by Elle Casey
Just hearing those words excites me even more, and I was already half over the moon. “Don’t worry about me,” I say breathlessly. “I’m ready to go too.”
He picks up his rhythm and I join him. With each thrust he delivers, my hips rise off the bed, taking his force and pulling it in. I hold on to him, my body rocking faster and faster as we seek climax together. I’m so close, a warm, tickling sensation building between my legs.
Sweat rolls down his face and drips onto my chest. “I’m so close, babe. I can’t hold it anymore.”
I grab his back, holding on for dear life. “Come for me, Sam. Let go.”
His body starts to tremble as he thrusts forward hard against me, three . . . four . . . then five times. His back arches and he shouts. My nails score his back and ribs as he slams into me over and over again and I try to hang on.
I wasn’t expecting the strength of his lovemaking or the effect it would have on me. The end takes me by surprise, his body and movements somehow managing to rip the orgasm out of me. I scream as my world crashes in on me and then explodes outward.
He pulsates inside me as he comes to the end of the line, giving me chills from the inside out. All I can think is, Thank God he was wearing protection, or I would’ve surely gotten pregnant. I can’t believe what we just did together; it was so incredible. I’ve never come this quickly in my life, and never with a man this amazing in bed.
Sam’s movements finally slow to a stop. His chest heaves as he tries to breathe, propped up on his elbows above me. I pull in a long breath of air, hoping to calm myself down. It feels like I just ran a race around the entire city.
“Damn, girl,” he says, leaning down to kiss me. His beard tickles my face and neck. “Sorry, I’m sweaty.” He leans away.
“Come back here,” I say, pulling his face down and forcing him to kiss me again. Our tongues tangle together, and the connection between us deepens. I feel something growing hard between my legs and realize he’s getting another erection.
I stop and look down between us. “Are you kidding me?”
He chuckles. “I can’t help it. You’re hot.”
I push on his chest until he rolls over. “Get outta here.” I have never in my life been called hot by anyone. It makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.
He sits up and busies himself with removing the used condom and putting it down on the nightstand. I’m on my back, and he joins me on his side, tracing circles around my breasts. The air that’s blowing over us from the air-conditioning vent above feels amazing.
“That was cool,” he finally says.
“Yeah. Cool.” I giggle.
“What are you laughing at?” He leans in and snuggles my neck with that fluffy weirdo beardo of his, making me laugh harder.
“Stop. You’re going to make me get goose bumps.”
“So? I like goose bumps,” he mumbles in my neck.
“They’ll make the hair on my legs grow,” I whine, pretending to try and push him away. I’m not using much force, though.
He pauses for a minute. “What?”
“I said you need to stop, or you’re going to make the hair on my legs grow.”
He lifts the covers at my waist to look at my legs. “You shave your legs? I thought hippies lived au naturel.”
I grab the covers from his hand and yank them over my body. “Not this hippie.”
He leans down again and kisses me gently. “I was just kidding.”
“Okay. I forgive you.”
“Forgive me for what?”
I sigh in fake frustration. “For making the hair on my legs grow.”
He takes a few moments to push the sweaty hair off my forehead and the side of my face. “So what do you think of LA?” he asks.
He’s trying to act like this is a casual question, but I know better. I can tell by the way his jaw is tensing that my answer matters.
“Do you want me to be honest?”
His lips press together for a few seconds before he answers. “Always. Never say something that’s not totally true just because you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”
I take a deep breath before I give him my answer. I know it will complicate things between us. “Well, it’s a little warm, and I’m not a fan of the traffic.”
“Me neither.”
“Which one?” I ask.
“You mean the heat or the traffic?”
“Yes.”
“Both.”
I frown at him. “If you don’t like it, why do you live here?”
One of his shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “Don’t know. Maybe because it was far away.”
“Far away from your parents?”
“Far away from my father.”
I reach up and brush a sweat droplet from his temple. “Tell me about him.”
Sam gets a pained expression. “Do I have to?”
I pinch his cheek. “No, you don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.” Not today, anyway . . . but someday.
He falls back onto the bed with a sigh. “Okay, fine. Twist my arm.”
I can’t stop smiling.
“My father was a dick of the highest degree.”
“The highest degree, huh? That’s pretty bad.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. He drank a lot. And when he drank a lot, he punched a lot.”
“Oh. Damn. My sister didn’t tell me that.”
He looks at me sideways. “Your sister tells you all of Ty’s secrets?”
“Not all of them, apparently. She told me that he had a difficult relationship with his father. I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was.”
Sam is on his back staring at the ceiling, casually stroking his abdomen with his hands as he speaks. “Yeah, he was abusive, but it wasn’t the worst part of our relationship.”
“How could that not be the worst part?” I turn my head to look at him more fully. Seeing his sad face makes me want to envelop him in another one of my hugs, but I don’t want to stop him from telling me his story. I feel as though I’m acting as his therapist right now.
“He was bound and determined to make us famous.”
“Famous as musicians?”
“Yeah. He put instruments in our hands when we were just babies. That’s why Sadie doesn’t have a guitar.”
“Because you don’t want her to learn to play?”
“No, it’s not that. I’d love for her to learn, but I want it to be her idea, not mine.”
“You feel like your father forced you into becoming a musician?”
“He absolutely did, there’s no question about it. I had no choice in the matter.”
“Well, you have a choice now.” I wait for his answer. It’s a long time coming.
“Not really,” he finally says.
“What do you mean? Is he still making you do it?”
He frowns. “No, nothing like that. He’s not a part of my life.”
“Then what is it?” I nudge him with my elbow. “Tell me.”
“He’s always there in my head, you know?” He looks at me briefly before continuing. “He’s in there telling me I have a talent that God gave me and I need to use it. That the world is waiting for all the things I’m going to create. That I need to support my family with what God gave me and not be selfish.”
“Was he a good supporter? For the family? Was that a big thing for your father?”
“Yeah, I guess . . . if the only measure of being a good supporter is how much money you bring in. He did okay. But he spent half of it on booze, and he spent the other half shoving Ty and me into music careers.”
“Not that I’m saying your dad was right or anything, because I believe you when you say he’s a dick, but it did seem to work out pretty well for Ty, right?”
“I don’t know. Did it?” He looks at me intently.
I shrug. “To be honest, I don’t really know him. He’s been a fan of Red Hot his whole life. That’s what my sister told me, anyway. And now he’s playing with them.”
“Yeah, that much is true.” Sam sighs, back to looking at the ceiling. “I’m a fan too. Don’t get me wrong . . . don’t think I don’t love the music. I do love it. And I do love playing the guitar. It’s just . . . I don’t know.”
I try to help him out. “It’s just that it was never your idea. The person who put the idea in your brain is not somebody you respect.”
He turns over on his side to face me fully. “Exactly. I’ve never been able to really acknowledge that to myself or put it into words before, but that’s exactly how I feel. It’s like somebody else is pulling the strings in my life. Like I’m just my father’s puppet.”
“But you love the music and you love the guitar,” I say, ready to test out a theory.
“Yeah. I do, but . . .”
“I think maybe you just need a change of perspective.”
“What do you mean?” Sam starts playing with my breasts, gently drawing shapes on them with the tip of his finger, causing my nipples to harden.
I wiggle a little, trying to get comfortable, but the sexual arousal he’s bringing up in me is making it pretty difficult. I push his hand away so I can finish my thought. “You’ve always looked at music through your father’s eyes, as something you had to do, that you’re forced to do because you were given a gift. But maybe if you could see it in a different way, it wouldn’t have all those terrible, negative feelings attached to it.”
“Maybe.” He leans in to kiss me. His lips are warm, and his tongue is soft and hot.
“Are we done talking about this?” I ask, smiling against his kiss.
“I think so. I’ve got something better in mind, if you’re interested.” His tongue comes out to tangle with mine some more.
I grab him and hold him close. “What’s that?” I ask as he moves his lips from my jawline down to my neck and then my chest.
“This weirdo with the beardo wants to sex you up again.”
I start giggling. “I am so sorry I called you that. You’re not a weirdo.”
He sits up on his elbows above me. “Oh, don’t worry. I know my beard is weird. I keep it because Sadie likes it.” He uses it to brush my chin.
“You’re a nice daddy.” I grab his face and pull him down to me. “Now kiss me and sex me up, would you?”
“With pleasure,” he growls.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The rest of the day passes swiftly, as we catch up on our sleep and I busy myself with locating funeral homes and services for Madison. Sam makes arrangements to pick up Sadie at his friend’s house later, and we enjoy lunch together in his tiny kitchen followed by another round of sex.
I’m having a hard time keeping my hands off him. He is so beautiful, and his sadness acts like a magnet drawing me in. I don’t want him to suffer this way. I want him to feel the joy in life again. I know he will eventually, but at odd moments during the day, I find him in the other room crying or staring off into the distance, no doubt thinking about Madison. He believes he shoulders some of the blame for her death, and no amount of me talking sense to him about it is going to change his mind.
When I’m cleaning up our lunch dishes from the takeout we ordered, his cell phone rings and he answers it, his expression going dark immediately. He moves off into the next room, but I follow behind, keeping out of sight. I’m being a nosey parker, but I can’t help it. I need to know what’s going on in his life if I’m going to be out here with him for the next few days. I’m still worried about that guy he mentioned—Drake. I haven’t worked up the courage to ask Sam about him yet, though. I haven’t wanted to bring a dark cloud over the semi-happy place we’ve found together.
“What do you want?”
There’s an angry male voice coming from the other end of the line, but I can’t make out his words.
“Yeah, she passed away and there’s nothing you can do about that. It’s over.”
Sam’s back muscles are rigid and his free hand is balled into a fist. “Nah, man, you can go to hell about that shit. I don’t owe you anything.”
Sam pulls the phone away from his ear and looks like he’s going to throw it across the room, but then he puts it back. “Listen, man, my best friend in the entire world died today, and I’m the one who had to pull the plug. I don’t want to talk to you about this shit now or ever again. Whatever deal you had going with her died with her today. You can leave me and Sadie out of it.”
The voice from the other end of the conversation comes through loud and clear. I can hear it even though Sam has the phone to his ear.
“You’ll pay me what she owes me, or I’m going to come after you, Sam. You can’t hide from me forever. You owe me.”
Sam’s voice goes very low and sounds dangerous as hell. “You come anywhere near me or Sadie, and you’ll go to jail for the rest your life if you’re lucky. Don’t call me ever again.” He hangs up the phone and slides it into his pocket. Then he turns around and catches me standing there, three feet away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
We stare at each other, him still angry, and me both worried and embarrassed to be caught listening in. “Yes, I heard all of it.” I figure I might as well just be up-front about the fact that I eavesdropped.
“Oh.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’d rather not.” He looks like he’s annoyed at me now, but I’m not going to let that sway me.
“I know you’d rather not, and I get the fact that we’ve got a really good thing going on right now between us and you don’t want to bring the mood down; but you know, that man sounded like an angry person who still wants to be in your life for some reason, and I’m in your life right now too, so . . .” I look around the apartment and shrug.
Sam looks like he’s deflating from the inside as his shoulders sag and his head drops. His beard is resting against his bare chest.
“Please don’t be sad or angry with me. I don’t mean to be pushy. I’m just worried about my safety.”
He holds his hand up to stop me. “I get it. Just give me a minute.” He turns around and goes into his bedroom and shuts the door.
I stand in the hallway for a few seconds and then turn around and go back to the kitchen, my heart heavy with worry and disappointment. It’s like he doesn’t care about me in the least, and I would have thought, after what we’ve been through over the last day or so together, that I deserved some kind of thoughtful emotion from the man. I’m not asking for the guy to pledge his love to me, but come on . . . something? Anything?
I keep myself busy by cleaning up the rest of the mess we left behind with our lunch a couple hours ago. The monotonous task and the small amount of time it takes me to complete it helps to put things into perspective. Considering all that Sam has been through today, it’s pretty amazing that he’s doing as well as he is. I need to give him the time necessary to get his stuff straightened out, and that’s probably going to take a while; one day isn’t going to cut it. But I’m also not going to stay here tonight if I don’t feel safe. I can get a hotel, no problem. I can be supportive from a distance. The idea of being apart from him makes me sad, though.
The bedroom door opens, and he comes out with a fresh shirt on and his hair combed. He sits down at the table and points to the chair opposite him. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll explain everything.”
My heart leaps with happiness. “Great.” I quickly go to the kitchen and grab two glasses of water and bring them back with me, setting them down between us before I take a chair. “I’m all ears,” I say with a smile. I push a glass of water toward him. We had a lot of sex and he needs to hydrate.
“Drake is Madison’s dealer. And, apparently, she was into him for about twenty grand.”
“Twenty grand? That’s a lot of drugs, right?” My eyebrows are up in my hairline. No wonder she passed away from an overdose. It’s not like I know the going rates for heroin, but for a woman who’s an out-of-work musician, it seems like an awful lot of money for way too many drugs.
“Yeah. I think she was dealing, too.”
“Oh, damn. That sucks big-time.”
“Yeah, it’s bad. And, apparently, Drake seems to think that Madison’s debt didn’t die with her . . . that it’s now my job to pay him back.”
“That’s wrong. How did he come up with that rule?”
“Drake doesn’t give anybody any free rides, even the dead. He knows we share Sadie together, so in his mind, that means I share Madison’s mistakes, too.”
“What are you going to do?”
“There’s not a lot I can do. I don’t have twenty grand, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t give it to a drug dealer. I just need to stay out of his way until he gives up looking for me.”
“Does this mean you’ll be going back to New York?”
He shrugs. “I don’t really have a choice, do I? I promised to come out and do some work with the band. I signed a contract. I assume I’m still going unless you think I shouldn’t.”
“No, of course you should go. And Sadie too.” I have to work to hide my excitement about him being in New York with me again. The fact that Sadie will be there too is something I’m going to disregard for now, because it complicates things, and life is already complicated enough. “Does Drake know where you live?” I ask.
“I moved here recently. As far as I know, he doesn’t know about it, but he has friends in high places, so I wouldn’t put it past him to figure it out eventually.”
Panic hits me. I stand. “We need to go. We need to check into a hotel or something.”
He takes my hand and gestures for me to sit down. “He’s not going to do anything right now. He believes he’s put the fear in me, and now he assumes I’m going to be busy looking around for some money. If he comes in here and messes with me now, he won’t get anything but heat from the cops. We’re in no danger.”
“We should call the police, though.”
He nods. “I will. And I have before. The problem is, they don’t bother with Madison’s problems anymore, and according to them, Drake is her problem. Last time she went missing, they wouldn’t even go looking for her. She was a junkie, and junkies don’t rate very high on their list.”