Page 56 of False Promises

We exchanged a smile.

“Let’s go,” my girlfriend said, moving to her feet and dusting the sand off her skirt. “We’ll see if you’re brave, Carter Hills. Are you gonna ride the roller coaster?”

“Only if we get candy apple afterward.”

Savannah seemed to think about it for a moment. She sighed and held out her hand. “Okay. Just this time, though.”

I shook her hand. “Yeah. Deal. I haven’t had one in forever.”

* * *

“I had the best day today,” Savannah said, motioning me inside our apartment, her smile a permanent fixture on her face. She looked beautiful with her pink cheeks and bright eyes.

“Me too.” I was amazed Savannah could transform into a kid and let go for an afternoon. Due to the unpredictable weather, the pier had been mostly empty, and we were free to be. No one to catch pictures of us or follow us around. Savannah had a tougher stomach than she let it appear. She did all the rides, not shying away from any.

I shifted her between my arms and claimed her mouth. Our tongues cavorted in a hurried dance. My entire being heated up at the whimpers escaping her luscious lips.

Our hands got desperate, tearing every piece of clothing off each other. Soon we found ourselves naked, hungry for the other, insatiable.

When I kneeled in front of her, Savannah’s fingers fisted my hair, the burn on my scalp not restraining me from my mission.

She tossed her head back, crying out my name as I devoured her in long and dedicated strokes, her wet heat coating my tongue.

In no time, she shuddered against me, the climax working through her. On my feet, I held her trembling body against mine, brushing her hair away as she landed back on earth.

“Carter, you woke up the beast in me,” my girlfriend said. “Now lie on your back. If you thought the rides today were fun, you’ve experienced nothing.”

Mischief lit up her eyes. And she watched me as if I was her next meal, and nothing else but us mattered in that instant.

When she speared herself on my sheathed cock, I held my breath, trying to talk myself out of coming too soon. Savannah rolled her hips, and the gasps leaving her mouth were my demise. My hands molded to the dip of her hips, setting the rhythm. Savannah jerked her head back, the tips of her hair skimming my thigh as she rode me to oblivion. Until I barely remembered my own name. Until every disagreement we ever had in the past was erased from my memory.

Savannah came, her voice rising as she accelerated her pace. Just when I was about to follow her into bliss, she changed her position, killing my orgasm.

Moving onto all fours, Savannah pushed her ass against my stomach, swaying her hips against my hard-on. “I wanna see stars, Carter. Don’t come until I reach a new galaxy.”

On my knees, I positioned myself behind her, ramming into her depth, one hand hooked to her hipbone and the other around her shoulder.

Her walls clenched around my throbbing erection. My balls tingled with the eminent release.

Reality blurred, and only pleasure dictated our movements.

And I didn’t recall the last we had a perfect day together. Now all I wished for was one do-over. Or perhaps many more.

16

CARTER

The night was warm and my mood festive when we entered Dylan Daughtry’s birthday party in a famous hotel in downtown Hollywood. Savannah didn't generally accompany me when I had to fulfill my social obligations. The price I paid for being a “celebrity.” It’d been more than a month since the surprise party my record label and management team threw for me. Initially, Savannah had been a bit detached when I returned home, whining about my absence when she was the one who refused to accompany me. Soon after, we made up and found our rhythm, and surprisingly tonight, she agreed to join me.

Dylan was a fellow country music artist, but unlike me, he loved the fame. No, he adored it. He would get his face plastered on any gossip rag anytime and couldn’t care less about the rumors surrounding him. He was often seen walking the red carpet of a movie premiere with an actress or a model or sometimes both. One on each arm.

With the two of us working in this small country music industry, we’d been around for years, and we got along more than fine. He wasn’t my best friend, but we enjoyed each other’s company.

Savannah slid her palm into mine and whispered, “Wow, this is the most over-the-top party I’ve ever been to, I think.”

Dylan’s parties were always epic. Last year, he had a giant water tank filled with synchronized swimmers, dressed as mermaids, performing the entire night. I heard two years ago, he had a Bengal tiger, and its trainer got it to do agility tricks while the crowd surrounded them.

Tonight, trapeze artists were flying in the air above our heads, hanging by their feet, champagne bottle in hand, refilling empty glasses in between their performances. Some sort of high-end cocktail flowed out from the mouth-like opening of a ten-foot-tall ice sculpture which was illuminated with color-changing lights.