Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
STONE
“I can’t believe I’m just now finding out that your name is actually Tyler Stone,” Hazel says as we walk into our suite. “You’ve been keeping secrets.” She tosses her purse and shopping bag down while toeing off her high heels. “God that feels so good,” she moans.
“Not as good as I do.” I prowl toward her, excited to finally have her all to myself again.
She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think there’s much that could even compare.”
My arms wrap around her, and I guide us toward the bathroom where a surprise waits for her.
She mentioned missing her regular bubble baths while on tour, so I called down to the front desk and requested a selection of bath salt and bubble options from the spa downstairs.
They outdid themselves, leaving not only a basket of salts and bubbles but also creams and lotions to use afterward.
“Oh wow.” She looks through the options. “Did you do this?” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“I did.”
She sets the bottles down and turns toward me. “Thank you. This is really thoughtful.”
“It’s not entirely altruistic.” I let my hands skim over her hips.
“Oh yeah?”
I nod. “I couldn’t help but notice that the tub is big enough for two. I was hoping to join you.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Good.” I press a kiss to her lips. “Pick your bubbles or salts, and I’ll be right back.”
I walk out into the kitchenette and open the refrigerator to find the tray of dark-chocolate-covered strawberries I also ordered. There’s a bottle of champagne and a note sitting beside them.
The sight of alcohol in my room throws me for a loop. For a long, lingering moment I look at the bottle. The temptation is there. I can practically imagine the burst of bubbles on my tongue as I stare at the bottle. My blood hums with temptation.
The only thing that brings me out of the moment is the sound of water filling the tub in the bathroom.
I grab the bottle quickly and set it outside the door.
I shoot a text to Xan to come get it, afraid that if I tell Darren or Jade, they’ll be knocking down the door and interrupting the evening I have planned.
I flip the deadbolt and grab the tray of strawberries.
Hazel is already in the tub when I walk in. Bubbles come up to her shoulders, hiding most of her body from my sight. Her eyes light up when I set the strawberries down on the ledge beside her.
“All my favorite things, what did I do to get so lucky?”
“Be my favorite thing,” I tell her while I whip my shirt over my head. I love how her eyes always trace my body when I strip down for her. The hunger in her gaze makes me feel ten feet tall. “Scoot forward.”
After kicking my pants off, I lower a foot into the water, hissing at the temperature which makes her giggle.
“Sorry. I wouldn’t have made it so hot if I had known you were sensitive to high heat.”
“It’s fine. I’ll boil my dick off for you.”
“That would be a tragedy.” She settles back against me, her head finding a comfortable resting place on my shoulder. “We shouldn’t be talking, though, should we?”
“Having a quiet conversation in a steamy bathroom is probably okay.” And I don’t really give a fuck, to be honest.
“I don’t know, I’d hate to upset the Blue Sunday Acolytes. From what I’ve seen online, I’m pretty unpopular as it is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Since we’ve been photographed together several times now, the comment sections on posts are getting speculative.”
I knew it would happen, I just hoped it would take a little longer for the rumors to begin.
“Does that bother you?” My hands wrap around her belly. I love how she never flinches when I grab her stomach. I wasn’t bullshitting her when I said she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever been with. I’d steal all her clothes if I could, just watch her live life nude.
“No, not really. To be honest there’s nothing anyone could say about me that I haven’t thought worse of myself.” She raises her toes out of the water and rests her foot on the lip of the tub. “Who knew crippling self-loathing would turn out to be a super power?”
A fracture opens in my heart at the sarcastic words she speaks so easily. I wish I could infuse her with the truth of who she is and how I see her. Instead I hold her closer and whisper in her ear.
“You’re immensely talented, painfully beautiful, and so smart it makes me feel like a plebeian. Let me know any time you need a reminder.”
“A plebeian wouldn’t use that term to describe themselves. But as a logophile myself, I thoroughly enjoyed the use of it.”
“I find myself falling more into the melomaniac camp but can definitely appreciate a logophile.” I run my hands up her body with the intention to cup her tits and play with those pretty rose-colored nipples but stop when I feel the scars hidden beneath them. “Can I ask you what these are from?”
She stiffens, and I know she’s about to deflect with humor. “Would you believe they’re scars from a boob job?”
I know what fake tits feel like. “No.”
She sighs heavily, covering my hands with her own.
“After I attempted suicide the first time, I started cutting myself. I spent a really long time holding all the pain and confusion of my father’s actions inside myself.
It was like I was terrified to be open about it or something.
Like if I shared my emotions, it would make them more real and I’d have to confront them. ”
I remain silent while she opens up more to me than she has so far.
“I got really good at behaving like a duck in water. Calm on top but underneath my thoughts were racing while I struggled to keep afloat. I saw how devastated my mom and grandparents were about my attempt, so when the feelings got to be too much, I’d cut myself to release them.
“Standing in front of the mirror and watching the blade against my skin provided such great relief. I used to watch the blood run down my stomach and remember that I was alive. That probably doesn’t make sense.
It just always felt so good. I’ve never done drugs, but I can imagine the high of the release from cutting feels similar to the first hit you take. ”
“I get it.” As much as I can get it anyway. I’ve never hurt myself purposefully, but there’s nothing like the first hit of whatever your drug of choice is. “Do you still do it?”
“Not recently. It’s been nearly a year, but the urge never goes away. Occasionally something will happen or my depression will hit a real low, and I’ll remember how it feels like I’m back in control when I cut. I usually reach out to my therapist instead of giving in.”
“Do you have any scars in other places?” I haven’t noticed any, but anytime she’s naked, I’m hyper focused on getting her off.
“No. I would just cut in these two places because they’re hidden. I never wanted anyone to know.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“No. Just my therapist and now you.”
“Not Greg?” I hate bringing him while we’re naked together, but curiosity has the best of me.
She chuckles bitterly. “No. He never actually questioned my refusal to get naked. Which, to be fair, I always thought was interesting. Not a single question or any push back on it.”
“Can we make a deal?” I ask, kissing her shoulder.
“Sure,” she answers slowly.
“Let’s promise to always be open with each other. If we’re struggling or there’s something heavy going on, we tell each other.”
“Okay.” She tilts her head, offering her rosebud lips. “Deal.”
“I have a confession.” I release her as she sits up and turns to face me.
“There was a bottle of champagne in the fridge with the strawberries, and for the first time in a long time, I felt the slightest bit of temptation. Which is crazy because I’m not even a wine or champagne guy, I’m more whiskey and vodka.
But seeing it there, just triggered something, you know? ”
“Do I need to go set it out in the hall or something?” She starts to get up, ready to rid the room of any temptation on my behalf.
“No. I texted Xan to come get it before I came back in here. It should be gone.”
“Okay.” She glances in the direction of the suite’s kitchenette before looking back at me. “Thank you for trusting me with that confession.”
I pull her onto my lap. My cock comes alive at the feel of her hot center against it. She rocks her hips, a mischievous glint shining in her eyes.
“Feel something you’d like?” I ask with a smirk.
She reaches down, fisting my cock and notching it at her entrance. “I really do.”
“Ride me, baby.”
She begins to sink down on me, her eyes closed and lips parted. That won’t do. I don’t want her looking anywhere but at me. So that my eyes can say all the things I don’t think she’s ready to hear.
“Eyes on me, little Archer.”
I lock onto her beautiful gray irises just as she bottoms out around me. Her slick, hot cunt hugging my cock is quite literally the best thing I’ve ever felt. I want to scream into the ether that she’s mine, now and forever. Her hips rock as she moves her pelvis in waves over me.
“Stone,” she moans as my hand works its way down her body from her nipples over her stomach and finally to her clit. I palm her soft stomach while my thumb circles the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
As hard as it is to hold back, I let her set the pace.
Water sloshes around us as she increases her speed.
Heat gathers in my spine as I hold back my own release.
The sight of her tits, partially covered in bubbles, bouncing as she rides me is sexy as fuck.
Everything about her is so real. So fucking perfect.
“Fuck,” she whispers as she braces her forehead against mine. “Stone.” Her gray eyes are stormy as her pussy clenches around my length.
My balls tighten as I feel her orgasm crest and break around me.
Her wet cunt squeezes my cock rhythmically.
I move both my hands to her ass, filling my palms with handfuls of her as I begin to thrust upwards into her.
Water splashes over the side of the tub as she cries out my name.
Her back arches, pushing her tits to the perfect level, so I can cover her nipple with my mouth.
Her nails dig into my shoulders when I bite down, just hard enough to cause a flash of delicious pain.
She rocks against me while I continue fucking her, a second orgasm working its way through her body.
“Kiss me,” she begs.
I’m a goner as soon as our lips meet. I swear to fuck, all I’ll ever need for the rest of my life is this woman. Fucking her. Kissing her. Holding her. Laughing with her. Talking to her. I explode inside her, cum filling her pussy like I wish I could fill her soul. She’s mine.
Mine.
Hazel passed out as soon as we dried off and laid down, but my mind won’t stop spinning with lyrics and ideas.
As much as I hate to pull myself away from her side, I get out of bed and pull on a pair of shorts.
Closing the bedroom door quietly, I grab my guitar and sit down on the couch with my notebook.
Pages and pages are filled by the time the sun starts to peak over the horizon.
I didn’t even realize I worked through the night until a beam of light hits me directly in the eyes.
I close my notebook and put away my guitar, tucking the book of lyrics and music I wrote safely inside.
I’m not ready to share them with anyone yet.
It turns out all I needed to get back into writing music was a muse. A woman who sees herself through a mirror tinted by lies from the god awful men in her life. I want to be the man that clears that fog, the one who helps her see her true reflection. The way that she actually is. Who she is.
Walking back into the dark bedroom, I crawl into bed beside Hazel.
I pull her against me, wrapping my body around hers.
Her body heat seeps into my skin, warming me in the most comforting way.
This is what I want for the rest of my life.
Her brilliant mind and soft body to welcome me home every night.