21. Maneater
CHAPTER 21
Maneater
DUSTY
I hip-check my apartment door closed, the carton of eggs at the top of my grocery bag nearly tumbling to the linoleum floor. I’m exhausted. I had to go shopping after work or I’d have nothing to eat, and now I’d rather just hole up in my apartment with Stella and recharge. I’m unloading a loaf of bread out of the brown paper bag and setting it on the counter when there’s a knock on my door. Who the hell is here?
“Hello?” I call, thinking maybe I misheard, but a croaky voice answers.
“Hey darlin’, it’s Doris.”
Laundromat Doris?
I cross the room to find Doris, the change lady from downstairs, in front of my door. “Oh, hello.”
“Good, you’re home. Now come collect your boyfriend.”
I blink and let out a nervous laugh. “Wh-what?”
She shuffles toward the stairs. “Your boyfriend. He’s been here all night and it’s starting to affect my business.”
What the hell is she talking about? I reluctantly follow her, asking, “Are you saying Joel is downstairs? Why’s he here?”
We reach the landing and she opens the side door into the laundromat. “Maybe you should ask him that.”
I follow her gaze to the man in question, asleep and curled up on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area. His black boots are under him, his arms wrapped around his knees, which are tucked up under his chin. As I walk over, a sense of dread fills my empty stomach.
“Joel?” I ask, placing my hand gently on his shoulder.
He startles awake, body jerked upright, and he has to slam his booted feet onto the floor to steady himself. Wide-eyed, he looks up at me, then squints against the lights. “Dusty?”
“What are you doing here?”
He gives his head a little shake, then stands. “I, uh . . .”
“Ahem.”
The two of us turn to see Doris frowning, then with one neon blue–tipped finger nail, she gestures to the door. I roll my eyes, grab Joel by the hand, and pull him behind me. “Come on,” I say.
“She’s quite possibly the most unpleasant person I’ve ever met,” Joel mutters.
“You should see her if she catches you using fake coins in her machines,” I say.
We stop on the landing outside of my apartment and Joel raises an eyebrow. “People do that?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Me.”
The classical music I left on before I went to work last night is still playing softly when we cross the threshold.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible. Are you okay?” I ask, cocking my head. He seems tired. And sad.
He closes his eyes and rests his head back against my door. “Not really.”
Apparently both of the men in my life are going through a tough time. What are the odds?
“Do you want a drink? I think I have some vodka in my freezer?—”
He grasps my hand and stops me from moving away, then with a look of utter anguish, he pulls me against him. Arms wrap around me, squeezing, and I feel him shudder.
My fingers trail up the back of his shirt, skimming gently along to calm him down. “Oh . . . Joel?—”
“It’s all just such a mess,” he whispers into my hair.
He buries his face in my neck for a long moment until I release him, sliding my hands down to grasp his face. At first he won’t look at me. Merely stands with his eyes closed, his mouth turned down in the first real frown I’ve ever seen on him.
“Joel? Listen,” I whisper.
His eyes open to meet mine.
“Everything will be okay. You’ll see. Whatever has got you down . . . we can figure it out.”
“We?”
Something tumbles in my stomach as his gaze darts over my face, and it’s like I’ve missed a step going downstairs. “I mean . . . I just thought—but if you don’t?—”
His smile comes back. It’s still haunted, but it’s there. “No, I do think . . . I just wasn’t sure if you did.”
I lick my lips, tamping down the excitement rushing through me. “Well, I don’t want to rush into anything—” I grasp his hand when he raises a questioning eyebrow. “I’m not seeing anyone else. What I mean is . . . I need time to sort out all these feelings . Does that make sense?”
His eyes soften and he tilts his head. “Yeah. It does.”
I let out a huge breath. “Okay, good. Because I do want to try this. Us. I mean, it’s not like you gave me much choice,” I tease. “You wouldn’t leave.”
He chuckles, then his face becomes serious again. “It’s okay if you need time. If you need your freedom while you figure things out. But I need you to know—I’m all in.”
Can a heart burst? “Really?”
His lip pulls up at the side slowly. “Yeah, but I’ll wait for you to be ready. I’m not in a rush.”
The kindness in his eyes almost brings a tear to mine. “You sure you want to gamble your heart on me?” I ask.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
His kiss this time is slow, sensual, and sparks something in my core that I’m not sure I can contain. I want him. I’ve wanted him and his body for two fucking years, and right now, in this moment, it’s mine. He said so himself. So why am I still nervous? As if sensing my hesitation, Joel pulls back to whisper against the corner of my mouth. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to just hang out and talk.”
I smile. “We could talk on the bed and see where things go?”
That devilish grin is back, and next thing I know, he’s scooping me up, his large hands under my thighs, and I’m wrapping my legs around his hips like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Our journey to the bed is clumsy and sweet; my shirt gets caught in the doorjamb, and Joel stubs his toe on a chair, but we make it, falling onto my bed in a pile of limbs.
His heat and weight next to me is exhilarating. It’s been so long since I’ve had this kind of contact, and I’m starved for it. He squeezes me to him and kisses my forehead. “I swear I didn’t come here with the intention of hooking up. I really just didn’t know where else to go, and . . .”
Trailing off, he gently plays with my hair, a look of despair returning to his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He sighs. “Someone has come forward and accused the band of stealing songs.”
I frown. “What?”
“I’m not sure if you’ve watched the news recently but?—”
“Joel,” I say, gesturing around my bare-bones apartment. “I don’t own a TV, can hardly afford to subscribe to a newspaper.”
He shakes his head. “It feels like it’s been all over the place. It’s ridiculous. The guy is a scab. He was involved in a very early version of the band but never contributed anything except a massive headache. A complete waste of space. But now he’s coming out and accusing us of stealing his songs.”
I prop my head on my hand so I can meet him at eye level. “But how can he do that if he didn’t write them?”
“He says he has proof, but what that is, I have no idea. It’s a legal nightmare. Basically, we need to show that we did in fact write those songs and . . . well, it’s not exactly an easy process. Plus, because it broke in the news, even if we can prove he’s lying, the damage is done. We might never be able to repair our reputation. Venues are already canceling shows . . . It’s a mess.”
“I’m so sorry, Joel. That sounds awful.”
His eyes flick away from mine. “I don’t mean to dump on you. This isn’t exactly the second date I had in mind.”
I skim my fingertips along his creased brow. “Your troubles are important to me.”
“Really?” he asks.
“I may not be able to offer any legal advice, but I’ll try and support you, whatever comes your way.”
He nods then falls silent for a few minutes, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of my hip.
“I’m mad at my best friend.”
I blink, and our eyes meet briefly.
“I’ve never been mad at him before but—he took off. He’s been my best friend since I was seventeen years old. We’ve been through everything together. Forming the band, finding a studio exec to sign us, touring together, recording,” he says low. “All of that and”—he avoids my gaze for a moment—“much much more, and he just takes off when we need him the most?”
“Where did he go?” I ask.
But Joel shakes his head. “No idea. We live together. He took my car and drove off. I spent all of yesterday looking for him. Then I didn’t want to go home and be alone?—”
“You’ve been downstairs with Doris all night?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
I frown. “And you don’t know where he went?”
Joel rolls onto his back and stares at my ceiling. “That’s the worst part. It’s making me think that maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. What if our whole friendship has been a lie?”
I wrap my arm around his torso and squeeze, laying my head on his chest. “I don’t think that’s true. He’s probably as overwhelmed as you and scared. He’ll be back.”
“Being in the band . . . It’s been a dream come true. I’m so incredibly lucky, and I can’t help but feel like I’m being punished. Like maybe because I was a jerk as a teenager, this is all just the universe’s way of balancing itself out.”
“I understand what you mean. I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. That any moment everything’s just going to go to hell.”
He grasps my chin and forces me to look up at him. “Is that why you pushed me away?”
I shrug. “A lifetime of experience has taught me that I’m not worth the trouble. That I’m not worth anything.”
His beautiful brown eyes hold mine. “That’s not true. You are worth everything .”
“You hardly know me,” I whisper.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have worth or dreams.”
“I haven’t had dreams in a long time.”
He bites his lip. “What was your dream? What did you want to do when you were sixteen?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “I wanted to be an actress. I was desperate to be Grace Kelly. Everything seemed so romantic and extravagant.”
His lips split into a grin. “I could see you up on the big screen.”
Now that I’ve said it, it seems to pour out of me. “I guess I thought that if I was a big Hollywood star, someone, somewhere, would love me.”
His brow creases. “You’ve never had someone?—”
I shake my head. “I thought I had someone once . . . but I was wrong.”
“Dusty,” he says softly, “it might not be love yet, but you mean a lot to me. More than any woman ever has before.”
“Just promise me that you won’t disappear if you decide you can’t love me. Just tell me the truth.”
“I would never do that to you. I promise.”
He kisses me, pushing himself up over me, and his touch starts to chase away at all the fear. My body burns for him and as he kisses down my throat, I can’t stop myself from tearing at his jacket. Long, dark hair hangs around my face like a curtain, the smell of him racing my hormones into overdrive.
He shrugs out of his jacket and I scramble to lift his shirt, but his hands wrap around my wrists.
“We don’t have to rush,” he says.
“Maybe I want to rush,” I whine.
He chuckles, and my core throbs as his teeth pull on my earlobe. “I’ve waited two years to touch you the way I want,” he whispers. “I’ll be damned if I blow this.”
Slow hands skim up my sides, his touch feather-light and scorching. My brain is fuzzy, drunk on the anticipation. Every inch of my skin is extra sensitive, and my nipples harden to the point of pain.
He pushes my shirt up to just below my breasts and kisses from my sternum to my waist. “Joel—” I pant as his hair tickles my exposed skin.
“How do you like to be touched?” he asks before his tongue circles my belly button.
My pussy throbs, and I’m suddenly speechless. I’m not sure how to answer. “All I know is I want more of this.”
“Do you have condoms?”
My eyes fly open. Shit. “You don’t?”
There’s a small drop in his face, then he shakes his head. “I didn’t think . . .”
I close my eyes and sigh, my head falling back on the bed, defeated. Figures. This would be just my luck. Here’s my chance, and now it can’t happen because of something I should’ve prepared for. But I’m not a stupid girl anymore, I’m not willing to chance unprotected sex, even if I am crazy about him.
He kisses along my jaw again and it feels so good it’s almost cruel. “Joel, we can’t.”
“You’re right,” he says, his lips everywhere. “We can’t have sex . . . but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you come.”
And then he’s descending upon my mouth with ravenous hunger. His tongue explores mine as I pull his shirt higher and higher until he breaks away, ripping it off and sending it to the floor with his jacket. He leans toward me, but I push him back. I want to stare at his body. Need to. His torso is covered in tattoos. Every kind of devilish ghoul and monstrous demon inked into his beautiful tanned skin. How paradoxical, that this sweet and gentle man is covered in such nightmares. But then I guess we all are—mine are just invisible.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say as my fingers trail down the image of a cobra on his ribs.
A wide grin spreads across his face, and the next thing I know he’s rolling us over so I’m on top of him, my legs straddling his waist and my hair falling haphazardly around us.
“Your turn,” he says with the rise of an eyebrow. He pulls my shirt up and up, and I bite my lip as the fabric is tossed somewhere across my small apartment. My breasts are heavy and sensitive as his thumbs brush along the underside of my lacy bra cups.
“They’re even better than I remember,” he admits, his eyes wide and glued to my chest.
I reach around and unhook my bra with a snap, letting the straps fall as my breasts are slowly revealed. He groans, his eyes squinting shut before he wraps his arms around me and smothers his face in my chest.
A memory of the first time we met comes back to me. How he buried his face then, how it seemed to bring him some kind of peace. I gently trace his shoulder blades, feeling it now like I did then—the tension easing off of him.
“Feel better?” I ask.
He nods against me. “Much. Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He looks up and grasps my face, pulling me into another earth-shattering kiss. As my hips settle, I can feel him. Unmistakable hardness that has my stomach clenching and my pulse throbbing between my legs.
I might not be able to have it all today . . . but maybe I could have a taste.
He releases my face to take a breath, and I push him back against the bed, taking my time to kiss along his jaw. He reaches for me, but I push his hands down into the sheets, the rumble of his groan vibrating through me as I suck on his neck.
Slowly, slowly, slowly I begin to kiss a path down, along his collarbone, his chest, taking my time to revel in the hard muscles. His body tenses as my tongue wets the skin of his abs.
“Shit,” he whispers.
“Is this okay?” I ask, my fingers finding the button of his jeans.
He props himself up on his elbows as I kneel between his legs.
“I think you tricked me,” he says with a grin. “Pretty sure I intended to get in your pants first.”
I laugh and pop the button on his jeans. “You can take care of me after I suck your cock.”
Suddenly, he’s sitting up, grabbing me by the arms and flipping me over onto my back again. “Not acceptable. It’s you first or us together.”
My eyes widen, and a flash of mischief streaks through his eyes when I catch his meaning. Heat floods my cheeks and he smirks devilishly before snagging my bottom lip with his teeth.
A sharp gasp escapes my lips and I’m so keyed up it won’t take much to get me off right now. His fingers hook into my shorts, making quick work of pulling them down along with my underwear. I wait in breathless anticipation as he sits on his heels to finish undoing his pants, his gaze heavy.
“You look so good underneath me,” he says.
“Damn, Joel, maybe you should get a job with me,” I tease.
He laughs and kicks off his pants, pushing his boxers down to release his perfect cock, standing hard and dripping before me. We’re still for a moment before he slowly strokes himself up and down. I swallow hard, then crawl up to my hands and knees to look up at him.
“I want to taste you in the back of my throat.”
With a visible shudder, his eyes darken and a hunger I’ve yet to see takes over.
“You can choke on my cock, Dusty, but not unless you’re riding my face.”
In a flash he’s turning and lying down, his head next to my knees before he lifts one of my legs over him, my pussy hovering an inch from his mouth. Without any warning, he grasps my thighs and pulls me down.
“Oh god,” I cry as his tongue finds my clit, impressed by not only this man’s desire to go down on me, but for doing it so enthusiastically. His tongue swirls and swirls, and I’m sure I’m so wet right now that I’m dripping on his face. The sounds he makes with his mouth are sinful, and I suddenly worry he might not be able to breathe. I move to lift myself up, but he only grabs me tighter.
“Just worried you might suffocate,” I say through moans of delicious pleasure.
A smack comes down on my ass. Not hard enough to hurt but sharp enough to make my whole body clench.
“If that’s how I go,” he murmurs, each word spoken into my most sensitive spot, “then I’ve truly lived up to my rockstar potential. Now sit on my fucking face, gorgeous.”
He pulls me again, and I can’t fight it. I need his tongue on me. I need to feel him in my mouth. Bending forward, I grasp his dripping cock and tease the tip with my tongue. His leg twitches as I swirl around the head, my brain trying to focus as pleasure rips through me. I continue, and his tongue halts, a deep moan radiating through him as I swallow him down to the base.
“Fuck.” He pauses, gives the flesh at my thigh a punishing squeeze. “Your mouth is so goddamn hot. I knew it would be. Knew it would be the best I’ve ever had.”
With a hiss, he smacks my ass again, this time a little harder, and it stings so good as his tongue finds my clit again, mixing the pleasure and pain together.
I hum around his cock, bobbing up and down as his hips start to gently rock us back and forth. Fuck, this is so hot. My pussy throbs and clenches desperately, and I almost miss the intimate pressure against my back entrance.
I lift myself up, his cock making a loud pop as I try to identify the strange feeling.
“Tell me to stop if you need to,” he says, and it finally clicks together. He’s pressing his thumb against my asshole.
“I—ahh . . . umm,” I mumble, but the pressure of his finger and the skill of his tongue together has my thighs shaking on either side of his head. “No,” I breathe. “Don’t—don’t stop.”
He pulls me back tight to his face and I can’t concentrate anymore. I absently stroke his cock as his tongue flicks and swirls, his thumb pressing gently inside of me. My hips rock and I realize I’m riding his face like a mechanical bull. My legs go numb all the way to my toes, and an animalistic moan erupts from my throat as I come.
I’m still trying to catch my breath as Joel’s hips rock into my hand with a sudden frenzy, and a moment later, he groans, cum spilling over my hand and his stomach. My body is limp as I roll off of him, and I stare up at the ceiling as I try to catch my breath. His hand reaches for mine over the sheets and I smile from the contact.
“You okay?” he rasps, thumb gently rubbing over my knuckles.
I close my eyes and nod. “Yes, I—yeah . . .”
He chuckles deeply, then the bed shifts as he stands. “Be right back,” he says.
I place my hand over my racing heart and can’t help but giggle. Holy shit, that was insane. I haven’t come like that . . . maybe ever. After a few minutes, Joel reappears and sits down on the edge of my bed, gently wiping up my thighs with a warm washcloth. He’s pulled his hair up in a knot on top of his head. When he’s done, he discards the cloth and lies down naked in the bed next to me.
“I didn’t push you too far, did I?” he asks, pulling my head to rest on his arm while he plays with my hair.
I shake my head. “No, that was incredible. If the foreplay is that good, then the sex might kill me.”
His laugh is breathless. “I don’t know if you’re ready for the full extent of what I can do to you.”
I turn onto my stomach and smirk. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“Not really, it’s just that some find my preferences a little outside of their wheelhouse.”
“Oh?” My heart starts to race. “You’re not about to tell me you’re into feet or pee, are you?”
He chuckles. “Oh no, although you do have gorgeous feet and if you asked me to, I’d happily suck on them.”
I shiver as his hand trails down over my hip, then over my ass to grip under my thigh as he pulls it over himself.
“I just prefer having anal sex.”
I blink, my lips parting, and my stomach clenches as I remember him pressing his thumb inside me. “Oh.”
He continues to gently rub circles on my butt cheek. “Don’t get me wrong, I like having sex the normal way too. I don’t know, there’s just something about it. Making you come earlier with my finger in your ass—it’s just so fucking hot. I came with you barely even touching me.”
“I’ve never experimented back there before,” I admit, “but considering I came all over your face, you may have convinced me to consider it.”
He laughs. “I know mostly people are afraid of it because they think it’ll hurt, but I promise that if you’re willing to try, I’ll go slow and make it feel incredible.”
My eyes search his face, something in me knowing that he’s being totally serious. I trust that he’d make it worth my time.
“But if you don’t want to. I’m okay with that too.”
I take a deep breath and offer my coyest smile. “I’ll think about it.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Really? You will?”
“Yeah. But you best believe I’ll expect the biggest morning-after breakfast as a thank-you.”
His laugh echoes through my apartment and fills me with joy. “You got it.” He squeezes me to him and kisses my forehead, pulling the sheets up overtop of us. And there, wrapped in his arms, I feel like someone who’s unafraid to be myself.