by N. N. Britt
His eyes were wild and hooded.
He dropped his hand to my bare thigh and squeezed it. “Fucking perfect. That’s what you are, Ms. Evans. And mine.” He leaned forward and licked my nipple. Long, rapid flicks. Swept with another wave of arousal, I clamped around his body, grabbed the headrest for support, and tossed my head back to enjoy the flawless work of his tongue.
“Undo me,” Frank ordered.
Blood racing in my ears, I unzipped his jeans and palmed his cock. He shifted beneath me to give me more room to work. It was somewhat challenging with his shoulder, but I found my way around. My sex ached against the press of his length. Then I readjusted myself, lining up our bodies so that his tip teased my entrance. This had to be fast and rough. Each time apart from him sent me into a withdrawal worse than the previous one. Tonight, I wanted a little pain.
Frank wrapped his arm around my back and gripped my shoulder, guiding me. Shuddered breaths escaped his chest.
I sunk onto his cock until I couldn’t go any farther. Until my legs trembled and my toes curled. My body welcomed the wave of pleasant hurt as it rolled through my limbs.
Frank’s features hardened, eyes slammed shut. He enjoyed the actual act of penetration, the act of becoming one, as much as he enjoyed the ride and getting to the finish line.
I took him whole. Every throbbing inch of his length. At this angle, he felt massive inside me. All my sweet spots buzzed as our bodies began to move together. The slick grind of our hips was perfect. My blood thickened, my pulse sprinted. The air inside the car was heavy.
My fingers dove into Frank’s hair and skimmed through its thickness. “Slap my ass, baby,” I asked between my moans. “I want it a little rough.”
He smoothed his hand over my skin and gave it a smack. A gasp left my mouth. I felt the burn spread across my thigh.
“Want me to do it again?” Frank asked, staring at me through the flutter of his lashes.
I nodded.
He knew exactly what I needed. The next smack was a little harder and louder. I cried out and picked up the rhythm. He met the roll of my hips with hard thrusts and another smack. Everything in me, every part, buzzed. His cock had no mercy. He pumped fiercely. His hand slipped to my shoulder to push me down against his length. The leather seats squeaked under the weight of our bodies. We were a mixture of sweat, moans, dirty words, and a sliver of pain. Chasing our orgasms. And the chase was beautiful. For a second, we were truly whole. All his worries filtered through me. All his heartbeats repeated mine.
The release was so intense, I blacked out for a brief moment. My mind soared. My body shook. When I came to, Frank’s arm was wrapped around my waist, chin pressed to my shoulder. Mouth open, he was still trying to catch his breath. His broad chest heaved.
My face dropped to his. Cheek to cheek, we rocked slowly, delaying the inevitable. The moment we’d have to separate. The moment we’d have to break this incredible intimacy apart.
“I love you,” I whispered, kissing his damp hair. The words didn’t check with me first. They simply came out because they wanted to. I was tired of telling him this while we fought. I wanted to tell him when we were sharing a passionate moment. Like right now.
He cradled the back of my head and stayed silent, but I felt the thrum of his pulse spiking beneath my touch.
“Just accept it, Frank.”
“It’s such a foreign thing for me to say, baby.” He was still inside me. Our lust coated our thighs and stained the seat. “Just give me some time to get used to it. The way I feel with you…” His voice wavered, tripped, and faded into the sound of the music. “I can’t quite put it into words just yet.”
“Says the award-winning songwriter?” I smiled, but something in my chest twitched. I remembered what he’d said to me the other day. He didn’t want to make music anymore. Yes, he’d been drunk, but something told me he felt this way when he was sober too. At least, for now.
Being mad at him was impossible. Though twisted, his confession meant a lot.
“That’s why it’s so difficult. Words are tricky. Wrong ones hurt the most.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Frank.” I caught his gaze. “Unless you give me a valid reason to. I’ll admit, it’s been challenging, but the problem you have is fixable. Everyone feels down. Everyone is miserable at some point in their lives. The main thing is to face it and find the strength to move forward, and as long as you’re trying to work through this, I’ll be by your side.”
It was the strangest thing, talking to a man about recovery while he was buried inside me.
Frank’s face softened. “You might be the best thing that ever happened to me. You’re smart, beautiful”—a playful glint entered his eyes—“and your blow jobs are amazing.”
I laughed and smashed my lips against his. We were a mess, beyond hot. We were smoldering. Nothing else mattered.
A tap on the window was like a bucket of cold water. I saw the jerk of a flashlight. Then there was another tap and a voice.
Panic clutched my chest. “Oh shit. Police.” My hands shook as I tried to pull my dress over my breasts. We separated.
Cursing, Frank zipped up his jeans. “Let me get behind the wheel,” he hissed.
“No,” I protested, sliding back into my seat and lowering the music. “Stay there.” I wasn’t about to let him crawl across the center console with a busted shoulder. A Ferrari wasn’t a very spacious car, after all.
Rolling down the window, I caught only a small glimpse of the uniform and the badge. The flashlight blinded me. Chilly air streamed in, biting the bare skin on my shoulders and knees.
“Ma’am?” I heard a drawl. “Have you been drinking?”
Squinting, I shook my head. My hands were in my lap. My panties were nowhere to be found. My bra was on the floor.
“License and registration?” The officer barked and surveyed the interior of the car. The flashlight jumped over to Frank as he drew the paperwork from the glove compartment.
I scrambled for my purse.
We were silent while the officer scanned our IDs. A few moments later, he dipped his head and asked, “Is this your vehicle, Mr. Bla— I mean, Mr. Wallace?”
Frank nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Is this the V-12 model?”
“That’s right.”
“How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s better. Thank you.”
The officer handed us the paperwork and the IDs. His eyes darted to me, then back to Frank. “Mr. Wallace, I’m supposed to give you and Ms. Evans a citation for public indecency.”
My heart thundered in my chest. I’d been corrupted and compromised by the golden boy of hard rock and his cock.
“I understand.” Frank nodded. “Could we leave Ms. Evans out of it and just write one for me?”
Who said chivalry was dead?
The officer cleared his throat. “I suppose I can let you go with a warning.” I heard a smile in his voice. “My wife is a big fan. Would you sign an autograph for her?”
The dynamics between us shifted. The officer handed him a blank ticket form.
“What’s your wife’s name?” Frank asked, fishing out a pen from the glove compartment.
“Sarah.”
“Tell Sarah I said thank you for the support.” He scribbled a few words on the paper and returned it to the officer. “Apologies for the horrible handwriting. I’m still a bit sore.”
“It’s all good. She’ll be stoked. Will probably frame it. We’ve got all your records on vinyl.”
“Vinyl is the way to go.”
“Absolutely. That new guy, Marshall Burns… He’s got nothing on you.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You get better, Mr. Wallace.”
“Thank you.”
I rolled up the window and watched the officer walk back to his patrol car in the mirror. Grinning, Frank fixed his jeans and shirt.
“Oh my God, that was so close.” A sigh of relief escaped from between my l
ips.
We looked at each other and shared a laugh of amusement.
I spun in my seat and searched for my underwear.
Frank slid his hand over my thigh and whispered, “I have your panties, doll.”
“Well, give them back.”
“When we get home.”
“You want me to drive home like this?” I motioned at my disheveled dress. “What if we get pulled over?” Heat pooled between my legs and I shivered.
“We won’t as long as you don’t speed.” He smirked. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Nine
Levi and I waited for Margerie Helm, the manager of Melrose Cinema, at the concessions area. Dressed in business casual, we sat on the couch and gawked at the dark, vintage-styled interior. The theater wasn’t open to the public yet, and the only people inside were employees tidying up the foyer.
I’d spoken to Margerie on the phone and we’d exchanged a few emails, but she was a thorough woman. She wanted to meet in person before giving us a definite answer.
“Did you two go to the movies?” Levi grunted, handing me his phone.
“Yes.” Sore from last night’s sex marathon, I was daydreaming. Frank and I had hardly slept. We’d fucked some more after we got home. First in the shower, then in the bedroom. Then in the shower again. Every muscle in my body ached.
“You’re on TMZ again,” Levi croaked.
I took his phone and scrolled through the gallery of blurred photos of Frank and me inside the theater and the headline.
“Frankie Blade and His Girlfriend Spotted in West Hollywood: The Singer Treats the Entire Theater to Popcorn”
“Was the movie any good?” Levi asked as I returned the phone.
“It was decent.”
Smiling, he shook his head and checked the time. We were both quiet for a bit. My mind drifted back to Frank. I wanted us to spend as much time together as possible before he left for rehab. I knew I was playing with fire and breaking my own rules, but I hated my life without him. I hated waking up and going to sleep alone.
“You sure you don’t want to come with?” Levi probed. The album release party that Dante organized was tonight.
“I’m sure.”
“All right. Suit yourself.” He paused for a few seconds, then continued, “Gonna be a lot of interesting people there. You could recruit a few more sponsors while we’re knocking out the interviews.”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t want your boyfriend to get butthurt?” Levi lowered his voice. “Is he scared of being in the same building with Marshall Burns?”
“Considering how he and the band parted ways, I don’t think he owes them anything. He’s not going. I’m not going either. End of story.”
“He wrote the damn album. You’re taking his side on this because you two are together, but if you look at it from my perspective, he’s a train wreck. He deserted the project he, himself, initiated and he’s playing the victim. In reality, he simply isn’t fit for touring. Everyone knows it. Instead of scheduling a bunch of dates across the globe, he should have started with one-off shows to see if he was able to keep up with the routine. Now half the planet hates him. It’s like seeing a fucking pie you like and buying the whole thing, eating it and then getting food poisoning.”
“What is it with men and food metaphors?” I rolled my eyes.
“I sorta hate his ass for stealing you from me,” Levi confessed, dropping his gaze to his phone. “You were my girl. I found you first.”
“Awe. You’re so sweet.” I laughed quietly.
“Me and you, Cass… We were the shit. Dream fucking team. I want you by my side when we get our office space.”
“I thought you and Shayne were hitting it off.”
Levi slipped his phone back into his pocket and moved closer. “She’s great in front of the camera. We’re rocking it when we’re on location, but she’s so fucking unorganized… You have no idea. I texted her last night to make sure she remembered to meet me at my place at three and she hasn’t even read the message yet.”
“She’s probably sleeping.”
“You should think about getting back to it.”
“I am thinking about it. I’m already on for Bennett’s interview. Just give me some time to rest my brain and figure things out.”
In my peripheral, I noted Margerie. She emerged from behind the door with the Employees Only sign and shot us a wide smile. Her fierce gaze matched her no less fierce red hair. My excitement grew as she approached.
“Cassy and Levi, nice to finally meet you.”
We shook hands.
Margerie sat on the couch across from us. Her cunning eyes studied me with direct curiosity, and I wondered if she read the tabloids and knew Frank and I were an item. Ever since we’d gone public, I asked myself this exact question every time I spoke with someone.
Levi began. I followed suit. We were so used to working as a pair, our words flowed together as one. He’d been right, after all. Once, we’d been the shit. Best duo on the scene. Industry people loved us. And I was starting to miss those crazy work-filled days.
The release date was still undecided. We were debating between two weekends, and wanted to see what worked best for Margerie.
“I’m sure we can always make room for an event that’s aimed to empower creatives. I’d be nowhere without artists.” She raised her hands and motioned at the surroundings.
“Isabella is one of a kind. I can’t wait for you to meet her,” I said proudly. Part of me regretted that Maria hadn’t been able to make her daughter's schedule work. Having Isabella here with us today would’ve been beneficial, but Margerie didn’t seem to need more convincing.
“Her voice has one of the widest ranges you’ll ever hear.” Levi grinned. “Five octaves. Think Mariah Carey, Mercury, Rose. I get goosebumps every time she sings.”
The meeting went great. We discussed the details of the event, then chatted about music and movies. Lastly, Margerie said she needed a day or two to run it by her father. Levi and I walked out of the theater wearing big smiles.
“You think it’s a go?” he asked on our way to the parking lot.
“Yes. I’m pretty sure it’s a yes.”
We said our goodbyes and made our way over to our cars.
Halfway to Malibu, my phone rang. Levi was panicking. “Shayne is in the ER. She has food poisoning. You’re coming with me tonight.”
Shocked, I stared at the line of cars in front of me in disbelief. “No. I am not!”
“We have ten interviews scheduled.”
“Ask Ashton to run the camera and do them yourself.”
“He’s never worked an event like this. You know how these things are.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s not like you’re going there to screw Marshall Burns. Come on.”
Dread settled in my stomach. I squeezed my fingers around the steering wheel harder and tried to rationalize my thoughts. Rewired was important to me. Frank was important to me too, but Frank had let me down before and Levi hadn’t.
“Okay,” I gritted out finally. “Send me the info. I’ll meet you there.”
Frank was in the gym when I returned to Malibu. Heart pounding, I sauntered inside and positioned myself in front of the treadmill. Even with his arm in a sling, he looked yummy. “There’s something I have to tell you,” I started. My gaze traced the cuts of his sweaty chest and stomach.
“Sounds serious.” He pressed the control button to slow the belt.
I took a deep breath. “Shayne, the girl who’s working with Levi, had a medical emergency and he asked me to help him with the interviews tonight at the event Rewired is covering.”
“Huh?” Frank grabbed the towel from the rail and ran it over his face and neck.
“It’s Dante’s album release party, the event.”
He hit the button again. “That’s tonight?” The treadmill stopped. “I thought we decided we weren’t going?” He arched a brow.
“I
’m not asking you to go if you don’t want to. I don’t want to go either, but Levi won’t find anyone else on such short notice, and he’s got a dozen VIPs confirmed. If he cancels, it’ll make Rewired look really bad.”
I wasn’t sure why I was even explaining any of this to him. We’d never discussed the events I attended. It went without saying.
Panting, Frank stepped down from the treadmill. “I thought you were taking a break from the magazine?” He got rid of the sling and rolled his shoulder.
The accusing rise of his voice hit me hard.
“I am. And I’m sorry that you feel the way you do, but I’m not going there to party. I’m going to work. I dedicated seven years of my life to that magazine. I owe it to Levi,” I spoke calmly, but my blood raced.
“And how do I feel?” His gaze penetrated mine.
I matched his stare. He was unbelievable. I didn’t think this would be such a big deal for him. “Like a victim.”
“Oh yeah?” His voice jumped. “What do you know about being betrayed by your best friend?”
“This is stupid, Frank!” I cried out. “You wrote the album. You’re invited to the party. You have two options. Stay home or make an appearance. Your choice.”
Frustrated, I spun on my heels and marched off. My heart thundered. Part of me understood why Frank was so irritable. He struggled with staying sober. Even the smallest things ticked him off. The album release party wasn’t a small thing.
Once I was in the bedroom, I surveyed the closet. My camera-friendly jacket and slacks still hung in the corner. My pumps sat on the shelf as if we’d never had any fights or taken any breaks. Levi’s message stated that the press check-in was at five, which only gave me a little over an hour to get ready. I grabbed my clothes and my shoes and stepped out of the closet. Frank stood in the center of the room. Visibly distraught, eyes dark.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” I said, depositing my items on the chair.
“Because I don’t want you to go to that fucking party if I’m not going.”
“This is ridiculous.” I shook my head and unbuttoned my shirt to change. “You knew what I did for a living when you asked me out. Levi needs help, so I’m going. To work.”