Synopsis Their paths have crossed, setting the refrain in motion. Ever since flannel and Doc Martens were considered edgy fashion, Canadian cousins Natalie and Chloe have dreamt of a life in New York City. But now that they’ve finally scored a Manhattan zip code, their teenaged fantasies are overshadowed by an adult reality. With Natalie struggling to accept a long-distance relationship—and her constant battle with loneliness, her survival depends on Zach’s safe return. And with Chloe’s endless need to find balance and purpose—and her embarrassing secret holding her back, can Adam Ford be the one to understand her completely? Change is inevitable and fate is insisting. And when panic follows crisis and love is questioned, stories can change in unexpected ways. The narrative becomes the verse, the part to the whole—the story within the story. |
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Excerpt
“This one’s for you, dear Adam.”
She plays roughly, not at all how I would imagine her performing. Chloe begins the familiar lyrics, angry and catatonic…
Ah, now I get it--there’s only one artist that can make a guy grab his balls in pain. Chloe is playing Alanis’ You Oughta Know, the theme song for every grungy feminist of 1995 and the quickest way to get a guy to walk right out the door. I respond flatly, not giving her the satisfaction of being clever. “Hilarious—and what if I told you that song actually turns me on, a raging female that needs a good fuck?”
I smile. She winks.
“Now, play me your favorite song.” She tilts her head and stares intently at my lips, but then lowers her head to look at her guitar. “Please, Chloe.”
“Okay, but I never play this for people. Don’t laugh.” She closes her eyes and strums a simple melody. Her voice pours from her lips like a really good gin—smooth yet raw. It’s obvious that everything about Chloe is a paradox to me. But it’s when she sings the lower notes, from the belly of her soul that I actually feel high. Every word from her mouth is relevant and meaningful and I want nothing more than to be the song coming from her lips.
“The lovers, the dreamers…” She stops abruptly, biting the inside of her lip.
Chloe’s embarrassed, so I finish for her. “And me.” I stretch out my legs and lick my lips. “Kiss me.”
Chloe crawls toward me with her mouth parted as I place my hand on her cheek. She’s flushed, and I enjoy the fire beneath her soft skin. I take her bottom lip between mine and suck. Her tongue flicks my top lip as she straddles me. Dry-humping has never had this kind of effect on me, but this is more like emotional transference. Chloe shifts her weight to her ass and pulls me down to the bed with her. I push up and hover on top of her, our breathing syncing into heaving gasps. I’m so fucking hard, and I want to ram her into that dainty, little headboard—but I will patiently wait for her to submit.
“Adam.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I push myself off the bed and stare down at the goddess of cotton floral. My erection is painful against my jeans and my self-control left the moment I walked into her apartment. I quietly open the top drawer to her yellow nightstand. It’s a horrible habit, but I do need a condom.
The drawer of Chloe LeGrange: purple vibrator, three Trojans, Vick’s Vapor rub, Riccola lozenges, a worn copy of Catcher in the Rye, and an orange plastic container.
“Wait! Adam, no I’ll get it.” Chloe sits up excitedly, nearly knocking off the small lamp. “Please don’t look in there.”
Amused by her sudden discomfort, I say, “Chloe, it’s okay, I’ve seen a vibrator before.”
“What? No, I don’t give a shit about that. I just don’t want you to see my mouth guard.” She snatches the orange container and hurls it across the room. “You may proceed with the sex.” She positions herself like a pinup girl of the ‘50s and lifts her gown, teasing me with a glimpse between her bare thighs. But as usual, I’m more distracted by her radiant smile.
“Is there a time limit before your roommate shows up? Because I plan to fuck you thrice…” What the hell did I just say? I laugh a little too excitedly as I place the three condoms on the table.
“Nat’s not coming home—we have all night!”
Chloe seductively lifts the cotton gown over head and tosses it on the floor. Her nakedness only reinforces what I’m beginning to understand—I’m standing above the goddess of my dreams, and she was wearing a muumuu.
She plays roughly, not at all how I would imagine her performing. Chloe begins the familiar lyrics, angry and catatonic…
Ah, now I get it--there’s only one artist that can make a guy grab his balls in pain. Chloe is playing Alanis’ You Oughta Know, the theme song for every grungy feminist of 1995 and the quickest way to get a guy to walk right out the door. I respond flatly, not giving her the satisfaction of being clever. “Hilarious—and what if I told you that song actually turns me on, a raging female that needs a good fuck?”
I smile. She winks.
“Now, play me your favorite song.” She tilts her head and stares intently at my lips, but then lowers her head to look at her guitar. “Please, Chloe.”
“Okay, but I never play this for people. Don’t laugh.” She closes her eyes and strums a simple melody. Her voice pours from her lips like a really good gin—smooth yet raw. It’s obvious that everything about Chloe is a paradox to me. But it’s when she sings the lower notes, from the belly of her soul that I actually feel high. Every word from her mouth is relevant and meaningful and I want nothing more than to be the song coming from her lips.
“The lovers, the dreamers…” She stops abruptly, biting the inside of her lip.
Chloe’s embarrassed, so I finish for her. “And me.” I stretch out my legs and lick my lips. “Kiss me.”
Chloe crawls toward me with her mouth parted as I place my hand on her cheek. She’s flushed, and I enjoy the fire beneath her soft skin. I take her bottom lip between mine and suck. Her tongue flicks my top lip as she straddles me. Dry-humping has never had this kind of effect on me, but this is more like emotional transference. Chloe shifts her weight to her ass and pulls me down to the bed with her. I push up and hover on top of her, our breathing syncing into heaving gasps. I’m so fucking hard, and I want to ram her into that dainty, little headboard—but I will patiently wait for her to submit.
“Adam.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I push myself off the bed and stare down at the goddess of cotton floral. My erection is painful against my jeans and my self-control left the moment I walked into her apartment. I quietly open the top drawer to her yellow nightstand. It’s a horrible habit, but I do need a condom.
The drawer of Chloe LeGrange: purple vibrator, three Trojans, Vick’s Vapor rub, Riccola lozenges, a worn copy of Catcher in the Rye, and an orange plastic container.
“Wait! Adam, no I’ll get it.” Chloe sits up excitedly, nearly knocking off the small lamp. “Please don’t look in there.”
Amused by her sudden discomfort, I say, “Chloe, it’s okay, I’ve seen a vibrator before.”
“What? No, I don’t give a shit about that. I just don’t want you to see my mouth guard.” She snatches the orange container and hurls it across the room. “You may proceed with the sex.” She positions herself like a pinup girl of the ‘50s and lifts her gown, teasing me with a glimpse between her bare thighs. But as usual, I’m more distracted by her radiant smile.
“Is there a time limit before your roommate shows up? Because I plan to fuck you thrice…” What the hell did I just say? I laugh a little too excitedly as I place the three condoms on the table.
“Nat’s not coming home—we have all night!”
Chloe seductively lifts the cotton gown over head and tosses it on the floor. Her nakedness only reinforces what I’m beginning to understand—I’m standing above the goddess of my dreams, and she was wearing a muumuu.
The Bridge series
Author Info
Hey y'all! I'm Ashley Pullo, a New York transplant with an abundance of Texas charm and a proclivity for all things pop-culture. I like to think that I'm witty, gorgeous and highly intelligent but honestly, I'm not that funny. I'm a suburban mom living the dream with my handsome husband, two perfect children and a moderately cool dog, Roscoe. Life is pretty awesome, and you taking the time to read my words makes it that much sweeter! The Bridge Series is designed to involve the reader in the authenticity of life, love and loss. Enjoy the journey…revel in the imagery…and fall in love with modern storytelling at its finest. XOap |