Jaded Hearts

by Harper Sloan

  "Hurry," she pants, fingers digging into my hair with a bite.

  "My cock is so hard for you."

  She whimpers, and I look over her shoulder. No one is paying us any attention, so I open the first door I find--a storage closet--and push her inside.

  The second the door closes, she shoves out of my hold and drops to her knees. If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget the vision that Wrenlee Davenport makes when she looks up at me, body flush with desire, and vibrating with the rush of performing. Her red hair, damp from her exertion, shines under the single bulb burning above her, making her look like the naughtiest angel.

  "Fuck, you undo me." I rub my thumb against her bottom lip's soft flesh as I speak, trying to convey just how far gone I am for her.

  "Let me love you," she whispers, and whatever control I thought I held at that moment vanishes the second her tiny, black tipped fingers slowly start to unfasten my pants. She slips her hand inside and, with a slowness that makes my every nerve ending aware of her movements, pulls my cock out. "Every second I was out there and felt your eyes on me, I wanted this cock even more."

  With her eyes still connected to mine, she looks up my body while one hand wraps as far around my shaft as she can. She brings her other hand up to cup my balls at the same time she opens her mouth as wide as she can to wrap those red stained lips around me.

  "God-fucking-damn," I hiss through my teeth.

  If I make it through her sucking my cock like it's a treat she can't get enough of, it will be a shock.

  I feel like I might die from the pleasure alone.

  That's the last thought I'm capable of because Wren stops holding back. She owns every part of me at this moment. My mind succumbs to her, willing to do anything she wants. My body owned by hers. And my heart beating so hard in my chest, I feel like it's trying to reach out and never let her go.

  Yeah, I'm one lucky son of a bitch.

  My body is about to explode. Each slow drag of my tongue on his velvety hot flesh makes him jerk and twitch. His tight black shirt hides the full magnitude of his muscles, but he's holding it up so I can see each ripple that dances up from where I'm working him.

  I'm doing this to him. Me. With just my mouth and hands. If it feels even half as good as when his mouth and hands are feasting on me, I know he's going out of his mind. I don't take my eyes off his face, needing to see his expression. I know he's so used to keeping himself closed off from others, even with something as simple as his appearance, that the rush of him learning to let go is intoxicating.

  His eyes flash, and I have a feeling he's close. But unlike the other times I've tried to get him to finish in my mouth, he lets me continue. I hum around his thickness, making sure he understands that I'm happy he's giving me this. He jolts in my hold, his cock jutting into the back of my throat. I gag and my eyes water, but I just pick up speed. My tongue swirls around the tip before I swallow as much of him as I can, caressing his balls at the same time the hand around him flexes. He's so wide around that it strains my jaw even to take him in my mouth, my fingers not even close to touching him.

  "I'm going to come," he says, voice low and gritty.

  If I didn't have a mouth full of cock, I would tell him he doesn't need to warn me since I can feel the evidence of his impending release in my hands. His balls draw up, and his shaft hardens even more before getting almost impossible to keep in my mouth. I hollow out my cheeks and suck, holding just the tip of him in my mouth while I work him with my hands, eyes still on his.

  "Motherfucker," he hisses, clenching his jaw seconds before I lose his gaze, and his head falls back on the door with a heavy thud. He swells, his hips shake, and then his come starts to spurt from his cock in thick streams that I swallow instantly. I don't let go until I'm sure every drop has left his body, not wanting to give any of it up.

  Leaning back, I rest my ass on the heels of my boots, watching his chest heave with his heavy breaths. My hands continue to caress his spent, but still hard, shaft.

  "Stand up," he demands with such force that his words literally vibrate in the air around us.

  I do what he wants, naturally, and wait with anticipation for his next move. The second my feet are solidly back on the ground, he lunges, twisting us so that I'm now facing the door with him behind me.

  "Hands on the door, Wren. No matter what I do to this body, you do not let go. Do you understand me?"

  I nod, the lingering essence of him on my tongue driving my already fevered need higher with his words.

  "Give me your words, Wren. Tell me you understand."

  "I understand, Chance," I slur, gasping loudly when he pulls my panties to the side and shoves two fingers deep into my soaked core.

  "Tell me you want me to fuck you so hard that you feel me in the back of your throat again."

  "Oh, God. Yes. Yes, I want that."

  "Words."

  My eyes roll in the back of my head when he hits a spot inside me that I've only recently discovered really exists, a new rush of wetness coating his hand.

  "Fuck me, Chance. Fuck me so I feel it everywhere," I strain out over the rush of need overtaking me.

  "Tell me you want to feel my come deep inside you, coating your pussy like it just coated your mouth."

  "I want your come. I need it. Inside me, give me it." I dig my weight into the door, flexing my fingers against the solid surface. He hooks his fingers deep inside me, and I sway, almost losing the hold I have.

  "Beg me to fuck you."

  My head lolls between my outstretched hands. I see his hand, pumping his fingers into my pussy, and his clothing around his ankles. In any other situation, I would think that was funny, but right now, that just reminds me that his beautiful cock is naked and waiting for me.

  So I open my mouth and beg. The incoherent words leaving my mouth come out in a pitiful whine of need. I have no idea what I'm saying, but it must make sense to Chance's ears because in the next second, my feet are off the ground and the only thing keeping me from face planting is the hold I have on the door and Chance's hands on my hips.

  He lifts me, effortlessly, my legs hanging uselessly in the air between us.

  "Hold on, Wren. Do not let go."

  That's the only warning I get before he lifts me just a little more and spears his full length deep into my needy body. Deeper than he's ever been before, his thickness stretches me to the brink, filling me up like he was made just for me. I clamp down on his flesh instantly, so beyond turned on that my orgasm hits the instant his balls swung up and slapped my wet pussy. He groans, my body rippling around his hardness, holding him captive in the tight sheath. He doesn't move until the last flutters of my release dance around his length.

  Then he drags his cock out slowly, painfully so in the most delicious way, before holding himself at my entrance with just his tip. He stays like that for what feels like a lifetime but could have only been seconds, for all I know, before slamming back in. He doesn't ease up after that, pounding inside me in a toe-curling speed. A scream of pleasure burns up my throat, but I hold it in. He lets me know instantly that he isn't happy about it too because his next thrust is almost brutal in power, ripping the scream from me.

  He doesn't ease up after that, making sure I'm not able to be quiet. I don't even care that I can hear people moving along the hallway outside our hideout. I wouldn't even care at this point if the door crashed down, so long as he didn't stop.

  My skin starts to buzz, and I feel the tight coil of pleasure starting to twist until it has no movement left, holding me in a breathless plane of bliss until--with one more thrust deep inside me--I come. I struggle to find my breath after that; the coil having unwound in such a vicious snap that my body doesn't even feel like it's whole anymore. My throat burns before I shout his name out, begging him never to stop.

  When I finally come back to my senses, I open my eyes to see my hands hanging limply at my sides, legs still dangling, the hold Chance has on my hips a bruising grip in order
to keep himself buried deep and keep me from falling to the ground. I won't be shocked if I have the perfect outline of his hands on my hips when we're finished. He flexes his hips, unable to do much more, and then I feel him release inside me with low grunts leaving his body.

  My feet land with care, and because of our height difference, I lose his cock the second they do. I miss the fullness instantly. His thumb hooks around my panties, moving them back in place seconds before I feel his release start to leave my body. It's an odd turn-on, feeling the combined wetness of our releases soak my underwear.

  I hear him shuffling his weight behind me, the sounds of his clothes being set to right, and I turn to watch him put himself back together.

  "I could get used to that kind of after-show party," I hum, dragging my hands up his chest and coming up on my toes to place a kiss to his jaw. The stubble tickling my lips.

  "That's good to know. Was I too rough?" he worries.

  "God, no," I reassure him. "I'm not going to break, Chance. I think you'll find that I like your rough tough just as much as I like your soft one. As long as it's always you, I want it all."

  "Always," he vows, dipping down to press a kiss against my lips.

  "I think we were loud," I joke with a smile that his eyes move to.

  "I don't think, I know. You ready to face the music?" He nods at the door behind me.

  "With you at my side, I think I can face anything."

  His eyes flash right before his face softens.

  When we open the door and step out into the hallway, a few members of the crew are milling around. They ignore us, not making eye contract. I see Dix looking like he's about to spit nails, but I ignore him. I look around while we move down the hallway, only seeing a few people who actually see us, as the rest are too busy with the jobs they have to complete before we can pack up and head out to the next venue.

  I feel a tingle over my skin, one that tells me someone is watching, and look up to see Kellie. Instead of looking away like normal, though, she almost seems excited.

  Girl power, I guess.

  We reach the dressing room and push in, seeing Luke and Wes on the couch looking almost uncomfortable. They swing their heads in our direction, shock washing over them. I tip my head, trying to figure out what's going on with them. They look from where Chance and I are standing, to each other, back to us, and then over at the bathroom door--finally settling on us once again with confusion. Wes rips his headphones off, narrowing his eyes at me.

  "If you two are right there ..." Luke starts, stopping when a low moan echoes around us followed by a high-pitched squeak.

  "Then who the hell is that?"

  "Where's Jami?" I question harshly. "I can't believe you guys didn't think maybe it was him, since he isn't in here with you. Were you just planning to sit here looking ill until the door opened?"

  "Hey! He disappears after shows often. It wasn't off the mark to guess you two freaks were going at it again," Luke yells.

  "I just sat here listening to some bullshit Justin Bieber song--the only thing that is apparently on Dyllan's phone--because I thought you were in there banging my sister!" Wes fumes, his attention on Chance.

  "Well, dumbass, I hope you get Bieber fever because we did our banging down the hall in storage!" I snap, trying not to laugh.

  "You assholes are loud as fuck," Jamison complains, coming out of the bathroom with his clothes astray and glitter all over his lips.

  Luke laughs at him, pointing at his mouth. "What is all over your face?"

  Jamison looks confused, standing up to walk over to the huge mirror vanity set up for hair and makeup. "Jesus Christ, I look like I just got done eating out Tinker Bell," he grumbles, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and making everyone laugh.

  My attention moves to the bathroom door when I see Dyllan shyly move into the room unnoticed.

  "You!"

  She flinches but just smiles with a shrug, like she didn't mean to. I would love to see her explain this as an accident. I can just picture it now, 'I slipped and fell on his dick'!

  "Seriously, Jamison!"

  He looks over from his angry glitter removal. "What? We're just having some fun. No need to freak out about it."

  I narrow my eyes, ready to rip him a new asshole for turning his manwhore ways on my best friend. Even though she had all but confessed to it back in LA, seeing it in person is something completely different.

  Dyllan is the kind of girl you lock down and keep--heart the size of Texas just waiting for the right man. Jamison, God love him, hasn't stopped sleeping around since his last relationship failed epically. The last thing I want is for Dyllan to get attached to him if he doesn't have any intention of taking things past 'just a little fun.'

  I make a mental reminder to talk to Jamison about this when I can get him alone. Dyllan heads back to LA tomorrow morning anyway, so hopefully, he can keep it in his pants between now and then.

  What a mess.

  True to his word, when we reach Denver, Chance has our own room waiting for us. It's on the same floor as the guys, but on the opposite end of a long hall. He took it a little further, though, and made sure the hotel had cordoned off the whole floor we were on, ensuring maximum privacy. He also left two of his 'men'--Hunter and Chris--to keep guard at the elevator area. It looks like the most boring job in the whole world, but they don't seem to mind.

  "I'm exhausted." I sigh, dropping down in the middle of the huge king-size bed. We just spent the last ten hours on the tour bus, making our way from Vegas to Denver in good time. But as with any time I'm in Vegas, three days feels more like thirty.

  "You've been working hard. You should probably take advantage of the night off and get some sleep."

  I lean up, narrowing my eyes. "Does that mean I don't get your fat cock, hubby?" Even with the two nights in a row of shows and the whole day yesterday doing some press for Black Lace, he's never suggested sleep over sex.

  He laughs silently, his shoulders moving. "How long you going to keep that nickname up?"

  "Why? You don't like it?"

  "Didn't say that, Wren. But you know it's just going to keep feeding the rumors." He drops down on the bed, adjusting the massive mound of pillows around him before leaning against the headboard.

  "Do you care?" I ask, honestly. "We haven't really talked about it. I probably should have asked before just assuming you thought it was funny too. I mean we've been joking about being not husband and wife since we got to LA two weeks ago."

  "Would you come here and stop panicking," he says, smiling reassuringly at me.

  I shift, coming up on my knees and crawling up the mattress. When I get close enough, he pulls me down to rest against his chest. Silence thickens around us as he runs his fingers down my arm, his other hand holding ours together with our fingers linked on his hard stomach.

  "You have fun with it?" he asks softly. "The paparazzi assuming, but not knowing for sure, don't you?"

  I nod my head, studying the differences in our hands. His long fingers and large palm dwarf mine. We're so different but incredibly perfect for each other.

  "Yeah." I sigh. "I haven't had this much fun with their bullshit questions in years--if ever."

  "Then don't stop, baby."

  "But, Chance, you can't just say that because I'm having fun. If you don't want the rumors out there, we can just answer them honestly next time, and they'll stop playing it up. Your feelings matter too."

  His chest moves, and I know he's doing that silent laughter thing again. "I don't give a shit about the rumor, Wren. I do, however, give a shit about you. If this is something you have fun with, then we aren't hurting anyone. So go for it."

  "Oh," I breathe.

  "I like it," he confesses. "Just in case it matters, when you call me that ridiculous nickname, it goes straight to my dick. So, I promise that's the only hardship I feel."

  I look down at his lap, the jeans he's wearing hiding what I really want to look at, but just thinking
about me calling him something silly affecting him that way makes me want to preen like a goddess.

  "You know I love you, right?" he asks, his tone soft the delicious rasp of his deep voice washing over me.

  I feel those words ping through every single inch of my body. He hinted to loving me back in Vegas when he was yelling at Dix, but in the days since, he hasn't said anything else about it. Hell, I think I had half-convinced myself I imagined it.

  I curl into his side. "Yeah," I answer breathily. "I love you too, Chance."

  "One day, those rumors won't be lies, Wrenlee. Enjoy playing your game because when that day comes, you'll be able to keep them up, always feeling that happiness you get over keeping something from them."

  I lift up quickly, and he grunts a little when I put too much weight on his belly. "Did you just ask me to marry you in some weird roundabout way?"

  He smiles--full-out brain-dead buzz--but his declaration has knocked me for such a big loop that I don't even get to enjoy that beautiful smile making me stupid. I gawk at him. There's no other way to describe it. My mouth hangs wide open, eyes bug out, and my breathing comes in rapid pants.

  "No," he replies, still smiling even though I'm obviously dying. There's no other reason that my eyes would get even larger, my mouth gasping for breath even though I'm pulling air in and out with no problem. My body isn't equipped to deal with such up and down emotions in quick succession. Hell, my heart is still pounding wildly.

  "Oh."

  His smile grows, larger than I've ever seen it, and I curse him for being so damn handsome. His wicked words making me want something I didn't realize I wanted until he had put it out there. I mean, sure, I knew I loved him and never wanted to know life without him in it, but until he said that, I guess I just figured we would fall into whatever comes next naturally.

  "I'm not asking because I know the answer already. Not because I don't want to." His body moves; this time, his deep guffaws echo around us.

  "That's mighty presumptuous of you," I smart.

  "Are you telling me that it isn't a forgone conclusion?"

  He's still smiling, the beautiful jerk.

  "I wouldn't go that far."

  He throws his head back and laughs--loud, straight from his belly--and I feel the power of it instantly. It feels like someone just plugged me up to electricity. God, I will never get tired of seeing this side of him.