Shattered and Shaken Read online

  I stayed at Sophie's last night, so I'm well rested and ready to go. My hair's in curls flowing down to the center of my spine, and my make-up is light but noticeable. I've settled for a black strapless dress with a heart shaped neckline, and red strappy open-toed heels. I accessorize with dangling red and black earrings and a silver and black heart-shaped ring. Reaching for the purple and gold bottle in my bag, I spray on some Wonderstruck perfume and head down to meet Blake.

  When I hit the platform, I'm stunned. Blake's posted up against the hood of his truck, feet crossed at the ankles, and his hands are tucked into his front pockets. He's wearing dark denim jeans with a black long-sleeved collar shirt, with the sleeves cuffed just beneath his elbows. I look into his eye, but immediately avert my attention to the ground as my cheeks fill with heat. Fuck me! He's wearing flip flops. Normally, a man in flip-flops is a total turn off. I hate feet, but Blake's feet are the exception; they're sexy.

  “Wow, babe, you're a sight for sore eyes." He stands in front of me, reaches under my chin and lifts my face. “Are you laughing at me?” he questions seriously.

  “Yup,” I give him my best ‘I'm sorry but forgive me because I'm cute’ look.

  He releases my chin, steps away, and shoves his hands back into his pockets. “May I ask why?” He shrugs and a light smile plays across his lips.

  Giggling uncontrollably, – yes, I do turn into a ’girl’ when I’m around him - I explain, “That line you just used on me, 'You're a sight for sore eyes,' no one says that shit.”

  He stares at me in complete shock. “Bullshit, my pop told my maw that many times, dammit - it's in,” he insists. “In fact, if more men spoke to their ladies that way, there'd be less...well, fuck, I don't know what there would be less of, but the shit’s in,'” he continues.

  Still giggling, I shake my head and walk past him to the truck. Each moment I spend with him, I feel my heart healing; I can feel the pieces coming back together again.

  As we drive towards our destination, I reach out and turn the volume on the radio up. A song I've never heard flows through the speakers; the melody is soft, beautiful. Blake reaches over and takes my hand into his, interlacing our fingers. Bringing my hand to his lips, he places a soft kiss onto the back of my hand. He doesn't release my hand or bring it down to rest after the kiss; he keeps it attached to his lips as he begins to sing the lyrics to the song that's playing.

  His lips caress the back of my hand, and his breath tickles my skin with each word he sings. The warmth from his breath has my hand tingling and my arm begins to feel heavy, numb. His eyes glimmer from the street lights, and as he drives, he glances back and forth between me and the road.

  He sings the lyrics with meaning, as if he's speaking to me. He's telling me I won't scare him away, and that he won't give up. Good. I don't want him giving up on me. I need him - more than I need air. My eyes are locked on him as he sings to me, asking me if he can “sleep beneath my beautiful, if he can sleep beneath my perfect…”. I may be beautiful, but I sure as hell ain't perfect. As the song comes to an end, he places a butterfly-like kiss to the inside of my wrist, and then brings our tangled hands down to rest in his lap.

  “That's a beautiful song. Heartfelt,” I say, scooting as close to him as I can get, which isn't close. Damn seatbelt laws.

  “It is. It's Labrinth,” he answers, grinning sadly. I hope I'm not the cause of his sad excuse of a smile.

  I reach over and give him a swift kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for putting on a show for me. You sing beautifully, Dr. Andrews,” I tease. He hates me calling him Dr. Andrews, but I think it's sexy.

  “Babe,” he warns, tossing his head back to the headrest, rolling his eyes. I reach over and place my hand between his legs. I run my nails along the inside of his thigh, trying to cheer my man up. I drag the tips of my manicured nails down to the inside of his knee, and slowly drag them up, stopping just beneath his cock - which is pressed to the side of his thigh, just in case you're wondering. He's deliciously large, definitely a good nine inches in length, and he's wide - not that I'm measuring or anything. But normally you can't get the complete package; cocks are either short and fat, or long and skinny; so if you get one like Blake's, you hold on to it.

  He reaches down and grabs my wrist, stilling my hand. “Keep teasing me, babe, and I'll make you my dinner.” Baby, I have no objection to becoming your dinner. I rub along his length one last time before bringing my hands over and placing them into my lap.

  “Touché, Dr. Andrews.”

  He looks over at me and lifts an eyebrow. “Touché? How so, Miss Anderson?” he asks. “I haven't even touched you, yet." Oh, he doesn't have to touch me. He's a total mind fuck. He flashes me his famous panty-dropping grin on a daily basis, hypnotizes me with his hazel eyes. The way he bites his lip, the way his breath sends chills throughout my body, everything about him soaks my panties.

  When he touches me I come undone, completely. He knows this. “No? Kissing the back of my hand, singing those lyrics to me as if you wrote them, and topping it off with a light kiss to the most sensitive place on my wrist, isn't teasing?”

  He pulls into the restaurant parking lot, and silences the engine. “Baby, believe me, I've done nothing to tease you. If I had, my truck would've erupted into flames in the middle of the interstate; judging by the heat you're letting off at this very moment.” He's so cocky, but also correct.

  Damn, I should've worn a panty liner; the thin material from my thong is worthless; I can feel my moisture seeping through.

  Blake helps me to the ground and we make our entrance into a Japanese hibachi-style restaurant. Blake provides his name to the hostess and she leads us through double bamboo doors that lead into the back of the restaurant. There's a cherry-oak table surrounded by red and gold Chinese floor cushions. In front of our table, about fifteen-feet away, is a fire, and on the side of us is a hibachi stove with chiefs ready to prepare our food. Besides the waitress and two chiefs, it's only Blake and me; we're secluded from the rest of the customers. Take that back, it's the two chiefs, Blake and me. The waitress brought us our drinks and vanished.

  Blake and I split several rolls of sushi. I order the California rolls, and he orders the spider rolls. We split the sushi evenly between the two of us. As I'm eating, Blake reaches over and swipes my hair away from the side of my face. “There's something I want to ask you. You don't have to answer me tonight if you don't want, but I ask that before you tell me no, you take a few days and consider my offer, okay?” he asks.

  “Okay....” I nod, giving him the green light despite the crazy-ass nerves that have just gathered into my stomach. He's leaning back on one hand and he's sitting on top of the cushion, Indian style.

  “I know your mom and Jack are going to Nashville and they didn't invite you,” he begins.

  Are you kidding me? Jack, again? I take in a deep breath and swallow hard. “Continue,” I encourage.

  “Well, you know my parents live in Nashville, and they've invited us up for the Fourth of July. I've accumulated enough time to take off for a week or so, but I refuse to go unless you join me.” He has a hopeful gleam in his eyes, and even though I don't want to be the person to quench it, I'm not sure I want to meet his parents. Sure, I've spoken to his mother over the phone, but seeing her in person, staying in her home, that's taking Blake and mine's relationship to the engaged-to-be-married level - I'm not ready.

  I don't answer him. I just cock my head and stare into him. I try to keep my breathing calm, and count backwards from ten to one, but that doesn't help. I count from one to ten Mississippi's. It doesn't work. My chest begins to rise and fall rapidly. I'm panicking but I can't explain why. I try to focus on spelling Mississippi backwards ten times in my mind, and it works enough to a point where my rapid intake of breaths aren't as noticeable. I begin to push myself to my feet, but Blake stops me. “Allie, just calm down. I already told you I didn't need an answer now. I just want you to sleep on it. If you say no tomorrow, that'
s fine, I won't go. I'd be miserable watching fireworks without you,” he adds. “Plus, I kinda want to stay here and make our own fireworks show.”

  Oh Lord Jesus, with my rapid heart rate and the heat coming from my sex, he's fixin' to see an explosion earlier than expected. He pays the bill and escorts us out of the hibachi grill. We're hand-in-hand, and his thumb traces the outskirts of my hand, relaxing me. By the time we arrive to his truck, my breathing is back to normal, but I still feel my heart beating from the inside of my throat; however, that's typical whenever I'm around him.

  Blake pulls out of the restaurant and begins driving towards Sophie's. “Sick of me already?” I question.

  He looks at me confused. “What? No...you seemed frustrated earlier. I thought you wanted some space. Babe, I could never get enough of you,” he assures.

  Well, I was sort of frustrated, but not at him. Anytime Jack's name is mentioned, it sends fire through my veins, and makes me wanna chop his balls off - just sayin'. “I wasn't frustrated, Blake. Well, not at you. It's just, I hate speaking of that asshat Jack. Every time I speak to Mom, that's all she ever talks about, and I'm sick of it.”

  Blake reaches over and places his hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Then my house it is, babe.” He makes an illegal U-turn and heads south taking me back to his place. A burst of excitement explodes throughout my body. Blake’s work schedule has been preventing us from releasing our sexual desires. Tonight, that's going to change; I’m going to ride him so hard his dick will become numb….

  We arrive at Blake's condo thirty minutes later. His parents are loaded, so his place is pretty fancy, especially for a guy. The walls are cream colored. There's a large cream leather couch surrounded by marble-top tables occupying the center of his living room. Directly in front of the couch is a ninety-inch flat-screen television mounted to the wall, and it's hooked up to surround sound speakers; it’s perfect for movie watching. To the left of the foyer, there's a winding staircase that leads into his master suite - no hallway, nothing...just a king size four-post bed, a desk, and an open master bath. He has a stand-alone shower, granite double vanity, and a Jacuzzi tub that can fit four people comfortably. As you continue to walk forward, there's a bar separating the living room from the kitchen, and I plan on putting that empty countertop to use, sometime in the very near future.

  Chapter Eight

  BLAKE AND I’VE BEEN snuggling on his couch, talking and enjoying one another's company. Earlier, he brought out a tray of cubed cheese, grapes, and a bottle of red wine. Currently, I'm on my third glass, and I'm feeling all fuzzy and warm inside. I take another sip of the crispy, silky deliciousness, and it slides down my throat easily; it tastes of strawberry, raspberries, and maybe a hint of spice. “Mmm, I didn't ask, what is this?” I hold the burgundy liquid up in front of my face, eyeing it curiously.

  He takes the wine glass from my hand. “That, my love, is the most expensive wine I've ever purchased. Well, not me, my father gifted it to me after graduation,” he replies, taking a sip of the taste-bud-erupting silkiness. I crawl out from under his arm and place myself on top of him, my front on top of his.

  “Didn't answer my question, Dr. Andrews. I asked you what it is, not how much it's worth,” I say, pushing my breasts into his chest, bringing my lips close to his ear, and lowering my voice into a seductive whisper.

  His body shivers. “Sorry to disappoint, baby. It's a 1999 Domaine De La Romanee Conti La Tache. Delicious, isn't it?” He sets the glass to the table and brings his hands to rest on my hips, pulling my sex into his hardness.

  My vision begins to blur, my body heats, and I try to focus on not ripping every piece of clothing he's wearing off him. My brain melts at his touch, becoming a jumbled mess. I blurt out the first sentence that forms. “Sounds expensive.” Duh, you fucking retard. It is expensive. Mr. Andrews buys nothing but the best.

  “Oh, baby, it is, a little over two grand per bottle,” he says nonchalantly, shrugging as if it's chump change.

  “Holy fuck! Two grand?” I almost spill the wine as my body jerks. “Why would you waste that expensive shit on me?” Okay, I like to believe that I deserve the better things in life, because let's be honest, these past few years of my life I've been delivered shit on a silver platter. However, I don't deserve two grand being filtered through my kidneys and excreted through my urethra. That wine is two thousand freaking dollars down the sewer.

  He removes one of his hands from my waist and cups the side of my face. “Only the best for the woman that holds my heart in the palm of her hand. You deserve the finer things in life, Allie.” His thumb traces my cheekbone as he leans in, placing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. His words have my heart hammering against my chest wall as if it's trying to escape my body, and even though I can't breathe, I take my hands and capture his face between them. I pull him to me, crashing my mouth to his, kissing him hard and deep.

  I kiss him, trying to let him know that I'll cherish his heart. I won't break it. I'll handle his heart with care, always.

  As Blake and I tangle ourselves up in each other, I can’t help the thoughts that begin to raid my mind; I try to force them away, but they’re determined and refuse to budge. Blake's admitted I own his heart, but he doesn't own mine, not completely anyway. I've given him the pieces Wyatt left behind, but there's still a major portion of my heart missing. I love Blake, and I'll do everything in my power to give myself to him; I'll love him with each ounce of love my heart will produce. I only hope it's enough.

  Goddamn it! I'm a broken mess.

  Suddenly, I'm lifted from the couch. I wrap my legs around Blake's waist and tangle my fingers into the back of his hair. “I love you, Allie,” he pants between kisses.

  Taking in a breath, I pull my lips away from him. “Oh God, Blake, I love you too,” I tell him, staring deep into his hazel eyes. My lips sting in protest at the separation of our mouths, but I have to look at him as I speak those three heartfelt words. I want him to know I mean it.

  Walking up the stairs, he carries me effortlessly up to his bedroom. He carries me over to the bed but doesn't lay me down. His hands are on either side of my ass, and his thumbs trace the outside of my thighs. As I lean in to capture his mouth, he dodges me, placing his lips to the front lower-side of my neck. He runs his tongue along my collarbone several times before claiming my lips.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I attempt to pull him closer to me, but I'm pretty sure it's impossible to get any closer unless he's inside of me. I try anyhow. “Blake.” I wait for his answer.

  “Yeah, babe.” Our lips remaining attached, our teeth graze slightly as we speak.

  “Fuck me,” I plead.

  A moan escapes him as he gently lays us onto his bed. “No,” he whispers.

  What the fuck! I pull away from him. “What?” I ask, bemused.

  He presses against me; reaching up, he swipes the hair away from my eyes. “Calm down, baby, I refuse to just fuck you.” I try to wiggle from underneath his weight, but he presses into me harder. “Fucking means nothing to me, Allie. I'm going to make love to you, baby, soft and slow in the beginning, hard and fast when you demand it. You're going to come so fucking hard, all you’ll ever think about is me and how fucking good we are together.”

  Shit. I think I’ve just come at his words.

  He lifts his weight off of me and pushes away from the bed. He walks across his massive room and plugs his iPod into the speakers. Dave Matthews Band fills the room. It's an old song, but a good one. He makes his way over to me while removing his shirt. My eyes catch the tribal tattoo that travels from the left side of his chest, over his shoulder and down his arm, stopping just above his elbow. His jeans hang off his hips, exposing that sexy V I love tracing my tongue with so much.

  Oh boy! He's not going to have any issue crashing into me; I'm a slip-n-slide down south.

  He brings his hands to his belt and removes it from his belt loops. Before he can unbutton his jeans, I hop off the bed
and rush to him, removing his hands and replacing them with mine. I drop to my knees before him and unbutton his pants, dragging the zipper down slowly. I move my hands to his side pocket and tug the jeans down, along with his boxers, and his cock springs freely into my face. He doesn't bother stepping out from his clothing, he doesn't have time to; I've taken him deep into my mouth.

  I use my hands to massage up and down his warm muscular thighs while I tackle his hard length with my mouth. My tongue strokes the vein under his cock as my face bobs back and forth, sucking him tightly. His hands capture the back of my head and he fists my hair. “Damn, babe.” He pulls my head into him, thrusting deeper into my throat, making me moan in excitement.

  I take one of my hands and grip him at his base just as I've done before. I pull back a little. “You like?" I ask around his thickness, already knowing his answer. He loves when my hand accompanies my tongue in stroking him.

  “You fucking know it,” he pants.

  I smile for a moment, enjoying the control I have over him. Then, I tighten my lips around him and pick up speed. I taste the saltiness from his silky head; I feel the throbbing from his vein, and with the hand that's resting on his thigh, I feel his muscles go taut. He grunts as my hand comes to a halt at his base, squeezing him tighter. I suck my way up to his tip and nibble.

  “Fuck this,” he says, picking me up and tossing me to the bed. He reaches around to unzip my dress. Pulling it over my head, he tosses it to the floor. I lie before him in nothing but a red strapless bra and thong, but not for long. He reaches behind me and unsnaps my bra, one handed. Fuck, that's hot.