13. Jez
CHAPTER 13
Jez
He has an absolutely beautiful voice. Intensely sexy. Deeper than expected. Melodic. Soothing. And the thing he’s doing to my nipples right now made me cum in exactly five seconds.
Granted, I’m in heat, but I’ve never had anyone attend to my breasts like it was a secret mission.
After the coursing river of pleasures winds through my core and hips in shudders, he raises up slightly, his face inches from mine. Gently, his fingers find the back of my head and holds it like delicate pottery. I think he’s about to kiss me, which I certainly don’t mind but didn’t expect. And then Thomas Ashcroft, bassist of the band that made me want to perform before becoming my mortal enemies, lowers his nose to my neck and inhales me like he wants to take a part of me with him.
I arch my back and tilt my head away, and he plants kisses between my neck and shoulder. Jesus, he could mark me right now and I feel like my senses are so detached from reality I would let him. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t.
He smells amazing, like midnight beaches, coconut and night-blooming flowers. My panic is miles away now, but my heat is the one calling the shots, which makes it almost as bad. Maybe worse. Because what’s worst about my panic is the lack of control.
Control is what I wield, as much as I can, in every moment of my day. Yes, Viv, helped me with the box-ticking exercises of my daily life. But control is what I felt I had over my career, however small my stages were, however small my reach was. I had control. Giving it up for this tour was one thing; it could take me further than I could ever get alone, but it was hard. Giving it up to be at a Fable member’s mercy is another thing completely.
And yet, he smells like heaven. The shiver of need returns and he looks up for—I guess—confirmation.
“Yes, please, yes, Thomas,” I whisper. He nods, and even smiles, those chocolate brown eyes behind those wire-rim frames feel somehow older and wiser than the rest of the group. Maybe because it feels like he seems to read me where maybe the others have dismissed me.
Or that’s just the heat talking.
He pulls my jeans off then my panties, which are soaked, and sets them gently aside as though they’re precious artifacts instead of sopping-wet clothes that are now ruined until I can get a private laundry facility. I’m not handing any of that over to a crew member to clean.
Not taking his eyes off me, Thomas spreads my legs again, and lowers his nose gently to my entrance. Eyes holding mine, he raises two fingers like a magician demonstrating he has no tricks up his sleeve. But I bet he does.
I smirk, the panic washed completely away and the heat fully taking over. I’m rocking my ass back and forth in anticipation, my fingers scrabbling at the floor but there’s nothing to grab. And then as he leans in, sliding those two fingers—now three , there’s the trick—inside my drenched entrance, I reach for his hair and grab hold.
A moan works its way up from the center of my being and out past my lips. He’s thrusting the fingers, gently but firmly, in and out for me, curling forward. And then my hips wrench off the floor and I gasp.
“Jesus, Thomas!”
Whatever he did really was magic. It felt like nothing else, and as the second orgasm thunders through me, my legs wrap automatically around him, pulling him to me.
“Strong legs,” he murmurs. He lowers me again and presses his weight into my chest, lips back to the skin between shoulder and neck, then sliding back down to my breasts.
“I can do more if you require it, rock star,” he says.
I lift his head back up to face me with one hand beneath his chin. He has full lips and a light hint of stubble on his jaw. It’s unbelievably sexy, this whole professor-meets-art student look he’s got going on.
“I want more. I want you,” I say. My hand reaches down to fumble for his cock through his jeans. “How much time do we have?”
A crooked smile lights up his face in the most devilish expression that sends my mind reeling. I cannot believe we’re doing this, and yet it feels like it was meant to be. How can this be?
A voice in the back of my mind tries warning me: There will be consequences .
“I could come to your room when we get out of here,” he whispers.
“What will they say?” I blink up at him. I know what I want his response to be.
“This was helping you with your heat. You were in a tight spot.”
“I have a tight spot I want you in,” I say without hesitation, and that’s all it takes to feel his cock driving against his trousers and into my hand.
“It’s quite a lovely spot,” Thomas murmurs. God, his voice is delicious. I can’t believe I’d never heard it before this tour. Just grunts, nods, mmmphs.
“Well?” I say.
“It’s your heat, Jesamine.”
And that’s the first time he’s said my name to me. A sweet shiver slithers its way through my defenses.
“I will do whatever it takes to help you. I’m an Alpha, after all,” he says, as though he’d like to give a flourish and bow as well.
I grin up at him.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it—desperately—too,” he finishes.
I can’t believe I allowed one of the Fable guys to get me off. And yet, with his bulge pressing into my hand through his clothes, all I want now is to feel it in me, and to make him feel good, too.
“Come to my room. No one needs to know.” I swallow tightly and realize how much I hope he says yes.
“I don’t care about them. But how will you feel? Afterwards?”
“Full, hopefully,” I say with a smirk.
* * *
In the end it was probably more like thirty minutes that the fire department took to arrive and get us dislodged and up to the 12th floor. We were running like kids afraid to get caught to my room when the alarm on Thomas’s watch went off.
“Shit,” was all he said, and once inside with the door shut and deadbolt on, he leaned against the closet door and sent off a text.
“Everything okay?” My luggage has been delivered so I pull the bathroom door half shut as I remove my drenched clothes that were a real bitch to pull back on, and give myself a quick clean off, then pull the terry robe from the back of the bathroom door around me and return to the living area of my suite.
“All good. Told the guys I’ve got a headache and am taking a nap while they go for brunch.”
I raise a brow. “Is that normal, you having headaches? Or will they not buy it?”
“I get headaches now and then. But only when I’ve stared at the screen too much.”
I nod like this is sage shared life experience, and then silence falls. We look at each other. If he’s anything like me, he can’t believe what just transpired, and worries that moment is gone for good.
I’m covered in sweat and semi-dried slick. His hair is mussed and his glasses slightly squint. God, he looks so sexy I could eat him up. But a cold sweat begins to hint at breaking out across my skin.
“The heat residual, and the panic attack,” I say, in response to his questioning look as I start to shiver. He walks me over to the bed and I climb in, robe still on. He pulls the covers up over me, but he’s still stood there, completely dressed.
“Are you coming in?”
A smile makes his face look so much younger. “That’s a loaded question.”
“I hope you have a loaded response.”
“God, with that kind of mouth you sing angelic songs into the mic?”
I pause then scoot up against the headboard. I thought we were just relieving my heat, and his giant erection. But he’s now mentioned my music, and it feels … real.
“Hey,” he says softly, lowering his voice with an almost shy-sounding quiver. “I have a question for you. Have you ever received any kind of counseling or talk therapy for your condition?”
I blink up at him. This seems out of nowhere, but then, us being in this position did come as a result of me panicking in a broken lift.
“I had a therapist for a while, until my Guild insurance refused to pay for it anymore. Said it wasn’t necessary for my training or employment.”
Thomas grunts. “Figures. Listen, I don’t want to come off as that guy , but I’ve had some luck with something called cognitive behavioral therapy. CBT. It’s talk therapy, but you do worksheets and shit, and it helps you reframe your experience. Even little reframing exercises helped me, here and there. Over time, the payoff has been huge. Have you heard of it?”
I nod. I have, but I wrote it off as something way more intense and for people struggling far more seriously than me. Huh. “I don’t know how I could afford it, or if I could find someone?—”
“Talk to Ash. If it would help with this tour, he’d be willing, I think. And you can do video appointments. That’s how I did mine. On the road.”
I nod again, and a warmth nestles in my chest. His sharing this is an admittance that he’s had struggles he doesn’t like to talk about, too. Somehow this means even more than the advice.
“I will talk to Ash. Thanks for mentioning this, Thomas.”
He smiles back. Then he looks down at my body and back at my lips. “So. Are we doing this?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He pulls his jumper and t-shirt over his head, steps out of his jeans, and stands before me in black silk boxers.
Who knew.
“Wait, just wait, one thing first!” I hop out of the bed and flop open my giant suitcase. From it I pull the waffle-weave blanket I always travel with, and my roll-up travel pillow that unfolds violently. I plump these up on the bed alongside the massive pile of no less than six giant pillows. Then I dart around the suite, taking throw pillows from the sofas and chairs.
Then I reach into my huge carryon, pull out my games console which is always wrapped like a golden egg. I set this gently on the table near the wall-mounted TV, then from my bag I pull my anxiety medication. I pop one of these, take a sip from my water bottle, then wriggle back into the bed.
I watch Thomas’s eyes flit from the games console, with a brow raised, back over to me.
I want to tell him so many things. Like, it’s my first time since Tristan, who wasn’t great, and wasn’t attentive.
Like I was crazy in heat the first time. I wanted things I never thought I’d want.
Like I don’t know what to expect after this, but my slick is dripping down my inner thighs so I want to find out.
Under the blankets I remove the robe and drop it off the edge of the bed.
“The only warning I can give is that I want you to take control. I want to be out of control. I want you to tell me what to do.” I don’t know why I’m saying this. I don’t want to be out of control, do I? Is this my Omega talking? It comes out without warning, and my brain feels like it’s been hijacked.
But I kind of love it, too.
Thomas looks like he’s won the lottery, but before he responds, I hop out of the covers and pull him to the bed, yanking his boxers down around his legs, which become a jumble.
“Are you still cold, rock star?” he says. I shake my head.
“Then let’s discard the disguise, shall we?” He sits back up on his haunches and the duvet falls away. We’re both naked.
We take in each other’s bodies in the late morning light, flitting through the peach-hued curtains. The bed is soft and huge, and the light is just right.
“Flip over, Jesamine,” says Thomas in a husky voice.
Oh my God. My slick drops down my legs as I turn over slowly, on all fours.
He places his large, warm hand on the small of my back, and slowly I lower to the mattress.
“I want you to spread your legs,” he commands, “and I’m going to press my fingers inside you from behind. I want you to rock back on them, over and over, until I put my fingers inside your ass.”
Oh, Jesus. I wasn’t expecting that. Not from the mildest-mannered one of the bunch. My breasts swing down, my rock-hard nipples rubbing against the sheet as I rock back and forth into his fingers, which slide up into my slit. His thumb finds my clit and draws circles on it. My body slows down and my stomach draws up tight. I’m desperate to enjoy this sensation that’s zinging through me, but then Thomas’s voice comes out unyielding.
“I didn’t say you could stop rocking, Jesamine. Faster.”
“Yes, sir,” I say without thinking.
“God, say that again.”
I turn my head to look over my shoulder as he runs his curled fingers up his cock, squeezing tight then pulling back off.
“Yes, sir, ” I say more loudly.
“Ohh, God.”
He moves his fingers from my swollen folds to my ass, tentatively sliding in and out, reaching around and grabbing a handful of breast now and then. I’m so wet that the fitted sheet’s drenched already.
“Stay focused, my rock star,” he says fondly. “Keep rocking. Gets you nice and wet in all the right places.”
“Don’t think I could be more any more,” I whisper. I want him now and don’t want to wait. “I want you inside me. Thomas, I want?—”
“I’m in charge here, I believe,” he says, more like a university professor every second and it’s going to make me cum again, just from his voice alone. His fingers, though, plunge deeper into my ass, and then, without warning, he gasps.
“I can’t wait. Jesamine. May I?—”
“Yes!”
I’m going to explode, and I’d rather I did it with him inside me. Just like that, he flips me back over and draws my legs up over his shoulders as he kneels upright, cock in hand. His perfect bedroom eyes behind those wire frames look down at me as he licks his luscious lips. “I want to see you attended to. If that means cumming with you, I’m more than happy to oblige, but this is all about you and your needs, rock star. Your desires. That’s what I want to give you.”
He pauses, hand sliding up and down his cock, which glistens with pre-cum. “For the record, I’m not good at the giving orders thing. But it’s a fucking hot turn-on, so it’s a little difficult to, ah, hold back.”
I smile up at him, the shivers of panic a thing lost in memory as my heat wants nothing but his hard shaft plunging inside me.
“You’re doing amazing if you ask me.”
“Thank you. May I?”
“Get inside.” My voice quivers slightly.
His muscular arms, surprisingly free of tattoos, reach down and pull my ass toward him as he presses his cock against my lips. My hips rock up to meet him. He pulls away, then presses in, just past my folds, thumb back on my clit. My ass tightens and tenses, waiting for him to dive inside.
“Wait, sweet girl. Until I’m ready. Wait.”
I take a slow inhale, gritting my teeth. He’s so fucking hot, my Omega cries out in revolt but my body wants him to have his way, whatever way suits him best. That’s what will get me off the hardest. With the most relief.
It’s like an instinct. I’ve silenced it so long, on these suppressants since my first heat. With Tristan I never felt open enough, and he only seemed to care about himself. One and done, and while I wasn’t after a pack of Alphas,—just love, really—it felt unfair. But I didn’t know any better. And then Viv told me all about her pack, and the things they got up to. And I felt like, well, maybe . Maybe someday. But not now.
I’ve got too much riding on this tour.
And yet—one of Fable on Fire is riding me.
“Open up, rock star,” he rasps. “I’m ready. Take me all the way.”
I obey, lifting my ass more as he presses deep inside. My core takes all of his huge cock, and his knot presses against my eager but swollen center.
I grit my teeth more. “I want your knot, too. Is that too much?”
“God, no. It’s ready, baby. If you want it, it’s all yours. But take your time,” he coos, now not demanding, but realizing that this might be new for me, after all.
It is.
It’s glistening, and beautiful, and so full. I watch as it slides up toward my sensitive lips, once, twice, three times, four times, and on the fifth time I barely nod and he guides the entire knot inside me.
I throw my head back, arching without control—and this part’s not a game. My arms prop me up until I collapse back onto the bed, my knees bent and legs curled around him as he presses deeper still inside me. He arches his own back then folds forward over me.
His sweat, my sweat. My slick, and his seed spilling inside me. God, I feel like planets were formed and meteors struck them in the moments of our worlds and bodies colliding together.
The tension ebbs out of both our forms, and he melts into me. We’ve become one in a way I never did with Tristan, and it feels like magic.
We lay like this for some time. I feel his knot start to recede before he pulls out, and then covers us with his body curled around mine, protecting it like a barrier from the rest of the room, the hotel, the city, and the world.
Thomas Ashcroft. In my bed. Inside me. His seed, inside me.
God, what a fucking day.
We breathe in time, our breaths quickening then softening, slowly reaching a comfortable rhythm together.
“Thank you for helping me out.” My voice sounds husky to my own ears.
“Anytime,” he says, pressing his cock against me, swollen again, already.
Does this mean we’ll do it again? Or is this just the polite response?
“Will you tell them?” I ask, not turning to face him. His left hand roams over my hip and rests on my belly, which feels insanely intimate. Even despite what we’ve just done. My insides felt hollowed out immediately after he pulled out, but now they seem to fill back in to normal. Like he and his knot were never there. And for some reason, this makes me feel a little stupidly sad.
“I can’t keep you to myself. We’re a pack, Jesamine. But if this was just help, one time, I won’t mention it if that’s what you want. If you need help again, though?—”
He knows I will. I’m in heat. He doesn’t know I don’t have my suppressants and won’t until London. I have a doctor appointment in the Guild network of physicians for lunchtime on the day we arrive in London, but that’s the day after tomorrow.
“If the others are around, do you want their help, too?” he asks.
I don’t want anything to do with them. Panic starts to well in me, and I squirm against him, which he takes as me seeking friction with his cock, as he presses it harder against me and cups my breast.
“But Kai—” I start.
“He’s our pack leader. And our frontman,” says Thomas. “I’d have to tell him.”
“But he HATES me. I thought you all did, but now?—”
“No. I never did. And I’m pretty sure Nico and Holden would say the same. We went along with Kai. He was determined you weren’t on that show. We couldn’t really disagree with him with so many eyes on us. I think he had his own reasons. I just don’t know what they are yet.”
“So will you tell him right away?”
I turn slightly to see his face when he responds. He bites his lip. “How about this: if you need help again, and Kai is there, he will know. If he’s not, he doesn’t need to.”
“Okay. Because there’s no way I’m letting him get a finger on me. Or in me. Either way.”
Without warning, Thomas slides two fingers down to my clit, which responds with lightning-flicks of pleasure. “Mine are always available.”
But I’m worried now. I don’t want Kai to know anything. For one thing, and it’s a big thing, I don’t want my actions or Thomas’s to cause friction with his pack and his band.
Thomas is the quiet one. And this should stay quiet. The other big reason is this: the crowds might love the drama and the romance, but to me it would feel like the world thinks I’ve used them. That I didn’t earn my way here on this tour. That I’m not just their opening act, but their opening act , opening my legs to get myself where I actually worked really fucking hard to be. And I want Fable to know I did. That I’m strong, and brave enough to push through my condition and any limitations.
This morning Viv said, They know you’re brave and strong because you performed that first show flawlessly despite your fears. You held your head high and did it. It was afterwards when you let stuff crash down, and you have that right, behind closed doors, to respond to an external situation any way you feel like. It’s okay. It wasn’t on stage.
But if this gets out, it will be. And everyone will say, Kai was right all along.