Chapter 20
RIO
Iopen the door to the suite quietly, figuring Maddie's sound asleep by now.
But I find her sitting cross-legged on the cream-colored sofa, wearing a fancy red silk robe that makes her look like a silver-screen siren.
Her phone is plugged into one of those fold-up miniature keyboards. And her fingers fly over the keys like she's racing to finish something important.
"You're up late," I say, dropping into the chair across from her.
Snorty jumps down from where he's been curled up against her side to greet me.
"Hey, buddy." I scoop him up from the floor and settle him on my lap. The little guy leans back against my stomach and splays his legs out in front of him, totally at ease.
"You two look like partners in crime," says Maddie, looking up at us with a cheerful laugh. "How was rehearsal?"
"Good. I’ve got to hand it to your brother. He’s the voice of reason in this crew. Left to our own devices, me, Keith, and Prince Michael would go insane."
"Well, you have Antoine. I find he has a good head on his shoulders."
"Yeah. But he's hired help. And now that the label money's run out..." I trail off, not meaning to let that slip.
"Money's run out?! What do you mean?" Maddie's eyes widen as her fingers freeze over the keyboard.
"Steven hasn't filled you in?"
She shakes her head. "He hates talking business. You know the guy. Keeps everything close to his chest. Just tells me and Mom things are going great."
Maddie hesitates, biting her lower lip. "Isn't that true? Things are going well ..."
I shift in my seat. "Sure it's true. But it's a rough transition right now since we left our old label. They used to pick up our expenses."
"Who's doing it now?" she asks, leaning forward.
"We're doing it ourselves," I say with a shrug. "But it's only temporary. Derek Ward, the president of Midnight Records, is coming to see our performance. Once we're signed, it's easy street again."
Snorty, bored with the business conversation, shifts his position.
"Now enough of this late-night scribbling, Miss Maddie," I say, putting Snorty on the floor as I move to her side on the couch. "What are you working on at this hour?"
She smiles. "A report. According to the itinerary, we're meeting with Henry Lemon tomorrow. So I’m preparing a detailed summary of the autism program I expanded at my school."
"You're going to pitch the sponsor?"
"'Pitch' is a strong word. I just want to be prepared when I talk to him. And set the tone for a real conversation down the line."
"Conversation about …"
"Henry Lemon has a son on the spectrum. That’s why proceeds from your concert go to autism research. This isn't just a tax write-off for him. It's personal."
"And what’s this to you?"
Maddie shrugs. "I didn’t want to bore you with what’s going on at the school where I teach. But we could really use his help."
I watch as she folds up her keyboard and turns off her phone. A playful smile crosses her red lips.
"Now. Shall we continue where we left off?" she says, her voice huskier than I’ve heard it.
"Sure. You don’t look much like a schoolmarm at the moment in that silky robe."
"It was one of the surprises Antoine snuck into the 'regular clothes' he purchased for me this weekend. Like it?"
"Very much."
"Antoine insisted on buying me some goodies along with the more conservative outfits," she says, fingering the silk belt of her robe.
"Should I tell you, or show you, what he bought for me to wear underneath?"
"Hmm. Hard choice." My mouth goes dry.
"Why don't you show me?"
When she stands, I peek at her feet. She's wearing red stiletto sandals with straps that crisscross up her ankles. Heels must be five inches tall.
My cock rises as she walks to the center of the room. She performs a little runway twirl, and then lets the robe slide off her shoulders.
Holy shit.
I can't even blink. Maddie's wearing a see-through black bra that barely covers her nipples.
Her erect nibs are a perfect shade of rose gold against her pale skin. The matching panties amount to a triangle of lace with thin straps that disappear between her ass cheeks.
And those stockings—black, sheer, coming up to mid-thigh where they're held by lacy garters. The kind of style I’ve only seen in vintage pin-up magazines.
"Wow," is all I can manage to say while my dick instantly hardens against my jeans. "Antoine really knows his stuff."
"Now," she purrs, walking toward me with little hip swivels that make her ass look even rounder. "May I get you a martini, sir?"
Then she does this move where she bends her knees but keeps her back straight, sticking her hip out. It's a move straight out of a classic pin-up poster.
I can smell her perfume, sweet and spicy. And something muskier mixed in with that perfume that isn’t a manufactured scent at all.
I’m getting a whiff of her arousal.
"Yeah. A martini sounds fine," I croak, my voice suddenly gone. All I can focus on is how close her perfect ass is to my face and how badly I want to grab it.
"You sure you know how to make one, Schoolmarm?"
"I Googled it," she says.
I watch in disbelief as she walks in those sexy stiletto sandals to the wet bar.
"You could have your own bartender show," I say, observing her concentration as she mixes exact measurements of gin and dry vermouth.
"Like on YouTube?" she asks, taking a fancy silver utensil to scrape a strip of lime rind.
"Yeah, as long as you wear that lingerie."
We both laugh.
"And as long as I don't get poisoned by this martini. You know, I'm a martini expert."
"Is that so?" she says, bringing the glass to me.
I examine it carefully before tasting it.
"I learned a martini can never be too dry," she says in a throaty voice. "But can it be too wet?"
"Wet is good," I say, feeling a giant boner coming on.
"What if it doesn't have enough zest?" She comes closer, her boobs practically in my face. Her stiff nipples brush against the stubble on my cheek.
An instant erotic jolt tears through me.
"I hope my five o’clock shadow didn’t scratch you," I say, my voice rough. "My beard can be pretty aggressive."
"It felt good," she says.
Maddie parts her legs and straddles my lap. The warmth of her moist pussy is right on top of my hard, zipper-strained cock.
My hips move magnetically toward her, frustrated by the denim blocking access.
She moves another inch, and I feel like I'm about to explode. I fist her shiny hair, pulling her toward me. Her lips taste like cherry candy mixed with the juniper of the gin.
My teeth bite into her lower lip, sucking the sweetness. I cup her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks through the lace.
Maddie's hand brushes against my abs as she reaches to unbutton my jeans. She slowly pulls down the zipper, and I spring free.
She strokes me for a moment, then puts those cherry lips on the head of my cock and flicks it with the tip of her tongue.
"Oh, man," I groan, pulling her up into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her into the bedroom.
Midway, I’m not even sure I can make it to the bed, not with her wet pussy pressing against me like that.
I lay her down on the white duvet to admire her. Her panties adhere to her skin, soaked with her juices.
The straps of her bra rest below her shoulders, barely covering her boobs.
Rarely have I been so turned on. It takes every ounce of self-control to give her pleasure first.
Tickling her erect nipples with the tip of my tongue. Circling her clit with my finger, barely touching her flesh.
"Now, Rio," she pants.
I’m quick to peel off my jeans and rip off my shirt.
Then I fall against her, my dick pressing at her entrance, separated only by a scrap of thin silk.
Maddie arches up, offering herself like she’s been waiting years for this moment.
"Jesus, Maddie," I rasp, kissing her neck, sliding a hand down her stomach until my thumb grazes the edge of her panties.
"Now," she pants. "I want you now."
Her voice breaks. Her hips press up again, desperate and unsure at the same time.
I fumble for the condom in the nightstand, rip the wrapper with my teeth. Then I roll it on.
I push her thighs apart with my knee and position myself against her. She trembles, then stiffens.
"Rio…" She swallows, breath shaking. "I’ve never done this before."
Everything inside me stops.
My breath. My pulse. The hunger tearing through my body.
Done this before? Can she mean she's a virgin?
Christ. The lagoon. The way she hid behind the towel. I mocked her for acting like a bashful virgin. I’m such an asshole.
I roll onto my side and look into her eyes. She’s crying.
I embrace her, trying to keep my throbbing, angry dick out of the way.
It’s not easy.
"Don’t be angry."
"Why would I be angry?" I lift her face to me with my fingers.
"You might think I led you on… teased you, but couldn’t go through with it."
"Well, to be honest, I’m not angry. But I am surprised. Why put on that show if you didn’t want to have sex?"
"I wanted to," she says, turning toward me so she can see my face.
"But I guess I chickened out. Last night was so magical. This hotel is so magical. And having you as my fiancé is so magical, even if it’s for a weekend.:
Maddy pauses.
“I guess I thought that if we didn’t have sex this weekend, we never would."
"Why would you think that?"
"You’re a famous rockstar," she says after a moment. "Your life is an endless tour. Groupies at the ready."
I reach for her fingers and wrap my hand around hers.
"Our relationship doesn’t have to end this weekend. We can see each other for real."
She blinks, tears still on her lashes.
"Come here," I say.
She crawls into my arms, small and warm and trembling. I pull the blanket over her, then hold her against my chest while her heartbeat slowly steadies.
Her head rests over my chest. My hand strokes her back once, twice, until her breathing evens out.
When she falls asleep, I kiss the top of her hair.
"Goodnight, schoolmarm."
And for the first time in years, I don’t feel alone.