Chapter 29 Harlow
HARLOW
Jameson throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. I wrap my own arm around his torso. We’ve both been so overworked and tired that on the weekends Monroe has been gone we’ve barely left the apartment, but this weekend we decided to drive up the coast and stay in Santa Barbara.
I look around the lobby of the inn. It’s out of my budget, but Jameson insisted this was his idea and he was paying. He’d given me a look that dared me to contradict him. I’d contemplated it for a moment, but only because I was hoping he might throw me over his shoulder and punish me for it.
Moving to the windows, I look across the street at the beach. Even though Santa Monica is less than two hours from Santa Barbara I don’t come here often. This weekend will be a nice little getaway.
Jameson’s warm hand presses against the center of my back. “We can leave our bags here, but they need more time for the room to be ready. Do you want to grab lunch?”
I nod without hesitation, and my stomach decides to give an answering growl.
He chuckles and takes my hand. “There’s a place on the wharf I want to try if that’s good with you.”
“Of course.” I smile up at him.
We walk down the street and then across to the wharf.
The salty ocean air soothes my chaotic thoughts.
This weekend is meant to be about us. I’m not supposed to be thinking about Monroe—though, I think as a mother it’s nearly impossible not to think about your kids—or Spencer.
My ex shouldn’t be on my mind when I’m on a romantic weekend getaway with my boyfriend.
But I can’t get it out of my head—the look on his face last night when I mentioned the trip while he was picking up Roe. The utter pain and heartbreak.
“Hey.” Jae squeezes my hand. “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.”
“I’m fine,” I say, perhaps too quickly based on the way he cocks his head. “I’ll perk up, I promise. I’m just a little tired.”
It’s not a lie. The past few nights I’ve been up later than I’d like working on assignments.
He pulls me closer and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m sorry, baby. Hopefully you can relax. Do you want me to book you a massage?”
“Oh, no. Please, don’t. Getting away for the weekend is more than enough, I promise.” I pull my sunglasses from my hair and put them on, so I don’t have to keep squinting from the sun.
“All right,” he says in a way that has me worried he might not listen to my request.
Reaching the seafood restaurant, he holds the door open for me to go in first. It’s a bit of a hole in the wall, but the best places are.
We’re seated at the outdoor portion with a walkup bar. TVs play above and I startle when I recognize a familiar face. The interviewer holds the microphone in front of Spencer’s face at a red-carpet event—it’s a replay from a few weeks ago. I know because he’s gotten his hair trimmed since then.
“Is there a special woman in your life?” the beautiful interviewer asks him.
He laughs and says, “Absolutely. My daughter. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“But are you dating anyone? Words abuzz that you’ve been spotted out with Lux.” Lux is one of the biggest popstars of current times.
“She’s a good friend,” he answers with a smile and laugh. God, he’s good at it—the acting thing. It’s only because I know him so well that I can see the tiny glimmer of annoyance in his eyes.
“Another question—”
The interviewer can’t get out another word before a publicist is pushing Spencer along and away from her.
The TV cuts to an in-studio segment of a gossip channel which begins speculating on whether there’s something going on with him and Lux or Margo Getty—a nepo-baby turned model—or even Loren Violet, one of his co-stars.
“That must be exhausting. Constantly having people speculate about your personal life. I don’t know how Spencer stands it.”
I turn to face Jameson, not having realized he was watching the clip too. “Yeah, I can’t imagine.”
It was part of the reason I left him. The thought of constantly having to listen to speculation on if he’s hooking up with a co-star or someone else—even if the media knew he was with me.
The media is always going to love to spin tales that suit them and rising star Spencer Shaw being with the girl he got pregnant when she was seventeen doesn’t fit the kind of narrative they like.
“Do you want to get a bottle of wine to split?” he asks, picking up the menu. His glasses slip down and without thought he quickly rights them. His hair is beginning to get just a little unruly, but I love his waves.
“That would be great.”
Maybe some wine will loosen me up a bit. I’m tense when I have no reason to be.
Get with the program, I silently scold myself.
A waiter comes and I let Jameson order the wine and lemon waters for us. When the guy has gone, Jameson arches a brow. “You haven’t looked at the menu yet.”
“Oh.” I startle. “Right. I…”
“Hey,” he says softly interrupting me. “If you want to go back home we can. It’s fine. I’ll—”
“No, no.” I rush to cut him off. “I want to be here. I’m just … distracted. I promise I’ll get past this.”
His concerned gaze only serves to make me feel more guilty.
“I want you to relax this weekend. If it’s not going to be restful for you, we can—”
“Please.” I shake my head. “I’m fine. I promise.” I don’t need the guilt of this weekend going south on top of everything else. “I’ll feel more with it once I eat. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but he entertains me by saying, “We better get an appetizer then.”
Later that evening, we walk down the beach hand in hand. Jameson has rolled up the legs of his pants and carries my shoes in his free hand. The breeze off the ocean is strong tonight, but I don’t mind it. You’d think I’d get sick of the ocean and beach, but I never do.
“This was a great idea,” I confess, having to raise my voice to be heard above the wind.
“Yeah? I wasn’t so sure. You seemed off today.” He presses a kiss to the side of my head.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he assures me. “I just hope it’s not because of the house thing. If you’re still upset with me, I’d rather talk about it.”
“It’s not that, but I have to admit I’m a little embarrassed about how I overreacted.”
He stops walking and tugs me around to face him. “Babe.” He looks down at me with sympathy. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s understandable that it’s a trigger for you. There’s nothing embarrassing about sticking up for yourself.”
I drop my gaze to my toes buried in the sand. Just a hint of my pastel blue polish peeks out.
“Don’t do that.” He takes my face gently in his hands. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”
Sometimes I wonder what I’ve done to deserve this man. One so kind that understands me completely.
“Thank you.” Jameson is one of the few people capable of calming my racing thoughts.
“Want to get some ice cream and head back to the hotel?”
I appreciate him moving to a different topic. “You know I’ll never say no to ice cream.”
We end up grabbing ice cream from a local spot within walking distance of the hotel, so we take it back to our room to eat.
Sitting on the end of the king size bed I dig into the cookies ‘n cream ice cream while he scrolls through Netflix and settles on an episode of a show we’ve already watched before.
We eat our ice cream in companionable silence and when it’s finished Jameson takes my empty container and tosses it, along with his, before grabbing my hands and tugging me up.
“Shower?” he asks with a raised brow.
“Shower,” I confirm, and let him drag me into the bathroom. We take our time removing each other’s clothes. The last thing to go is his glasses, which I carefully fold and set on the counter before he tugs me into the shower.
He’s careful not to let the water touch my hair.
He guides me back until I hit the tile and I shiver from the cold feeling pressed against me.
He quickly pulls me away from it and against his hard body.
I honestly don’t know how Jameson finds time to work out, but he’s toned and lean from the running he tries to get in daily.
His mouth finds mine and I open for him greedily.
I’ve needed this. Needed him. Just the two of us.
He lifts me easily in his arms and I wrap my own around his neck. My fingers play with the strands on the back of his neck, and he makes a low sound of approval.
When he finally sets me down my mouth feels swollen from his kisses.
Grabbing the hotel’s shower gel, he lathers some in his palms before he goes straight for my boobs. I laugh and he gives me a boyish grin.
“Gotta take care of the girls first.” He winks. His thumbs carefully roll around my nipples, making sure to clean the piercings.
When he feels like he’s done a thorough enough job there, he works on soaping up the rest of my body before he carefully rinses me off. He takes care of me gently, reverently and I feel so loved I feel like I might burst inside.
Once I’m clean, I do the same for him. Washing him carefully with the soap until I sink to my knees and take his hard cock in my mouth.
“Fuck,” he groans, the back of his head hitting the tile.
I let him go with a pop and smile up at him as I work him with my hand.
“Your mouth is dangerous,” he says in a low, gravelly voice.
“But you love it,” I tease before running my tongue along the slit.
“Fuck yes, I do.” He grips my hair on the back of my head, keeping it out of my way. Such a gentleman.
I work him with my mouth and tongue and hand until he can’t help but come in my mouth and then I swallow him down. I’m still on my knees as I wipe my mouth with my tongue and lick my finger clean, so I get every drop of him.
“Get up,” he commands, and grips my elbow so he can help me up.
We stumble out of the shower, and he grabs his glasses, putting them back on so he doesn’t miss a thing.
Dragging me by the hand, he lays me down on the edge of the mattress where he kneels on the floor.
I spread my legs wide and he groans, stroking himself as he takes in my soaked pussy.
Even though he came, I don’t think his dick got the memo.
At the first swipe of his tongue, a long moan is drawn from my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth, not wanting anyone in the adjoining rooms to hear me.
Jameson works his mouth against me the way only someone who knows exactly what turns you on can.
“I’m close,” I gasp minutes later, fisting the sheets.
He takes it as a challenge and slows.
“Don’t you dare,” I whimper, and he chuckles against me which has me gasping.
“But you’re so fun to tease.”
He works me to the edge slowly again, adding his fingers and stroking them in and out of me at a torturous pace that has me wiggling and gasping. When he finally lets me come, it explodes through me, and I have to bite down on my fist to stifle my moans.
When I regain consciousness, I find Jameson pulling a condom out of his duffel bag. He rips the foil open and rolls the latex down his hard length.
He strokes his length, watching me. “Do you want hard and fast first or soft and slow?”
“Fuck me dirty,” I reply, my voice breathless. I’m pretty sure I’m sweaty and the shower was entirely pointless.
A gasp flies out of me when he grabs my hips and flips me onto my stomach.
He grabs my hair, yanking me back at the same time he slams into me.
The pace is bruising and punishing and I’ll no doubt be sore later, but I don’t care. I want the ache. I want the reminder of where he’s been.
“God, baby,” he groans. “Your pussy was made for me.”
He places a gentle kiss on the top of my shoulder which is at odds with his brutal pace, but that’s Jameson—the perfect blend of soft and hard.
It’s hard to keep myself quiet and it becomes impossible when he brings his hand down on my ass in a sharp smack.
“That’s it,” he growls, delivering another slap to my other cheek. “Let me hear what I do to you.”
Since I don’t have a pillow to bury my face into since he’s holding my head back it’s impossible to stifle my moans.
“It’s so good,” I gasp.
“That’s right,” he croons. “You take my cock so fucking good, baby. You’re so fucking wet.
” He gathers some of that wetness on his fingers and rubs it against my clit.
His hold on my hair is downright punishing when I can’t hold myself up anymore, but he doesn’t let up.
“I need you to come,” he growls. “Because I’m fucking close and you’re going to come again first. Do you hear me? ”
I whimper in response.
“Words, Harlow.”
“Yes,” I gasp in response.
“Yes, what?” He pushes and I whimper again.
“I hear you.”
“That’s a good girl.”
It’s only another minute, maybe two at the most, when I shatter around him with a scream. It’s so loud he slams his palm against my mouth to stifle the sound.
Groaning, I feel him pulse inside me as he comes.
“Your pussy is squeezing me so tight,” he whispers in my ear. “Fuck.”
He lets go of my hair and I collapse in a boneless heap onto the mattress.
His body bows over mine until he pulls out.
I whimper at the loss of him. I hear him stirring in the room, but I can’t move.
When he returns to the bed, he lifts me easily in his arms and yanks the covers back before depositing me inside and following him.
I lay spraddled across his bare chest, and he chuckles, gently stroking his fingers through my hair.
“I’d say you’ve been thoroughly fucked.” Amusement colors his tone.
I make a noise of agreement.
“I’ll let you sleep for now,” he says.
“Mhm,” I hum.
His body shakes with laughter beneath my ear, and he bends his head to press a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you.”
I manage to muster a tired, “I love you, too,” before sleep claims me.