The Unidentified Redhead (1) (17 page)

“No, Nuts Girl. I just brought what I needed and I usually play my guitar at night, unless I am otherwise engaged that is.” He smirked at me. “A little late night reading?” he joked, nodding at my reading material.

“Hey, we went through this already. I will no longer apologize for this. This series is amazing and your candy ass should be glad you got cast,” I countered, snuggling deeper into the bed and reopening my magazine.

Jack putzed for a few minutes, rummaging through his bag, plugging in his iPod, plugging in his phone, plugging in his laptop. Guys have so much gear. He seemed very comfortable here already and I equally loved and hated how much I liked seeing that. He went into the bathroom and I could hear the water running. He was taking a quick shower before bed. I kept on reading.

Just as Joshua was coming out of the bathroom in 1920's New York to seduce Ruby the Ziegfield Girl, Jack came out of my bathroom. I looked up quickly and then had to look again to truly appreciate what was coming toward me.

Jack's hair was wet and yet still artfully tussled…how did he do that? He was clean-shaven, wearing black boxer-briefs and a grin. His strawberry blonde happy trail was calling out to me.

“Did I tell you, by the way, that I love your glasses?” he asked, nodding to the frames that I was peering over to get a more unobstructed view of him.

“Thanks, um, thanks…hi,” I stammered, once again speechless and idiotic at the sight of his semi-nakedness.

“I brought you something,” he said, digging through his duffle and then climbing into bed to lie on his side.

Isn't it a little early to start assigning sides?

Shush.

“Oh, yeah? What's that?” I asked.

He slipped under the covers with his laptop, and turned to me. “Shut your eyes,” he instructed. I did what I was told. When I opened them, he had placed a new bag of Chex Mix in my hands.

“Yes! Can we have some now?”

“You can have anything you want, Gracie.” He smiled, brushing my hair back from my face and kissing me lightly on the tip of my nose.

A few minutes later, we had settled into a companionable silence. There was a pile of my discarded Melba Toasts on the bed between us, next to a pile of Wheat Chex that he had selflessly given up to me. He answered emails as I read.

It was nice. I read for a little while longer and when I could feel my eyes getting droopy, I set my book on the nightstand and snuggled down under the covers. I watched Jack type for a moment and then I turned on TV. I found Lifetime just in time for my favorite theme song, which I quickly began to sing along to.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, looking up from his laptop.

“Oh, come on, you don't know the Golden Girls?”

“Should I?”

“Oh, they're the best! I fall asleep to the Golden G's almost every night!” I answered happily, burrowing under the covers next to him. He watched in spite of himself, being drawn into it against his will. Finally, he gave up the fight and shut down his laptop. He turned off the light on the nightstand, as well, and cuddled up to me.

We lay, watching Dorothy, Rose, Blanche and Sophia, giggling every once in awhile. He seemed to be a Rose fan. I would have pegged him for Sophia.

He was lying with his head on my breast, arms lazily around me while I played with his hair. When the show was over, I clicked the remote and the room fell into darkness.

“Good show, right?” I asked.

“Hmm, I don't know if I would go that far,” he said, his fingers finding their way to the top button on my shirt.

“Hey mister, I have a huge audition tomorrow. I'll probably have to sing. I can't be screaming tonight,” I warned, already growing warm as he started in on the second button.

“Grace, it's not my fault if you can't control your volume. Exercise a little self restraint, for pity's sake.”

“Right, not possible with you.”

I relaxed into it though, as he began kissing lower with each button he popped.

“Grace?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you wearing anything underneath this shirt?”

“What do you think?” I teased. He undid the last button and spread my shirt out.

I was bare beneath.

“Fantastic,” he breathed at the sight of me.

His mouth immediately went to work on my left nipple, his hand coming up to knead my right breast. I moaned in spite of myself.

“Hey, quiet down there, mouthy,” he chided, one hand dipping down lower, nudging my legs apart.

“If you do that, I'm not sure how quiet I can be,” I begged, feeling myself getting more excited by the second. I tried to distract him by turning his face up towards mine, but the boy was already on the move.

“Grace, I'll make you a promise,” he said, peering back up at me, his chin resting on my tummy.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“If you can keep your voice down, I'll promise you that I'll only make you come once, and trust me when I say that once will be enough,” he enticed, rubbing circles over my Hamilton Brand.

“And if I can't keep it down?” I asked naughtily. I really did need to get some sleep, but now he had piqued my interest.

“Then all bets are off, and I'll ravage you like I did last night. All. Night. Long.”

Hell.

Grace, you have one of the most important meetings of your life tomorrow, you cannot lose your voice.

But he said he would ravage me. And having been ravaged by Mr. Hamilton before, I was anxious to ride this roller coaster again.

Grace, grow up. Let the man get you off once, it will be spectacular obviously, and then you can get some sleep.

But I didn't know if I could keep my voice down. I tended to lose all control when his mouth was involved.

For fuck's sake, Grace, grow up. Bite down on a leather belt or something.

He was watching my inner monologue with great fascination, chuckling at me.

“Well, Crazy? What's it going to be?” he inquired, while hooking my right leg over his shoulder. He leaned his head towards me, licking his lips, watching for my answer. I was shivering.

Orgasm #1 or Orgasm #2? To be fair Orgasm #2 would probably quickly be followed by Orgasms #3-13 and beyond…and no voice tomorrow. Oh, God, this was impossible. He was blowing on me now, his breath making me pant heavily.

Grace…

I grabbed handful of duvet and bit down.

“Good girl,” he whispered with a satisfied grin and went to work.

And it was spectacular.

The_Unidentified_Redhead

Chapter Sixteen

Warmth spread through my tummy as tightness began to build. I hissed as I felt a flickering, an insistent fluttering, and then a warm wet tongue sweetly lapping at me. I leaned into it, feeling the intensity as it ran through me.

Mmmmm.

I woke with a start, breathing heavily, and in the middle of a moan. I clutched the sheets to me, covering my nakedness. I could still feel the pangs of my dream orgasm beating through me. It had been so real, it felt so real. I was still completely aroused.

“Thank God you're up. I was worried that I was losing my touch,” I heard my Brit say. I looked around the room, searching for him, until I felt a poke on my leg.

I looked down and I saw Jack between my legs.

This would now be known as the Hamiltonian Wake-Up-Call.

His tongue was poised just over me, ready to deliver another kind of kiss that killed.

“Oh, God, I wasn't dreaming that?” I exclaimed, nipples on point.

“Huh uh,” he whispered, pointing his tongue and placing it against me. I leaned up on my elbows and watched him. Amazing. The sight of him, spreading me with his magic fingers and pressing his tongue against me, was the best way I had ever been woken up.

I moaned.

Then he moaned against me, the vibration of his lips making me shiver.

He buried his face in my sex, making my toes curl and my back arch. He furiously pressed his tongue into me, bringing me to a quick peak. I clutched my thighs around him, digging my heels into his shoulders, rocking back onto the bed. Before I was finished, I pulled his face away.

“Come here,” I growled, and after kissing my Hamilton Brand, he obeyed. I kissed him feverishly, the taste of me all over him. He was still gloriously naked from the night before…and gloriously hard. I grasped him firmly while his hips bucked into mine. My name slipped from his lips as I whispered in his ear.

“Touch me again,” I said, guiding his hand back to me. We stroked each other and I was still so sensitive from just moments ago that it did not take much.

“Oh, God, Jack! That's so good!” I cried, never taking my gaze off his, even though my eyes wanted to roll back in my head.

He growled as he watched me come again, a devilish grin on his face. I pushed him back and knelt next to him on the bed. He kept one hand between my legs and I dedicated both of my hands to him, watching his beautiful face. He was moaning, my name continuing to fall from his mouth. He was rock hard and I imagined how he would feel inside me.

He was close and I pressed my face to his. His head was thrown back on the pillows with that look that I'd come to love all over his face. It was a thing of beauty. His eyes were fiercely shut, jaw tense, brow furrowed, mouth slightly open, moaning my name. As much as it killed me to do it, I removed his hand from me. I wanted this to be about him.

“Open your eyes, Jack,” I said quietly. “I need to see you.”

His lids opened and the look of wonder in his eyes stunned me silent. I felt him tense as he came for me and I grasped his face with my left hand, sweeping open kisses across his cheek as I watched him.

His eyes never left mine. I felt him shudder and I slowed my hand, gently taking him back down.

“Jesus. Grace,” he moaned, finally shutting his eyes, pulling my forehead down to meet his own. His breath was sweet as he continued to shudder. I wrapped my arms around him and wrapped my body around him as well. I brought him down to my breast and cuddled him to me, holding him tightly as the last few waves ran through his body.

I loved that I could make him feel like this.

***

“So, this meeting, is it a callback?” he asked over the roar of the water. I stepped out from underneath the shower head, pointing it more directly on both of us.

“Kind of, I auditioned for them last week and rather than a traditional callback, I'm going straight through to producers,” I answered, sweeping my hair out of my face. “Shampoo, please,” I directed. He turned around in the shower stall, giving me a peek at his cute little buns. I couldn't resist a little squeeze. He flexed them for me, making me giggle.

“Fuck, you have like four different shampoos. Which one do you want?” he asked, puzzled. “And why do you have so many?”

“I need them for different days. Some days you need a clarifying shampoo, some days you need a color boost…today we will go with the deep conditioning, please,” I selected, pointing at the chosen shampoo.

“Huh, I usually just collect all the free ones from hotels and use whatever I have on hand.”

“Maybe that's why you feel the need to wear that damn ball cap all the time,” I teased.

“Don't hate the cap,” he instructed firmly, pouring the shampoo in his hand.

“Spin 'round,” he said, indicating that I should face away from him. I did, and I felt him begin to wash my hair.

Well, wasn't he too cute?

“So, producers. That's great, Sheridan. What time are you meeting them?” he asked as he continued to lather. He seemed to be having great fun making swoops and swirls with my hair and all the bubbles, and I think I caught what looked like a pompadour in the reflection of the glass door. He had used almost two palms full. I wasn't surprised at all the lather.

“Holly said at 2:00 p.m. What do you have going on today?”

“I have more reshoots tonight, probably pretty late,” he said. “OK, rinse,” he instructed, guiding me under the spray.

I felt him gently work all the lather out of my hair, being careful not to get any in my eyes. He really was sweet. I returned the favor, lavishing attention on his scalp, since he was a fiend for it. Of course, he was so much taller than I was, and in order to reach his head I had to stand on tiptoe in front of him. He made sure I was steady, though, keeping my breasts firmly grasped in hand.

“What? I'm supporting you. I don't want you to slip and fall,” he griped, when I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uh huh,” I answered, giving his head one final scratch. “OK, rinse,” I said.

He closed his eyes and stood under the water, while I grabbed my shower gel— brown-sugar and coconut scented—and proceeded to wash my body. By the time he opened his eyes again, my body was covered in fragrant bubbles and my hands were slipping and sliding around on my skin, something that was not lost on Mr. Hamilton.

“Crazy, what are you trying to do to me?” he sighed, leaning against the tiles.

“Settle, George. I'm just taking a shower. Here…try some of this.” I flipped him the bottle.

Maybe I arched my back just a little more than necessary when I swept my hands across my breasts.

“Grace…” he warned, and I could see how I was affecting him. I giggled. He examined the shower gel. “Coconuts! It's coconuts!” he exclaimed.

“What's coconuts?” I asked, turning my back to him to rinse my front.

“That's what you smell like! You smell like coconuts and clean laundry,” he said proudly, as if he had cracked some code. He might just have been the cutest thing ever. I peered over my shoulder at him. He was grinning.

“I smell like clean laundry?”

“And coconuts, don't forget the coconuts,” he reminded me.

“No, we really shouldn't forget the coconuts,” I said, turning to face him and running my hands down his torso, and even lower. His eyes widened.

I didn't forget the coconuts.

***

That afternoon I was speeding down Sepulveda, heading to my meeting. Holly had told me I would probably sing again, so I kept the top up and was doing my vocal exercises in the car.

I was excited for this meeting. When I had originally been given the details of this new show, it intrigued me. It was a brand new musical, still in the workshop stages. They were continually rewriting the music and the lyrics, and as an actor, the chance to be the first to inhabit a role was intoxicating.