by N. N. Britt
“You’re joking!” she exclaimed over the phone.
“Mom, I’m not joking.”
“Well, who is this man?”
“I’ll tell you soon.” I had to. I couldn’t keep this secret from my own mother much longer, especially since Frank wasn’t being careful anymore.
Truth was, in my mind, we were back together. I simply hadn’t told him yet. He deserved to suffer just a bit more.
"Why can't you tell me now?” she insisted.
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Mom.”
“Did you have to get a two-seater?” I scolded Ashton as we cruised down Sunset Boulevard with the top down and Post Malone blasting on the radio.
"Sorry," he said in a singsong voice. “I wasn’t planning on driving my entire family around in this car.”
“Watch the road, Schumacher.”
“You need to chill, sis.” He laughed and turned up the volume. The shit-eating grin on his face grew wider.
December in Southern California was just as sunny as the summer months. People on the sidewalks sported shorts and tank tops. Palm trees stood tall and green. The ocean breeze was a pleasant cool against my skin as we pushed through the late afternoon traffic in West Hollywood.
Christmas decor along the streets was the only indication of winter.
The dinner went well, considering the fact that Ashton and I arrived at the restaurant in a brand new Z4. It was a tiny Japanese place that was hidden away in one of the older buildings near the busy corner of Crescent Heights and Santa Monica. We ate an obscene amount of sushi and a cotton-soft cake that literally melted on my tongue. At some point, our mother tried to get Ashton to return the car, but obviously, it was a crapshoot.
I was exhausted by the time we finally got back home. Family gatherings always wore me out, no matter how low on drama they were.
A call from Frank came in the middle of the night. I scrambled for my phone, knowing it was him before my eyes registered his name. My room came alive and my heart nearly beat out of my chest at the sound of his whiskey murmur.
“How did it go with your mother?”
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” I sat up. “It’s late.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Well, you just did.”
His soft laugh warmed my trembling heart. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
I contemplated. “Possibly, but I have more conditions.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need you to be open with me, Frank. I’m not your enemy. I’m not out to get you and I would never wish you ill. If you really want us to work, you have to talk to me. You have to tell me what’s bothering you, because I can’t read your mind.”
“What do you want to know?”
I shivered as his words rolled through me. My gaze slid across the darkness of the room and froze on the digital clock on my nightstand that read four thirty.
“Right now, I want to know if you’re man enough to sing me a song so I can go back to sleep.” I flopped on a pillow, anticipation growing inside me.
“Is this a test?”
“Yes, it’s a test.” I giggled.
“Okay.” He paused for a second. “What would you like me to perform?” A playful lilt entered his tone.
“Well, it’s almost Christmas, so…”
“Are you in the mood for a Michael Bublé song?”
“This task is obviously meant to embarrass you, but I’m not a sadist. How about something else?”
Silence took over the line. I rolled on my side and readjusted the phone to hear Frank better. My stomach fluttered.
At first, it was just a whisper, a soft mix of sounds, a low hum. The words spun and echoed inside my head, glimmering like little stars, and they were hopeful and beautiful. Eyes closed, I let the familiar melody take over my mind and lull me to sleep.
The song was “Hallelujah” from Grace.
“I’m going to sue KBC.”
This was the first thing that Frank told me when I stepped inside his Malibu house the next day. Bag in hand, I crossed the room and halted beside the blazing Christmas tree.
“Say something, doll.” He neared me, and bittersweet warmth skated along the length of my body.
“What do you want me to say?” With a thundering heart, I glanced up at the star at the top.
“You don’t approve.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of my head.
I felt a rush of closeness as his hand skimmed over my waist. The fabric of the silk dress I’d picked specifically for him felt like armor. A bulletproof vest designed to prevent me from the full effect of his touch.
“I don’t think you should.” My gaze continued to inspect the decorations hung from the tree in thick bunches of semi-ellipses as I let my bag slip to the floor. “I know you feel like you’ve been wronged, and yes, you have, but I don’t think it’s going to bring your health back. What this lawsuit will do is give you an extra headache.”
There was a pause, then Frank’s hand popped in front of my face. He was holding a small box with a red bow.
My heart skipped a beat. “What’s this?”
“Your Christmas present.” He pushed my hair aside, and his mouth dropped to the nape of my neck, his lips tracing a ticklish trail over my skin.
Goosebumps puckered my flesh. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Maybe.”
I opened the box. Inside lay a bracelet. It was delicate and exquisite and matched the chain of the diamond solitaire necklace Frank gave me several months ago.
“Nice try, rockstar.” I grinned.
“I do value your advice, doll, but can we continue the serious conversation after dinner?” Frank’s lips returned to my neck.
“You’re taking them to court on principle,” I continued, needing to voice everything I had on my mind. “While your band will be gearing up for a tour with a new singer, you’ll be wasting time you could be spending writing new music and money you could be using for something useful on a pointless lawsuit that will probably drain you emotionally and end in a typical anticlimactic matter. A settlement in exchange for a promise to never try to bark at the label again.”
I was glad a tiny glass Santa Claus that hung from the tree was on the receiving end of my speech. Crumbling from the effect of my words, he tore his mouth from my neck and drew me closer.
“It’s not worth your effort,” I explained. “You’re so much better than this. You and Isabella have incredible musical chemistry. Record the single. Let the world hear you. Fuck everyone else.”
He responded with grim silence.
I put the bracelet back in the box and slid it into my pocket. “I know you probably think I’m pushing for your collaboration so hard because she’s my artist and I want to jump start her career. I do and you can help her with that, but I wouldn’t tell you any of this if you two were shit together. You aren’t. You’re going to break so many fucking hearts with your music, you have no idea.”
He spun me around. We were face to face now, mere inches between our bodies. He looked radiant in his vulnerability. His eyes dazzled in the ever-changing lights of the Christmas tree.
“All I’m hearing is fucking, and we haven’t done any in weeks.” A smirk cut through his cheek. “How about we fix that problem first?”
“I thought you wanted to start with dinner?”
“I changed my mind. You turn me on when you talk business.”
“Asshole.” I cupped his chin and pulled him to meet my lips. A ghost of a moan left his throat. He sunk his hand in my hair. I’d forgotten how much I loved the feel of his tongue in my mouth, how much I loved the hard press of his chest against my softness, how much I loved his deft hands roaming my curves.
The kiss was a lingering flame. A gentle flutter of a lost butterfly. The final swirl of a fall leaf. Each flick of our tongues and each pull of our lips burned so hard, my lungs struggled to breathe.
Frank smiled lazily against my mouth. And that split second, when he grinned like a kid, felt as if all the rainbow colors burst inside my chest.
“I missed you,” I said, pulling away for a second to drink him in.
“I missed you too, doll.” He cradled the back of my head. “I hate that we fought.”
“That’s what couples do.”
“Screw other couples.” His lips came down on mine fiercely. For a man who’d recently had two surgeries and had only one functioning shoulder, Frank was pretty persistent. He licked every corner of my mouth and inspected every fold of my dress. I didn’t mind. On the contrary, I reciprocated. My small hands slid over his hard lines, eager. He’d lost weight and rigor, but his body was still lean, toned, and beautiful. With all its ink and scars. With all its pain and grace.
Our feet fumbled across the room in a slow, delicious dance. We kissed as if we hadn’t seen each other in a thousand years.
“I want to be inside you so bad,” he mumbled against my cheek deliriously, pulling me to his chest. “Right now.”
“What about your parents?”
“They went to Catalina. They won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”
“What about—?”
His thumb pressed to my swollen lips to shut them up before I finished my question. “I gave everyone the day off.” He waggled his brows. “Today the house is all ours.”
I leaned back, and my eyes ran along the breadth of his shoulders. He wasn’t allowed to take the sling off during waking hours for another four weeks.
“We’re going to have to get very creative, baby.” I brushed his chin with my index finger. “That couch right behind you looks comfortable.”
Eyes hooded, he glanced over his shoulder. The corners of his lips curled up in a subtle smile.
“Why don’t you sit down and relax?” I whispered. Anticipatory shivers rolled down my spine. My panties dampened from the lust gathering between my legs.
Frank did as I asked. He lowered himself to the couch and slid a pillow behind his back. Wanton excitement lit up my body. I rushed over to the iPod station and skimmed through his music catalogue, glancing at him mischievously. My lover was about to get an iconic treat à la Kim Basinger. Or, at least, I was going to do my best. And definitely without the hat. Hats weren’t allowed in this house anyway. We were boycotting Dante.
Frank shifted and readjusted his cock that was clearly straining against his jeans as I flipped my hair and docked the iPod, a pleasant buzz fogging my head. The Christmas lights swirled across the artwork-studded walls and the sheer-shaded windows of the living room.
My pulse quickened. Desire set my flesh and blood on fire.
I watched Frank’s expression change from lax to heated as the jazzy, mid-tempo tune blared from the speakers. He bit his bottom lip and rested his hand on his erection. His eyes shone with a sinister glow.
I moved across the room slowly, swaying my hips to the tempting beat of the song. My dress was a knee-length wrap with a zipper on one side. There wasn’t much to work with, but I’d worn a pair of sexy pumps and a lace lingerie set and I wanted to show off. I wanted to strip and I wanted to ride Frank in the most inelegant way.
His breath hitched as my fingers began to play with the skirt, dragging the light fabric up my thighs. He parted his lips to suck in more air through his teeth. A grin of satisfaction spread to his stubbly cheeks. Men truly needed so little to be happy. It was almost too easy.
I stopped front and center to ensure Frank had the best view and whirled on my heels. My heart thrummed along with the music. Potent and tasteful, the melody became my pulse. I felt its erotic beat in my temples and dripping between my thighs. Dizzy with lyrics, my head continued to spin. My hair whipped across my face and I couldn’t see anything but the blurred lines of Frank’s silhouette splayed over the white upholstery of the couch.
He breathed hard. His lungs couldn’t catch up with his want. This craving that filled the empty space between us was a deadly case of passion. Hips rolling, I inched closer and pulled down the zipper of my dress to reveal some more skin. Frank’s hooded gaze followed my every move, his hand squeezed his erection. He was a goner.
Satisfied with the results, I wrestled the silk off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
He released a strained moan. “I’m going to come in my jeans if you keep this up.”
“Is that a challenge?” I laughed, taking a step forward. My hair fell down my back and over my breasts in messy cascades of black.
Frank tore his hand from his bulge and reached out for me. “Come closer, doll.”
I obliged. He ran his palm along the curve of my waist and to my bare hip. His thumb slid beneath my lacy panties.
“Patience.” I slapped his knuckles lightly and retreated.
He let out a groan, and his eyes grew darker.
The song reached its peak and the ragged rhythm galloped through my body, twisting and bending me like a willow tree. I was raw and undone between my legs and parts of me needed Frank to put out the damn fire he’d lit. Other parts of me were enjoying the torturous look on his face.
My hands moved around my back to unhook my bra. Cupping my breasts, I swayed to the music. The unsteady click of my heels meshed with the leisurely beat of the drums and the rough grit of the vocals.
Frank patted his thigh invitingly and I strutted toward the couch to take the space between his legs. Gliding my hands over my skin, I peeled off my bra and it dropped across my shoes.
Face flushed with delight, Frank snaked his arm around me and palmed my ass. His gaze danced a lustful path up my body.
I could tell he was torn between touching me and touching himself, and part of me felt bad that he only had one good hand, but I was dead set on making him forget about his injuries. I was a girlfriend on a mission. And the mission was to give my man an orgasm.
Dropping to my knees, I reached for his zipper and freed his cock. He was beautiful, hard, and ready for me to suck him. Fingers tangled in my hair, Frank tossed his head back. A ravaged growl lingered on his lips for a few seconds before he released it into the music.
I took him into my mouth slowly, wetting him and relaxing my throat. His hips bucked. His body stiffened. The tip of him slid in deep, salty precum blending with my saliva.
“Fuck, baby.” I heard him mutter under his breath as his hand pushed against the back of my head slowly and carefully. My belly squeezed at the guttural sound of his voice. He was the epitome of masculinity—tight, sensual, and writhing under my touch. Every part of me ached for him after seven nights of absolute loneliness in my bed, but I wanted to grant him his pleasure first.
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I slid my mouth around his length, all the way down until there was no room left.
“Oh God. Yes,” he murmured, nearly convulsing beneath me. His rasp reverberated inside my head, and my sex clenched with need.
I worked his cock with delicacy and attention. My tongue swirled over each ridge of his thickness in sharp precision. Quick, skillful, moan-inducing movements, until he neared the edge.
Releasing him from my mouth, I gasped for air and stood. He was spent, eyes closed, lashes fluttering, hand gripped around his wet cock. My hips wavered as I slid my panties off and straddled him. My shoes were still on and he grinned at me like a teenager who’d just gotten his first blowjob. Heat flashed where our bodies connected. His thickness pressed to my center, which pulsed as I moved along its length with a sluggish rhythm, teasing him.
Frank was panting with need. His broken breaths grew louder and he grabbed at my waist.
“Shhh, baby.” I palmed his cheeks. “Relax. Let me do all the work. You can make it up to me in a couple of months.”
He laughed feverishly through his frenzy, and my emotions swelled in my chest. It was almost too much. Too many feelings. My mind spun out of control. I rested my hands atop the back pillow to leverage myself.
“Come on, doll. Put me out of my mi
sery. Fuck me already.”
I leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “As you wish.” His skin was slick with sweat and I rubbed my chin against the side of his face. He was every bit the mess a person in his delicate situation should be, but he was my mess. And I wanted to make him feel good.
Our bodies mingled, mine small and lithe and his large and trim. We fit together perfectly. My thighs moved carefully, rocking to the dark, slow beat. The song changed and we were now wrapped into the divine voice of Leonard Cohen’s “Thousand Kisses Deep.” I froze at the tip of him, soaking in the final moment of the prelude as our flesh brushed one last time. Then he slid into me gently, his hand gripping my leg. I lowered my body onto his, every single inch of his cock buried in me so deep, there was barely enough room to breathe.
A tremor rushed through my limbs from the friction of our skin. My head fell back. I was losing my mind, and euphoria had begun to take over. Nothing existed right now—just the insanity of us. My body welcomed his modest thrusts. Rolling my hips, I pumped him carefully, ripping low, pleasured growls from his chest. He remained still, hand on my thigh, lips invitingly open.
We were caught up in a wild trance of sex, pain, and rock ’n’ roll. It was an agonizingly slow ride. I rocked to the music against his lap, my bare breasts bouncing tauntingly in front of his face. Craning his neck, he reached for my left nipple, and I arched to give him better access. He sucked me into his mouth ravenously. The devilish flicks of his tongue were going to be my undoing.
“Does it feel good?” I asked, quickening my pace to match the tempo of the next song.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” He laughed softly.
“I want you to be comfortable, because I’m just getting started,” I explained, licking his cheek.
“Oh, I am comfortable, doll.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his delicious mouth. “You have no idea.”
“Then we’re good.” I lifted myself up and then sank down.
He responded with a strangled moan against my shoulder. Skin to skin, we were burning up. His bunched up shirt dampened against his chest from the blend of our sweat. It was a filthy dance—the cadence of our movement, the hurricane of our labored groans. Our climax built at a steady, measured pace until our bodies reached the perfect height to fall from. Then we tumbled down together, irrevocably connected. Physically and spiritually. It was the most beautiful descent of my entire life.