Chapter 32 Georgie
Georgie
James holds out his hand and tugs me off the table as if I’m some waif little thing he can maneuver around with ease. Although in his case I am, apparently.
As the endorphins from my orgasm—and goodness gracious was that ever a big O—ebb, the nerves set in.
I’m naked except for my boots. I clench my thighs together and wrap my arms around my waist, trying to hide as much of myself as I can.
The other times we’ve been intimate, we’ve been in a dark room where I could relax knowing James couldn’t see my body clearly.
James caught me at a vulnerable moment. I was shaken by Nolan’s threatening messages, and when James started flirting, and I started drinking, I let things spiral between us.
I don’t regret it, but I’m not comfortable either.
It feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the unknown.
If we stop now, maybe I can retreat and pretend nothing’s changed, like we’ve done before. In essence, I can do exactly what James just said he wouldn’t let me do: run away again.
Or I can jump. Take the leap and see where I land. Maybe in James’s waiting arms.
Or maybe I fall, hitting the ground in a broken, lonely heap.
I told James that I believed him, and I want to… God, I want to believe him more than anything.
Standing in front of me, reading my body language, James caresses my cheek. “You’re beautiful, you know that, right? Inside and out, you’re fucking beautiful.”
My breath catches. Heat creeps up my neck, and I drop my eyes before he can see just how much those words mess with me. God, I hate that phrase. Inside and out.
Though well-intentioned, it makes me feel like my personality needs to sparkle brightly enough to distract from the perceived flaws of my body.
I may never fit the narrow-minded, conventional definition of beauty, but is it too much to want someone who appreciates me?
Who appreciates all of me—the softness, the curves, the rolls, the stretch marks, the cellulite, everything?
“Do you think I have bad taste, Georgette?”
James’ question jerks me from my thoughts.
Startled, I blink at him. He’s watching me, one brow raised, his lips curved in that way that makes my stomach tighten.
I glance around his house, simple but stylish.
I think about the cars he restores with meticulous precision, the quiet confidence in the way he moves, the way his clothes fit him perfectly.
I shake my head, puzzled. “No, I don’t think you have bad taste.”
He leans in just a little, his voice a low rumble that once again ignites something inside me. “Then don’t doubt me when I tell you that you’re beautiful. I know beauty when I see it.” His gaze traces over me, deliberate and unhurried. “And right now, I’m looking at a fucking masterpiece.”
The air shifts, growing heavy and electric. My pulse stutters and then beats twice as fast.
After listening to a lifetime of snide comments from strangers and even crueler remarks from my latest ex-boyfriend, it’s difficult to silence those refrains that run through my mind. Refrains that taunt too big, not pretty enough, too much… but never enough.
Yet the words spoken in my own voice are the hardest to ignore. Unwanted and unloved.
But when I look into James’ eyes, so dark and hungry and reverent, it’s damn near impossible to doubt his sincerity. Because he’s looking at me like I’m beautiful and worthy.
Like I’m wanted and loved.
When he touches his lips to mine, it lights a spark within me.
And I decide to jump.
I’ll jump off the cliff and into James’s waiting arms. I’m tired of letting fear dictate my actions and keep me from finding the type of relationship I deserve. I’m tired of protecting myself by pretending safety is the same as happiness.
I’m going to choose to believe him.
Tomorrow may hurt like hell when we slip back into acting as roommates with less than two months left on our shared lease. But tonight? Tonight, I’m going to let the alcohol cushion my fall and have sex with my hot-as-sin fake husband.
And I won’t worry about tomorrow.
Whether or not we have sex tonight, James is going to break my heart when our farce of a marriage ends. So, I might as well let him ruin me in the best possible way… through orgasms. As many orgasms as I can get.
And based on his previous performances, James understands the assignment.
James snakes his hand up the back of my neck, threading his fingers into my hair, tugging my head back.
Our mouths hover, separated by only a sliver, when he murmurs, “You’re fucking beautiful, Georgie.
Whoever made you feel like you weren’t beautiful was blind or dumb.
Probably both because you’re the finest damn woman I’ve ever seen. ”
The transparent honesty in his words hits harder than it should, making me want to burst into tears. No agenda, just the unfiltered truth spilling from the lips of a man who doesn’t love me. Yet, he still makes me feel more loved and cherished than any other man ever has.
And that might be the cruelest part of all.
But that is a tomorrow problem, I remind myself.
Instead of crying, I lift my lips to his, desperate to distract myself from my thoughts. And it works. God, does it ever work. Like an explosion, heat bursts through me, setting my nerve-endings on fire.
His tongue parts my lips, eliciting a soft moan.
I think I could kiss James forever and die a very happy woman.
His tongue, soft yet dominant, forces me to submit, as his arms tighten around me, fusing our bodies together.
Then James lifts me and, on instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist with a gasp.
He lets out a groan that immediately has me apologizing and trying to pull out of his grip. “It’s okay, James. Put me down.”
“No, baby. I love carrying you, but it’s just…
” He groans again, but this time it’s bordering on a feral-sounding growl.
“With every move you make, I can feel your cum sliding up and down against my abs, and it’s the sexiest fucking thing.
To feel the evidence of your arousal. To know your juices are coating my skin.
I can’t wait to fucking be inside you, darlin’.
I’ve been dreaming of this moment for months. ”
James buries his head in my neck as he jogs toward his bedroom at an impressive clip, his hands on my ass in a bruising grip that sends shockwaves down my core. I press my lips together, giddy.
When we enter his bedroom, he carries me to the bed and releases his hold on me, laying me down. He stands back, his fingers flirting with the waistband of his boxer briefs, as his eyes rove over every inch of my body.
Before, I would’ve been worried that he was studying every flaw and imperfection marring my body, but the heat from James’ gaze warms me, infusing me with a newfound bravery. I feel sexy in my skin, maybe for the first time ever.
Now, the voice in my head is James’. Then don’t doubt me when I tell you that you’re beautiful. I know beauty when I see it. And right now, I’m looking at a fucking masterpiece.
And when he murmurs, “You’re so fucking perfect,” I choose to believe him.
I’m not na?ve enough to believe that one night with James will heal the wounds inflicted by my ex, by the way James is treating me helps to staunch the bleeding.
There is something profoundly freeing about lying here in this well-lit bedroom with James towering over me, wearing a raw, primal expression on his face.
James won’t let me hide, but more than that, he doesn’t want me to hide.
What he sees turns him on, as evidenced by the massive erection that’s straining against the confines of his briefs.
An intense feeling of gratitude fills me. I roll over onto my hands and knees and crawl to the edge of the bed.
“I like the visual of you on your hands and knees for me, darlin’.”
The barely restrained huskiness in James’ voice has me clenching my thighs. In a flash, I remember the things I found in his dresser drawer, and I hope that one day, he’ll use those things on me.
Similar to what he did earlier, I bat his hands away and take over undressing him, hooking my fingers between the fabric and his skin. When I pull the briefs down, his cock juts out.
Like the rest of him, his cock is impressive. Thick and long, with veins running down his length to meet a patch of dark blond, almost brown hair at the base.
With a heavy swallow, I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, looking up at James, hoping he can read the desire swimming in my eyes. He caresses my cheek with the back of his knuckles and then he slides the tip of his cock along my outstretched tongue.
When I hear the noise he makes, a mixture of a whimper and a grunt, the wetness between my thighs grows slicker. His arousal feeds my own as my clit begins the throb, desperate for friction.
I swirl the tip with my tongue, and then, I lick his shaft, coating him in my saliva.
With one hand, I grip the base of his dick, squeezing and twisting up and down as I wrap my lips around him.
Bobbing my head, I hollow my cheeks, providing suction as I lick the sensitive ridge underneath the head.
Realizing that I hold the power to make him come undone is unexpected and amazing.
Sex has always been more of a chore for me since past partners cared little about my pleasure and satisfaction.
But with James, it’s different. He wants me to feel just as good as he does, and that makes my desire to please him even stronger.
“Fuck, Georgie! Seeing those pink lips wrapped around me… it’s so hot,” he moans, a guttural quality overtaking his voice. “You’re such a good girl for me.”
His words light a fuse deep within me, and I return his praise with enthusiasm. Opening my jaw, I take more of him inside my mouth until he hits the back of my throat, slurping and sucking his salty pre-cum like I’ve never tasted anything so delicious.