Homecoming: Part II

Previously: Homecoming, Part I

I didn’t expect this to be a three-parter, but it looks like it is so, uh, sue me.

Rated: X. Really NSFW.

* * * * *

Homecoming, Part II

I spent a mere hour getting ready on Saturday morning. Well, not including the forty minutes I also spent choosing what to wear. I finally settled on a charcoal suit and red silk blouse combo that I knew showed the appropriate amount of both leg and cleavage to pique someone’s interest but without being slutty. Slutty could come later when I next managed to get Spence alone and she could see the underwear I had on with this.

I was drinking coffee in the kitchen when I heard the sound of the truck pulling up. Moments later, Spencer appeared at the screen door. She leant against the door frame, the patented Carlin smirk on her face. I looked her up and down. She didn’t have the overalls on for once. She was in jeans and a tan wifebeater, over which she was wearing an open chocolate-brown work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It had her name stitched above her left breast and I suspected that it had the Carlin Autos logo on the back. She had some old school Ray-Bans perched on her head. I had never seen anyone or anything hotter in my life.

“Coffee?” I offered.

“Nah. I should check all the cars are fully detailed before your guy gets here. I just thought I’d show my face.”

“Well, it’s a nice face and I’m glad you brought it by,” I flirted. “But you already know I like the view.”

She pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “Uh-huh,” she responded non-commitally. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me.” She turned on her heel and walked away. The shirt did, indeed, have a logo on the back which, for some reason, made me laugh silently to myself.

If I needed her? If I needed her? All I was doing was burning up with need for her.

It wasn’t that long – maybe twenty minutes or so – before the appraiser turned up. He introduced himself as Grady Fletcher. He was younger than I expected, kind of bookish and short, actually. As I showed him out to the garage, he was babbling away about what a beautiful part of the world this was and how much he’d enjoyed the ride down, while he fished a pen and what looked to be some kind of well-thumbed guide book out of his pockets.

Spencer was standing with her hands in her pockets, a small smile which I knew was just for me playing across her face. I introduced them to each other and told Mr Fletcher that he should address his questions to Spencer, who knew a lot more about the cars than I did. But he didn’t seem interested in that idea at all. He only seemed interested in talking to me. And that didn’t go unnoticed by Spencer, either. We quickly developed a pattern: Grady asked me a question; I turned to ask Spencer; she smirked at me before answering; I rolled my eyes back at her; she answered; he asked me the follow-up; rinse and repeat.

I wanted to slap him, hard. I wanted to be hitting on Spencer, not politely deflecting the interest of some car appraiser. Even if I still did boys – which… just, no – he wouldn’t have been my type. The only good thing, I suppose, was that Spencer seemed merely amused by all of this. When I managed to catch her eye, while Grady was looking under the hood of the cars, she gave me that little private smile. If I was being optimistic, I would also say that she was giving me a bit of an eye-fuck. She definitely liked what she saw, at any rate.

This would have been fine if everything took only a half-hour, but some engineer-mechanic guy showed up, a colleague of Grady’s, and he and Spencer disappeared off, leaving me with the lecherous appraiser. I had no choice but to invite him into the house while Spencer and the other mechanic had their technical talk about specs and pored over the cars and paperwork. It was two full hours of having to make polite conversation and steer Grady away from asking me about myself before Spencer’s voice called out from the kitchen. I tell you, my ass was off that chair faster than Carl Lewis out of the blocks.

“Hey,” I said, flustered, trying to smooth out of my clothes. God, she was looking better by the second and she was definitely checking me out, just standing there, leaning against the door jamb, grinning a little at me.

“Sorry to disturb your little moment,” she said, giving me a little sarcastic smirk, “but we’re all done. Mike wants to talk to Grady.”

“Please. As if I’d -”

Spencer put her finger to her own lips. “Hush. I’m just teasing you, Ash.” Oh. Yeah. Right. Of course she was. I knew that.

I went back though to tell Grady that his colleague wanted to talk with him and he hurried off, which left me in the kitchen, finally alone with the one person that I wanted to be flirting with. But I found my abilities had deserted me. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Thankfully, she stepped into the breach, pouring a couple of coffees from the pot by the stove and handing me a mug. Our fingers brushed as she handed the cup to me and I felt a shiver all the way up my arm.

“I think they’ll offer you a fair price,” she commented evenly, sipping from her coffee and leaning over the centre island on her forearms. It made her ass strain against the back of her jeans and I tilted my head to get a better look. She totally caught me at it, but just smiled to herself.

“Yeah?” I echoed.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do with the money?”

“Not really.” I didn’t actually need the money, but I didn’t know what else to do with the cars. Now that she was asking the question, though, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I had been rash. If I kept the cars, it would give me a reason to keep employing the Carlins and give me a reason to come back here to, you know, keep an eye on my investment.

As if sensing my thoughts, Spencer commented softly, “I’m gonna miss working on those babies. They’re the best part of my job.” She turned towards me a little. “You thinking of keeping any of them, just for old times’ sake?”

I smiled at her. “Which one would you keep?”

She looked wistful. “Well, the E-Type is beautiful. And the Spyder’s like a little dream. And I like the big boys, the muscle cars, the Lambo and the Maserati. But, if I had to pick just one, I’d be torn between the ’55 Merc 300S and the Auburn.” She stared into her cup. “Nah, the 32 Auburn. Definitely.”

“Why the Auburn?” I smiled. She was like a little boy talking about his favourite toys. Weird analogy, I know, but it made her infinitely more hot to me.

“Because Dad and I have nurtured it ever since your dad bought it. We made it look like that. It wasn’t in the best of shape when it got here and now it runs. I mean, it runs like you wouldn’t believe for a car that was around before World War Two broke out. There’s only a dozen of them left in the country and one of them is in Jay Leno’s garage. And we did that, Dad and me. And your dad, of course.”

I stepped closer to her and leant back against the island, placing a hand on her shoulder, as her father had done to me the previous day. “Then I won’t sell it, Spence.”

She looked at me evenly and put her cup down, straightening up to face me properly. We were barely a foot apart, just looking at each other. The tension between us was pulling us in only one direction. I lifted my hand from her shoulder to cup her cheek. I felt one of her hands fasten itself to my hip. Because I had on heels and she was only wearing work boots, I was actually an inch taller than her for once. I was kind of missing her being the taller one.

“I like your suit,” she murmured.



“You should see what I have on under it,” I replied, slowly moving forward, giving her time to pull back if she wanted. From the look in her eyes that I caught just before her eyelids fluttered shut, and the fact that her eyelids had fluttered shut, I figured that we were good to go. I could feel her soft breath across my lips and her hand tightening on my hip, her fingers digging in slightly, as if to pull me towards her.

“Miss Davies?” Grady interjected from the kitchen doorway. His face was blushing beet red and, next to him, Mike was grinning at Spencer.

Son of a humping bitch, to quote someone I know. He couldn’t have waited two minutes? Ten minutes? An hour and a half? Anything?

I glanced briefly at Spencer’s face and her jaw was set in the most adorably petulant fashion. Without looking back in his direction, I raised my free left hand to Grady, holding it palm towards him in the international sign of ‘Not right now, asshole’ or possibly ‘Stop’, if you want to be more polite. Completing my previous action, I moved forward again, just lightly brushing my lips across hers.

It lasted two seconds, max. It was a simple kiss, the kind you might give your best friend, assuming that you wanted to pin your best friend against the wall and hump her till she fainted from pleasure at some later point in your relationship. It was something and nothing. It was a short promise, a preview of coming attractions. It was the best kiss of my life to date. It was also possibly the single most difficult thing I have ever had to do to pull away and turn, brightly and fakely, towards Grady and ask him to go through to the parlour so we could talk further.

I stepped out of Spencer’s personal space and followed a fumbling and now-embarrassed Grady towards the doorway. I stopped.

“Will you be here when I’m done?” For some reason, my usual cockiness had deserted me and I wasn’t at all sure that she would wait.

She didn’t look at me, just nodded curtly and replied, “Don’t be long.”

* * *

I got Grady and Mike out of there as fast as I humanly could. They wanted to talk money, as if I cared about money at a time like that. I told them to submit their opinions and any offer that their company would like to make to my Dad’s lawyer, but told them that I’d changed my mind about the Auburn. It was no longer for sale. I let them out of the front door and walked carefully back towards the kitchen.

I was aware of movement coming from the main dining room, the one with the huge mahogany table that was only used for special affairs, and remembered that we were not alone in the house. There was still a staff of at least two floating around the place. In all my thoughts about selling the house and cars, I hadn’t really considered them, either. Four people in all were employed full-time at the house, not including the Carlins and probably others who were involved in the upkeep, like gardeners and what have you. I’d think about that later. I had important business to conclude.

I stopped in the kitchen doorway. Spencer was perched on a stool, reading the Times-Picayune and sipping another coffee. She took it strong, black and unsweetened, just like me. It was just another thing that made me think she was some kind of angel sent from heaven. Wow, that was lame. I’m really not usually this lame. So was standing in the doorway staring.

“Cat got your tongue?” the blonde in question asked, looking up from her newspaper and smiling at me.

“Nah, I’m saving that for you,” I replied honestly. I really did have plans for her and my tongue. Long, in-depth plans that I’d been thinking about for a week. Plans that had me all hot and bothered and flustered.

Just like that, she was standing and I was all up in her personal space, my arms reaching around her, one hand on her back and the other one gripping the back of her head, pulling her to me. Our mouths met so hard I’m surprised we didn’t knock out some teeth. This was better than anything I could have ever imagined. This girl had some serious kissing skills. She was doing this little thing with her tongue across my bottom lip that was driving me insane.

I was vaguely aware of pushing her open shirt from her shoulders, just so that my hands could feel some skin. She was doing the same to me, pushing my suit jacket to the floor. We were struggling for dominance, although I could have cared less at that moment who won. It was, after all, a bit of a win-win situation for me. As I moved against her, I felt her mouth dip to my neck, just below my ear and she nibbled softly. I moaned, loudly, which caused her to grin against my skin. A random thought suddenly passed through my mind and I pushed her back a little. Both of us were panting and she had this almost feral look in her eyes. God, that was hot.

“Don’t want me to leave a mark?” she asked, twisting her lips into that smirk, that oh-so-familiar smirk that I would look forward to for the rest of my life, if I had my way.

I didn’t even understand her question at first, but then her meaning became clear. “No, no. Not that.” Seriously, not that. A little biting can be fun. That was included in my plans, along with the tongue stuff. “Staff,” I managed to force out. I’d just noticed her nipples straining hard against the material of her top and that was taking most of the sense from me. “Staff could walk in,” I expanded, managing to sound almost as if English was my first language. “Upstairs?” I asked, continuing my struggle to form coherent sentences.

She bit her bottom lip in the sexiest way possible, as if considering this in great depth. My eyes were drawn back to those lips and I had to lean forward and kiss her again, just once. But she was addictive and I found myself all caught up in the moment, especially when I felt her mouth open in response to mine and she sucked lightly on my tongue. I have no idea how much time passed before I pulled back and looked at her again. We were both panting even harder.

I didn’t speak this time, really not trusting myself with words; I just took her hand and led her out into the hallway and up the stairs. We hadn’t even got up three stairs when she pushed me against the wall and kissed me thoroughly. And I mean thoroughly. Her hands were on my hips and she was pressed right in between my legs. I could feel her pressed against me and, as her tongue confidently swept inside my mouth and she started making these little moans and growls – See? I knew she’d make little noises – I could feel myself slipping into some sort of lustful haze. Staff, be damned. I would have fucked her right there if she hadn’t pulled back.

We half-sprinted up the stairs and I dragged her towards my bedroom. Despite everything, I was a little apprehensive when I opened the door and let her walk in ahead of me.

“So,” she said, grinning, “is this where all that magic I heard about happens?”

Eh? Oh. The country club girls. I might have even blushed a little as I mumbled, “We can use one of the guest rooms if it makes you more comfortable.” But she was already sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing her work boots. You cannot tell me that Spencer Carlin, perched on your bed, taking off her boots, is not one of the world’s greatest sights because, having experienced it first-hand, I can tell you that it’s up there with the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“I don’t care. I was just teasing you, Ash.” Right. I had to get some sort of sensor that would alert me to when she was doing that because I appeared to be completely shit at working it out for myself. She removed her socks and balled them up, putting them inside one of her boots and placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. That shouldn’t be hot. It was so hot. Everything she did was, well, hot.

She patted the bed next to her, like this was her room and not mine. Dazed, I sat beside her. She cupped my cheek in her hand and leaned towards me.

“Stop being so scared of me,” she whispered against my lips. Did I mention hot? The feeling of her talking against my lips was incredible. And then she kissed me so softly, like I might break. It was slow and teasing and infinitely patient. I tried to respond in kind, but the need for her within me was so immense that I couldn’t keep with this gentleness that she was giving me. I appreciated it, but I was not scared of her. I was scared of me, of what I was starting to feel. And the best way to block out feelings like that, in my long and checkered history, was with sensation.

I all but launched myself into her lap, sitting so that I was straddling her. I managed not to break the kiss, quite proud that I still had some meagre game. It was my turn to grin against her mouth as I felt her hands move to my thighs. I was trying to concentrate on kissing her, but the feel of her hands was making me shake with barely-repressed need. I sucked that luscious bottom lip into my mouth, nibbling it lightly between my teeth, as her fingers crept higher. I drank in her sharp intake of breath and low growl when she reached the top of my stockings and found the snaps of the suspender belt. I know, it’s a tired porn cliche and you can argue that it’s just a male fantasy, but they made me feel sexy and the way Spencer pulled back so that she could look down at where her hands were made me think that maybe they could be a little fantasy of hers, too. She just looked at me with a raised eyebrow as she effortlessly undid the snap at the front of my left leg. I groaned and arched my back with pleasure as her fingers traced tiny circular patterns just above the top of the stockings.

“Nice touch,” she whispered throatily, as she dipped her head to my neck, this time leaving her mark as her fingers felt around my thighs, idly unsnapping as she went. It was turning me into a writhing little mess. My hands were gripping the back of her neck and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold out for long if we continued like this.

Tipping myself forward, our shared weight pushed her onto her back. This was much better. Grinning down at her supine form, I moved my own hands to her waist, slipping my fingers under the hem of her top. Her skin was hot to the touch, smooth and soft. I pushed the cotton material up by degrees, uncovering her slowly to my voracious gaze. Her bra might have been of simple tan lace, but it was my new favourite thing. Leaning down, I captured a firm nipple in my mouth through the lace. It was immensely erotic and hearing her moan my name, low and soft, only just above a whisper, made it almost perfect. I don’t know how it was affecting her, but it was making me wetter than Lake Ponchatrain. I found myself grinding down against her, the rough of her jeans causing delicious friction against the smooth lace of the underwear I’d selected with her in mind. In fact, I’d made a special trip to the city just to get it.

“So fucking good,” she murmured, her head moving slowly from side to side as I continued to suck her lace-covered nipple deep into my mouth, swirling around it with my tongue.

“Oh, you have no fucking idea,” I whispered against her breast. I was determined to show her good, ideally before I lost myself. I was right before. When her hands moved to the back of my head, her fingers gripping me tightly to her aching flesh, it was indescribable. She was so incredible, made me feel things so intensely, that I was getting beyond worried about lasting.

I edged further up her body, letting my hands replace my mouth over her breasts. I ground into her nipples with the palms of my hands, while my mouth found her neck. I licked and sucked along her jawline, enjoying every little hitched breath and soft, sweet moan. She bent her leg, bringing her thigh right up against me, causing me to growl against her skin. Playing dirty, huh?

She was wearing too many clothes. I could tell she was wearing far too many clothes. I sat back up, shifting myself so that I was now straddling her stomach and out of reach of her tempting thigh. She wasn’t exactly playing fair, though, lying there with her hair all tousled, looking several hundred kinds of hot and sexy, smiling with intent while her hands slid up and down my thighs, her fingers idling across my skin. My first thought was to arch my back and ride myself against her taut belly. She could no doubt feel how wet I was for her already through that flimsy lace. She had to feel that. That little grin of hers all but screamed that she knew that. But, I wasn’t planning on playing fair, either, though, and I pushed her top all the way over her head. Her bra was front-fastening and I made a mental note to find out who had invented that most helpful modern convenience and send them a thank-you note, maybe even flowers. I smiled down at her as I wordlessly pushed the lace cups off her breasts.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I whispered. I let my fingers move as idly as hers were against my thigh. Just with my fingertips, I traced random patterns across the creamy smoothness of her breasts, never quite touching her nipples. That wiped the little smirk off her face and she had a slightly pleading look in her eyes. Oh, she kept her gaze locked with mine, though. No-one said she wasn’t a brave girl. She was biting her bottom lip. Fuck, I should tell her at some point that I love it when she does that. I cupped the underside of both of her breasts in my hands, letting my thumbs trail towards her nipples. Now, I was the one grinning at her in a self-satisfied fashion. Then, she cheated.

“I want you,” she moaned, pleading again with those beautiful blue eyes, arching her back off the bed so that her breasts were pushed harder against my exploring hands. How could I tease her when she looked at me like that? Who could possibly refuse such an offer? All my thoughts of taking her slowly were banished from my mind. I bent down again to kiss her and she met me half-way, digging her fingers into my thighs and biting my bottom lip. “I want you,” she repeated.

Her hands were on the buttons of my silk blouse and she was taking too long, so I pulled it off over my head and tossed it to one side as we both inched up the bed until the pillows were just above her head and her legs were no longer dangling off the end. Her eyes widened as she saw the see-through black lace bra I had selected for her. She mumbled something completely unintelligible and reached up awkwardly to capture a nipple in her mouth. A strangled noise escaped the back of my throat as she held it between her teeth and raked her tongue slowly back and forth.

I shimmied on top of her enough that I could drop my hands to her jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing the zipper down. Reluctantly pulling away from her talented mouth, I whispered, “Lift your hips.” She complied immediately, and I pulled her jeans and her underwear down as far as her knees, but I was rushing too much and they seemed to get stuck. She just smiled down at me and propped herself up on my hands, lifting her legs and helping me get her out of what remained of her clothes. She then pulled her top and bra off, throwing them off the end of the bed.

I looked down at her, lying there, naked and so, so beautiful. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered. I don’t even know where that tone came from. It was reverential. “God, I’ve never wanted anyone more.” Shit. Did I say that out loud?

“Take them off.”

It was definitely a command and I really didn’t like being told what to do. But, for her, maybe I could make an exception. I blinked. There was no easy way to do this, so I slid off the bed and lowered the zipper of my skirt and let it fall to the floor. I was standing there just in my underwear and stockings. She was watching me through half-shut eyes. I could see from the rapid rise and fall of her chest that she liked what she saw. Putting my foot on the bed, I rolled one stocking off slowly, loving the way her pupils dilated and she seemed to be holding her breath while I did it. I changed position and repeated the action with the other stocking. Then I removed my bra, suspender belt and, finally, the soaked black lace panties.

Suddenly feeling very exposed and nowhere near as cocky as I normally would at this point in the whole enterprise, I moved back to the bed, covering her with myself. She accepted my weight on top of her gladly, willing, you might say. Her hands were moving everywhere all at once and she was just so gentle again. But feeling that naked body underneath mine was almost my undoing. I felt like every part of me was crying out in need for her touch. And I wanted to make her feel like that.

She parted her legs and I settled happily between them. She was still looking up at me, with that funny little half-smile, and moving her hands so slowly. For the first time, I could feel how wet she was for me. I don’t think I have ever felt a girl so ready. Not breaking her gaze, I insinuated my hand between us to cup her in my palm.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I murmured. “So fucking wet.”

Slowly, but without warning, I twisted my hand and slid two fingers inside of her. I didn’t move or anything, just lay there, looking at her, biting my own lip at the intensity of being inside her. I could feel her wet and hot around my fingers and I was aware that her hips were starting to move slightly. Jesus, she was something else. I just wanted to lose myself in her forever. I had no patience; there was no more time.

I slid down her body in a flash, hooking her leg and slipping it over my shoulder. I eased my fingers back out of her and replaced them with my mouth, revelling in tasting her wetness. Nothing I’d ever known could compare. I slipped my tongue as deep inside her as I could, exploring her inner recesses with the tip of my tongue. She was swearing, I think, mixed in with my name. I could hear those sounds for the rest of my life and not tire of the feeling of power, of pride, that they gave me. Her hips were bucking under me and she had moved her hands to the top of my head, pulling a little at my hair. It didn’t hurt or anything, but I knew it was a message. I’m psychic like that.

I dragged my tongue slowly along her length until I found her clit. I flicked it a few times with the tip of my tongue and grinned as she shuddered beneath me. Her hands had stopped tugging at my head, though, and her fingers were now massaging my scalp, which was a seriously sensual feeling. I sped up my ministrations, pulling her flesh deep into my mouth and rolling my tongue around her. Jesus, she was getting even wetter, which was having a similar effect on me.

I slid one hand up to cup her breast, rolling over her rock-hard nipple with my thumb in time to the speed of my tongue. She was really making quite a noise now with her groaning and swearing and all, and I suspected that anyone left in the house – big as it was – could probably hear her. Hell, half the population of Jameson Parish could probably hear her. I didn’t care. Let them hear how good I was. I wanted the world to know how I made her feel. She was so close, I could tell, and not just from the fact that she had loudly announced that fact, in almost exactly those words, only with an extra expletive thrown in the middle. I felt the orgasm hit her, as her beautiful body stiffened and she dug her fingers into my scalp. Just for good measure – because, you know, I’m nice like that – I flicked my tongue hard against her a few extra times until she started making this strangled noise and finally said, “No more.”

I grinned and reluctantly pulled away, rolling off her and onto my back next to her on the bed. I was basking in my own glory, happily wondering if I could make myself a little sash and crown as ‘Best Lay Ever’ when she leaned across my body, bringing her beautiful nakedness in contact with mine. Well, I’d have been willing to give her a little more cooling off time, but I can’t say that I was objecting. Opening my eyes to see what she was doing, I was dismayed to find that was, in fact, reaching across me to retrieve her underwear. This had not been in my plan. I thought back. No, the plan had definitely involved at least a twenty-four hour stretch of sex, with only minor breaks for napping and food.

I sat up properly and found her hastily dressing. Surely some mistake?

“Spence?” I asked, as she got off the bed and looked for her jeans.

She was desperately trying not to look at me. That was inconceivable as I was lying there naked and – hello! – I look damn good naked. I mean seriously good.

“I, uh…” she began, as she put her socks on. “Look, um…” She slipped her feet into her boots without tying the laces and leaned over to kiss me, chastely almost, on the lips.

“I have to go,” she said, pulling her top back on and giving me this sad little wry smile.

The door closed quietly behind her as I flopped back on the bed.


* * * * *

Up next: Homecoming, Part III [X, NSFW]


  1. BG
    Posted 24 September 2009 at 3.21pm | Permalink

    Hmmh, I did not expect that reaction from Spencer.

    Now my mind is in overdrive trying to figure out exactly what is going through her mind. My first thought is that she is actually “inexperienced” and is freaking as the realization of having to touch Ashley and Ashley finding out about her inexperience. Or, I wonder if she just felt too much and is now scared? Hmmh, I can’t wait to find out.

    Incredible writing as usual Dev! I read a lot of fics with interest, but in yours, my insides literally ball up and I feel so much emotion. Incredible writing!

  2. Stokley
    Posted 24 September 2009 at 4.53pm | Permalink

    That was HAWT, I wonder what Spencer’s deal is? I think I might have to agree with BG on this and think maybe she’s freaked out about how much she felt. Like she was so sure of herself and cocky that maybe she was caught totally off guard at the extent of the feelings she had being with Ashley finally and the fact that Ashley was going back to LA kinda made her freak a bit.

    Awesome update and I for one won’t complain that you’re making it longer :D

  3. tee452
    Posted 24 September 2009 at 7.49pm | Permalink

    Dev, this is one of those fics that makes me interested in Spencer’s point of view. Most times, I am fine with not seeing the other side. But, right now, I am really wondering what she has thought of Ashley up to this point.

    Spencer’s outfit. Glorious. I picture the lighting around her being that golden color, like sundown, as well…I bet it’s sundown with her all the time, isn’t it?

    I was scared of me, of what I was starting to feel. And the best way to block out feelings like that, in my long and checkered history, was with sensation.

    That was a good turn of phrase.

    Oh my, at the entire stockings scene. *cools self with southern belle lace fan* And Holy Moses at the sex!

    I think I know where Spencer went. Or I should say I hope I know where she went. *swoons*

  4. Serenity6982
    Posted 25 September 2009 at 3.29am | Permalink

    you are truly an incredibly talented woman. please don’t forget about spashley b/c u r one of the select few that know how to capture their profound chemistry.

  5. chelle5432
    Posted 25 September 2009 at 7.13pm | Permalink

    Jesus Dev you really know how to write that stuff. Fantastic is all I say. Ooh and you’ve got me curious about Spencer now so I can’t wait for the next one. But then again I’m always excited for your stories. Anyway I loved it :)

  6. SONiluv
    Posted 26 September 2009 at 11.14pm | Permalink

    WhAT!? you’re leaving it there!? …now I need to know what’s spencer’s problem. I’m insatiable when it comes to your fic. I always want more.I love Spencer’s “smirks.” I’m usually all about Ashley, but this Spencer is interesting.

  7. Coachkimm
    Posted 27 September 2009 at 4.55pm | Permalink

    Wow I really didn’t see that one coming.

  8. Lurker
    Posted 27 September 2009 at 10.31pm | Permalink

    Wow! Great fic. Your writing never fails to amaze me. Thanks for this. Can’t wait for part 3!

  9. Posted 18 October 2009 at 8.05am | Permalink

    Well, that sucks, hahaha, I wasn’t expecting that. Ashley didn’t even get a return, hahaha. I’m sensing has some trauma or old hurt, that makes her an emotional cripple, or she has a girlfriend. Or she could have just got scared, and freaked out, because Ashley will eventually leave, her life is in L.A., and she doesn’t want to get emotionally involved. We’ll see

  10. imaferrari
    Posted 23 April 2011 at 12.01am | Permalink

    Oh, my. Did not see that happening. Did this all just hit Spencer or something? Was she just overwhelmed/surprised with her feelings or the intensity of it all? Just…wow. Gotta read on now to see what happens next.

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