Anyone But You

by Jerica MacMillan

  I want inside her. I want to feel her come on me again. And I want to watch.

  Fumbling on the nightstand, I hit the little switch at the base of the lamp, warm light flooding the room.

  Viola sits up, blinking, her hands pressing on my chest for balance. “Why’d you turn on the light?”

  “I want to see your face when you come. I want to watch you lose control as you use my body for your pleasure.”

  Pink tinges her cheeks, but I don’t miss the flare of lust in her eyes. I nudge her back a little and reach for the condom. Taking myself in hand, I rub her juices all over my dick, happy for a little extra lubrication inside the tight sheath of the condom.

  Once it’s rolled on, I lie back with my hands behind my head. “Ready when you are.”

  Her cheeks grow even pinker. “You want me to just …”

  “Ride me. Yes. I can’t wait.”

  She stares into my eyes for a few breaths, like she can’t quite believe I’m serious. Then she gently lifts my cock, stands tall on her knees, and with her eyes still locked on mine, sinks down all the way to the root in one slow, sweet slide.

  Slowly at first, she swivels her hips, moving in small circles, then bracing herself on my chest again, starts moving up and down, just an inch or so, but it feels good. Watching her use my body to pleasure herself is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

  That pink flush spreads from her cheeks down her neck and paints her upper chest. But it’s not embarrassment this time. It’s arousal. With her head thrown back, her lips parted, soft little feminine grunts let me know that she’s enjoying herself.

  The sight of her ramps up my arousal, and the need to touch her overcomes my desire to just let her use me. First I rub her thighs, stroking up and down the outsides, silent encouragement and tactile connection all rolled into one. Then I slide my hands up her torso, cupping her tits in my hands, running my thumbs over the hard little nubs of her nipples.

  She lets out a soft hum of pleasure. Encouraged, I pinch them, a little rougher than I was last night, wanting to discover what she likes best. She hisses when I pinch hard, and when I back off, she lets out a little moan.

  She starts moving faster as I play with her nipples, one of her hands sliding between her legs.

  “Fuck, yeah,” I whisper. “Let me watch you make yourself come. Come for me.”

  Her eyes open, her pupils huge under half-closed lids, her eyes glassy with lust.

  “That’s it, Viola. You’re so fucking hot. You make me so hard. And once you come all over my cock, I’m going to pound you till I come too.”

  “Yesss,” she hisses.

  I can’t help my grin. “You like the sound of that?”

  She nods, almost drunkenly, her fingers speeding up as they rub over her clit again and again and again.

  She’s close. I can feel it in the way her pussy starts to tremble around me. In the way her movements get less smooth, less coordinated. I move my hands to her ass, helping her keep going. She lets out a gasp as I take control of her body, her fingers never stopping.

  And then she’s shuddering, slumping over, making it hard for me to keep her body moving. Watching her. Feeling her come on top of me like that, I’m so fucking close that it won’t take long, but I need her friction or I’ll be left on the ragged edge. Pulling her close with one hand, I seal her lips to mine, then hold her hips off me and pound up into her, fast and hard. A hot tingle zips down my spine, my balls draw up tight, and then I’m emptying myself into the condom inside her, holding her down and grinding her gorgeous pussy all over my dick.

  Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her tight against my chest as both of our heart rates return to normal. When I slide her off me so I can dispose of the condom, I’m surprised that she sits up instead of snuggling back into bed for more sleep.

  When I return from the bathroom, she’s pulling her clothes on. Crossing my arms, I frown. “Where are you going?”

  She gives me a tired smile. “To work. My alarm goes off in five minutes. If I lie back down, I might try to go back to sleep, which will make it even harder to get up. It’s easier if I just head back to my room now and get ready for the day.”

  My eyebrows climb my forehead.

  With an indulgent chuckle, she pulls her top over her head, steps close to me and goes on her tiptoes for a quick kiss.

  I oblige, but I’m still not happy about this.

  “Marcus has a radio show interview this morning. You can go back to sleep. I’ll see you later.” With a pat on my chest, she moves to leave, but I catch her and pull her against me.

  After kissing her thoroughly, I let her go. “Find me for your afternoon rest, okay?”

  She pulls her mouth to the side. “After not sleeping much last night, I need to take a nap today.”

  I give her a wicked grin. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have the best nap of your life.”

  With a tinkling laugh, she shakes her head and walks to the door. I let her go, despite the fact that she never agreed to find me at her rest time.

  I’ll just have to convince her it’ll be worthwhile before then.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Viola

  My mouth stretches wide in a jaw-popping yawn as the elevator doors open on the band’s floor. Blinking bleary eyes, I nod at Travis, the security guy on duty, as I step off the elevator.

  “Get some rest,” he chides, and I give him a wan smile in return.

  “I plan to.”

  I’d returned to the hotel alone, which was unusual for me, Marcus staying at the arena going over a few things before heading back to the hotel for his shortened afternoon break. When I kept interrupting our conversations with my yawns every time I tried to speak no matter how much caffeine I consumed, he sent me back to the hotel. “Take a nap,” he said. “I can’t have you falling asleep during the show.”

  Even though guilt worms through me at my night with Mason affecting my work, exhaustion is my overwhelming sensation. Too many late nights and early mornings added up plus only getting a few hours of disrupted sleep last night means I’m dead on my feet. And Marcus is right that it’s more important for me to be awake tonight to help keep the show running smoothly for them than to sit around with him to fetch his coffee or water at the arena.

  As I head to my room at the end of the hall, a door to my left opens, and Mason slips out. His arm snakes around my waist and pulls me close before I can react, and then his lips are on mine.

  I should push him away. I’m so tired. All I want is to curl up on a horizontal surface and go to sleep. At this point, I’m not even picky. The floor at my feet would work, though the risk of getting stepped on or tripped over is a consideration.

  But his lips are too delicious, and when his tongue slips into my mouth, I’m powerless to resist. Plus I’m tired, and my willpower is at its weakest in this state.

  He tugs me toward his room, but stops at my whine. “Bed,” I whisper against his chest, snuggling my head there now that he’s not kissing me anymore. “Sleep.”

  His quiet laughter sends tingles racing over my body. “I told you I’d make sure you get a nap.”

  “Mmm,” is my only response.

  There’s a metallic whir and click, then Mason’s arm sweeps under my legs and he carries me into his room. I blink up at him, but before I can muster up words, he deposits me on his bed, sits me up, and pulls my bag over my head and off. He sets it on the floor next to the night stand, then chuckles again when he straightens to find me flopped over on the bed.

  He pulls off my shoes before freeing the trapped blankets from under my legs and tucking them up around my shoulders. Brushing the hair out of my face, he presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to my forehead. “Get some sleep. I see you don’t need my help right now to fall asleep. I’ll help you wake up instead.”

  But sleep pulls me under before I can respond to the dark promise in his voice. And just before I completely surrender to unconsciousness, I’
m aware of the mattress dipping behind me and an arm circling my waist to pull me against a firm chest. With a sigh and a soft smile on my lips, I go to sleep.

  “Viola,” a voice singsongs, dragging me from sleep. With a grumbly little sound, I roll over, pulling the blankets tighter around me.

  A hand slips under my shirt, sliding up to cup my breast. A soft kiss on my neck. “Come on, Viola,” the deep voice whispers. “Time to wake up.” The hand squeezes my boob, then the thumb circles my nipple, bringing it to a point through the thin padding of my bra. The cup slides away and fingers pinch and tug on my nipple, drawing an involuntary gasp from my lips, my back arching.

  “There we go,” Mason whispers, and kisses my neck again, sending a wave of goosebumps rippling down my back and arms.

  His hips press into my butt, the hard ridge of his dick unmistakable.

  “Are you really waking me up for sex?” I grumble. Even complaining about it, I can’t force myself to pull away.

  He hums against my skin. “We have to leave in half an hour. I promised I’d give you a good reason to wake up.”

  His hand slips down my front, delving beneath the waistband of my leggings, his fingers threading between my legs. Lying on my side like this, my legs together, he can’t quite get all the way to his obvious goal, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He strokes what he can reach, and my clit positively quivers with the anticipation of his fingers finally getting there.

  Even so, I stubbornly remain in position. “I’m not ready to be awake,” I whine.

  “I know,” he whispers, his lips tracing a path from my neck to my shoulder. “But if you wake up, I’ll make you feel amazing. And then we’ll come back as soon as possible after the show, I’ll make you feel amazing a few more times, and I promise I’ll let you get more sleep tonight.”

  Intending to glare at him, I roll onto my back, but that’s a mistake, because his fingers breach my core as soon as they have the space to move. Words, intentions, thoughts, all fly away, and Mason’s mouth is on mine, his tongue circling mine like his fingers circle my clit.

  He doesn’t let up, doesn’t pause, devouring me while his fingers play me like an instrument, working me higher and higher until my pleasure crests, breaking over me like a wave.

  As I finish shuddering, he withdraws his fingers at the same time he ends the kiss, propping himself up on one arm and looking me over with heated, hooded eyes. “God, you’re delicious. I’m sorry I kept you up so late last night. I didn’t realize you were so tired already. But damn. I can’t wait till our next day off. I’m not going to let you leave my bed.”

  My eyes widen in surprise. But before I can voice any of my questions—what would he do with me all day? Why does he think he gets a say in where I spend my day off—although, let’s be real, when a sex god offers to spend all day pleasuring you, why would you say no?—he pivots to his knees, hooks his fingers in my pants, and pulls them down and off me, tossing them over his shoulder.

  He jerks his chin at my torso. “Lose the shirt. I can get down with the half-dressed thing at some point, but since we’re in a bed, naked is my favorite.”

  I just blink up at him, not quite following, my brain still sleep fuzzed plus orgasm stupid.

  Smirking, he shoves off the boxers I hadn’t noticed him wearing, stands to kick them off, and grabs a condom from the nightstand. Then he crawls between my legs, nudging my thighs apart with his knees. With one hand, he tugs my shirt up and captures my exposed nipple with his mouth.

  “Oh!” My hands weave in his hair, holding him in place, his latex-covered cock dragging against my thigh as he moves over me.

  “C’mon, V. Lose the shirt and bra. It’s much better when I can worship your tits, don’t you think?”

  “Y-yes,” I manage to get out, releasing his head so I can finish undressing.

  He sits back on his heels, watching me pull the shirt over my head. Before I finish tossing it aside, his hands go behind my back and undo my bra, tugging it down my arms and tossing it over his shoulder. His eyes focus on my boobs, and he cups them almost reverently. “You’re so beautiful, V. I still can’t quite believe you’re letting me touch you.”

  I can’t really believe it either, when I stop to think about it under the clear light of day. But right now, I don’t want him to stop touching me. Ever. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

  His dark eyes meet mine, and a smirk tips his lips. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” he promises. Then his lips close around my nipple—the other one—and he sucks it hard and deep into his mouth, his tongue playing with it, his teeth applying gentle pressure. A little more, and I hiss. He immediately lightens back up.

  Damn this man and his willingness to test, play, find out where my boundaries are and back off when he reaches them. How am I ever going to find someone to follow this up?

  Maybe you won’t have to, whispers a sly voice in my mind. But I push it away. Tell it to shut up. Because that’s just dumb. This is Mason, the guy with a never-ending parade of groupies through his dressing room. The guy I’ve watched getting blow jobs in crowded private rooms at clubs. All but watched having P in V intercourse so many times I’ve almost become immune to it.

  I don’t suffer any illusions that this will turn into something lasting, even if he is willing to set aside his fuckboy lifestyle for now. I’m a challenge. Something out of reach but tantalizingly under his nose all the time. Soon enough, he’ll get bored and go back to the never ending buffet provided by his fame.

  And I’ll …

  Well, with his tongue doing wicked things to me, I’m not going to think about that. It’s not like being a band’s PA is a long-term career choice for me anyway, right? This was just an escape from the boring life path I’d started down. Something to hold me over until I figure out what I really want to do. This job isn’t permanent. This relationship isn’t permanent.

  Wrapping my arms around Mason’s shoulders as he lifts his head and finds my mouth with his, one of his hands sliding between us to help him line up and join our bodies together.

  This might be magical. Exhilarating. The kind of thing I’ve only read about in romance novels. But unlike those books, my happy ending will be on my own. Somewhere else. Not with a rock star sex god. That’s not reality.

  But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t make the most of this while it is my reality. Lifting my hips to meet his, I clutch his body to mine, groaning as he ends our kiss and props himself up on one arm, his other hand sliding down so his thumb can press on my clit.

  “I love it when you come with me inside you,” he whispers, his dark eyes boring into mine as his thumb draws lazy circles in time with his slow thrusts. “I love watching you fall apart. Being the cause of all that prim control shattering. It’s glorious. And I plan to make it happen as many times as you’ll let me for as long as you’ll let me.”

  The circles get smaller, faster, his hips speeding up. “Yeah. That’s it,” he encourages. “Let me feel that pussy milk my cock. Let me make you feel amazing.” More filthy words fall from his lips, and I can’t help but respond, arching into his hand, holding myself open for his unrelenting thrusts, letting him drive me higher and higher until I’m spiraling down into an endless well of pleasure.

  He drives into me harder, faster, grunting with effort, his muscles straining, and with a loud groan, he follows me, his last few thrusts hard, slow, grinding into me as he finds his release.

  He collapses halfway on top of me, and I can’t help but wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him close, stroking his back as we both regain our equilibrium.

  After a moment, he props himself up again, brushes the hair out of my face, and places a soft kiss on my lips. “You are amazing,” he whispers. Then he withdraws, heading to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and clean himself up.

  With a shuddering breath, I close my eyes.

  This is going to be one hell of an enjoyable ride. But I can already tell that the co
me down when it’s over will be intense.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mason

  Aaron plops his ass down next to me on the greenroom couch, almost too close for comfort. I toss him an annoyed look. “What’s wrong? Sam already tired of you, so you gotta come over here and sit in my lap?”

  He chuckles, but doesn’t move far away. His eyes track Viola’s movements around the room, and even though I know he’s practically married to his girlfriend, I don’t really like the way he’s watching her. But I know Aaron, and he’s doing it to piss me off. The same way I’ve joked about sharing Sam before. It’s a deliberate dig. And he’ll eventually say whatever he came to say.

  “So she stopped trying to freeze you out,” he says at last, his attention finally turning to me as he scoots over a few inches, giving me some elbow room. “How’d you manage that?”

  I shrug, and say, “I stopped being a dick,” but I don’t take my attention off of Viola. She’s standing in front of Marcus, and they’re discussing something. She sat next to me while she ate, but she’s always up and moving while the rest of us laze around before we have to really start working. She works longer hours than any of us, though.

  Aaron hums thoughtfully. “She ate dinner with you tonight.”

  “Yeah. It’s not the first time.” I know what he’s getting at, but he’s gonna have to prod harder than that if he wants me to start gossiping about my chick. Especially here where anyone can listen in.

  “I’ve noticed. Which is funny, because for a long time she’d only eat with Kendra or Sam or Ava. Especially Ava, though who can blame her for wanting to be close to Mila? That kid’s almost as cute as mine.”