As You Were (Rising Star Book 2)

by Lee Piper

  “Are you crazy? I’m sitting on your shoulders, for Athena’s sake. My pussy is literally in your face.”

  “Not yet, it ain’t.” My dress is shoved over my hips. “But it is now.” After inhaling a deep breath, he groans. “Fuck yeah. You’re soaked.”

  “Sweet Pothos,” I mutter.

  Zeke glares at me. “If those arms aren’t above your motherfucking head in three seconds, I won’t let you come.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “One.”

  “Bite me.”

  He does, on my other thigh.

  “Ouch.” It doesn’t hurt, not in a bad way, anyway. But it does make me worry he’ll act on his promise.

  “Two.”

  Slowly, I lift my arms.

  “Good girl.” His expression darkens. “I’m gonna feast on your cunt now.”

  I barely have time to form a response before the flat of his tongue laps my pussy. From entrance to clit, he laves. Every swipe shoots pleasure through my center, and every suck intensifies the sensation. He clutches my ass in his palms, opening me wider, sliding a thick finger along the forbidden crevice before rimming my hole.

  “Fuck. Me,” I pant.

  “Gonna.” Zeke’s voice is muffled, and it makes me even wetter. He groans, swallowing on my juices. “But first….” Taking my swollen clit in his mouth, he bites down.

  I cry out.

  “That’s right. Come for me. Come all over my face.”

  Moan after moan is torn from me as I shatter into a million pieces. My hands grapple for the window, for something to grasp, but there’s nothing. Regardless, it’s one of the most powerful orgasms I’ve ever had, and when the shudders finally subside, I slump against the window, thankful the glass cools my fevered skin.

  Zeke lowers me to the ground, the dark gleam in his eyes a warning that he’s in no way finished. Once my knees remember their damn job, he pins me against the window, his lips still glistening with my arousal. Gripping my neck in one hand, he tilts my head back, his expression fierce. “Gonna fuck you, little siren.”

  He kisses me.

  And kisses me.

  And steals a part of me I’ll never get back.

  “Reckon you can handle it?” he asks.

  Heck, yes.

  However, rather than verbalize my answer, I keep my gaze fixed on his as I unbuckle the belt, undo the top button, and lower the zipper of his pants.

  “The real question,” my voice is huskier than it’s ever been, “is can you handle me?” Reaching into his boxers, I palm his hard length.

  Zeke’s hips surge forward. “Fuck yes.”

  Smiling, I brush my finger over the precum beading on the tip of his crown, retract my hand, and lick it. Closing my eyes, I hum my appreciation.

  Without warning, my dress is wrenched over my head and, seconds later, my bra disappears. Zeke shoves his knee between my legs, his palms slamming against the window on either side of my head. I blink.

  “Turn around.”

  “But I want to see you.”

  Dipping his head, he takes one of my nipples in his mouth and hollows his cheeks. After circling my pebbled peak with his tongue, he releases it with a loud pop. “What did I tell you about following orders?”

  Cool breath chills my skin, and I shiver. “You won’t let me come?”

  “That’s fucking right.”

  So, on shaky legs, I do as he says and face the window. For once, I’m glad it’s dark out. The ocean doesn’t monopolize the view because Zeke’s reflection stares back at me. The tempest in his eyes is breathtaking, soul-shattering, so beautiful it hurts.

  Without breaking contact, he wraps my hair around his fist and clenches it tight. “Bend over.”

  Biting my lower lip, I lean forward. However, Zeke’s hold on me is firm, forcing my head back and exposing my neck. Since the position isn’t too uncomfortable, I place my palms on the frigid glass to brace myself, and I wait.

  Crack.

  Zeke smacks my ass. The reprimand is unexpected, the sting making me gasp. However, seconds later, a rush of heat pools between my legs. Blushing at my own depravity, I shift, rubbing my thighs together.

  “That’s for having to repeat myself.” Zeke growls in appreciation, his hand sliding over the smooth skin of my ass, molding it, massaging it, probably leaving finger imprints all over it. He traces the curve of my hips and travels the length of my spine, before dipping to my front and cupping my breast. Dexterous fingers pinch my nipple, causing my hips to buck against him.

  Zeke steps out of his remaining clothes, kicks my legs open, and gives a salacious grin. “Brace yourself.”

  No sooner do I flatten my palms than he thrusts inside.

  My head smacks against the glass. “Fuck,” I cry out.

  Zeke groans. It’s long, drawn out, almost pained.

  It takes a moment for my body to adjust to Zeke’s size, and thankfully the cum from my earlier orgasm lubricates the way for his hard cock.

  “Tell me you can handle it,” Zeke grits out, his movement painfully slow as he eases out of me.

  He feels so good.

  I press against the window, pushing my ass into his hips. The movement forces him back inside, and the sensation is so powerful, so penetrating, I wonder if I’ll survive it. Not gonna lie, I’m willing to take a chance. “More,” I pant. “Give me more.”

  “God-motherfucking-damn.” Spurred on by my words, Zeke’s pace increases. He observes my reflection, his possessive gleam screaming ownership of all that he sees. Deliberately, he lifts a finger to his mouth and licks it.

  Closing my eyes, I let out a soft moan. I know exactly where that’s going, and I can’t freaking wait.

  “Look at me.”

  My body responds before my mind has a chance to. As I watch, Zeke rims my puckered hole, his jaw tight. The pulse at the base of his throat throbs in time with the cock buried deep in my pussy. Slowly, he breeches the barrier, his finger burying inside.

  We survey each other’s reflection, our breathing ragged. Heat collides, assimilates, and becomes something else entirely.

  “You’re mine. You hear me?” His voice is low, a devil’s promise. “Every fucking part of you is mine.”

  “Yours,” I whisper. “I’m yours.” And I am. It’s an irrevocable truth.

  With a grunt, Zeke removes his finger and slides his hand beneath my inner thigh. It’s a good thing I do yoga because he lifts one leg until it rests in the crook of his elbow, opening me wide. I press against the glass for balance, and holy mother of everything holy, it’s the best position I’ve ever experienced. This new angle short-circuits my nerve endings and soon my body is alive with sensation.

  Building.

  Pulsing.

  Pounding.

  Erupting.

  Head thrown back, a scream is wrenched from me. Tears spill down my cheeks, tremors wrack my body, and my limbs turn liquid as wave after wave of euphoria descend.

  My orgasm must trigger Zeke’s because he growls my name. His thrusts turn brutal, his pace ruthless, and as I thump against the window, I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow.

  I thought Zeke was beautiful before, but nothing prepares me for how gorgeous he is when he comes. Mesmerized, I gape as the squall forms, the storm peaks, and the tempest crashes apart.

  With a final yank of my hair, he stills, emptying his seed inside me.

  Zeke’s expression softens. Like a falling star careening from the sky, the phenomenon is wondrous and fleeting. Gone is the scowl, gone is the narrowed gaze, gone is everything that barricades this man from the world. In its place is Zeke in his rawest form, and he’s breathtaking.

  Needing to get closer, I stand, my movement easing him out of me. Turning, I face him, his cum leaking from my entrance and dripping down my leg. Zeke’s gaze drops to the ribbons of liquid forming a roadmap on my skin, and, reaching out, he rubs it into my thigh.

  “Looks good on you,” he murmurs.

  Standing on
my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. “I like that a part of you is still inside me.”

  “You don’t care?”

  “That we just had unprotected sex?”

  He nods.

  “I trust you, Zeke.”

  “Same. More than you know.” He blinks, then looks away, swallowing hard. On a loud exhale, Zeke draws me to his chest, my cheek flush with his heated skin. “More than you fuckin’ know.”

  We remain in each other’s arms for a long time. His warmth is a comfort I didn’t know I needed, and his scent is a reminder of everything I’ve wanted. However, as the seconds pass, rather than remain content, a sense of trepidation forms. Foreboding swells in my stomach, bringing with it surging anxiety and dread. It’s like my mind is preparing me for a separation of the worst kind, for having my man torn from me.

  My clasp tightens.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, siren?”

  Nestled against his chest, I don’t answer. After all, I know it’s strange to fear a future I can’t control. However, this impending inevitability is so strong, so tangible I can almost feel it, and it’s freaking me out.

  Straightening, Zeke takes my face in his hands, his callused thumbs stroking my soft skin. “Don’t hide from me.”

  I take a deep breath, hoping it will give me the courage to voice my apprehension. For once, it’s not overly helpful, but I roll with it anyway. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

  His eyes scan my face. “What do you mean?”

  “I just….” Nibbling my bottom lip, I glance away.

  Firm fingers force me back. “Tell me.”

  Staring him straight in the eye, I swallow, then murmur, “I just found you, and I don’t…. I mean, I can’t….” I exhale, exasperated. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You can’t promise that. Think about it, we’ve got so much going against us, it’ll be a miracle if our relationship survives.”

  Zeke dips his head, his mouth hovering above mine. When he next speaks, his words are slow, deliberate, a solemn vow. “We’re going to be fine.”

  Tears form, whether from apprehension or relief, I have no idea. One droplet spills, trickling down my cheek, and Zeke watches it disappear beneath his thumb.

  “How can you be so sure?” I whisper.

  “Simple.” Our lips brush. “Because nothing can tame the storm and the siren.”

  When I wake, it’s with arms the size of Africa enveloping me. Glancing down, I take in tanned skin with fine, dark hair peppering corded muscles. Long fingers decorated in ghost-white scars cup one of my breasts, a strong leg is nestled between my legs, and the broadest of chests warms my back. I’ve found my happy place.

  “Morning,” a sleepy voice mumbles.

  Scrap that, now I’ve found my happy place. Zeke’s gravelly tone sets off a series of fireworks, culminating in wet heat, hardened nipples, and an inescapable need to lick something.

  “Hey,” I murmur.

  He must be able to feel my arousal because with a low chuckle, Zeke pinches one taut peak. My body arches, ass pressing against his already hard cock. I moan.

  However, before I have a chance to do anything else, there’s a knock at the front door. Zeke stills.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” I ask.

  “No.”

  The knock sounds again, louder this time.

  I reach for my phone on the side table and check the time. It’s five in the morning. Since this is the time I get up to visit Mom, I’m not surprised my body clock woke me this early, and because Zeke exercises first thing, it’s only natural he’s awake too. But why would anyone else be?

  The knock turns into a series of thundering blows, and I’m thankful the door remains on its hinges. On a lesser building, it would have caved in for sure.

  Zeke growls, jumping out of bed. For a large man, he moves with unnatural grace. Each movement is silent, purposeful, premeditated. Even in the darkness, the silhouette of his naked form is clear. The strong lines, smooth skin, and muscular physique are so beautiful I’d be happy to ogle him forever. Sadly, my hope is short-lived when he pulls on sweatpants and a shirt.

  “Wait here.” Without waiting for a response, he leaves the room.

  “And leave you to welcome the person stupid enough to knock?” I snort. “Unlikely.” Slipping from beneath the covers, I ignore my aching muscles, throw on one of Zeke’s T-shirts, and pad after him.

  The closer I get, the more heated the voices become. Since Zeke’s herculean body takes up the entire doorway, it’s impossible to see who’s outside. However, when a creative phrase using the word asshole is yelled, the tension in my shoulders eases. It’s a baritone I know well.

  “Drake?”

  Zeke doesn’t bother looking at me. Instead, he throws over one shoulder, “Go back to bed.”

  “No.”

  “Willow.”

  Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I glare at the back of him. It’s frustrating how even when pissed, my eyes caress his broad shoulders. Yep, beautiful. Doesn’t change the fact he’s acting like a douche though.

  Pursing my lips, I contemplate what the heck is going on. Why did Zeke transform from lovingly affectionate to cold and distant in under five minutes? Why is Drake yelling obscenities him? And why is this all going down at five in the freaking morning? It makes no sense.

  Despite the questions creating a whirlwind in my brain, there’s no way I’m going to let Zeke bark orders at me. So, in a low tone, I grit out, “I’m Willow now, am I?”

  Spinning on his heel, Zeke glares at me. “Not. Now.”

  Raising one eyebrow, I dare him to continue. There’s no way he’s going to bark orders at me, and there’s no way he’s going to stop me from seeing my bandmate either. I’ve known Drake since we were kids; if he’s awake before dawn, it must be pretty damn important. I’m going to hear him out.

  When Zeke remains silent, I take it as a positive sign and push past. Pausing on the threshold, I take in the man before me. “Holy Hades. Drake, you look terrible.”

  “Tell me what you really think, Wil.”

  He doesn’t look good, that’s for sure. His normally dark hair is wild, like he’s been raking agitated fingers through it. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, which, usually a bright blue, are now an angry cerulean. His normally good-humored expression is hardened with bitter fury, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t slept.

  “Are you okay?”

  “That depends. If you consider having a stage-five clinger chasing your ass for the past four hours an awesome way to spend the night, then yep. I’m golden.”

  “What are you talking about? Who’s been following you?” I touch his forearm; it’s tight. Probably because his hand is clenched in a fist. I’m guessing he wants to punch something or someone, and judging by the way he’s visually drilling holes in Zeke’s head, I’m guessing it’s him.

  “Drake?”

  His eyes shift to mine. “You’ll need pants for this conversation, Wil.”

  It’s then I remember my appearance. Wild hair, swollen lips, and a disheveled T-shirt that’s not mine. I’ve nailed the I’ve-been-thoroughly-fucked look to perfection. However, not wanting to feel guilty about one of the best nights of my life, I straighten and square my shoulders. “I’m good.”

  Drake shakes his head. “Can you at least tell your bodyguard to stand down? We need to talk.”

  His entreating expression combined with the determined set of his jaw tell me he’s serious. Drake’s rarely serious, so his bombshell is going to be huge. It probably shouldn’t be detonated in the doorway. Since it’s not my apartment, I look to Zeke to see if it’s okay for my friend to come in. Only, he’s too busy scowling at Drake to notice.

  Rolling my eyes, I prod Zeke with my elbow. He blinks.

  “Can Drake come in?”

  After the longest, most awkward pause in the history of forever, he gives a
sharp nod, then turns on his heel and storms to the other end of the house. Sighing, I gesture for Drake to step inside.

  “You’ve picked a real winner there,” he grumbles, wandering past.

  Seems they’re both not morning people.

  By the time we make it to the other end of the apartment, Zeke is glaring at his phone, his scowl deepening with each swipe of his thumb. After shoving the cell deep in his pocket, he paces the length of the windows, a caged animal desperate for escape. It’s the furrowed brow that worries me.

  After a minute, he pauses and braces himself against the glass, head bowed.

  This isn’t good.

  Despite his earlier snark, I hate seeing him upset. I step up behind him. “Hey.” My palms fall flat on his heaving back, then slide around to his front until I’m hugging him. His heartbeat pounds against my hands, thudding in triple time. With my cheek against his shoulder blade, I murmur, “What’s going on?”

  He doesn’t respond. Instead, Zeke wraps one of his hands around my wrist and pulls until I’m standing between his strong frame and the glass. I watch him watch me, his gaze traveling from my eyes to the sprinkling of freckles on my nose before coming to rest on my parted lips. When it finally returns to my eyes, his expression has changed from fury to deadly resolve. It’s both daunting and fascinating.

  “Are you gonna tell her, or am I?”

  Zeke’s body goes ramrod straight.

  We both look in the direction of the lead singer as he scans the room. “Where’s all your stuff? This place is emptier than a virgin’s pussy.” Drake collapses on the nearest couch, his head falling back on the soft leather. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

  Ducking under Zeke’s arm, I pad over to my friend and sit next to him. I rest my hand on his thigh, ignoring the low growl behind me, and ask, “Can I get you anything? You look exhausted.”

  Rolling his head to one side, Drake blinks. “You’d be exhausted too if the paparazzi tailed your ass all night.”

  A knot forms in my stomach. “The paparazzi?”

  “One and the same.”

  My gaze flits between Drake and Zeke, but neither give anything away. It’s beyond difficult swallowing the rising panic, but somehow, I manage. “What happened?”