Chapter 13 #2
I open one eye and look down at her. “Jen, you have trouble taking one of me. How well do you think two would fit?”
She grins wickedly. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” She stops talking and slides my cock in her warm, eager mouth. She knows me so well she has me teetering on the edge in record time.
“Tell you what,” I rasp. “Buy one of those kits, I’ll make a mold of my dick and then I’ll fuck your pussy with it while I’m in your ass, and we’ll see how well my greedy girl can take two of me.”
She hums her approval and the vibrations have me throwing a hand to the wall to steady myself.
In another second, the thumb of her free hand is not shy at all as it rims my asshole.
No one’s touched me there in a long time, including Jen, and the movement has me bucking my hips forward, shoving my throbbing cock farther down her throat.
Jen gives head like it’s her job so instead of gagging, she relaxes her throat, preparing for my next thrust as her thumb applies more pressure.
“Fuck, that feels good.” My hands grip the sides of her head as I fuck her face.
She picks up the pace of her mouth while simultaneously slipping the tip of her thumb inside me.
“Jen, I can’t…oh…shit…I’m coming,” I manage to utter the warning a split second before everything below my waist clenches in a death grip.
When I come down from my orgasm, Jen finishes washing herself while I wash my hair, we towel off and fall into bed. She immediately straddles my hips, but I flip her under me.
“I don’t think so, you’ve worked enough. It’s my turn.”
“You won’t hear me complain.” She smiles and runs shaking hands across my shoulders and down my arms.
“Jen, you’re trembling. What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…I think…” she stumbles over her words.
“Hey, it’s just me.” Sometimes I worry that this is overwhelming. I am overwhelming. My fame is overwhelming.
“I know.” She doesn’t elaborate and I don’t push her. It’s been a stressful few weeks. Instead, I make love to her pussy with my mouth before climbing up her body and sinking my reinvigorated cock inside her.
After we both come again, we fall asleep wrapped around each other and I might be imagining it, but it feels like Jen’s holding me a little tighter than usual.
It either means she’s reveling in the proximity before telling me goodbye because this is all too much and I’m moving too fast, or she’s settling in to being mine.
Either way, it’s becoming increasingly clear that if I want to keep her, I’m going to have to start sharing my past… and not in the way she hopes.
I lie awake for an hour after her breathing evens out imagining her dinner with Luke, her lips against his, his hands on her.
I finally fall asleep to visions of Jen wreaking pleasurable havoc on Luke’s body. The last image in my mind before my world fades to black is his open mouth as he comes.
Unfortunately, it’s not the first time in the last four weeks I’ve fallen asleep to such images in my head.
Pandora’s box has officially been opened and that terrifies me.
“Jen, you about ready?” I call up the stairs a few days later. IceMaker is a thirty-five minute drive and we’re already late.
“Yep!” Jen says as she hits the top of the stairs in a slinky, blue and gold, sequined cocktail dress that hits her mid-thigh. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.
“Wow. Any chance you want to skip the club altogether and just grind on me in the living room?”
She winks. “We both know your moves are so good that we need to be in a public space so we actually get to dance. Otherwise, one chorus in and I’m taking my clothes off.”
“I’m failing to see the problem,” I deadpan.
She laughs, grabs her small purse and pulls me toward the front door where Tim and Juan are waiting in the suburban.
It’s much easier to let security chauffeur us on nights like this.
Tim will notify management that we’ve arrived, come back out for us, and usher us in through the backdoor to a VIP area behind velvet ropes, while Juan parks the car before joining us.
Jen is always down to go out with Em and Ryan because then she and I get to be out but we don’t draw as much attention when we’re part of a group.
“Em!” Jen reaches for her best friend as she climbs in the passenger side door and moves to the very back row while Ryan climbs back in after her to join me in the middle row — no way is his frame getting in the very back.
“Hey, Ry.” I fist bump my bandmate. Ever since I started sleeping with Jen, Ryan and I have gotten much closer.
Of course, that could be due to Brett and Bri being so involved with Riddik, and Noah and Sienna only having eyes for each other and the music, but me dating Ryan’s fiancée’s best friend is probably the biggest reason.
As we enter the club, Jen and Emma have their arms linked, but Em still reaches for Ryan. My heart skips a beat, as Jen reaches back to claim me too.
“I like the way this feels,” I lean down and tell her in the dark. She squeezes my hand and I choose to believe that means she agrees.
Feeling the icy blast from the air-conditioned club, I sigh in relief.
Beautiful Deceit’s mandatory after-concert club appearances are pretty much non-existent now that we don’t really need the exposure.
In fact, we’re fortunate to be at a point in our careers where less exposure actually drives our fans crazy, so we’ve been asked by our label to not post on social media and to keep a low profile.
Suits us just fine.
I survey the new club and am eager to hit the floor. I’ve always loved to dance. I love the culture behind the moves. I love the conversation that happens between two bodies without words. I love the way it feels when someone is moving against me to a beat.
As we move behind the ropes, we catch a few curious glances but I have a baseball hat on to hide my face in shadow.
My curls poke out the sides and back, but they’ll be disguised in a sweaty mess in about twenty minutes anyway.
Ryan, however, isn’t so lucky. His size draws attention no matter what, but he’s good at handling that thanks to growing up in the spotlight.
Most of the overly curious fans are pacified with a polite — but distant — nod before they can ruin our evening.
As soon as we’re settled into our table, I order a bottle of tequila from the waitress. Tim and Juan have already given her the low-down about not asking for pictures or autographs but the girl continues to linger and touch unnecessarily.
When she returns with our bottle, she hovers until finally I hear Jen let out an exasperated sigh.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Take a hint. He’s here with someone. Me. And I’m the only one going home with him tonight.”
To prove her point, Jen straddles my lap and kisses me like she’s taking possession of my soul. When we break apart, the waitress is gone.
“I’ve never known you to be the jealous type,” I tease, running my finger across her thigh. Not only is it true, it’s a good look on her. “I wouldn’t mind if that side came out to play more often.”
“Well, she…I mean…how obvious can you be?” Jen stammers, clearly flustered about her display of the emotion she claims to never experience. Not wanting to add further insult to injury, I bite back my smirk and offer her, Ryan, and Em a shot.
Once we’re each two shots deep, I let Jen pull me to the dance floor, ready to unwind from the stress of being on tour again.
Immediately, she spins in my arms, puts my hands on her hips, and follows my lead as I grind into her, never missing a beat.
In some clubs, she keeps a little more distance between us in case people start taking pictures, but tonight, the lights are so dim, we won’t be identifiable in anyone’s pictures out here on the floor, not to mention, I think she’s still pissed from the clingy waitress, and she’s making sure there’s not an inch of space between our bodies.
Four songs in, I’m ready for another shot.
My dick is so hard from Jennifer rubbing her pussy on my thigh with nothing more than a thin strip of silk between us, that my tip is about to be in a different zip code if I don’t get some space from her heat in the next thirty seconds.
I hand Jen off to Emma and Ryan and make my way back to our table, freezing in my tracks for a brief second before abandoning my plan and rerouting to the couple that just came in the door.
I march up to Nina and Luke and pull Neen into a side-hug.
“Hey guys, I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
This club is just about the halfway point between D.C and where we live, so when Jen and Em made the plan, I asked if they cared if Nina and Luke came out. Seemed like a safe place to grab that drink with Luke and Nina makes a great buffer if things take a wrong turn.
I turn to lead them to our table, but the crowd of bodies has thickened so I put Nina in front of me and grab Luke by the upper arm, hauling him next to me so we don’t get separated.
It’s getting harder to think with him so close.
Dressed to give me a fucking heart attack in dark khaki utility pants, a black, short-sleeved Henley, and fashionable men’s boots, I abruptly let him go.
And that better not be my dick I feel trying to get a look for himself.
“Um, feel free to help yourselves to the tequila.” I point from our little platform over the dance floor. “You can see the top of Ry’s head over there. Come join us whenever you’re ready.”
It’s impossible to ignore the buzzing in my veins that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
Goddamn, if I don’t get myself under control, I’m going to mess up big time just as Jen is finally committing to more and Luke and I are finding common ground.
He might be sorry for what he did but that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly into men.
Twenty minutes later, another song comes to an end and although Nina is on the floor as the fifth wheel, Luke is nowhere to be found.
Until he is.
He’s standing with the sole of one booted foot kicked up on the wall as he leans back against it, arms folded across his chest, bringing my eyes to his biceps.
My teeth grind together at the way my limits are being tested tonight.
I should go say something, make him more comfortable since I know this isn’t his scene.
But he has my heart rate so fucking high, I’m too busy trying not to pass out and I can’t concentrate on finding words.
Sensing my weakness, he pushes off the wall coming closer while a war rages inside me. Stay the fuck away. Please come closer.
“I’m not sure what I’m doing here, Sloan.”
God, say my name again.
Is he even aware he’s pushing every button I have?
Hell, he’s pushing buttons I didn’t even know I had.
I feel myself slipping. Much to my dismay, the inferno of desire inside me is being stoked with every word that comes out of his mouth.
This desire might be based on hatred. Or it might be based on love.
The lines aren’t just blurry anymore, they’re non-existent.
In a last-ditch effort to preserve what little sanity I have left — and to try to keep my heart intact when he’s gone again — I ask if he wants me to find him a dance partner since not only is Nina truly like a sister to us both, she’s already found a dance partner for herself.
“I could find someone who seems your type. You know, a nice girl who has no rhythm at all.” I joke, trying to reduce the mounting tension between us but as I turn to go, he grabs my forearm.
The heat from his hand scorches my flesh.
I clench my jaw hard to prevent myself from backing him into the grimy wall behind us and giving in to everything he makes me feel.
I could keep it buried after one encounter.
Hell, I had myself convinced I felt nothing but hatred for him even after the second and third encounters, but every time I see him, it’s getting harder to deny the attraction I’ve felt toward Luke Blackwell since the day I fucking met him.
“I’m sorry.” His gray eyes stare straight into mine and the world tilts on its axis with his sincere apology.
“I know.” I need space from this man, now. Gently, I pull my arm out of his grasp and move back toward our table and my next thirty shots of tequila.
Unfortunately, the ache in my balls tells me this isn’t over.