Jaded Hearts

by Harper Sloan

  "All I see when I close my eyes is your face when I told you I didn't love you," she wobbles through her mouth.

  "I know you didn't mean it. I was playing my part."

  "It killed me to think that you might not be able to look at me again."

  "No, Wren. That would never happen."

  "It's really over?" she asks with tears still in her voice.

  "It's over. Now, it's time for us to begin the rest of our forever."

  "I love you, so much." Her eyes are still blurry with tears, but she is smiling up at me instead of looking heartbroken.

  "God, Wren. You will never know how much I love you."

  "Then show me."

  "Then show me," I whisper, my words just a breath of air between us.

  He studies my face before lowering his mouth. He doesn't go to my mouth, which is what I expected. Instead, he starts to kiss the wetness on my cheeks. Moving from side to side with each soft brush of his mouth, he removes the evidence of my sadness. He doesn't stop until he's satisfied that he's removed every wet line. Lifting up to study me one more time, he presses his lips to mine--finally.

  He doesn't rush our connection.

  His mouth takes mine in a deep, slow, soul-consuming kiss. Each lazy swipe and tangle of his tongue against mine sends a shockwave of bliss straight down my spine, exploding in a small burst of pleasure between my legs. I'm desperate for him; the need to have him fill me the only way he can hits a fever pitch. My legs scissor, trying to get loose of the hold his body on top of mine has so I can spread them wide and feel him against me wholly.

  Chance makes a noise, one that I swallow through our fused mouths, telling me he's denying me and to remind me he's in control. I whine, pathetically.

  He pulls back, his mouth wet from our kisses, eyes roaming over my face and down to my chest, covered by the material of the shirt I had yanked on before falling asleep earlier--his shirt. I watch his eyes flare the second he notices whose shirt I'm wearing, but still, he doesn't speak. His weight shifts minutely on top of me so he can balance on one elbow. He brings his free hand up, long dexterous pointer finger extended as he traces the font on the front of the shirt--placed in the perfect center of my chest.

  My nipples strain, begging him to do more than dance over them. He has to notice; how could he not? But still, he denies me. Slowly, repeating the process--over and over--until I'm writhing with need under him. All from the subtle brush of the tip of his finger as he traces some stupid brand name on the cotton. I'm pretty sure I'll never look at American Eagle the same again.

  When he looks back up, his eyes are pure liquid. The green and blue swirls are twisting together so vibrantly; it almost looks like they're really moving. The color on his tan cheeks tells me he is burning for me just as badly as I'm burning for him.

  No words are needed.

  No sweet nothings.

  None of that.

  Because when he gives me this completely open expression, I feel like I can see straight into his heart.

  Without looking away, he moves us so that I'm on top--hands resting against his defined stomach muscles, legs spread to welcome the cotton-covered thickness, and wild hair dancing around my face. His hands rest on my bare thighs as his thumbs rub in soothing sweeps. I have only a second to sink in his unguarded handsome features before he slowly lifts his back from the bed. His abs ripple under my palms as he moves his hands up my body, dragging my shirt and arms up in the process until he has me naked except for my panties.

  His head dips, eyes still connected to mine, and he opens his mouth around one of my pointed nipples. He sucks--greedily--pulling not just my nipple into his mouth, but also the meaty flesh of my breast. His suction doesn't ease as he flattens his tongue and slathers my nipple with attention. I squirm, rubbing myself against his hardness, the pleasure of it zinging through me. When he pinches my free nipple, I whine.

  I'm dizzy with need. Having his hands and mouth on my sensitive breasts while my pussy soaks my panties only heightens the demand for more. I lose his hand when I start rocking, and he grabs both sides of my hips to stall the process.

  I could cry with disappointment.

  He switches to the other breast, and I roll my head back, unable to hold myself up anymore, trusting his hold on my hips to keep me where we both want him to be.

  It isn't until I truly feel like I'm going to go into a lust-driven madness that he finally removes his mouth with a soft pop, echoing through my bedroom. He lifts me off his hips, setting me on my ass next to him before rolling off the mattress and standing next to the bed. I sit up and turn, my legs straight in front of me. If I pointed my feet, I could probably graze my toes against the bulge in his briefs. As soon as the thought hits my mind, though, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pulls them down his legs, kicking them behind him with no care to where they land. His thick cock springs free, pointing directly at me, a drop of come drips from the ruddy tip as I study him, telling me that he enjoys my appreciation.

  I lick my lips, still eyeing the part of him where I could spend days upon days of worshipping, feeling my core tighten shamelessly in want. I see his arms move, but I'm not even registering the destination until I feel a firm grip on both ankles. My back hits the mattress a second later when he uses his hold to pull me forcefully to the edge of the mattress--spreading my legs wide right when it feels as if my ass is dangling completely off the bed. A soft scream leaves my shocked mouth when he lifts my legs, placing my ankles on each of his broad shoulders and ripping my lace panties at each hip a moment later.

  His hungry gaze narrows between my legs. I don't need to see what he does to know what has him held with rapt attention. I can feel how wet my bare sex is the second the cold air hits my flesh. The slow roll of my arousal as it leaks from my center, traveling down my crack until it falls from my body. I should be slightly ashamed of just how wet I am. Instead, I eat it up--loving the expression on his face as he sees the evidence of just how badly I crave him.

  Stepping forward, closer to me, he doesn't release my legs. My chin goes to my chest so I can look down my body, watching over my heaving chest as he connects the parts of us that demand attention--equally needy. His cock touches my slit, pushing up until his length is resting against my wetness, the tip pointing up between our bodies.

  He rocks his hips, coating himself with my cream. Over and over, I watch as he repeats the slow movement until he has to stop because we're both shaking too badly in need. My legs almost slip from his shoulders, but he reaches up to steady them in place. I lift my body, reaching down to wrap my fingers as far around him as I can. The hot flesh, soaked from my wetness. A small burst of come escapes his control when my hand touches him, running down his cock in one long stream until it settled against my pussy. I have no idea how he was able to stop his orgasm, only allowing a small burst of come to eject from his body, but I don't dare move my hand. I know he's on the edge here, evident in how tightly restrained he's holding his whole body, literally vibrating with the effort to hold himself back.

  I move his cock until the tip of him is resting against my entrance. If he's going to come again, I want to feel the burning heat of it inside my body, not on me. I clench my core muscles around his bulbous head, getting a low moan from him that I feel down my legs seconds before he steps into me, bottoming out. His hands hit the mattress, bending me in half with my legs still captive by his body. He isn't resting his weight completely on me, making sure he isn't hurting me, but with my legs held straight, it pushes my hips off the mattress to give him an angle into my body that we've never touched. He's impossibly deep, stretching me, and I swear to God, I feel like he's touching my womb.

  Whimpers, cries, and moans come from me as I adjust to the thickness invading my body so quickly. I feel myself growing wetter as the evidence starts to fall down and over my asshole. I don't think I've ever been this wet.

  "I love you." He groans, still not moving.

  "God, Chance." I gasp,
needing something, anything. "I love you too. I love you. Love you, so much."

  His hips move, pulling out the tiniest bit before entering me again. Each time he pulls back, I lose more and more of his length, but he always comes back sinfully slow. The lazy ebb makes way for an even slower slide back into my body.

  I feel him everywhere.

  Not just inside me--spreading me wide and filling me full--but over every inch of me. But everywhere I never knew it was possible.

  My skin burns with the heat of his touch. My lungs fill with the tantalizing scent of his cologne mixed with the essence of our sex. My eyes visually see the adoration reflecting in his own eyes, as my heart fills with the overpowering mix of all my senses coming together with an explosion of love in its purest form.

  There isn't an inch of me that doesn't feel him ... us, and I know this is so much more than him showing me his love.

  This is us completing the process of repairing the pieces our destroyed pasts had left in their wake. A wall of protection forming around those memories so that they will never be able to hurt us again as we fulfill the promise that I had given him when I told him to take a gamble on us almost two months ago.

  Earlier today, I went through every emotion on the gauntlet until I truly wasn't sure I would survive. My fears had come back, and I was terrified that I had lost him. Convincing myself that everything I had finally begun to love again about my life would return to a daily torture session of desperation to feel whole. I knew if he came back to me and said he regretted us or that the threat of another stalker coming into my highly publicized life was too great a risk for him given his past--I would let him go, but it would kill me.

  I trust him. I mean that and will always mean that. I also knew going into that plan that if I lost him while I healed him--showing him that he had the power to heal from the fears he had about letting those he loves get hurt--it would be worth it because he would be free from that.

  I should have known better and trusted not only him but our love too because right now, with his body moving above and into mine, I know that nothing will ever be able to compromise the solidity of our bond.

  My knight in tarnished armor had finally found his broken princess, high in her jaded tour--changing both of our lives for eternity.

  This is the evolution of two jaded hearts seeing the beauty of life again.

  This is the creation of two broken souls, healing solidly, connected as one.

  This is the foundation of an unbreakable love.

  This is the clarity of our forever love.

  It's been the talk of the entertainment world since Loaded Replay left their former label, Brighthouse Records. It's no shock to the industry that since their departure, Brighthouse has been struggling to find someone to fill the large shoes that Loaded Replay left behind. Even with the overwhelming success of Black Lace, the last record released by their former label, Brighthouse hasn't been able to recover. It wasn't until news of the label's mistreatment to their artists started to leak that Brighthouse was forced to tuck the proverbial tail between their legs and try to contain the damage. There's no news yet on what the rumors mean for the future of Brighthouse Records, but as more artists follow in the departing footsteps of Loaded Replay, one could only guess that future is bleak.

  As for Loaded Replay, they've found nothing but success in the year since forming their own label--Loaded Records. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen, but the fabulous foursome proved to fans worldwide why they're such an unstoppable force.

  Their first solo album, OURS--aptly named to celebrate the control they were taking with their music and lives--was released merely five months after the announcement that they would be forming their own label. I don't think anyone was shocked when they took over the charts, staying in the top ten for the last thirty weeks since its release, with no signs of leaving anytime soon.

  Fans around the world have been going nuts with excitement over the new album, but that excitement hit a fever pitch when Loaded Replay announced they would be going back on tour mid-year. This will mark almost a year and a half since their last worldwide tour. No doubt, the break is largely due to them building their Loaded Empire, but also because they already have plans to release a second album before that tour. YOURS is set to drop in just two short months.

  A label representative credited YOURS to Loaded Replay's hidden vault, music that the group created solely on their own with songs personal to their own struggles during their first few years in the industry. It's raw, honest, and relatable to many hard issues listeners may have--YOURS, if you will, to use as a guide toward finding whatever you may be searching for.

  There isn't a single person--aside from possibly their former label--who isn't thrilled to see Loaded Replay proving wrong the few critics and doubters out there. There is no doubt that their career shows no sign of stopping, even having many jokes that they have the Midas touch.

  While their career is at an all-time high, all four of them have remained incredibly humble. Even though they are--for the most part--fiercely protective of their privacy, they seem to enjoy the sport of evasion and speculation more. Lead singer's, Wrenlee Davenport, relationship with Chance Nash--a former Marine and security specialist now head of Loaded Records' security teams--is still very much unconfirmed by the duo. The two have famously been taunting the world with just how committed they 'might' be since news of their relationship broke earlier in the year. Even without confirmation, Wrenlee has had a diamond band on her hand for almost the whole duration of that year, but it wasn't until recently that one appeared on Chance's finger. For now, they continue to answer the question of their marriage with laughter and ambiguity.

  With their rising star still climbing high, Weston Davenport, Luke Madden, and Jamison Clark still seem to be linked only to their label and the success of Loaded Replay. While the singlehood of their female lead is very much over, fans everywhere are left guessing who will be next to find love while taking the music world by storm.

  I don't know about you, but everyone here at Modern Rock can't wait to join Loaded Replay for another year that promises to be another career high for the group.

  The End

  Loaded Replay will be back next year with Jamison stepping into the spotlight.