Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Barret
“I’ll tell you all of it,” I say to Cleo, fingers turning a pick I’m not playing. “How it really started.”
It was one of those penthouse nights—perfume in the curtains, liquor turning the air syrup-thick, Connor’s lieutenants herding girls into rooms like props for his next press push. Roderick could ride those waves like they were nothing. Me? I drowned—every damn time.
Eddie took charge. He said I was done and that I’d finish in his room, and took me with him.
That’s the part that undoes me even now. The warm water. Slow hands. Soap that smelled like linen and a voice that said, “I’ve got you,” like he meant it.
He kept rinsing me clean while I trembled in my own skin. He tucked me in, slid beside me, and let my head find his shoulder. His mouth pressed into my hair. I slept. For the first time in weeks, I fucking slept.
I woke to a breath lodged sideways in my throat.
Not panic exactly. Just a tight awareness creeping up my spine whispering, What the fuck did you do, Barret Hetfield?
I woke up in boxer briefs that weren’t mine, throat dry, body sore in places that felt like emotional soreness, not physical.
Eddie stood across the suite, fresh from the shower.
His towel slung low on his hips, hair dripping.
He was all clean lines and quiet power, shoulder braced on the doorframe like he didn’t know how gravity worked for the rest of us.
And he looked at me like I was something he'd been waiting to unwrap.
“You okay there, B?”
His voice was casual, but something lived under it. Hunger, maybe. Arrival.
“What happened last night?” I asked, throat sandpaper. I sounded like regret wearing a mask.
He tilted his head. “What exactly are you asking about”?
"“Did we . . .” My throat closed. The word wouldn’t climb out.
He shook his head, the towel shifting a fraction lower. “No. You were too intoxicated for that. I told you we’d talk when you woke up.”
Relief hit first. Relief that he hadn’t taken what I couldn’t give. But shame came next, crashing just as hard. Shame that I’d been a mess in front of the one person I’d wanted for far too long, the one person who might have finally wanted me back.
I tried to mask it with bravado and failed. My chest ached with the need to break the silence, to ask something reckless, so I blurted, “Are you gay?”
Subtlety has never been my instrument.
“The term I use is pansexual,” he said, voice steady, thoughtful. “It means I fall in love with people—their minds, their mouths, their mischief. The packaging doesn’t matter. I’m drawn to the person first. The rest is just details.” His mouth tipped, heat sparking in the curve. “How about you?”
“Bi.” I rubbed my eyes with my hands, raw with confession. “But I hide it because fucking Connor says it’ll ruin the band if anyone finds out.”
His expression darkened. “How does he know?”
“He—” My jaw tightened. “He caught me with a roadie a couple of years ago. That’s why he’s so bent on turning me into his poster boy womanizer.”
Eddie’s jaw ticked. “Fuck, I want to kill that asshole.”
“Get in line,” I muttered, then forced a laugh, because if you don’t ask, you don’t get. “So . . . you and I. Is that something that could happen?”
He dipped his chin in one firm nod. “Yeah. It can happen.”
Then he moved—shoulder leaving the doorframe, body cutting across the room like a tide already decided. Unhurried. Unstoppable. Giving me every second to say no.
“Barret,” he said when he reached the bed, my name low and careful in his mouth, making my pulse stutter. He reached out and stopped just short of touching me. “Do you really want this?”
I nodded, unable to swallow past the hunger in my throat.
He let the towel fall.
My eyes dropped before I could help it, and, fuck—he was already hard, thick, and gorgeous in a way that made my mouth go dry. My tongue darted across my lips before my brain could catch up.
Eddie smirked, slow and devastating. “See something you like?”
“More than something,” I muttered, voice rough.
His laugh was low, sinful. “Then show me.”
I pulled him down onto the bed, my hands greedy now, no hesitation left. His mouth claimed mine like he’d rehearsed it for years, but refused to let it become anything less than real. Not a performance. Not a press release. Just breath against breath, hunger meeting hunger.
When the kiss deepened, when heat started to burn between us, he pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes again. Asking the question without words.
I answered with my hands, with the sound that left me when everything inside me finally hit the right chord.
“Tell me what you want?”
“Y . . . you.”
Eddie’s hand lingered on my cheek, thumb brushing the skin beneath my eye like he could erase the exhaustion. His gaze burned, not just with hunger, but with something deeper—something that made my throat close.
“Barret,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you.”
I nodded, the wordless ache in me louder than anything I could’ve said.
He kissed me again, deep and consuming, while his hand slid down, skimming my chest, my stomach, until he was pushing my briefs off the rest of the way. He dropped them to the floor with his towel, leaving nothing between us.
My cock sprang free—hard, flushed, aching in a way that made me shiver under his gaze. His eyes dragged down, lingering on me, and the way he looked—hungry and reverent all at once—made my skin burn hotter than the alcohol ever had.
“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered, his fingers brushing along the length of me, teasing the sensitive head with a slow stroke. My hips jerked at the contact, a strangled sound spilling out before I could stop it.
I trembled with nerves and want, every part of me strung tight, caught between the vulnerability of being seen like this and the desperate relief of finally giving in.
Then he reached into the nightstand like he already knew what I’d need—condoms, slick foil packet catching the light. He tore one open with his teeth, eyes never leaving mine, as if he needed me to see every choice he made.
“Safe,” he murmured, rolling it on with practiced ease, his voice ragged. “You’re always safe with me.”
My chest squeezed with something sharp and tender all at once.
He slicked himself with lube, warm and wet between us, then his fingers trailed lower, circling me gently. My whole body jolted at the touch, hips twitching, a gasp breaking free as my muscles clenched around nothing, anticipation clawing at my nerves.
“Easy,” Eddie soothed, kissing the corner of my mouth, his voice low and coaxing. “Don’t rush. I’ll get you ready. I promise.”
One finger pressed in, slow, stretching me just enough to make me groan into his neck. He moved carefully, stroking deep, letting me adjust before sliding in a second. The stretch burned, but then—God—the sparks shot through me, pleasure cutting sharp enough to leave me trembling.
“That’s it,” he whispered against my skin, his lips brushing my jaw as his fingers worked me open. “Breathe for me. You’re doing so good.”
I clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, torn between wanting him deeper and fearing how much more there was to take. He crooked his fingers just right, stroking that spot inside me until my cock leaked against my stomach, smearing wet heat between us.
“Fuck,” I gasped, unable to hold it back.
He smiled, kissing my temple, his breath warm. “You’re gorgeous like this. So fucking perfect for me.”
When he slid a third finger inside, I shook, a ragged sound breaking from my throat.
Every nerve in my body lit up, strung tight between pain and pleasure, need and fear.
Eddie slowed, pressing his forehead to mine, grounding me with soft kisses across my face—the corner of my mouth, my cheekbone, the hollow of my jaw.
“Almost there,” he murmured, his voice wrecked, trembling with the effort to hold back, his forehead pressed to mine. “You’re opening up so beautifully. I’ve got you, B. Just let me in.”
I nodded, voice cracking. “Yes. Please, Eddie. I need you.”
His hand cupped my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek as if I might break. “Then I’ll give you everything. But slow—only what you can take.”
He positioned himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against me. His gaze never left mine. “You stop me if it’s too much. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
The first push made me cry out, the burn ripping through me, sharp enough to steal my breath. I clawed at his back, nails scoring his skin, desperate and overwhelmed.
He stilled instantly, his lips covering my throat, kissing the panic away. “Breathe,” he whispered, voice frayed but tender. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe for me.”
I exhaled shakily, forcing the air out as he kissed across my jaw, his hand stroking my thigh to ground me. The tension eased, my body yielding bit by bit, until the pain dulled into something fierce, exquisite.
“Good,” he murmured against my ear, his breath ragged. “So fucking good. You feel incredible.”
He pressed deeper, inch by inch, until the stretch swallowed me whole, until I was full of him, trembling and gasping under the weight of it. My cock throbbed hard between us, leaking against his stomach, proof of how much I wanted this—wanted him.
When he was finally seated deep inside me, he stilled again, chest heaving, his body trembling with restraint.
“Look at me,” Eddie said softly.
I forced my eyes open. And, fuck—his gaze undid me. His jaw was tight, sweat beading at his temple, every muscle taut with the effort of holding back. But his eyes—those eyes were reverent, tender, wrecked with love he hadn’t said out loud yet.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over my lips. “Every inch of you. And I’ll prove it, until you believe it.”
Then he moved—slow at first, careful thrusts that rocked through me, each one dragging a raw sound from my throat I didn’t recognize as my own.
I felt the deliberate pull of his thickness sliding out, the wet stretch of my body gripping him tight, then the overwhelming fullness when he pressed back in.
Inch by inch, again and again, he built a rhythm that left me trembling.
The burn melted into heat, into pleasure so fierce it stole my breath, until every push set fire to my nerves.
“Fuck, Eddie,” I moaned, my body arching into his, chasing him.
“God, B . . .” His voice cracked, his thrusts rolling deeper, harder, his hips meeting mine with unrelenting intent. “You feel incredible—so fucking tight around me. Like you were made for me.”
Every stroke found that spot inside me that made me cry out, broken sounds spilling from my mouth as my cock jerked helplessly against my stomach. He pressed deeper, groaning into my skin. “You’re taking me so well. So perfect. I could stay buried in you forever.”
His hand slid down, wrapping around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. The double assault unraveled me, my body caught between the searing way he filled me and the brutal pleasure of his fist around me.
I clung to him, nails digging into his back, whispering his name like a prayer I didn’t know I still believed in.
“Let go for me,” he rasped, his lips brushing mine, his eyes locked on me even as his rhythm faltered with need. “Come with me, B. Show me how good I make you feel.”
The world shattered. My release tore through me, hot and devastating, spilling across my stomach and his hand. My body clenched tight around him, pulling him deeper, dragging him with me.
“Fuck—Barret,” he groaned, hips jerking hard, his thrusts breaking apart as he came inside the condom, every muscle taut with pleasure until he collapsed against me, shaking.
For a long moment, we stayed there—bodies trembling, breath mingling, the world narrowed to just us. Then Eddie kissed me again, soft and lingering, as if to seal the night into memory.
“See?” he whispered, brushing my hair back. “I told you—I’ve got you.”
I believed him. I believe he could take care of me . . . until he fucking left me.