I Will Always Love You Book 2
By Erica Storm
4/5
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About this ebook
Tasha James is despondent after leaving Liam in Ireland, but she makes a promise to herself that when she completes her final semester in college, she will get a job and save to visit Liam O’Shea in Ireland, if just to see if he meant what he said to her. “I will always love you.”
It may be naïve on her part, but she believed him.
The problem she’s having now is trying to make changes in her life, and she can’t forget Liam.
When she stops at a pub in Manhattan on a Saturday night, with her girlfriend Ashlee, the name written on the outside is O’Shea. She’s certain this is just a coincidence until she’s shocked to discover Liam in that bar, and with another woman.
How could she think he meant what he said to her? A man like him, so good looking, and so handsome couldn’t possibly just want her, or could he?
This is part 2 of a 3 part serial.
Erica Storm
Hi, I'm Erica Storm and I write spicy erotica and erotic romance. I have over fifty short titles and box sets to arouse your senses. If you don't have the time to invest in a long novel, you can read my short stories on the go as you wait in the checkout lines. "When you read erotica you feel alive." Happy reading!
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I Will Always Love You Book 2 - Erica Storm
Chapter One
After landing at JFK airport in Queens and waiting for a cab, we set our own luggage into the trunk of his car as the cabbie sat inside waiting for us to finish. Where to?
the cabbie asked when we entered.
Brooklyn,
we said dryly and in unison.
I was hoping for a longer ride,
the driver said with a broken foreign accent.
And we were hoping you would get off your butt and help us with our luggage,
I said.
We can’t all get what we want or wish for,
Ashlee chimed in. We were both tired and short tempered and all around pissed. It was bad enough the trip would cost us more than we wanted or possibly had and would have to charge it on credit cards we couldn’t pay for this month. Then we noticed, after the taxi driver had pulled off, that the cab had no air condition. We found that out way later.
The cab driver slowed the car as if he thought we were going to get out of the cab and get another after giving us an attitude. I give attitude. I don’t take it especially if someone is being rude. It was enough to place our own luggage in the cab and now he wanted us to accommodate him after a long trip, and all the stuff you have to contend with going through customs and all the security shit.
Didn’t you hear or do you speak English,
I said annoyed.
I speak very good English,
the cabbie said.
That’s for us to decide,
Ashlee commented as she sat forward looking at him. Normally she doesn’t say a word, but she was irritated from the heat and just life and her monthly cycle. Take us to Brooklyn.
And if I don’t?
Then you won’t have your license. We’ll report you,
I said calling out his name. Ashlee whispered something to me about him taking us somewhere and dumping our bodies. The way I was feeling, Just let him try,
I whispered to her. He mumbled under his breath in his mother tongue and zoomed off.
And don’t give us the scenic tour,
Ashlee said feeling embolden. We know New York better than you.
Ashlee and I finally managed to get home to Brooklyn without getting on each other’s nerves one more time. We had found a common enemy—that rude obnoxious cabbie. And we managed without him dumping our bodies in New Jersey. We glanced at each other and stepped out of the cab after paying him and giving him a small tip. He glanced at us after placing our roll on luggage on the curb.
Then he mumbled, Bitches,
and rushed to his waiting car. I guess it’s universal in most languages and it would be universal if we kicked his ass. I had a pair of high heel shoes in my bag just for that occasion.
I know we had a few curse words for him, but we were civilized and didn’t resort to standing in front of our building and shouting what we thought of him.
He climbed into his cab with the motor running and drove into traffic as we stood giving him the finger. We weren’t that civilized as to take that insult without doing something. Wow!
I feel better, Ashlee said,
There is nothing like telling a man to go fuck himself. Now that makes me feel better."
Walking up the steps to our apartment, we made a right turn reaching the elevator just before it was closing and we stepped into it. I punched the third floor. The elevator was full with people we didn’t recognize. Mostly young and black with one elderly white couple who didn’t seem intimidated by the two black men. I guess the couple had seen everything living in Brooklyn and no one was going to make their lives miserable in their declining years.
The old couple looked at us and stepped out of the elevator on the second floor. We tried to make them feel good and said, Have a nice day.
The two men were gazing at us as if we were new to the building. We had been living there for about four years. After we stepped off and got safely into our apartment, Ashlee dropped her bag and said, It’s time to move.
She had the same vibes I had. But