Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Rockstar Collection

by Cari Quinn

  But it was the door that took her breath and made her curl into Deacon tighter. “Oh, wow.” Stained an intense and almost iridescent purple, it was a work of art. Made out of heavy wood and huge iron hinges, the door dominated the space, adding to the fairy cottage feel.

  “Lila helped me find this place.”

  “Lila is amazing.”

  “And she knows it.”

  Harper laughed. “Put me down. You need two hands to pull that bad boy open.”

  “I texted the caretaker when we were close, and she came to open it up for us.” He hefted her higher, juggling a hand free for one of the large iron rings. “I’m carrying you over the damn threshold.”

  Delighted, she held on as the twelve foot purple door creaked open. A fresh blast of salt air hit her first, followed by the roar of the tide. The back door was open and diaphanous sheers fluttered in the late night breeze.

  It was a small place. The kind of cozy perfection created for honeymooners. A kitchenette filled one corner with gleaming butcher block countertops and dark wood cabinets with oiled brass antique fixtures. A simple pendant light let off a warm glow. Part of her ached to go check it out. She could never quite turn off the cooking side of her, but the huge canopy bed that dominated the main living space blinked out all thoughts of food.

  More filmy sheers fell from each corner of the dark four poster structure. A half dozen pillows and a sinfully decadent duvet in frosty white teased them both closer.

  “Whoa,” Deacon said as he let her slowly slide down to the floor.

  She wandered past the bed, sliding her fingertips over the sateen luxury grade bedding. She could feel her husband at her back as if they were both drawn out the French doors. A beautiful pergola strung with white twinkle lights framed out the space, but also left a blanket of stars visible. It was cool, but not cold. A huge hammock swung gently in the breeze off the water.

  Winter stark waves ate up the sand leaving a trail of seaweed and foam. It was endless, open and private as only the ocean could be.

  Deacon’s arms came up and around her. One across her shoulders, the other loosely banded across her belly, enveloping her in his warmth. He rested his chin on the crown of her head and she felt the relaxing exhale of his breath.

  “We needed this,” she said quietly as she smoothed a hand over his forearm.

  He brushed his lips against her cheek before burrowing into her hair that had come out of her braid. He drew in deep, his exhale teasing her neck and shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever get you alone.”

  The rumble of his voice made her shiver.

  His touch was gentle as the endless tide. A hot trail of breath followed by unhurried lips. She rocked back against him, his solid strength made her feel safe and loved, and his growing hardness at her lower back brought out the urgency from earlier to the forefront.

  How he always managed to bring both out at the same time shouldn’t surprise her anymore, but each kiss dragged her into the storm that was Deacon. Sometimes a shelter in her own stormy mind, and sometimes he was the cause of her turbulent emotions. Love, lust, and comfort tumbled around her chest in a never-ending cycle.

  At the nip of his teeth along her jaw, she drew in a shuddering breath. Her nails dug into his forearm holding her tight as his other hand slid under her shirt to trace circles over her belly. Each slow touch seemed to have the opposite effect inside her. Her blood felt like it was racing through her veins. Everything felt too slow, too claustrophobic. She needed more.

  Soft kisses and gentle touches were Deacon’s stock in trade and she loved him for it. Loved that he cherished her. But the other side of him was what she needed right now. The pounding surf reverberated in her chest like a double time beat. Heady, thrumming, and mind bending.

  She laced her fingers over his and pushed his hand higher to cup her breast. The whisper of familiar callouses over her nipple tightened them to aching points. To have him here like this, no interruptions and no ticking clock should have eased her. Instead, a moan crashed out of her too full chest. She flipped up the cups of her bra and shirt. Struggling to get out of the restriction.

  Deacon’s breath hitched and his touch went from quiet to firm. He cupped and plucked, his mouth busy along her neck where she loved him to suck and tease.

  Still not enough.

  She still needed more.

  The air slipped over her too warm flesh and collided with Deacon’s hot hands.

  “Yes.” She covered his hands again, holding him to her tighter. It felt like there were a million firing points under her skin and all of them were centered on her nipples. Her head slammed back on his chest as she arched.

  The echoing groan rumbled through him and into her. She turned in his arms, grasping at his shoulders. The man was nothing if not in tune with her. He hoisted her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips.

  Encouraged by the heavy erection tucked between them, she ground her hips against him. It was the best she could do with all these stupid clothes on. She locked her arms around his neck, her nails scraping up the back of his skull. Silky hair feathered through her fingers. Instead of the cool enjoyment she usually got, it felt like fire licking the backs of her hands.

  Spurred on by the unquenchable thirst for him, she covered his mouth with hers. His fingers bit into her hips as the kiss went deep and penetrating. Exactly the way she wanted him.

  Deep.

  Inside her.

  Filling her.

  Deacon at his most primal. He seemed to understand that. There had been so little time for them lately. So little connection during the little bits of in between. Between jobs, between lyrics, between sessions, between fights with the band.

  Between breathing.

  Deacon was her air. When life bombarded and suffocated, just the touch of his warm skin brought balance. Sometimes it was the soft she needed and sometimes it was the desperate.

  Right now, she was past desperation. She felt like every atom was vibrating apart.

  The sheer curtains slid over her bare shoulder as he headed through the doors. Moonlight gilded his hair, his shoulders, leaving the rest of him in silhouette. Her knees dug into his ribs as he lifted her, his mouth finding her breast, his teeth scoring over her nipple before sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth.

  They toppled to the bed and he raced down her chest to her belly, scoring his calloused fingertips over her skin to the stretchy pants she wore. He dragged them down, his open mouth finding the center of her unerringly.

  She bowed up off the bed, crying out his name, every swear word she could think of, every oath as his tongue delved between her lips. As he hollowed her out with each drawing suck, followed by long thorough thrusts of his tongue. Pleasure drowned her, his passion fueled her. All of the screaming atoms vibrated and coiled throughout her body.

  The fluid softness of the sheets at her back pulled her under as he splayed her open. She tried to crawl up the bed.

  Too much.

  She was going to fly apart.

  Half on the bed, half off, he curled his arms under her thighs and laced his fingers over her belly. With his thumbs, he opened her too-swollen lips. Long fingers owned her body, strummed her, plucked her, soothed her even as he watched her with wild green eyes.

  She tried to buck him off.

  Too much.

  The growl of the dark, dominant part of Deacon lived there at the edge of the bed, staring up at her. Thrilling, dangerous, life-affirming.

  Always too much.

  And never enough.

  Her name was a guttural groan before he fused his mouth over her clit and sucked.

  The air seemed to still and the room drifted away. There was only his eyes, his mouth, and the precipice that they both balanced on.

  Mine.

  Always mine.

  Deacon.

  Always Deacon.

  Three

  Greed

  Detonation.

  It was the only word that ro
lled around in his mind as his wife came under his mouth. She shuddered and her nails dug into his wrists. As if he would ever let her go as she shook and scrabbled for him. Not a chance in hell.

  Her taste was beyond temptation.

  It was the ocean and love. It was lust and fire. It was everything and he couldn’t get enough. He delved deeper for more, licking along the oh so swollen tissues as she surged under him.

  Finally, he clicked back in and shucked his pants and shirt to get on top of her. He tried to roll her over on top of him, but she wasn’t interested. Grasping, greedy fingers dug into his shoulders as her legs came around his hips.

  “Deacon.”

  Her voice was harsh and rough. The tones so different than her usual sleepy orgasm voice. She sounded almost in pain.

  He braced his arms on either side of her face. “Shhh, baby.”

  She squirmed under him, grinding her swollen pussy over his shaft. He groaned, trying to rein in the part that wanted inside. Trying to swim to the surface even as he wanted only to drown in her skin and the hot center of her that always felt like home.

  Harper’s nails nipped over his back to his ass. “Inside.”

  “Over me,” he said raggedly. He didn’t trust himself right now. Her taste filled his mouth, her scent was a moment away from ruling his brain.

  And the sounds she was making were like nothing he’d heard before.

  He grabbed her hand and pushed it over her head, lacing their fingers. When her other became just as recklessly biting, he dragged it up and stared down at her.

  High color stained her cheeks and her eyes were too wide.

  “Slow down, baby.”

  She shook her head and rolled her hips till just the tip of his cock slid inside of her. “Yes.” Her fingers tightened over his until they were palm to palm. She rose up, her mouth on his neck, her tongue flicking under his chin and then nipping over to his ear. All of the places she knew to get him off.

  “Now, inside me now.”

  Harper, under him. Begging for him.

  He canted his hips forward and groaned, pressing his face into the mattress beside her neck. All the places inside of her that were made for him gripped and sucked him deeper.

  She closed her legs around his hips, her heels digging into his back as she rose up under him. Her name was a choked litany of gasps as he gave in.

  As if he could ever deny her.

  He drove inside of her, his brain shutting down as her slick heat welcomed him again and again. Sweat raced down his back, dripped from his temple and pooled between them. He lost himself to that dark, secret part of him that reveled in her giving body. In finding ways to make her scream his name. He gritted his teeth against the shout drawing up from his spine and pushing against his ribs.

  The roar that owned him when he let go.

  She was the only one he allowed to see this side of him. Afraid of them as much as he lived for these moments. He rose over her, pinning her hands over her head so that her full, gorgeous breasts were stretched up, the tips a dark raspberry with her excitement.

  Meeting the wildness living in her eyes, unable to look away, he pistoned his hips against her welcoming open legs. He let her hands go to hook his arms under her knees.

  Needing more.

  Needing to be deeper.

  He opened her wider, until she allowed every last inch inside her sweet, perfect pussy.

  She scrabbled up the bed and he chased her with unerring thrusts. Harper reached for the wide headboard and held on, pushing back on each of his thrusts.

  She was there, just on the edge, but she didn’t seem to have the ability to go over. And God, she needed to. His name a sob in her throat. He slid lower, pulling back to get down to her and make her come with his mouth, but she grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging his mouth to hers. “Just you.” She snapped her jaws tight until he could see the ache as much as feel it. “I need you filling me up. Please, Deacon.”

  He nodded and rolled her onto her side, splaying one thigh over his hip as he surged up and inside her from behind. He brought his hand down to where they were joined. She was so swollen that she shuddered and thrashed at his touch.

  He tried to be gentle, but she covered his hand with her own until the friction was a hair’s breadth away from cruel. She’d become impossibly wetter now, so much so he had trouble staying inside her without a concentrated effort. He pressed his forehead into her neck and bit down on her shoulder. Anything to find that spot she so obviously needed. The slow shudder started and he held on. His thrusts deep and punishing. He was too far gone to hold back.

  She closed around him, the grip driving him mad. He had to come. He had to finish or they’d die right here in this bed.

  Lungs on fire, his abs shaking with each mini-thrust, he finally felt the shudder work through her. His name was a wordless plea on the air as she curled into herself, and he followed her, winding around her, holding her as the lightning scored down his spine and he finally let go.

  Wrung out, his body simply shut down and they both relaxed into boneless sleep.

  Hours later, she woke him, the need just as insatiable. Full of tangled whispers and urgency, she rode him until her cries drifted out into the sea soaked night and only the surf answered.

  When morning finally intruded, he found himself alone in the middle of a storm tossed bed. Pillows were at the foot of the mattress, the duvet dripped off the edge leaving him in only a scrap of a sheet.

  He rolled to his back, stretching diagonal across the king sized bed. His morning erection had been long sated at dawn and again a few hours ago by her hungry mouth, leaving him hollowed out and exhausted.

  He couldn’t remember her ever being that single-minded before. He was usually the one dragging her back into bed to rest and cuddle whenever their crazy schedules allowed. And usually he was the one to initiate sex these days.

  Evidently a clear calendar was just what his wife needed.

  What they needed.

  And if she couldn’t walk correctly when they got home, then so be it.

  “What’s that smirk for?”

  He lifted his head, his smirk widening into a full blown smile as she knelt on the bed, holding a mug of coffee out to him. “Nothing.” He sat up. “Thanks.”

  She curled in front of him on her knees, her eyes dancing over the rim of her mug. She’d filched another one of his tour shirts. This time, Metallica’s Master of Puppets slashed across her chest moving freely with her unencumbered breasts.

  “What’s with the devil eyes?”

  She shrugged. “Just happy.”

  He leaned forward, feeling the smile in her hazelnut kiss. Instead of pulling back, she crawled over to him and straddled his hips. She put her mug down and stole his.

  She shifted the sheets, rolling her hips until his cock stirred to life. All it took was a look, a whisper of her scent…hell, just having her in the room had him hard and aching most of the time. But now, he was almost raw from how many times they’d come together.

  She had to be sore.

  He groaned as she curled her warm fingers around his shaft. “Lawless.”

  She smiled and slid the tip of his cock along her slit. She was slick and swollen already and took him inside with ease. Normally he had to go slow the first thrust, but she slid down his cock taking him fully inside.

  Her summer sky eyes were wild again. The whites just a little too white, the pupils a little too wide. But he was lost to her a moment later. The rolling glide of her hips dragged him inside the shared space that only they could create.

  Gaze locked, bodies one, and sunlight turning her hair into burnished gold, she was everything he’d wanted and never dreamed to have. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her flush to him until he could have her mouth, too.

  The haunting groan from their endless night together spilled out of her mouth and into his lungs. And she rode him harder, her hips going from fluid to frantic.

  Wher
e had he lost her?

  She’d been with him and now she was arching away, her knees gripping his hips as her fingers bit into his shoulder. “Deacon.”

  “Shh, baby. I’m here.”

  He lowered his grip to her hips and controlled the wild bucking. Christ, he didn’t want to hurt her. This angle let her control the depth of his thrust, but there was no control in her. Only the tempestuous Harper that had invaded his dreams and their bed last night

  Unsure what to do, but willing to trust his instincts, he whipped the shirt up and off her and went for her throat. Cornsilk hair curled around his cheek as he found the spot that drove her mad.

  He tumbled her back on the bed and brought his hand between them, using fingers against the hunger-starved clit that felt far too engorged for the moment.

  They were combustible together, yes. But this was way beyond their usual. The way she gasped his name as her nails dug in. It fed the darker side of him that wanted out so very badly, but he tamped it down. Not now.

  Right now, he needed to stay focused and find his way through the veil of need that seemed to have her trapped. She wasn’t with him, she was simply reacting to a stimulus that was gripping her tighter than even his arms could.

  He slid out of her and she scrambled up and into his arms, trying to get him back inside of her.

  “Lawless, wait.”

  “If you don’t make me come my brains out, I’m going to—”

  “Going to what?”

  She huffed and stared into his eyes. The wild seeping out of her with heaving breaths. It was still there—on the fringes like a fox ready to take out a defenseless bunny.

  He’d never been a bunny before.

  And he’d never seen this cunning side of her.

  Instead of denying her, he dumped her on her back and went right for the target she wanted him to concentrate on. He latched his lips over the swollen lips of her pussy and found the sensitive knot.