible legs he’s standing in front of me, unashamedly looking down my top. My insides flutter under his gaze and the fire that only he can ignite begins to burn deep within me. Maybe he never forgot me. Maybe he just had to keep up appearances in front of his date so she wouldn’t whine with jealousy, threatened by someone who can give a man like Edward what he needs. Maybe he just watched me from afar, wishing I was the one he called angel; my body quivers at the mere thought of him assessing my body.
“Good evening.” He smirks, lifting his eyes to mine.
“Good evening, Edward.”
His eyes narrow. He didn’t expect me to recognise him. He’s just revealed a hint of self-doubt; a vulnerability I can use to my advantage.
“Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart.”
He raises his arm and gestures for me to head to the bar first. I smile and step in front of him, exaggerating the sway of my hips as I walk, knowing he’s watching me; I feel my body burn from the lust radiating off of him.
“What are you drinking?” He asks, choosing to stand next to where I sit on the stool, his elbow leaning on the bar and one ankle crossed over the other.
I cross my leg, drawing his attention to my body once more. He licks his lips and a whispered growl rumbles in his chest as he almost glares down at me. Edward has fire, a dangerous edge to his sexual urges and it spikes my lust in a way I’ve never felt before.
“Cosmopolitan.”
I’m tempted to order a ‘screaming orgasm’, but the only time I plan to order something like that from him is when he’s asking me how he can please me.
Edward orders our drinks, my sweet cocktail and his mellow whiskey. The perfect combination, just like us.
“No girlfriend?” I ask, taking the straw between my lips and hearing him gasp as I suck a mouthful of my drink.
“Not tonight, baby.” He rasps, clearly affected by my lips.
“Baby?” I raise an eyebrow, “I prefer Angel.”
“Oh, you’re no angel, sweetheart.”
He can say that again.
“What’s your name?”
Oh, we’re playing that game are we? Ok, I’ll take the bait.
“Just stick to sweetheart.”
He purses his lips and nods his acceptance, before downing his shot of whiskey and calling to the barman for another.
 
We talk a lot about nothing for most of the evening, the jazz music crooning from the speakers, Edward joining in with singing along to a few of the songs as he questions me about where I live, what I do in my free time and why I didn’t say hello if I recognised him before.
“I guess I was waiting for you to find me.” I answer honestly, buzzed from the alcohol and ignited from finally getting to do this with Edward, “Maybe you should have weighed up your options all those years ago.”
“I’m starting to think that,” he replies, reaching out to take my hand and bringing it to his lips but not letting my skin touch his plump, warm mouth, “Only an idiot would let you go.”
“You’re here now.”
Stick that, Angel. All thoughts of Abigail are immediately slashed when Edward’s lips brush the back of my hand, pressing light kisses along each knuckle and then each finger tip before nipping my index finger and releasing my hand. My head is swimming, my pulse is racing and if I wasn’t sitting down I think I’d be on the floor. I vowed to stay in control, to control him, but the lightest, most gentle touch of his lips is making me second guess everything.
No. I won’t give up my control. Edward chose someone over me, and I will punish him for it, using his body to take revenge by using it to extract my own pleasure. The fire in my stomach is back as I imagine all the things I could do to this man. What I will do to this man, because there is no doubt that he wants me as much as I want him.
“There are a lot of things I could do to get the idiocy out of your system.” I say, reaching out to touch his stomach through his shirt.
He tenses beneath my touch, and I almost rip his shirt open there and then in front of the other customers. The pent up frustration of wanting Edward for more than two years is running away from me; the thoughts running through my head like a montage.
“You want to get out of here?” he asks, stepping towards me and settling himself between my legs.
His hands reach out the short distance and he runs his fingers up and down my bare waist. My body erupts into goosebumps and I inhale a short breath, unable to suck enough oxygen into my lungs. My head spins and I sway in my seat. Edward steadies me by cupping my face, and although I see it coming, nothing could prepare me for his lips on mine. Our mouths collide and I take the control back, taking his bottom lip between my teeth, biting hard enough to extract a moan from him, before snaking my tongue into his mouth and tasting the whiskey and desire. I slide my hand round the back of his neck and hold him to me as I explore his mouth and he seems to submit to my attack easily and without resistance.
I pull back, pressing my forehead to his, out of breath and turned on beyond description.
“Yes. I want to get out of here.”
Edward grabs my hand and pulls me from the stool, leading me through the crowds of people beginning to gather and out into the now chilly night. He hails a taxi, which grinds to a halt with screeching tyres and the scraping of the handbrake, and holds the door open for me. I climb in, arching my back and crawling across the back seat, before settling into the seat with my back against the window so I can pounce when he climbs in.
I let him tell the driver his address before I lunge at him, taking two fistfuls of his hair before I drag my mouth across his neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin. He seeks out my mouth and I let him kiss me, let him explore me with his expert mouth as his hands roam my body.
 
The drive to his apartment is short and Edward pays the taxi driver, climbs out of the car and waits for me on the pavement. I follow him up the stairs to his building, where he punches in a code to open the door and I follow him inside. His hands find my waist as we reach the lift, and he presses my back to the wall. His lips are on my neck, trailing across my collar bone and travelling along my shoulder. His hands are on my hips, squeezing hard and to the point where pleasure and pain collide. And his breathing is heavy, his chest heaving against mine as he closes the distance between us and presses his pelvis into my stomach. I feel him hard and ready between our clothes and before I have time to reach for his trousers, the lift pings and the door opens. Once inside, we stand at opposite sides of the lift, trying to get our breath back as the tension crackles in the space between us. Five floors later, the doors open again onto a floor of only two apartments. Edward pulls out a key card, slides it through the slot on the door and it swings open, revealing a space void of any light.
As soon as I step inside, Edward follows me in and closes the door. I can see nothing except a little moonlight creeping in through the far window, casting shadows on furniture so I can’t make out what anything looks like. All I can see is that it is spacious and minimalist before Edward approaches me from behind, sweeps my hair over one shoulder and his lips find my neck in the darkness. I let him kiss me for a few seconds, cherishing the feel of him on my skin, but remembering everything I had envisioned for tonight I turn around and reach out to touch his chest. I shove him back a few steps until he collides with what I think is a small bookcase and press my body into his.
“Take your jacket off.” I order, and hear him taking it off, while watching his dark figure fumbling with getting it off because of our close proximity.
When he’s divested of his jacket, I make short work of unbuttoning his shirt, and slide it down his arms, hearing it slide down the bookcase and hit the floor.
“Don’t move.”
I step back until I can’t see him and, knowing he can’t see me I quickly remove my clothes, leaving myself in nothing but the fire-engine red thong I wore just for him.  When I reach him, he’s waiting in anticipation his breathing loud, and I’m certain I can hear his heart beating out of his chest. I kiss him like I’ve been starved of him. I have; for far too long. Hi chest is hard and smooth as I press my palms to it, rubbing the pad of my thumbs over his nipples, feeling them tighten beneath my touch. He quivers and lets out a moan as I move my hands lower at a slower than slow pace. When I reach his belt, I undo it and slide it through the loops of his trousers, dropping it to the floor and hearing it hit the wooden floor. And then I repeat the process teasing his nipples with my thumbs, pulling them between my thumb and forefinger.
“Ah.” He breathes, jumping as I increase the pressure and feel him harden further between us.
The thought of what’s waiting for me is almost too much as I undo his trousers and they drop to his ankles. He steps out of them with his shoes and I place my palms back up on his chest. Edward pushes his hips into me, his steel erection concealed by nothing more than thin cotton boxers.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.” I whisper, surprised by the aggression in my voice.
“As long as I’ve waited for you, sweetheart.”
The tone of his voice matches mine and I know he’s struggling to let me control what’s happening between us. I almost want to succumb to his charm and allow him to take me how I know he usually would. But I’ve come this far, I can’t go back now that he’s right where I want him.
“Where’s the bedroom?”
“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” He breathes and I hear the smirk in his voice. I have no idea what he looks like naked and I’m hoping his bedroom will have some sort of lighting.
Intrigued by his invitation I step closer, pressing my chest to his and lean up on tip toes. In one fluid move, Edward lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist. He steps away from the shelf and carries me through the apartment.
My back hits the bed so hard I almost bounce back off, but when I look around me there’s a small light in the corner of the room, casting the space in an amber hue and Edward is standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at me. Oh, god.
His body is incredible. Hard, defined muscle is encased by smooth sun-kissed skin. And he’s sporting an erection that should only be seen in porn movies. I want this man to ruin me. Fuck control; I want Edward and I want him to take me with the same ferocity I see in his eyes.
“You’ve been a bad girl, sweetheart.” He growls, sliding his hands into the side of his boxers and taking them off.
When he stands I notice his impressive length bobbing under its own weight. I whimper in both nervousness and excitement as he saunters towards the bed, the mattress dipping as he kneels on the edge and crawls towards me, licking his lips and parting my legs with his hands.
“Are you wet for me, sweetheart?” he asks, the gleam in his eyes telling me he already knows the answer. I can feel it, so I know he sees the saturation my underwear refuses to hide.
All I can do is nod as one side of his mouth curves up into a body combusting grin. Edward hooks him thumbs into my underwear and slides it down my freshly waxed legs.
“Feel how hard you make me.” He grabs my wrist and brings it between his legs.
I grip his steel cock and squeeze, stroking my hand up and down it. He groans in pleasure and slides two fingers straight through my arousal, making me gasp and catch my breath.
“Does your girlfriend do this to you?” I ask, reaching down to take his straining balls in my free hand.
“What girlfriend?” he asks, sliding his thumb over my soaked clit, “it’s just you and me sweetheart.”
I’m lost to the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands where I’ve craved him for years and the idea that I’m going to rock his world in a way that Abby never could. I’m moaning, crying his name as I work him and he works me and I race towards my orgasm. I’m climbing, building, ready to take the plunge into unexplainable ecstasy when he stops, holds still and slides his finger out of me. I let go of him and lean up on my forearms, ready to take back the control and demand he carries on, but his mouth is on me before I take a breath and he licks and sucks and grazes, devouring me with his mouth. I throw my head back and close my eyes, my body trembling as I climb again. Edward squeezes my hips holding me still as I try to writhe around beneath him and I fall, screaming until my mouth is dry and gasping for air.
“You’ve been calling the shots all night,” he says looking down at me, his mouth glistening, “You want to play Mistress now or are you ready to give in?”
I nod, unable to speak. I can’t move, my body still tremble with aftershocks as he tenderly strokes my clit and leans over me.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes Sir, I’m ready’.”
He roughly turns me over, my stomach on the mattress and leans over me. His cock teases me entrance as he leans over and bites my shoulder. I cry out as the pain hits, but he soothes the area with tender kisses and works his way down my back. When he reaches the dimples at the bottom, he slides off the bed, telling me not to look. I keep my face turned into the pillow, my eyes shut as I wait for what happens next. When Edward returns, he strokes something silky along my back and I shiver. Then the silk is being wrapped around my rest and I’m being bound to the metal bed frame.
“Does it hurt?” he asks and I shake my head as I test the restraint.
Edward surprises me by tying another silk material, no doubt one of his ties around my eyes, knotting it at the back.
“Can you see?”
I shake my head again.
“Sorry?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
I feel Edward climb back onto the bed, his hands quickly return to my now drenched sex and I moan as he slowly works me, using one hand on the bottom of my back to hold me still. He leans down, snaking his arm underneath me and lifts me so I’m kneeling, my hands still tied somewhere near the bottom of the bed frame. I want to lift my head and watch him behind me, but the tie covering my eyes means the only thing I can do is feel what he’s going to give me.
Edward strokes his cock along my entrance, spreading my arousal, whispering how much my body turns him on and how much he loves a woman who knows what she wants. And then he teases me with the head dipping into my sex and I try to push back and take him, but he holds his hand at the bottom of my neck and now I can’t move.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Before I can answer his questions his hand rains down on my behind and he plunges into me. I cry out and bite the pillow, my eyes watering and the blood pumping in my ears, along with my cries of ecstasy and Edward’s growls of pleasure. Every thrust cuts me deep, melts my core and ignites every nerve ending. I’m on fire; giving myself over to sensation and taking everything Edward is giving me. I come hard, my body burning and trembling beneath fingers that dig into my hips and a rhythm that only Edward controls. He continues his relentless pace, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the tightening of my body again as I imagine what Edward looks like kneeling behind me and riding me the way I’ve always wanted him to. He grips my hair, wrapping it around his hand and pulls me into him, creating a wave of euphoria that has me screaming my climax and begging him for something, anything. He thrusts into me a handful of times before freezing, holding me still and finding his own release. Edward collapses on top of me, both of us flat to the bed, and supports his weight with trembling arms. When we’ve got our breath back, he slides out of me before lying down next to me and pulling me into his chest. I snuggle into him, committing the smell of Edward and sex to memory.
“Will you stay?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
All I can do is nod as sleep takes over. I’m relaxed and sated, and for the first time in over two years I don’t dream of Edward. There are no dreams that could beat that reality.
 
~
I wake up in the morning with a killer hangover in a room with sunlight streaming in that doesn’t smell like home. When I realise that it smells of the best sexual experience on my life, I lie with my eyes closed and recount the events of last night, which are now a little fuzzy. I wish I wasn’t so drunk when we had our first time together. Edward stirs next to me, wrapping his arm over my stomach and I open my eyes to see him sleeping.
 
But the man next to me isn’t Edward. He has the same build, but the auburn hair and thin lips are the first giveaway, with the fact that I knowthis isn’t the man I’ve been dreaming and fantasising about. I slide out from beneath the strangers vice like grip and sneak out of the bedroom, my body running on pure adrenaline from the shock of what’s happened. I enter the living area of what is clearly a hotel and find my clothes in a pile where I removed them in the dark last night. I dress quickly, switching to autopilot so I can’t smell or feel the strange man I gave myself to and sneak out of the room.
 
How did this happen?
I leave the hotel picturing Edward tucked up in bed on this Saturday morning with his real angel. He didn’t come looking for me; he didn’t leave his girlfriend to find me and have his way with me the way I wanted him to.
I vow in that moment as I exit the hotel and make the walk of shame along the road to avoid the stranger waking up and finding me, that I will never drink again. I don’t know how much of last night was real and how much was a alcohol induced delusional hallucination, spurred on my sexual frustration and jealousy.
Edward found his angel. Maybe it’s time I give up on conquering Abigail’s Edward and work towards finding my own.


Comment from AJ Walters @AJ_Walters74:
"WOW! That was briliant Becki. Absolutely love the twist at the end. Totally unexpected. Brilliant :)) Loved, loved, loved it...still buzzing at the twist. Excellent :)))"

Comment from Mary White @blessedxbe36:
"That was great! I loved how you trashed her and redeemed her all in one night. You're amazing :)))"

Comment from Stacey Treadwell @StaceyTreadwell:
"Loved thr final 4th part of The Grind! I kinda figured where it was going part of the way through but it still made me giggle XD I guess I was...hoping, for the way she was so vindictive and the way she hated on Abby. Not a bad thing <3d it =)"

The Grind - Part Three

   The couple saunter into the restaurant, and attract the attention of the staff immediately. They have become recent regulars, frequenting the Italian bistro every evening for the past week. The woman, a barista in a local coffee shop is dressed in plum tonight. Her lace backed dress hugs her curves and her black stilettos elongate her legs substantially. She’s small, the blond coffee-maker, but she carries herself with a confidence she didn’t have before she met the man she has been dining with this week. He is tall, broad; your average suit-wearing banker and isn’t short of a few sterling pounds. He too carries himself with confidence, oozing sensuality and intelligence. But it’s the way they are together, once like chalk and cheese, now like strawberries and melted chocolate -which they will have for dessert for tonight- that has heads turning the minute they walk through the lobby and to the host station. They ask for the usual table, a table in the corner with a view of the city, with winged leather seats, close to the fire because the lack of clothing blondie wears always leaves her chilly and requesting the banker’s suit jacket.
“A bottle of Sangiovese.” The tall dark and handsome man orders.
When the bottle arrives and the couple have mulled over the menu, they ask for five more minutes to decide, while the man sips on his bottled beer and his date caresses her vodka martini in her tiny manicured hands, while they wait for the Italian red to breathe.
The waitress leaves the table, unnoticed by the couple. She stops a few feet away and listens to their conversation, pretending to swipe at the till, for nothing in particular.
 
“How was work?” She asks, holding the little red straw between her finger and thumb.
Edward shrugs, “It was as good as a Friday can be,” he smirks, “although I’m looking forward to having you to myself for an entire weekend.”
She blushes, something that hasn’t stopped over time, and is something Edward revels in. He loves bringing a pink flush to her skin when he compliments her, knowing his trousers will tighten the minute she looks down, her lashes casting shadows on her milky skin, and reverts back to the shy girl he first met two years ago.
Their reunion has been one of sweetness and discovery. He found her, his blond vixen, and she found her extra-hot-triple-shot. It has been a romance made for novels. He swooped in like a knight in shining armour, and she was happy to be lifted into a bliss of buoyancy by his prowess and expertise in all things sexual.
“You don’t need to be shy around me, Angel.” He reaches out and takes hold of her hand, which is picking imaginary lint from the perfectly aligned napkin.
“I’m not shy, Sir,” her ice-blue eyes meet his, “I just wish we weren’t in a restaurant full of people. I’d like to do get our weekend started now.”
Edward clamps his mouth shut, stunned by what she said, and takes a mouthful of beer to compose himself. He’d always been good at control, allowing his mind to explore a woman’s body, without bearing the physical effects. But that was before he’d met his angel. All composure goes out the window when she’s looking at him in that way she has of heating his insides and bringing his impressive member to life.
She knows what she’s doing. She runs her tongue along her top lip before biting the bottom and winking at him. The tables have turned; for now. He’ll play up to her little game, let her see the desire for her burning in his eyes, and then the minute they get back to her little shoe box apartment he’ll pounce, giving her everything she’s created within him in the ten short minutes they’ve been in the restaurant.
“That’s how you want to play it, Angel?” He asks, using her pet name more as he begins to truly believe that she may have been sent from another realm to both tempt him and save him.
She nods her head, and strokes one expensively heeled foot along his calf. He closes his eyes as he takes in more beer and releases a sigh into the neck of the glass bottle.
“Can I take your order?” The waitress returns, and Edward contemplates telling her where to go, until they’re done whatever it was they were going to do before she returned and his angel stopped her torturous pleasure.
“I want the tomato pasta, please.”
Edward rolls his eyes, smiling. She’s ordered that every time they’ve been. Which in this week, has been every day. It was his idea to come here; the fire catches her hair and her highlights ignite and flicker away with the fire as she plays coyly with her hair, pretending she hasn’t seen this man stripped down to all his glory. And enjoyed every minute of it; he makes her feel like no other has before.
“And I’ll have the lamb shank. Thanks.”
Edward hands over the menus, simultaneously taking her hand, and stroking her palm with his fingers. She sighs in appreciation, needing other parts of his body on every part of hers, and takes a shy sip of her martini. She savours the taste as the alcohol slips down her throat, burning in the bottom of her stomach along with her growing arousal as Edward looks into her eyes and puts pressure on her palm.
“What do you want to do this weekend?” he asks, trying to ignore his angel closing her eyes and revelling in his touch.
“Do I have to suggest something involving us leaving the bedroom?” she asks, after a lengthy sigh.
The guttural groan that wants to escape from Edward’s mouth wins, and he tries to cover it by clearing his throat and reaching for the Sangiovese. He pours them both half a goblet each, before settling back in his chair and continuing his massage, eager to finish their meals already so he can whisk her home and abolish all thoughts of leaving the bedroom for the next two days from her mind.
“Cheers.” Edward raises his glass and they clink.
The food arrives and they both make a synchronised sound of appreciation as they inhale the smell. Edward’s cock twitches hearing the moan escape her parted rosy lips, and she squeezes her legs together as his dark gaze hits every nerve in her body.
“Eat up.”
He nods towards her simple penne and tomato sauce, knowing full well her appetite for ‘penne al napolitan’  has been fully extinguished. Her appetite for Edward, however, is burning like wild fire within her and she squirms in her seat as he causally, pulls the soft meat of his lamb shank off the bone. Oh heavens.
“Yes, Sir.”
Anyone in the restaurant at that moment who denies the sensuality the couple exudes would be deemed a liar. An act as small as eating a meal displays their desire for each other. Their gazes stay firmly locked on one another as they eat, lifting forkfuls of food painfully slowly to their mouths, closing their eyes as they taste the cuisine and imagine tasting each other. After each mouthful has been swallowed and savoured, they find their gaze again, cool blue and  emerald green colliding in a torrent of burning lust. Edward licks his lips as she wipes the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin and reaches for another forkful of pasta. She holds out the fork to Edward and he opens his mouth willingly. She slides the fork through his lips and her insides clench as he closes his mouth around the pasta and closes his eyes. She stands up, leaning over the table and kisses him chastely on the mouth before he even has a chance to chew, and sits back down in her seat. When Edward opens his eyes, she is licking her lips and nodding.
“The pasta is so good, I wanted to taste it off you.” She breathes, convinced that little act did more to her than it did him.
She was wrong. Edward’s body aches for her, for any morsel of contact she gives him and the taste of her lips, sweet from the tomato sauce causes a stampede of emotions in his stomach and makes him push his plate away, finished after just a few mouthfuls. There is nothing that would taste as good as his angel, so why bother allowing anything else to pass his lips?
“I think it’s time for dessert.” Edward smirks.
He needs to feed her strawberries dipped in the exquisite Belgian chocolate the restaurant has shipped in. He needs to see the juice drip down her lips and onto her chin so he can kiss it off and savour the sweet taste of her, the taste of her lips doing great things to strawberries and chocolate.
“I think I’d like you for dessert, Sir.”
Edward spins round in his chair, grabbing the attention of the waitress, clicking his fingers rudely in his haste to get her attention.
“Can we move?” he asks, much to the two women’s surprise.
“Where would you like to move to, Sir?” The waitress asks with parted red lips and flushed cheeks.
“There.”
Edward nods towards a booth in the far corner, hidden from the rest of the diners and big enough to seat eight guests, ignoring the desire written all over the poor waitress’ face. He does that to people; namely women, but a few men have fallen victim to his charming aura. Edward notices, he pretends he doesn’t because he has no need to entertain women and their damned fluttering when his angel is sitting opposite him and wondering why he wants such a big table just to eat dessert. She gasps; she knows exactly why he wants her there, and she too turns to the waitress and raises her eyebrows. Make it snappy.
“Certainly, Sir. Would you like to make yourself comfortable in the booth?” She looks at his dining companion as a pang of jealousy hits her and her lip curls up in disgust, “I will bring your drinks over and order your strawberries with the kitchen. On the house.”
A hand on his shoulder signals her goodbye and the second she departs, Edward is out of his chair and they are on their way to the booth.
He gestures for his angel to climb in first, taking great pleasure in watching her dress slide up her legs, revealing the black lace pants he bought her last week. She settles into the red velvet plush seating, teasing him by leaving her dress hitched just enough to see her parted legs and flushed skin.
“Holy shit.” He murmurs to himself as he slides in next to her and reaches his hand straight out to caress her inner thigh.
She squirms and tenses as Edward leans in and presses his lips to her neck, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of her favourite perfume. She leans into him, cupping his face with her hand, feeling the stubble beneath her touch. He moans against her skin, the simple touch affecting him to the depths of his body and soul.
The waitress returns to place their drinks on the table, but they don’t notice her return, too engrossed in the alternate universe that they have created purely by being innately attracted to each other. And when Edward finally presses his mouth to her lips and their tongues begin a sensual dance to their own unique rhythm, the rest of the world disappears.
“You’re beautiful, Angel.” He whispers against her lips as their mouths part and they notice the white ceramic bowls of strawberries and melted chocolate. It is impossible to say how long they were locked in their sensual embrace, but the chocolate has began to set. Edward picks up a strawberry and dips it through the genache, before holding it against her mouth.
“Lick it off.” He asks, barely above a whisper as he watches her lick her lips.
She leans forward and gently licks the tip of the strawberry, capturing the silky chocolate on her tongue. Before she can taste it, Edward leans forward and takes her tongue between his lips, tasting the bitter chocolate against her sweetness. He sits back, his eyes glazed as he presses the strawberry to her mouth and watches the juice drip as she bites down. He wipes his thumb across her bottom lip, and pops it in his mouth, closing his eyes as he tastes and savours. His hand moves higher, stroking her through the lace as he retrieves another strawberry and dips in the sauce.
“Aren’t you having any, Sir?” She asks trying to sound unaffected by his touch as he offers her the second strawberry.
“I’ll taste it off you, Angel,” he says, moving her underwear to one side and sliding a finger into her.
She gasps, and bites down on the strawberry hard enough to stifle the moan that threatens to escape in a public place, busy with Friday night celebrations. Edward moves his finger at a slow pace, easing another into her to stretch her.
“Keep your eyes closed.” He says watching her eyes roll back as he sets a slow, torturous rhythm and reaches for the third strawberry, “hold it between your teeth. Don’t eat it.”
She does as she’s told, keeping the strawberry in her teeth, her mouth watering as both Edward and the fruit tease her.
“Don’t make a sound.” He whispers, his warm breath caressing her far better than the chocolate ever could.
The sounds around her become muffled; the noises of the other diners, the crashing of pans in the kitchen, the soft music crooning through the speakers fade into the background as all she can focus on is the sound of her breathing, the rushing of the blood through her ears, the almost flavour of strawberry in her mouth, and the feel of Edwards hand in the place she has craved since he left for work this morning.
“Shh.” Edward soothes as he presses something cold to her clitoris. Something smooth. All she can think about is the feel of it on her pulsing clit, and wonder what it is. The vibrations flood through her the second Edward pushes the little button and she throws her head back, biting down on the strawberry, but unable to chew. Then Edwards mouth is on hers and he takes the strawberry from her mouth, chewing on it before his lips find hers again.
“Edward.” She breathes, begging him for something, but unable to formulate the words to tell him to stop.
“Angel,” he takes her ear between his teeth, dipping his tongue out to taste her, “just feel it.”
She can do nothing but feel it as the now warm object buzzes quietly against her throbbing clit, and Edward speeds his fingers up, moving to stroke the spot deep inside her. She throws head back against the chair once more, pushing against it to find some resistance.
“I want to touch you,” she whispers, afraid others will hear, “Sir, I want you in my hand.”
“Then touch me, Angel.” He smiles through his overwhelming arousal, as she reaches for his lap, discovering his rigid cock waiting for her.
She strokes him, smoothing the burst of pre-cum over him with her thumb. She keeps her movements slow at first, afraid of where they can go from here, but as her body builds and climbs, edging towards the precipice, she speeds up. Squeezing, stroking, milking. Edward buries his face in the crook of her neck and tells her she’s a good girl.
“That’s is Angel,” he groans, biting her neck as his sounds of pleasure vibrate through them both, “come for me. I can feel it, let it go.”
The taste of strawberries on her lips, Edwards mouth on her neck, his guttural sounds of pleasure, his hand, the buzzing. She falls, tightening and clenching. Trembling and shaking. Crying out on the inside, but whispering his name on the outside as her orgasm hits and she rides wave after wave of shocks. The buzzing stops, but Edward continues to caress her, drawing out her release as he feels his own building.
“Angel.” He moans but she shakes her head. “Fuck. Stop.”
Two words he never wanted to say in front of his angel.
“Feel it, Sir.” She mirrors, and leans down.
She takes the head of his throbbing cock in her mouth, sucking and enticing his climax as her hand continues fast and hard. Edward grips her head, fisting to handfuls of loosely curled hair as he curses his release, coming gloriously and hitting the back of her throat. She continues to milk him until he convulses and begs her to stop.
She sits back and casually reaches for a strawberry, taking a bite and chewing seductively. She offers the other half to Edward and he eats it as he comes down from the high. Then she leans forward and licks the strawberry juice from his mouth, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth.
“I love the taste of you and strawberries, Sir.” She says, sitting back and drinking the rest of her wine.
“God, you’re incredible.”
Edward finishes the rest of his red wine with shaky hands, and calls to the waitress for the bill.
 
The couple pay up their bill and make their way out of the restaurant hand in hand, relaxed and sated, but ready to return home together to see where else the night leads them.
 
 
Erin watches her ex-colleague leave the restaurant, ignoring the table of old men in the corner clicking for her attention. She stands at the hostess desk and allows her mind to wander. She wonders what it would have been like to be Edward’s date. What it would have been like to have been fed strawberries and romanced. What it would have been like to receive the pleasure she saw him giving Innocent Abigail in the booth in the corner where they thought no one could see. And she wondered what it would have been like to be the one he went to the coffee shop for, and fucked on the counter at The Grind.
Yes. Erin saw everything. And Abigail didn’t even recognise her.

The Grind - Part Two

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The blue-eyed angel keeps her head down, tipping little plastic bags of coins into the till. I guess I’m the first customer of the day.

I see the change in her instantly. Her hair is a little darker, curled so provocatively I ache to wrap each strand around my finger. Her uniform is a little tighter; tight enough to see her slender frame and generous curves, but leaves enough to the imagination.

Her lashes are long, casting shadows on her rosy cheeks as she keeps her eyes on the task at hand. Her wrist is accessorised with a white watch, which contrasts against her sun-kissed skin. This little vixen has been on holiday and my what a vixen she is.

I can see the outline of her bra under her cotton blouse and it is no ordinary cheap t-shirt bra; it has lace around the cups and what looks like sequins lining the lace. An intricate silver chain with an angel pendant decorates her neck. The neck I wish to kiss and lick and savour. And there are matching stud earrings in the ears that cry out for a tug between my teeth, my tongue dipping in the shell and nibbling the flesh below it.

The bell above the door signals the arrival of another customer and the angel pushes the till shut and looks up. Her icey-blue eyes meet mine and a ghost of recognition hits her face, before she stands up straight and swipes her till card through the slot. Oh, I’d love to swipe through her slot.

“Triple shot, extra hot?” she asks, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth.

She recognises me. After two years of me convincing myself she’d moved on to bigger and better things, Abigail remembers our night together.

“You remember.” I say, trying to sound cool and collected when I am anything but.

“I never forget a face.” She grins and taps the till, before setting a jug under the machine and frothing the milk for my cappuccino.

“What can I get you?” she addresses the next customer, preparing my order but effectively brushing me off. She slides the cup across the counter, refusing to make eye contact, and takes a list of drinks from the other customers, which now form an orderly, suited-up queue.

I tip the sugar into the coffee, but leave my hand curled around the cup.

“I’m not in a rush.” I whisper when Abigail returns to collect my cup. I take hold of her wrist when she reaches out, and subtly rub small circles on the inside. I feel her pulse quicken under my touch and a flush spreads across her exposed skin.

Abby pulls away from me and concentrates on pouring the extra hot milk onto my triple shot. I see her take a deep breath and her thoughtful expression makes her look like she’s contemplating the meaning of life.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” She whispers, so only I can hear.

“I came back for you.”

Truer words were never spoken.

“Then don’t rush off.” Her mouth turns up in a core-melting smile and she turns away to assemble the rest of the coffees, refusing money for mine.

I stay at the counter drinking my cappuccino and watching Abigail gracefully move around the bar, a swish to her hips and glances in my direction that she thinks I don’t notice. Her skin is still flushed and pink, and I know she’s thinking of our night together, although the sofa has disappeared.

After half an hour, the rush is over and only a few customers linger on the plush seating.

“You should know,” Abby says, handing me a fresh coffee and glancing towards the door as the bell chimes, “I’m not the same girl I was before.”

“I can see that.” I reply, unable to hide the desire for her radiating from every fibre of me.

“Hi, Angel!” A high but clearly male voice chirps and my back straightens involuntarily. I’m almost ready to crouch and bare my teeth to this intruder. Angel?!

A man about my height, looking scarily like I did two years ago, appears behind the counter tying his apron and leans over to kiss my angel on the cheek.

“Hi, Brett.” She smiles, but her eyes flicker to mine, which are no doubt burning with rage, the colour of them sure to resemble that of the aptly named monster. I grab my coffee, ignoring the burn through the Styrofoam, and settle myself onto the nearest chair.

As I inhale the coffee, I watch the interactions between Abigail and her ‘mate’. Her flush has disappeared and she suddenly looks awkward. She doesn’t catch her breath when the scarily reminiscent Brett brushes his hand up her arm and she doesn’t reciprocate the look in his eyes that tell me they are more than just physically involved.

“Did you make a dinner booking?” Abby asks while pouring syrup into a latte glass. Abigail and syrup.

“Uh...no.” the ‘replacement’ replies, “I forgot.”

Abigail rolls her eyes and shrugs, then looks at me. Yes, I heard. I wink at her and watch her blush before she looks away.



~

“The rush is about to hit.” Abby says, a few decibels too high, “I’m going on a break.”

I look up from pretending to work on my iPad and the twitching in my trousers tells me this is my chance. A quick glance behind me, and my angel-induced arousal and I make our way to the toilets, taking a detour to the corridor that leads to the staff room. I lean against the wall and wait.

The five minute wait is worth it. Abigail comes out of the staffroom, her eyes cast down to the leather boots she has tucked her trousers into.

Her step falters when she looks up and sees me, but she continues past the entrance for the bar until she’s inches away from me and I smell her sweet smell. Coffee and caramel and my angel.

“Do you, uh,” she stutters, knotting her fingers and staring at my chest which is heaving with lust, “want to go get a sandwich?”

“You can get a sandwich here,” I smirk.

“Yes, but I can’t be here with you.”

I turn her so she’s backed against a door marked ‘stock’ and press my body into hers. Her curves fit my body perfectly, like two pieces of a jigsaw and I don’t care that her ‘boyfriend’ could come out to restock the coffee beans and catch me with his ‘girlfriend’.

“Edward,” Abigail breathes, both in protest and relief.

“I don’t want a sandwich. I have other ideas.”

I turn the handle on the stock room and we stumble into the tiny cupboard, filed with rows of glass-bottled syrups and packets of coffee beans I pull Abby into me, holding her body to mine as my back pushes against the door, so my hands can find her incredible backside. Abigail reaches for my shirt, grabbing the material loose where I opened it to distract her from Brett. She finally looks up at me, and our reactions to each other are palpable. She looks at my jaw, my mouth, my nose, my eyes, as if she can’t believe I’m here and she’s committing everything to memory. I squeeze her behind and pull her hips to meet mine. She gasps at the contact and bites her bottom lip.

“Why does he call you Angel?”

No answer.

“Why does he look like me?”

No answer.

I wrap my arms around her, reach up to hold the back of her neck with one hand, and tilt her head.

“Answer my questions, Angel.” I whisper, kissing her neck and taking her ear between my teeth.

“I can’t.” She swallows a moan.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I already know the answers, Abigail. I want to hear you tell me.”

“Because,” she tries to push me away, but I hold her in place, my mouth working on her burning skin, “I told him to. I imagine you saying it when he does. And he looks like you,” she moans as my tongue dips into her ear, “because it’s easier to imagine you on top of me, underneath me. Behind me.”

My body tenses at the thought of being buried in Abigail. Of her wanting me buried inside her.

“Where have you been?” she asks, sliding my hands up to grab two fistfuls of my hair.

“Trying to get you out of my system.”

I can’t hold back. I cup her face in my hands and bring her mouth to mine, my lips devouring hers, saying everything I feel but don’t have the emotional maturity to say out loud. I release her, gasping for air and holding her so tight, I have to let her go she can breathe.

“And did you?”

I shake my head, reaching out to caress the cleavage visible from her open buttons. She shivers beneath my touch, but throws her head back and closes her eyes. Ever the opportunist, I take the chance to bury my face in between her breasts, inhaling her sweet, angelic smell, and dipping my tongue out to taste her. She grips my head, holding me to her and a growl reverberates through my chest. Her skin erupts in goosebumps and a soft sigh escapes her.

“No.” I answer honestly, standing back and keeping my weight against the door as I slowly unbutton her thin shirt. I was right about the bra; it’s sheer black, lined with pink lace and shimmering sequins. It captures Abigail and all I remember her for. Her shy sensuality, her innocence, her beauty, “you are stunning.”

Her cheeks blush the same colour as her lace and she smiles. I pull the cups of her bra down, squeezing her handful-sized breasts together, stroking along her peaked nipples with my thumb. She stifles a cry, but an ecstatic smile spreads across her face.

“How does this make you feel, Angel?” I ask, releasing her for a split second to adjust the aching in my trousers.

“Good.” She replies; such a simple word, but filled with lust and desire and wrapped in her sweetly seductive tone.

“Does Brett make you feels this good?” I dip my head to taste her nipples, tugging them between my teeth, soaking them with my tongue.

“No,” she moans through gritted teeth and lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her exposed chest against me.

Abigail leans her face towards me slowly, before running her tongue along my bottom lip and taking it between her teeth. I close my eyes and ache to have that tongue on every inch of my body. I open my mouth eagerly for her, urging her to explore the mouth that only has tastes for her.

Her breath leaves her in a rush as someone turns the handle on the other side of the door, and she jumps back, clamping her hand over her mouth.

“I bet she took the fucking key.” Brett mumbles to himself before his battle with the door handle ceases along with his whiney voice.

And then we both notice the sound of customers filling the shop; the clinking of ceramic, the hissing of milk being steamed, the laughter from a group of giggly women.

“We can’t do this.” Abby steps towards me, reaching for the handle, but her eyes betray her rejection.

“He won’t come back now.”

I hold a hand to her taut stomach and feel her tense beneath my touch as I push her until her back is pressed on the far wall.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, an eerie reminder of what I said to her on our first night together. Our only night together.

She nods her answer and I take a step back, “take your trousers and boots off.”

She swallows in anticipation and pulls her boots and socks off, before whipping her trousers off and throwing them in a heap on the floor.

“Why aren’t you taking yours off?” she asks.

“You want them off?” she nods, biting that damn bottom lip again. I lean forward, just enough to free it with my own teeth, “take them off.”

She smiles, the tigress in her coming to life, as confident hands reach out and free me of my belt and she swiftly pulls my trousers to the floor. I step out of them with my shoes and they join her clothes on the floor. I’m standing in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs and my angel stands in her matching innocently-sexy underwear and her unbuttoned shirt.

Before I have a chance to reach out and touch her, she drops to her knees and takes my underwear with her. I look down to see Abby looking at my pulsating cock in admiration as she reaches out as if in slow motion to take me in her hands. I gasp as her small hands wrap around my shaft and push my hips to her rhythm. I close my eyes and lean forward on the wall.

“Fuck,” I growl, trying not to alert the shop as her tongue travels along the underside of my shaft, before she takes my swollen head in her hot, moist mouth. The feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and this angel can suck. Her cheeks hollow, she grips my thighs and slides me in and out of her mouth. It takes everything I have not to grab her head and fuck her mouth like I want to, but after swiftly swallowing me to the back of her mouth, she stops. I look down to see her kneeling, hands behind her back and her glistening mouth open.

“Please, Sir.” She whispers, “fuck my mouth.”

I exhale in a rush and almost come in that moment. Abby looks up at me through long lashes and opens her mouth again, inviting me in. I take a deep, composing breath and comb my hands through the sides of her hair. When I’m satisfied with the grip, and she is visibly salivating, I slide through her lips, savouring the complete control she has given me. Her mouth and throat open up, her gag reflex minimal, and I’m soon thrusting into her mouth, relishing in the feel of her tongue stroking along the pulsing vein and her mouth sucking me like a lollipop. I feel everything tightening, my head turning light and fuzzy, and I know my release is imminent by the increased growling and curses I swore I’d never say in front of my angel.

“Stop, stop.” I hold Abigail's and she releases me with a final loud suck that makes my body shudder in need.

“Stand up.” She takes my hands and I pull her to her feet, “It’s payback time.”

I drop to my knees, happy to kneel in front of the vixen I have a feeling I created, and slide her underwear down her silky legs, noticing she has no tan lines. I part her legs with one hand, the other still gripping her hand, and her arousal glistens back at me.

“Who did this to you?” I ask, stroking one finger between her soaking lips and look up at her as she arches her back, “did Brett do this?”

She shakes her head, as her eyes roll and close, “You. It’s all for you...Sir.”

“I want you to cry my name when you come.”

I slide one finger through her wetness and she tightens around me, sucking in a jagged breath. I lift her leg over my shoulder, opening her up to me, and lean forward to taste her. She tastes just how I remember, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. She gasps and fists my hair with both hands, as my tongue flutters against her clit and my finger strokes deep inside her. I lap up her escaping juices with my greedy tongue, and spread them around her delicious flesh. Her knees buckle and in a stroke of genius I lift the other leg over my shoulder, gripping her behind and squeezing as I growl and it vibrates through her. I kneel up, sliding her back up the cold wall, and her sudden release shudders through her and Abby bites her fist to stifle her sounds.

“You’re a naughty girl,” I whisper, looking up at her and setting her onto her shaky feet.

“Why?” she reaches up to wipe her juices from my mouth, but I capture her fingers and pull them into my mouth, sucking on them like she did my aching cock.

“You were supposed to call my name.”

“I couldn’t breathe, there’s no way I could talk.”

With a smile, I run my fingers up and down her waist, before grabbing her and hoisting her around my hips. She tightens her hold, digging her heels into my lower back.

“I want you to fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked anyone,” she begs, the need evident in her voice. I feel my eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“I only ached for a few days.” She goes shy suddenly, “I want the reminder for longer this time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused, but her expression is soon drowned out by her closed eyes, short breath, and sighs as I gently slide through her.

“But-”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I say, trying desperately not to detonate the second her warm, tight heat closes around me, “I’m taking you to dinner. Anywhere you want to go.”

She opens her mouth to reject me but I bury my face in her neck, tasting the perspiration, grip her hips, digging my nails into her skin, and thrust into her so she cries out every time I fill her. Abigail claws at my shoulders, bites my neck and urges me on in the voice that I’ve dreamt of for too long.

“Edward,” she cries, “oh god, just like that.”

She begs me not to stop, to fuck her harder, deeper, faster. She begs me to pull her hair, bite her neck, and finally she asks me to kiss her. Our lips collide and our bodies ignite; both of us coiling and tightening. She comes first, gloriously crying my name into the crook of my neck and contracting my own orgasm. I come violently, with a shudder, and sink to the floor taking my angel with me. She feathers my face with kisses, wipes the sweat from my brow and holds me tightly.

“I have to get back to work.”

She stands up, our combined juices trickling down her leg, and instantly I’m ready to go again. She tears open a packet of napkins and cleans herself up, before handing me a wad. We dress quickly, stealing the odd kiss and when we’re fully clothed again, Abigail looks down at the pile of napkins on the floor. The smell of sex fills the cupboard, mixing with the vanilla syrup and I need to get out before I take her again. I crouch down for the tissues, shoving them in my pocket and pull her in for one last fiery embrace before letting her go, my heart constricting at the smile I receive.

“Dinner, tonight.” I rest my hand on the handle, put on hand in my pocket and pass slide my business card into the top pocket of her shirt, “I’ll come and get you when you finish.”

“Yes, Sir.” She winks.

After another deep breath, I peek out of the cupboard and noticing there’s no one around and the ‘rush’ seems to be over, I take Abigail’s hand and pull her out of the cupboard.

“I’ll see you tonight.” I smack her backside as she walks away, before turning to leave.

“I thought you went for a sandwich?” I hear Brett ask her.

“I fancied something a little more filling.”

I cover my laugh with a cough as I walk past the till and leave the coffee shop.

I don’t look back.

I trust her.