CHAPTER TEN
CHA CHA
Drake is intimidating beyond belief. I’ve spent the last week talking myself into avoiding the man who watches me even when I think I’ve managed to find a place where he can’t see me.
But then that’s his job, and every time I turn around, there he is.
It’s become a game between us: where can I hide in his house that he can’t find me?
Answer: nowhere.
By the end of the week, I’m okay with that.
Drake is far more attentive than any of my previous bodyguards, actually earning the title.
When I write, he’s there, somewhere in a corner of the room.
Not impinging on my space, just present.
And after a while, I’m used to him. He stopped training me once I started to sing and I get the impression that he…
Listens.
A huge part of me likes that. Loves it, even.
That might be an ego trip, but I don’t think so.
The sense that he’s there leaves me desperate to turn to him for more.
The first night he didn’t stay in my room, I lay awake, trying to make out the shape of the mountains in the darkness beyond.
But the moon was dark that night, and all I could see was the outline of the trees just outside my window.
The concept of crawling into his bed was terrifying.
Now? I bite my lip as I wash my face and brush my hair back, letting it tumble freely over my shoulders. Now, I want to strip bare and slide beneath the covers of his bed, just to see what he’ll do.
Probably turf me right back into my own, and go back to watching me, sans pet name. He’s still intimidating as hell. I’m simply ready to risk that wrath now.
Or desperate enough.
“Ready for bed, princess?” Drake rests one arm against the doorframe above his head. His black t-shirt rides up, exposing hard, defined musculature.
The innuendo in his words is not lost on me.
I place my brush carefully on the stone benchtop, tugging at the hem of my top. I’d meant to change out of the latex pants before he found me, but I’d been lost daydreaming about him and run out of time.
That’s one of the things I love about Drake. He refuses to work to anyone else’s schedule, including mine. That he gave me time to play around with my songs was a gift, one I never get with my home or rented apartments stuffed with people who shouldn’t be there but are anyway.
One I won’t squander.
I raise my chin. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” he says softly, holding out a hand.
I stare, my heart beating too fast. The last time he offered me his hand was the second day here, and when I took it, he reeled me into him. My heart beats too fast in my chest, leaving me breathless. Breathe. Another lesson from that day.
Shutting my eyes, I take his hand and wait.
Drake huffs out a sound that might be a laugh, or something else. “Come on, princess. I made you a promise.” He tugs gently, his grip firm on my fingers.
It takes a moment, then I realize he’s leading me along the hallway. “I thought—” I follow him, trying my best not to trip over my own feet.
Drake stops at my doorway, his bulk filling it as he gazes down at me. “I know what you thought.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say under his unyielding stare.
I edge around him, through the tiny space he leaves for me to get through, and into the room, only to find I can't go any further because our hands are still entangled. The pressure of his fingers on mine feels so good that I don’t want to pull away, but if this is where I leave him, then letting go is the only option.
“I don’t want to,” I whisper into the empty room without meaning to voice the words.
“Then don’t.”
Drake’s other hand glides along my arm until he grips my shoulders.
He doesn’t turn me as he steps into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
I jump as it slams in its frame. The walls swirl around me before my back is pressed to the door’s hard, cold surface.
A cry tears from my throat. I clamp a hand over my mouth, unwilling to ruin my voice.
“You–” I’m not sure what I’m fighting as I push forward, but my hands hit nothing at all, slapping at the air. “What are you doing?” I pant, scrabbling at Drake’s dark hair as he kneels before me.
He gazes up at me with the sort of adoration and worship I've seen in the eyes of the audience, from fans when I’m on stage a hundred times, though never this close. “Giving you the goodnight kiss you’ve been begging me for, princess.”
I want to argue that I haven’t been begging him for anything, or that he’s in the wrong position.
But when his mouth presses to my pussy, bare beneath the restrictive latex pants, the sensation is so much more than I’ve ever imagined.
Drake closes his mouth gently over my mound, his tongue and lips working sweetly to French my pussy in simulation of what he might do to my mouth.
The latex acts like a second skin, enhancing every touch, and Drake knows exactly what he’s doing.
A scream builds behind my lips. I clamp my hand over them but it’s too late.
The moment he swipes his tongue across my clit, my preoiled skin, needed to slide into the latex in the first place, is already wet and ready to go.
I come under his knowing kisses, my knees buckling as he flicks at my clit over and over.
Heat explodes between my thighs as I pant for him, but he doesn’t stop, sucking and licking and kissing. His tongue probes my entrance, and I moan at the depravity of him unable to push inside me.
“Drake,” I whisper, opening my legs. “I want you inside me.”
He doesn't answer, doesn’t take his mouth from me, only picks up one leg, tossing my knee over his shoulder. His mouth pins me to the door, the pressure of his kisses and sucks driving me to the edge of bliss again already.
I whimper, riding his mouth as he finds the perfect place to flick.
My clit hardens under his ministrations.
Twisting to get away from him doesn’t work, the sensations too much.
He clamps his hands on my hips, holding me open, in place, and goes back to work.
I scream my way through a second orgasm, losing all sense of who I am and where.
My body convulses. His warmth surrounds me everywhere.
“I got you, princess,” Drake murmurs, hauling me into his chest. His heart beats close to mine, his hands knotted in my hair.
I don’t even care that it’s a mess for once. “Can you do that every night?”
“Every night that you need, Cha Cha,” he murmurs, tipping my head back. “Wear those pants and I’ll lick and kiss every inch of you.”
I swallow at the image of him, slick coating the insides of my thighs. “And fucking me?”
“Christ,” he growls, sliding one hand free of my hair to coast along my side and grip my hip. He pulls me sharply into him, seeming to relish the cry he draws at the action. “Two orgasms isn't enough for you tonight?”
I squeeze my thighs together, but the latex doesn’t do half enough to ease the ache inside me. “I want you,” I whisper.
He traces fingers across the front of my pants, sliding over the damp spot where he licked and kissed me and forced orgasms from my body. A few strokes and he presses in quickly. I arch up, but my hips press forward, wanting more.
“How wet are you, princess? You feel so goddam hot,” Drake mutters. “If I peel these off you, you’re gonna soak me.”
Heat stains my cheeks. “I had to oil myself to get them on,” I whisper, unsure if that’s the answer he wants. “It’s a trick we use on stage. It’s easier to slide…”
“Everything on,” he growls, rubbing me gently. I work my pussy against his hand, mewling softly. “Fuck, you gonna cum for me again, Cha Cha?”
“Yes. Please. Don’t stop,” I beg. A deep noise rumbles in his chest when I nod, panting.
“So cum for me. But if you don’t, I’m gonna leave you in these pants, wet and soaked, all fucking night. Aching and wanting, and empty. You get yourself off for me, and maybe I’ll play nice and fuck you like you want. Can you do that?”
I pant harder, the room growing hotter. I swear it shrinks, darkening at the edges. Drake’s touch is lighter. I chase his fingertips with my hips, rolling them as I seek the pressure I need.
“Please,” I mewl, unable to make sense of anything.
“Yeah? Tell me what you need, princess.” Drake never stops, but he doesn't give me what I want, either.
I gasp out my frustration when he laughs, and straddle him. His eyes widen, and his gaze travels over my body. “I need to ride you,” I manage, rubbing my body against his harder one, taking what I need when he refuses to give it to me.
“Christ, Cha Cha. If you don’t stop, I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a curse. One fist, knuckles up, presses against me, over his lap. “Grind that pretty little pussy on me. Show me how you make yourself come and I’ll give you every fucking thing you need.”
I spread myself wide over him, finding the angle I need and press down.
His knuckles drive into my clit, the hard, scarred ridges providing the perfect pressure.
My hands close on Drake’s shoulders for purchase, fisting his shirt.
“I want you inside me so deep I’ll never want anyone else.
” The words tumble free, but I know they’re true the moment I say them.
I’ve never trusted anyone like I do Drake, no matter what he’s done. He watches me like I’m something precious, not like I’m a trophy for his wall or a bragging point for his gym buddies. He watches me like I matter, and he listens to me like I’m human.
And his touch…
His touch is designed for one person.
“That’s what you want, princess? Just me?” His eyes are laser focused when I meet his gaze. His other hand knots in my hair, close to my scalp, locking me in place. “Promise that’s what you fucking want.”
I cry out, the edges of bliss obliterating reason. “It’s you I want,” I whimper. “Just you, Drake. Watching me, seeing me. Being here with–” Breath stalls in my lungs.
He jams his fist deeper into my crotch, hard enough to bruise tender, swollen flesh from the orgasms he gave me earlier. The latex protects me, enhancing the sensations. My clit throbs, like it might burst.
The sound that tears from me might ruin my voice but I can’t help it. “Drake,” I scream, the wave edging into me, so sensitive, so close and I can't stop. Our bodies rock together, tight and hard.
He curses, grinding into me with his fist. “Fucking cum for me, princess. I’m yours, always.”
I close my eyes and let go. Let him hold me as I fall.
Heat drenches me inside and out. A scream fills the room.
I know it’s mine, though I don't feel it.
Only the pleasure that courses through me, the feeling trapped by the restrictive latex pressing the tortured nub of nerves tight back to my body.
Drake growls, leaning over me as he presses me back, our positions reversed though I don’t remember him flipping us.
His hand grips my crotch tight, and rips.
Coolness washes over me and he swears again.
“Christ, princess. You’re fucking flooded.
” Dark eyes latch onto mine as he presses his thick cock to my entrance, fluttering and swollen.
We both groan when he pushes into me, hard and straining.
“You’re so wide,” I gasp out, locking my legs around his waist as far as they’ll go. My legs are still encased in latex where he grips my thighs tight, burrowing deep in my slicked heat.
“So tiny. So fucking tight,” Drake grates, pulling back to slam all the way in. His thighs rest against mine and he groans. “Fuck, that’s good. So hot, Cha Cha. Christ, you can own me any damn day.”
“Mine?” I stroke his hair back from his brow, the single word a question that tastes light on my tongue. I consider it for a moment, then nod. “You’re mine, now,” I whisper, not needing volume to claim him.
Drake’s eyes darken impossibly. He grips my hips in both hands, slamming into me.
I want to scream but can’t, every cry choking on a breath that refuses to release. My nails dig into his shoulders, struggling to grip onto him in his frenzy.
“I’m yours, Cha Cha,” he rasps out. “Not gonna let anyone else have you.”
The promise in his words sinks bone deep as he pulls back and flips me onto my stomach, pushing my knees apart. Then he’s buried inside me again, his weight settled over my body.
I cry out into my forearms, my pussy pulsing on his swelling cock. “I need—” Every word evades me, each breath too shallow for more.
“You’re fucking mine, princess. I’ll give you what you need. Everything. I promise." His hand closes gently on my throat, arching me backward.
I cry out as I come for him, clamping down on his cock that impales me. Drake swears as I gush over him, his rhythm rough and brutal. His shout ricochets back at us as he fills me and then we sink together. Inked arms cradle me as he pulls a quilt from the bed to cover us.
“We’re not moving for a while, princess.
” His soft words are the sweetest promise in my ear as he slides a hand to my hip, pulling me closer, his semi hard cock still inside me.
“And when we do, I’m gonna fuck you until your voice rasps so that the next time you sing for me, I’ll remember every scream I earn from you tonight. ”
I moan softly as he turns my head and kisses my mouth for the first time.
Gentle at first, his lips press mine open, sliding his tongue inside.
What starts so sweet devolves into something filthy and urgent.
Drake kisses my mouth like he tongued my pussy through my latex pants.
I moan against him, letting him take what he needs, stroking my tongue against his softly.
It seems to be what he needs. His cock hardens inside me, though this time, when he moves, he loves me slow and rough, exploring my body. I take every inch of him, and he shows me what sort of endurance my bodyguard really has.