by Salsbury, JB
“Honey, you’re home!” Ethan comes around the corner with bare feet and a beer in hand.
I look back at the door then at the key in my hand, wondering how I ended up in Ethan’s room.
“You’re in the right place.” He saunters closer.
“We’re in the same room?”
“Technically no.” He grabs my duffle bag and pulls me in for a hug. His lips drop to my neck, where he brushes a spine-tingling kiss below my earlobe. “I missed you.” He chuckles at my answering shiver. “Come on.”
I follow him into a large living room.
“Adjoining rooms.” He points at a closed door on the left, then at the door on the right that’s propped open. A television can be heard from the other side.
“How did you pull this off?”
He smirks at me, his eyes growing soft as he studies my face. “Had a talk with the hotel manager.”
“Dixie’s going to wonder—”
“Text her that there was a booking mistake and to enjoy her own room for the night.” He shrugs as if it’s that easy. “I want to take you out.”
“On a date?”
His eyes narrow, but his grin widens.
“We can’t. Everyone in the city knows you guys are in town. Someone will see us.”
He gathers me into his arms. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
I chew my lip. Trusting Ethan is risky, yet I want to. “I don’t have date clothes.”
“What you have on is fine.”
“You don’t think wearing a shirt with CREW written on the back will give us away?” I lift a brow. He can’t be that dumb to take me out looking like this.
“You can wear one of my shirts.” He winks.
I roll my eyes. “’Cause that’ll be sexy.”
His expression grows serious then heated as he holds my gaze. “It will be.”
My pulse speeds and I suck in a shaky breath. “Okay, I should go shower then.”
He grips my hand and drags me to the open door on his side of the room.
“I thought my room was over there,” I say, looking over my shoulder at the other room.
“Nope, that room’s just for show.” He places my bag inside a bathroom that’s twice as big as any hotel room I’ve ever stayed in, then gives me a little push in the direction of the shower. “I’ll find you a shirt.”
He turns and leaves me in the bathroom, keeping the door open. I move to close it but, feeling a little daring, change my mind and keep it open.
Ethan
I head straight for the closet. My assistant always packs me a dressier look in case I find myself at a swanky local nightclub. Sure enough, I find a Robert Graham dress shirt hanging next to a charcoal gray suit. Black with multi-colored flowers, the designer's style is busy and loud. Just like me. I chuckle when I think of Taylor’s reaction to wearing flowers, even on a man’s shirt.
The shower is running and there’s steam coming from the open door. I don’t hesitate to walk in and—God bless the glass shower door. Through the haze of steam, I make out Taylor’s arched back and raised arms as she washes her hair. I’ve always appreciated a woman who dresses to showcase her assets, but for the first time, I’m grateful Taylor keeps hers hidden from everyone but me. If that makes me a possessive asshole, then so be it. The idea that she’s kept her sexy ass a secret from everyone but me is the greatest turn-on.
I hang the shirt on a hook at the back of the door and cross to the shower, where I knock twice before opening the glass door. She startles with a squeak and crosses her arms to cover her boobs.
“I left you a shirt on the door.” I make no attempt to move. Instead I prop my shoulder on the tile.
“Thanks.” She stares at me then lifts her brows. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me shower?”
I chew on that for a second, then pull off my T-shirt and step into the shower with her.
“You’re insane!” she says, laughing and backing into the far corner of the space.
The hot water soaks my jeans as I cage her against the wall. She peers up at me with wild eyes.
I push strands of wet hair away from her neck and drag my fingers to her collarbone. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
I pull her to my chest and turn around so the water hits her back and warms her. “Better?”
Her muscles relax under my touch and she puts her cheek to my chest. “Yes.”
My lungs expand with an unfamiliar feeling. A feeling better than being on stage, better than thousands of orgasms, better than my pride and fame combined. A shiver races down my spine when I consider what the fuck it is I’m feeling. Is this all-consuming emotion nothing more than gratification at having met one of her needs? Or is it more? A lot more…
“You realize you still have your jeans on, right?”
I blink away my thoughts and focus on the tiny woman in my arms. “Figured you’d freak out if I walked in here naked.”
Her shoulders give a little shrug.
I smile. “Are you saying you wouldn’t freak out if I was standing here naked?”
She curls further into my chest. “I don’t know. I’ve never been naked in the shower with a man before.”
I remain quiet, trying to decide what it is she’s trying to say.
Her hands come to the top button of my jeans, wordlessly answering my question. My stomach muscles clench at the feel of her fingers slipping beneath the elastic of my boxers, pushing them and my jeans off my hips. My hard-on springs free between us and she stills, staring at it as water cascades around us. Her gaze is a physical stroke that swells me until I’m painfully hard.
She touches me with a cautious grip. “What do I do?”
“What?” Fuck, my head feels light and I brace my weight against the tile wall to keep upright.
Her thick eyelashes drip with water as she looks at me. “Show me what you like?”
A nervous chuckle bubbles up from my chest. “You touching me, that’s what I like.”
Her cheeks flush. “I’m serious. I want to try.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific if you—”
She lowers herself to her knees.
“Oh shit…” I put all my weight to the wall. “I’m gonna black out.”
“Stop teasing me.”
“I’m not! I’m dead fucking serious.” I cup her jaw and run my thumb along her cheek, collecting the water from her skin with an unreasonable urge to drink it. “Your mouth on me is almost more than I can handle.”
“Almost?”
I groan as she brings herself closer, her lips so close I can feel her breath against the sensitive tip. “Put me in your mouth. Please—oh fuck…”
Her tongue brushes the underside, robbing me of rational thought and speech, and my head falls back against the wall. Having always worn a condom for oral, I never knew what I was missing, but Taylor and her innocent tongue sending lightning bolts of ecstasy zapping up my spine, she’s changed blow jobs for me forever. Her slick mouth and swirling tongue have me seeing stars and I’m shaking with the energy it takes to keep my hips locked in place when all I want to do is slam forward and sink into her throat.
My orgasm coils with unyielding tension between my legs. Has it even been one minute? Two? I’ve never reached orgasm this quickly, yet I can’t deny the mounting wave ready to burst free—
“Am I doing this right?”
I gasp so hard I see black spots. With the loss of her mouth so close to release, I grip my dick and stroke twice before the orgasm slams into me. My legs give, my muscles useless, and I drop to the shower floor panting, quaking in a heap, my stomach covered in my own release.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?”
With my dick still in my hand, I slump forward. “What the fuck was that?”
Her eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry—”
“No way you’ve never done that before.”
“I haven’t. Did I hurt you?”
&n
bsp; What starts as a slow chuckle grows into hysterical laughter.
“Okay, so you’re not hurt.” Her shoulders release tension and she smacks my thigh. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” I blow out a breath. “That was…” Are there even words for what I’m feeling? “Nothing I’ve ever done sexually has felt as good as your mouth on me.”
A slow smile spreads her lips. “Really?”
“Look at me! Two minutes of your mouth and you’ve turned me into a pathetic slab of meat.” I glare at her playfully. “You sure you haven’t done that before?”
I know she hasn’t, but the alternative is to accept that Taylor’s rookie moves felt better than any oral-pro-job because of what she means to me.
“Ha-ha. Real funny.” She stands, putting her very naked hips and everything in between them at eye level.
I surge forward and hook her thigh over my shoulder.
“Ethan! What are you doing?”
“Shhh…” I kiss up her inner thigh. “Returning the favor.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Taylor
Is it possible for one shower to make me feel older?
Checking my reflection in the mirror one last time—my hair blow-dried, mascara and lip gloss on thanks to Dixie who gifted me the items on my sixteenth birthday, and Ethan’s dress shirt—I no longer see the tomboy but instead a sexually liberated woman.
I giggle quietly as I relive the experience of showering with Ethan. Of course a man as sexually virile as him would give me an orgasm so intense, it knocked me into a different age bracket.
There’s a tap at the door. “You ready? Our ride is here.”
“Coming!” I search for a pocket to shove my phone into but come up empty. Guess I’ll have to carry it.
I step out of the bathroom to find Ethan looking like some kind of skate shop model with a green baseball hat on his mop of thick hair, green sweatshirt, perfectly fitted dark jeans, and white Adidas that look fresh from the box. Come to think of it, everything he wears looks as though it should still have tags hanging from the label.
Even under the bill of his ball cap, I can see his shocked expression.
“What?” I fidget in my Vans and push up the rolled sleeves of the borrowed shirt.
“Where are your pants?” he says with a wispy breath.
“The shirt’s so long, I figured I’d wear it like a dress.” Heat flashes along my cheeks and I wonder if I should’ve worn my jeans.
He continues to stare at me, his gaze a slow dance from my face to my feet.
“I don’t wear dresses.” I attempt to fill the awkward silence. “But it’s a date, and I guess—”
He lunges, his lips landing on mine so fast, I barely have time to react. I gasp into his mouth and melt into his arms as his kiss robs me of breath.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he rips his lips from mine. “That’s Rodger. He’s waiting.”
“We should go.” My fists tighten on his sweatshirt, the smell of his expensive cologne making me want to crawl under the fabric.
He licks his bottom lip. “You’re addicting.”
Neither of us move.
“Fuck, I really want to take you out, but…” He pushes my hair away from my neck and kisses me there. “Seeing you in nothing by my shirt is making me rethink things.”
I shove him back and put space between us, laughing at his pout. “If we don’t leave now, I won’t make it out of here with my virginity intact.”
He throws his head back and his laughter fills the room—and oddly, my chest as well. “I don’t want to have sex with you.” He holds a straight face for five seconds before he grins and shakes his head. “That’s a lie. I do want to have sex with you. But not until you’re ready.”
His confession makes me feel powerful. I haven’t once felt pressured by Ethan to take things further sexually. He’s always letting me take the lead. “I never would’ve expected the great Ethan Crow to be so patient.”
He frowns. “Huh… me either.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
We eventually get out of the hotel room and into the elevator. I stay on the opposite side of the small space just in case we get spotted by anyone. We make it out the employee entrance unseen and climb into the back of a waiting SUV.
I stick to the far door. Ethan eyes the space between us then hooks my waist and pulls me closer so that our thighs are touching. Rodger eyes us from the rearview mirror, not saying a word, but he seems unhappy.
“Don’t worry,” Ethan says in my ear. “He’ll keep our secret.”
I hope he’s right. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on my dad’s face if he found out I took a very dirty shower with a rock star.
The ride out of town is mostly silent. I don’t want to talk in front of Rodger and risk him hearing us flirt. Ethan’s fingers make circles against my bare thigh, stoking embers into flames until I’m shifting restlessly in my seat. He smirks at me, clearly aware of what his touch is doing, and his hand slips further between my legs. So close, but not nearly close enough.
The streets grow less populated and the streetlights are spaced farther apart. By the time the SUV pulls into a dark parking lot, I’m a puddle of lust, wishing I could fast forward our date and get back to our room.
“We’re here,” Ethan says, removing his warm palm from my leg. With its absence comes clarity.
“What is this?” I lean over him to look out the window. There’s a big building, but it’s dark and there’s only one other car in the lot. “I don’t think it’s open.”
Rodger stops the vehicle, and I squint to read the sign on the glass double doors.
“No cheating.” Ethan covers my eyes with his other hand. “It’s a surprise.”
He guides me from the back of the car, and I hold him around his waist to keep from falling over as we maneuver through a door and into a room that smells like popcorn and feet.
“Are you ready?” At my nod, he removes his hand.
Disco lights and a gigantic space explain the feet smell. “A skating rink!”
“We have the place to ourselves, and that includes whatever we want from the concession stand, so I hope you brought your appetite.”
I throw my arms over him, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. “Of all the places you could’ve taken me…”
He kisses me sweetly. “I figured dragging you to some stuffy five-star shit-show wouldn’t impress you.”
“You’re right.” I would’ve hated feeling like the ugly duckling in the room, the poser, or worse, the gold-digging whore.
“You’re impressed?”
His insecurity surprises me, but then, how often has the great Ethan Crow had to plan a date for a girl who isn’t dazzled by his money?
Our kiss quickly becomes heated as he lifts me off my feet and licks his way into my mouth. His hand sneaks down to cup my ass and his fingers sneak up under the hem to brush against my panties. I hum into his mouth—a throat clears to our left. Ethan tugs his shirt over my backside, and we turn, faces hot, to see a man in a Skatopia polo shirt, holding two pairs of worn-out roller skates.
Ethan doesn’t let me go, my feet dangling inches off the floor, as he addresses the man. “Those for us?”
“Yes, sir.” He sets down the skates.
I wiggle out of Ethan’s arms, and he lets me go with a reluctant frown. I thank the man and take the bench close by, toeing off my shoes and slipping on the smaller of the two pairs. Ethan exchanges a few words with the manager then sits beside me to put on his skates.
“How did you know my size?”
“I looked at your shoe while you were in the shower.” He laces his skates and we stand at the same time. “You have any requests?”
“Music?” I think that over. “Whitesnake? Skid Row? Anything from the eighties.”
He grins. “I like where your head’s at, Tom.”
Something about him calling me my nickname makes me
blush. What is up with these stupid girl hormones?
He punches something in on his phone and the speakers come to life with “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake.
We walk clumsily to the rink, and he takes my hand as we step out onto the slick surface.
“I can do it.” I haven’t skated in years, but I do have roller-skating experience. It’s one of the only things from my childhood that I remember fondly.
He doesn’t let me shake off his hand. “I know. I just like touching you.”
I’m surprised to see Ethan can skate as he keeps pace right next to me. “You know how to roller-skate?”
“I’m from Michigan. Grew up on ice skates.”
“Hockey or figure?”
“Funny. Although I’d make a glorious figure skater.” He attempts some fancy footwork and fails, nearly falling. “Maybe not.”
“You’d look great in the tights though,” I say through my smile.
He comes around me so that he’s skating backward, holding my hands.
“Now you’re just showing off!”
“Is it working?” He winks.
It is. It so is. “Maybe. Why did you decide to become a musician rather than go into the NHL?”
He turns around and skates alongside me. “I was a better musician than I was a hockey player. My older brother could’ve gone pro, but he joined the Air Force as soon as he turned eighteen.”
“You have a brother?”
“James. He’s the polar opposite of me. The only thing we have in common is that we both couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of our house. I moved to Los Angeles right out of high school.”
“Bad home life?”
“My parents hated each other. They got divorced after I moved out.” He chuckles. “Said they only stayed together for me. How fucked up is that? My dad was a dick to my mom. He remarried, but we don’t really have a relationship. He talks to my brother and I get updates from him.” He skates in a circle around me and rejoins me at my side, belting the lyrics to the song.
“And he can sing…” I speed up and he chases me. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”