Freeing a hand from hers, she drops it down onto my chest and keeps going.
Putting two fingers together, I offer them to her mouth. She puts her pretty little mouth around them, sucking them, and then I move them to her clit and start working her up more.
She must be as turned on as I am, because it’s less than a minute later when I feel her start to tighten around my dick. Then she’s crying out in a string of Spanish, and I’m a fucking goner.
I come inside her, hot and hard, spurting everything I have, while she tightens around my dick, squeezing it.
When she’s done, she falls forward, head on my chest, but keeps her back arched up, keeping her stomach from touching my tattoo.
After a moment, she moves off me, and my dick slips out, falling heavy against my stomach.
Fuck, I needed her.
Tru reaches over and turns the lamp off, and then snuggles up to my side.
I put my arms around her, pulling her closer. I stroke her back.
Pressing a kiss to my chest, she says, “I can’t believe you had ‘Tru Love’ tattooed on your stomach.”
“Could be worse,” I say. “Tom got ‘Rub the Lamp’ tattooed just above his dick.”
She sputters out a laugh, tilting her head to look up at me. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. I just wish I was there tomorrow morning to see his reaction when he wakes up and sees it sober.”
“What about Denny? What did he get?”
“He wimped out.”
“So how come you got a sensible one done?”
“Because unlike Tom, I can handle my drink, baby.”
She rests her head back down on my shoulder, fingers tracing close to the tattoo, and whispers, “I love it, Jake.”
“I love you, baby.”
More than you’ll ever fucking know.
TRU…
CHAPTER NINE
Tea or coffee?” I yell to Jake as he showers.
“Coffee,” he calls back.
I climb out of bed, giving morning LA a quick glance through the windows. Another beautiful day. Along with the shopping, I’ve discovered an additional perk to living in LA—the sun is pretty much always shining, even in November.
I head into the kitchen, scoop some coffee into the coffeemaker, fill it with water, and turn it on.
I grab a chocolate biscuit out of the jar and lean against the counter, nibbling it while I wait for the coffee.
I see the pile of pizza boxes on the counter near the sink that I had asked Jake to take out to the bin after the guys left last night. He’s such a lazy bum.
We had Tom, Denny, and Stuart over for dinner. Well, saying we had dinner may be glamming it up a bit.
We ordered pizza and ate in the living room while the guys watched football. As expected, I was ignored for the TV, and I ended up bringing my laptop through and sitting at the table, Skyping with Simone, until Denny butted in.
He’s flying to London to see her. I wish I were going. I’ve been thinking of asking Jake when he can next take some time off work so I can visit my folks and London and see Vicky and Simone. I know things are busy for him at the moment. He’s spending a lot of time in the studio recording new stuff, which is great.
This is their first time recording an album without Jonny.
Jake seems to be doing okay with it. If he’s not, then he’s hiding it really well.
I pick up the boxes and take them through the utility and out the side door.
The warm California air embraces me.
I might bring my laptop outside and work on the patio today. My column is due in three days, and I haven’t come up with anything yet. Last-minute, that’s me.
I finish breaking the boxes down and push them in the bin, then head back inside.
The coffee is just finishing when I get back. I get two cups out of the cupboard and reach for the milk in the fridge.
Realising I haven’t bought any recently, I check the date on it: 3 November.
I check the calendar pinned to the wall: 2 November. Still good for today.
I unscrew the cap and I’m just about to pour the milk, when it dawns on me.
Setting the milk down, I step back and look at the calendar again.
Today is the second. Next to the second, marked on the third, is “start pill.” That’s my reminder to start my contraceptive pill after my break.
The break in which I have my period.
The period that hasn’t started.
I step back from the calendar.
Fuck.
My chest starts to tighten. My head starts to buzz.
No, it’ll be fine. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure lately, feeling stressed with one thing and another. That’s what it is. That’s why I haven’t started.
Going back to the counter, I attempt to pour milk into one of the cups, but my hand is shaking so badly I have to put it back down.
The tremors are running all the way down my body. My heart is beating so wildly, I can hear the pulse beating in my ears.
I rest my hands on the counter and close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
I’ve never been late before. Never. The pill keeps me regular as clockwork.
I can’t be pregnant.
I can’t.
Jake doesn’t want kids.
As if hearing my silent call, he walks into the kitchen.
“Can I take that coffee to go, baby? Zane just called; he needs my help with something at the label.”