Wild Flame (The Wild: A Rock Star Romance Book 2)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  My fingers delve into his hair, tugging harshly on the blond strands as my hips writhe against him. If I’m hurting him, he doesn’t ask me to stop. He tongue fucks my pussy, worshipping my body in a way I didn’t know was possible.

  His name becomes a prayer, a fucking plea from my lips.

  “Rush. Oh my God, Rush. Please. Yes.”

  He pushes down on my hips to keep me from moving. I bring my closed fist to my mouth and bite my knuckles, quieting my desperate noises. Whoever is next door is probably getting an earful anyway. I’m not fucking sorry for it.

  I didn’t expect this to happen, didn’t think I wanted it to, but now I’m glad he caught me.

  He slides two fingers into my pussy, hooking them slightly—that, combined with his delectable mouth, sends me over the edge.

  My vision blurs, stars exploding across my closed lids. I don’t know where I end and he begins.

  We’ve become one.

  We are one.

  “Thank you,” I whisper brokenly, slowly blinking open my eyes, but he’s already gone and I can’t help wondering if he was nothing but a figment of my imagination.

  26

  Rush

  Holy fucking hell, I can’t get the image of Kira lying on the bed pleasuring herself out of my head. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. When I walked out of the bathroom after my shower to grab my clothes the last thing I ever expected to find was Kira rubbing her sweet pussy.

  I was instantly hard, and I had to have a taste. The fact she let me is a fucking miracle. But after I made her orgasm I knew I had to get away from her and finish myself in the bathroom before I did something stupid. I wanted to fuck her senseless and the last thing I wanted was for her to say yes during the high of her orgasm and then regret it later.

  So I jacked off in the bathroom after leaving her, cuming harder than I ever have from my hand alone.

  Now, trapped in this fucking Uber with six other people, seven if you include the driver, I’m trying to stop thinking about it. Even now I can feel myself getting hard again, and I can’t exactly take matters into my own hands at the moment. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit, but I’m trying to have this thing called dignity.

  Besides, once again I’m stuffed in the third row with my knees practically up to my ears. Why I get subjected to this tiny ass seat is beyond me. I’m the tallest, I should have priority seating. The only thing that keeps me from griping is the fact Kira is beside me.

  She hasn’t said a word about what happened in the hotel room.

  It has me feeling lost. Does she want to forget it ever happened? I’m not sure I can. I don’t want to.

  Beside me, her legs point toward me, so at least she’s not trying to get as far from me as possible. But she does look steadfastly out the window. I watch her reflection, and maybe it’s my imagination but I think her eyes look sad.

  I don’t know who I am anymore, who I’ve become, because it makes me feel fucking awful if she’s sad because of me.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “Huh?” I glance at Hollis, who’s turned around in the seat in front of me.

  “I said you’re quiet. Normally you’re running your mouth non-stop.”

  “Just tired.” It seems like a plausible explanation, but he looks at me doubtfully. There’s no way I’m opening my mouth and telling the entire car what’s on my mind. Kira would beat the shit out of me.

  “You sure?” he asks, and he turns slightly looking at Kira before back at me.

  “Everything is fine,” I assure him.

  “Okay,” he replies, but the one word is full of doubt.

  He turns back around and faces the front of the car.

  I feel like we’ve already been in the SUV for thirty minutes, we probably have, and who knows how much longer it’ll be. I’m not sure I can survive being shut up in here beside Kira with no fucking idea what she’s thinking or feeling.

  I need a drink.

  I scrub a hand over my face.

  Maybe Cannon’s right—maybe I do have issues with alcohol. When things get tough or confusing, my first thought is usually of getting a drink because I know it’ll make me feel better, mellow me out.

  Ten more minutes of driving through stop and go traffic has me ready to pull my hair out.

  “How much longer?” I whine. “My legs are asleep.”

  “Don’t be a baby.” Fox turns around and grins at me.

  I lean over and smack the back of his head. My knee touches Kira’s in the process and she jumps slightly.

  “Easy for you to say, Swiper, you have more leg room.”

  “Not much,” he responds.

  It’s true they don’t have much more, but they do have more.

  “My dick needs to breathe. Crush is being suffocated.”

  “Crush?” Kira’s head whips toward me, her lips twitch as she fights a smile. “Who or what is Crush?”

  “My cock, of course.”

  “Rush,” Cannon scolds from up front beside the driver.

  “Yes, Dad?” I call back.

  He sighs heavily—the world-weary sigh of a true parent whose patience is being tested.

  “Stop talking about your dick,” he begs.

  “But it’s such a magnificent thing of beauty,” I defend. “Epic poems have been written in his honor.” Kira cackles beside me. “What?” I turn toward her. “Do you disagree?”

  She wipes a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I just think it’s hilarious you think your penis is so beautiful it’s worthy of poetry. I don’t understand why guys think their penis is a gift to the world. It looks like a dead naked mole rat. You know, like that little critter from Kim Possible.”

  My mouth falls open. “Did you just say my dick looks like a dead rat?”

  Mia begins laughing from beside Hollis, leaning her head against his shoulder as she absolutely loses it.

  “That’s exactly what I said.”

  I pause, not sure what to say next. Finally, I blurt, “Well, is it at least a large dead rat?”

  “Sure,” she pats my knee, “it’s a large dead rat.”

  “I feel like you’re being condescending.”

  Her lips quirk. “Am I?”

  “Most definitely.” I nod.

  Up front the Uber driver turns up the volume on the radio, I guess he’s irritated by our conversation. Lucky for him, we all grow quiet because it’s our song playing on the radio.

  Even though we’ve all heard it many times, every time it comes on we pause, soaking it in.

  That’s us, our hard work, our blood, sweat, and tears poured into endless hours to get this final product.

  The driver hums along, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

  He doesn’t even know it’s our song.

  “Good song, yes?” he asks Cannon, who sits beside him in the passenger seat.

  “Yes,” Cannon replies, “it’s a good song.”

  He doesn’t tell the man it’s our song, that we’re a band.

  I used to think making it big was about bragging rights, but really it’s about having your voice heard, having your music and passion impact someone else.

  Bragging about it diminishes the effect it has on people.

  When our song ends, we don’t start talking again. I think we all need a moment to appreciate what this life has brought us so far, and all that is yet to come.

  “God, it’s fucking windy,” I complain, pulling my beanie out of my coat pocket and yanking it down to cover my ears.

  Kira draws the hood of her jacket up over her head.

  It’s a nice day—bright, sunny, but on Liberty Island it’s windy enough that a small kid walking in front of us with his parents falls to the ground because of it.

  The kid begins to cry and the father stops, picking up his son to console him.

  Looking down at Kira, I think of the child growing inside her.

  A father, I’m going to be a father.

  I�
�m going to have a son or daughter to pick up when they fall down.

  The problem is, I can barely pick myself up.

  I want to be a good dad, I want my kid to look up to me and love me, but…

  “You know,” Kira begins, interrupting my thoughts as she looks up at the Statue of Liberty, her head tilted to the side as she inspects it, “I thought it would be bigger.”

  I join her in looking and have to agree. “It’s plenty big, but I thought it would be bigger too. I guess in our minds it was larger than life.”

  “It’s amazing being here. I never thought a girl like me would get the chance to see something like this.” She wraps her arms around herself, warding against the chill of the wind.

  “What do you mean, a girl like you?”

  She shrugs, not looking at me. “A small town girl from the wrong family and the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “But I still don’t understand why you’d think that?” My brows knit in confusion.

  She sighs heavily, the sound carried away by the wind. “Because, I’m the type of girl who usually gets knocked up by some equally small town boy who invariably leaves and I’m left stuck on welfare raising a child by myself.” She presses a hand to her stomach. “Things might not have happened exactly like that, but … they still happened.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m torn between confusion, sadness, and anger.

  “I hate you think that about yourself,” I whisper, my words laced with pain and a twinge of irritation.

  She looks up at me with a sad expression. “What I grew up with taught me to expect such things. I didn’t grow up believing in love. It wasn’t until I met Mia, and saw her parents, that I finally saw proof it exists. But I still think it’s a rare thing for people to love like that.”

  “My parents did,” I whisper, shoving my hands in my pockets to protect from the cold. Talking about them feels like small knives digging into my throat. Thinking about them sucks, speaking about it is even worse. I gaze straight ahead, my jaw tight.

  Bringing them up hurts like a physical punch to the gut.

  “Did?” she voices.

  I feel my whole body seize up as my emotions threaten to choke me—emotions I’ve dammed back for eight long years.

  “Rush?” she voices.

  I walk away from her. Getting away becomes the only thought in my mind. I keep walking until I find an area mostly free of people. Spotting a bench, I sit down, stretching my legs out in front of me. I stare at my brown boots like they hold all the answers to the world, and have the ability to wipe my feelings from me.

  I lean my head back. Above me the sky is a clear blue, completely cloudless. It looks like a canvas, smeared with the perfect hue of blue.

  Resting my elbows on my knees I bury my head in my hands.

  Why do I continue to do this to myself? To painfully shutter my emotions back?

  I’m smothering myself, slowly but effectively, cutting off all oxygen to my blood stream. It’s a coping mechanism, I know. My way of pretending they’re not really gone. If I don’t talk about them, don’t think about them, I can delude myself into believing they’re still alive.

  But they’re not.

  They’re dead—and I’m left behind with my life I’ve done nothing but make a mess of. I can’t help feeling like they’d be ashamed. They didn’t raise me to be like this. To use women the way I have. To drink endlessly and party like there’s no end to the day.

  Every day I tarnish their legacy a little more.

  Growing up, I was a good kid. Basketball was my focus, with drumming in my free time. All my other time was spent on schoolwork, time with my friends, and my parents. I had a few girlfriends, all whom I treated with respect. I even went to prom with one. Back then, I was a lot like Cannon. We were really fucking close, not that we still aren’t, but it changed when my parents died.

  Suddenly, I wanted to become the opposite of everything I’d always been. The opposite of him.

  Things are changing again, more and more of my old self is appearing every day and I don’t know how to handle it. I’m scared to look in the mirror and see that version of myself again—the one I was sure died in that car with them.

  My eyes fill with tears.

  “I can’t do this,” I whisper to myself, my voice choked.

  “Can’t do what, hot stuff?”

  I whip my head around in surprise and find the tiniest old woman I’ve ever seen on the bench beside me. I swore it was empty when I sat down, but I know no one has come since I’ve been here.

  “Nothing,” I reply.

  She clucks her tongue. Her wispy gray hair is held back with a scarf around her head. Her wrinkled face is kind, her brown eyes warm and intelligent.

  “Don’t lie to me, sonny. Mona knows there’s much more to this than nothing.” She waves a thin hand at me, her skin pale and covered in age spots.

  “I can’t do this. Life,” I add. “I can’t accept my parents are gone. I can’t be the man I was before when they were alive, because it hurts too much. It hurts to know I’m alive, and they’re not. I can’t be happy, because if I’m happy then I might forget them. I’m the only one left to remember. If I forget … they won’t exist anymore.”

  She stares at me for a moment and then reaches over and pats my hand. Her skin is soft and smooth over mine.

  “They’ll always exist, boy. Right there.” She lifts her shaky hand and presses it to my heart, over top of my coat. “Your misery is your anchor. It weighs you down and it’s suffocating you. Take a breath, my dear. It’s not so bad up here.” She smiles kindly at me. “It’s an insult to the dead for the ones they love to stay stagnant. The greatest gift to the ones who are gone is for life to go on. Live it, boy. Live it for them. Live it for you. Love and be loved. Experience joy and bring joy to the world. And when sorrow enters your life again, in whatever form, remember nothing is good forever. If we were always happy we’d never learn anything. It is through our suffering that we earn the strength to seek happiness in even the smallest of things.”

  I stare straight ahead, out at the water and city skyline beyond it.

  “Thank you, Mona. This has been … insightful.”

  When I look back, she’s gone.

  27

  Kira

  I hook my arm through Mia’s, and we laugh, spinning in circles, as we take in Time’s Square lit up at night.

  We come to a stop, swaying slightly.

  “This is more incredible than pictures,” I yell in awe, over the sound of traffic and hundreds of people strolling the streets. “Look at all the colors.”

  Mia giggles. “If you weren’t pregnant, I’d swear you were drunk.”

  Up ahead, all four guys stand looking up at the colorful TV screens plastering every inch it seems. Rush hasn’t spoken to me since he walked away during our trip to Liberty Island. He hasn’t been cold, exactly, but he’s withdrawn into himself. His eyes are the cloudy blue color of a murky pond and the normal playful smile he wears as a mask is long gone.

  I guess he revealed too much to me, and now he doesn’t know what to do—how to get that tether of information back.

  From what he said, how he reacted, it’s easy for me to deduce his parents passed away. I might not know when, or how, but I do know he’s haunted by it.

  I’ve always known we both had our demons, but I’m finally getting a glimpse at his.

  “I’m so glad you came this weekend,” Mia says, giving my arm a small squeeze. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Please, you would’ve been fine. I’m a bore now. I didn’t even want to go out last night.”

  She gives a small laugh and raises her shoulders in a shrug. “If I’d spent practically the entire train ride throwing up, I wouldn’t have felt like going out either.”

  “I guess that’s true,” I exhale, watching as the lights—reds, blues, purples—an entire rainbow of hues, ignites across her face. “It’s weird h
ow so much has changed.”

  “You’re having a baby,” she states simply. “That’s bound to change anyone’s life.”

  As much as I’m aware this baby is coming, I don’t think I’ve begun to truly comprehend how different my life will be from now on. I’ll no longer be living for only myself. I’ll have this child, my child, whom I put first. Their needs will be more important than mine.

  “Come on guys,” Hollis calls out to the both of us. “We need a group picture.”

  Mia tugs me over to the guys, and Fox—

  “Is that a selfie stick?” I blurt, absolutely appalled.

  “Don’t diss it. It’s great,” he defends.

  He holds it out and the six of us scoot around until we’re all in the picture.

  “Smile,” Fox tells us, holding his fingers up in a peace sign near his chest.

  I smile, but at the last second I turn and look at Rush standing behind me. His head drops and our eyes connect.

  One second, that’s all our gazes hold for, but in that small blip of time I see more, feel more, than I ever knew existed in the world.

  I’ve spent my entire life running from my feelings, from my fears, and now they’re crashing into me all at once and I don’t know what to do—how to handle it.

  Knowing me, it won’t end well.

  It’s late when we get back to the hotel room. Rush hasn’t spoken one word to me yet. His silence hurts me more than I care to admit. I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but I know it’s nothing personal.

  His silence is for himself, not me.

  I change into my pajamas and climb into bed. A few minutes later he joins me, his breath smelling like peppermint from his toothpaste.

  I’m surprised when he rolls to face me, instead of away.

  With my heart pounding a vicious beat I reach out with shaky fingers to touch his stubbled jaw. He places his hand over mine, his eyes still sad, in a place far away from me. A place I’m worried he might lose himself to.

  “We’re a mess, aren’t we?” I whisper into the dark hotel room, horns blaring outside from cabs and other vehicles.