So much for that.
“Yeah. Sinful Serenade. I’m the vocalist.” I scrutinize her expression. There’s no sign she’s full of shit. She’s nervous, sure, but she doesn’t recognize me.
Damn, the way she’s looking at me…
It’s innocent and depraved at once.
She clears her throat and takes a step backwards. “I’m looking for my friend.” Her eyes meet mine. “Kara.”
Fuck, Meg is Drew’s friend’s friend.
Which means she’s one of the only two women here I shouldn’t flirt with.
“She’s tight with some guy in your band,” Meg says. “They go way back.”
I nod. “Yeah. Drew had a lot to say about her during our last tour.”
Meg presses her lips together. “I should really find her. And go home.” She takes a step toward the party. “I have to study. You know how it is. Or maybe not, being a rock star and all. But I have a test tomorrow.” She nods an awkward goodbye and takes another step away.
“Meg.”
“Yeah?” She spins on her heels. Her eyes meet mine. Her eyes scream I’m thinking about you naked.
I motion to the couch where Drew and Kara are cuddling. “Your friend isn’t in a state to drive.”
And Drew isn’t in a state to do shit about that.
How is it I’m the responsible one in this situation?
I follow Meg to the couch.
Kara nearly jumps off the cushion to throw her arms around Meg.
Drew stares at Kara, his dark eyes wide and full of I want her out of that dress wonder.
“Are you having fun?” Kara hugs Meg. “Please, tell me you aren’t completely miserable.”
Meg relaxes into her friends arms. Though relax is relative. She’s still tense and awkward. “Only partially.”
Kara laughs. “That’s a start.”
Drew shoots me a look that says Don’t get any fucking ideas about her.
But that’s a lost cause.
I already have lots of ideas about this girl.
She’s too cute and innocent to resist.
“I’m ready to go home,” Meg says. “I can call a cab.”
“No.” Kara shakes her head. “I can drive.”
Not like this she can’t.
I let them get the whole No, I’ll drive; no you’re drunk too out of the way, then I step in.
“I can drive you two home,” I say.
Drew glares.
I stare back at him. “You’d do the same.”
He nods and settles back into his seat. He shoots me that Touch her and you die look again.
Please.
I’m not about to touch the woman my best friend is lusting after.
But Meg…
Well, I don’t take orders from anyone. Certainly not from Drew.
I turn to Kara. “Your keys?”
She pulls them from her purse. “It’s a manual.”
I smirk. “That’s fine. I know how to handle my stick.”
Miles
By the time we’re on the freeway, Drew’s friend is asleep in the back seat.
Meg crosses and uncrosses her legs. Her palms skim her short skirt. Her soft thighs.
Fuck, the girl is all legs. And I’m desperate to have them wrapped around my hips.
To have her splayed out under me, clawing at my chest, groaning my name like it’s her favorite word.
Like she’s there with me.
Which is stupid. She already has some idea of me. But, hey, try telling my cock that.
I never used to have this kind of stamina. I held my own sure, but I wasn’t ready to go an hour after fucking a groupie.
I guess that’s my head.
Once again, I’m trying to command my body. To force it to feel nothing but pleasure. To force the physical to overtake the ache in my head.
“Kara lives in Brentwood,” Meg says. “You can take the 101 to the ten to the—”
“I know.”
Her eyes flit to mine for a split second. It’s enough to turn her cheeks bright red. “You drive a lot?”
“Lived here awhile.” Since my mom died. But fuck knows I’m not thinking about that. It’s a quick trip to drown my thoughts by any means necessary.
And I’m pretty sure Meg isn’t actually aiming for some leggy virgin and big bad rock star role play.
Too bad.
I’d love to peel that skirt to her waist, run my hand over her ass, think up all sorts of ways to punish her.
Spankings to start.
Then—
There are too many possibilities.
“The Wilshire exit,” she says. “It comes up quick after the—”
“Yeah.”
“Right.”
“Should be twenty minutes.” It’s not enough time. Or maybe it’s too much. I’m not exactly good at keeping my pants zipped.
I’m safe.
I’m not hurting anyone.
Hell, I’m fulfilling all these fangirl’s fantasies. Giving them a story for all their friends.
I see them trading gossip.
Posting replays on Reddit, Facebook, Twitter, whatever.
Some Rolling Stone TMZ cross-over piece of shit magazine ran an exposé on my conquests. They tried to get some good dirt, some women talking about what a selfish cad I am, but they didn’t stick the landing.
Yeah, I sounded like a slut. A slut with skilled hands and a “gorgeous cock.”
Seriously.
A woman said that.
Don’t get me wrong. I have a love/hate relationship with the fucker. But I’m not sure I’d use the word gorgeous.
Maybe demanding.
A demanding motherfucker.
Right now, he’s begging me to ask about the cute brunette.
She was staring. But now she’s acting like she can’t stand me.
What gives?
“Anything you want to discuss?” I lower my voice to a teasing tone. Maybe she didn’t walk in on me on purpose. But she was looking. She was thinking about it.
She clears her throat, but it does nothing to stop her blush. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You are.”
Her eyes flit to the window. She watches as we pass a row of buildings downtown. The dim lights of the city blur together. The one time LA looks beautiful. “Kara is my closest friend.” The implication is there. I’m not going to make that complicated. “I don’t know how close you and Drew are, or how long you’ll be in Los Angeles, but I figure you and I are mutual friends…” Her voice trails off, like she’s trying to convince herself of something.
She’s close enough to right.
Fuck knows Drew is going to spend all his free time with Kara and her massive tits.
“How about we agree to never discuss this again?” Her voice skips. Like she can’t bring herself to expand on this. Like she can barely even think holy fuck, I walked in on him naked, and the image is still burned into my brain.
“I can’t agree to that.”
“Why not?”
It’s not what she wants, for one. She’s overselling her objection. What’s the Shakespeare line Damon was always quoting? The lady doth protest too much.
“You’re too cute when you blush.” I try to reel it back. For my uncle’s sake. So he doesn’t start rolling over in his grave.
“Let’s pretend it never happened.”
“If it bothers you that much.” If she’s really not into me, I’m not going to press it. Sure, there’s something really fucking appealing about her disinterest. It’s the most refreshing thing I’ve felt in forever. Another sign I’m a mess, but I’m way past the point of caring. “It’s not a big deal.”
She presses her lips together.
All right, I’m throwing this out there. “Nothing you haven’t done before.”
She nods, but nerves still drip into her voice. “Of course.”
My smile is involuntary.
“I’ve had boyfriends.”
I arch a brow so?
/>
“We did all sorts of stuff.”
God, she’s calling it stuff. Could she be more adorable? “There’s no shame in being a virgin.”
“I know.” Her expression gets shy. “But I’m not.”
Uh-huh.
“It’s really none of your business.”
“Then why are you trying to convince me?”
“I’m not. I just… want to set the record straight.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah.” She nods.
“About all the stuff you do?”
“What do you call it?” Need drops into her voice. Then she shrugs and shakes it off.
“I don’t know. Stuff is kinda growing on me.”
She stifles a laugh.
“Hand stuff, mouth stuff, cock stuff.”
She tries to repeat the phrase. Struggles though it. “What is… cock stuff?”
“You tell me.”
“I, uh…”
“Do a lot of stuff?”
“Not a lot. Just, uh… I have. Before.”
“Okay.”
She half-smiles. “I have.”
“I believe you.”
Her eyes meet mine. She stares at me, trying to figure me out. “No, you don’t.”
No, I don’t. But I’m not going to press her on it if she’s that desperate to drop the subject. “If you don’t care, why are you trying to convince me?”
“Well, uh…”
All right, let me help her here. “What’s your favorite sexual position?”
She opens her mouth like she has a response, but nothing comes. Her eyes flame. With fire. This need to prove me wrong.
I love it.
“Maybe you don’t know the name. But you want to describe it,” I say.
“Well, uh… Missionary.”
Maybe. She seems like the type who wants to feel every inch of someone’s skin against hers.
Who wants to look her partner in the eyes.
Who wants to kiss as she fucks.
To be there. And not closing her eyes, recalling a music video.
“Second favorite?” I ask.
She leans forward, ready to launch an answer.
Doesn’t.
Her lips press together. Her eyes flare with irritation.
At me.
For being a dick.
I deserve it. And, somehow, I want it. I love that I irritate her. That she isn’t trying to hide it. That she isn’t trying to impress me.
That she’s staring at me like she’s still picturing me naked.
Picturing us together.
“I can show you a few good ones.” Shit, Drew is going to kill me. But, at the moment, I can’t say I care.
She sucks in a deep breath. “Excuse me?”
My eyes meet hers. “You do want to fuck me.”
It spreads all over her face. Yes, of course, right now. “I…”
“You’ve been picturing me naked all night.”
“I saw you naked. I couldn’t help it.”
I flip my blinker. Move out of the merging lane. We’re on the ten now. One freeway to go. Fifteen minutes.
Then however long it takes to get to her place. Wherever it is.
She gives me that long once-over. Her lips part. Her fingers dig into her thighs.
“You’re thinking about it,” I say.
“I’m not.” Her eyes stay on my jeans.
“I’m better than whatever you’re imagining.”
Her gaze shifts to my waist. My chest. “Did you even know that girl’s name?”
“Yeah.” At some point.
“What was it?”
Sarah. Sandy? Steph? Yeah, that’s it. “Stephanie.” Maybe. Not that it matters. “It’s just sex. You’d know if you—”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug.
She crosses her legs. Turns to the window.
She’s pissed. Because she’s embarrassed by her lack of experience?
Or because I’m stepping over the line?
She shifts her position. Folds one leg over the other. Crosses both. Places both on the floor.
Leans forward to turn on the stereo.
It’s set to radio. To KROQ, the local rock station. They’re playing our latest all the time.
Making us a million times more famous.
There—
The car fills with the sound of my groan. It’s a good take. A great performance.
But it still makes me cringe. There’s too much in this song. Too much of me.
It’s bad enough people hear it on their own.
Sitting here, while understanding spreads over her face, while she stares at me like she can’t believe I wrote this song.
Like she wants to know the guy who wrote that song. And not the guy in the car with her, who’s an unrepentant asshole.
Like she’s can’t believe I was ever struggling this much to hold it together.
I want to believe that too. I want to be this guy, the one who doesn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone except what he needs.
I want to make her come until she can’t stop. Then never talk to her again.
One night. One exchange. Nothing but a few hours of pleasure for both of us.
Why does it have to be more complicated than that?
She changes the station to KEarth. Oldies.
“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” I need to focus on her. On anything besides the shit going through my head.
“You have a problem with oldies?” she asks.
Yeah, they were Damon’s favorite. It hurts too much to hear them. It hurts too much to hear my own fucking groan.
It hurts too much to breathe.
He’s everywhere. In everything.
People say it gets better, that it goes away, but they’re wrong. It doesn’t.
“That’s why you changed the station? Just wanted to hear Build Me Up, Buttercup?” I want to give her a medal for stopping the sound of my heart pouring into the car. But I’m not about to admit that.
“No, I was hoping for Happy Together.”
God dammit, she’s too cute for words. I can’t help but smile. My eyes go to hers. “You want your first time to be good?”
“I’m not a virgin.”
Maybe she’s not. Either way, I’m offering to fuck her. “I’m happy to oblige.” That’s it. One offer. If she says she’s not interested, I leave. Call someone else.
“I don’t need your pity sex.”
Pity? Is she out of her mind? “There’d be no pity about it. I want to fuck you too.”
“There’s no too. I don’t want to… I don’t date.”
“It’s just sex. I might let you buy me breakfast in the morning, but it’s not a date.”
Her eyes go wide. Interest spreads all over her face. She stammers, looking for words, failing to find them.
Meg turns the radio up. Leans back in her seat. Looks out the window.
It is a beautiful night. The sky is a clear, deep blue. There are even a few stars.
Meg stays quiet until I pull off the freeway. She directs me to her friends’ place, helps her friend out of the car, up the stairs.
They linger at her apartment door. Talking about something.
They’re too far away. I can’t tell if it’s a serious conversation. Or if it’s the usual good night.
Are women as depraved as men?
Is her friend whispering something about she can’t wait to feel Drew’s cock inside her? How she wants him to come on her massive tits?
Somehow, I doubt it.
Fuck, that will piss him off like nothing else. I compose a message in my head.
Your friend’s tits looked amazing in that dress. You think she has them out for a reason? You think she’d want them around my cock?
I bet someone’s going to come on them.
If it’s not you…
He might actually hit me for that.
A thud pulls me back to
the moment.
Meg is on the ground, on her hands and knees. She leans back, rubs her skinned knee with her hands.
Shit.
I need to pay more attention.
I get out of the car. “Hey.” I move closer slowly, so I don’t scare her.
She looks up at me, equal parts confused and relieved.
“You mind?” I kneel next to her.
“It’s fine. I can clean up at home.”
“You’re bleeding.”
She nods okay.
I look closer. I’m not exactly an ER surgeon, but I’ve cleaned up after enough fights to know first aid.
My fingers skim her calf. The outside of her knee. The top of her thigh.
Her eyelids flutter closed.
She sucks a breath through her teeth. But I can’t tell if it’s pain or arousal.
Either way—
She needs closer attention. “This is a bad scrape. You have a first aid kit?”
Her brow scrunches with concentration. “I can handle it.”
I shake my head. There’s no way I’m sending her home injured. “I bruised plenty of knuckles in my day. I’m bandaging that. Either we do it at your apartment, or we go to a twenty-four-hour pharmacy.”
She nods. “My place.”
I lead her to the car. Open the door for her.
She looks at me funny, like she doesn’t buy me as a gentleman, but she still gets in. Mumbles a thank you.
I slide into my seat. Turn the car on. Ask for her address.
It’s close.
A five-minute drive this time of night.
She rolls down the window, closes her eyes, soaks in the feeling of fresh air.
A sigh of relief falls off her lips.
It’s exactly how I feel.
This girl is a breath of fresh air. Maybe that’s a sign I should walk away.
Too bad I’m not going to listen to it.
Read the full story of Miles and Meg in Sing Your Heart Out. Fancy a different man from Sinful Serenade? You can read each book as a standalone, so skip right to your favorite:
Sinful Serenade
Sing Your Heart Out - Miles
Strum Your Heart Out - Drew
Rock Your Heart Out - Tom
Play Your Heart Out - Pete
Sign up for my mailing list to get the latest on my bad boy rock stars, tattoo artists, and billionaires. You’ll also get bonus scenes and extended epilogues for my books.
You can also like my page on Facebook, join my Facebook fan group, or follow me on Instagram.
My Night with a Rockstar Page 19