by C. M. Owens
“You’re going to go on tour before you have time to show me oral if you keep procrastinating,” she goes on, shoving at my chest as she rolls over and drapes her body over mine with so much ease.
My finger runs down her side as the humor slips away.
“Please,” she says so motherfucking sincerely.
“You’re literally begging to suck my dick right now,” I point out, wondering if she knows just how bad this would fuck with any man’s damn head.
She nods like it’s not a big deal.
“I’m going to hell for this one day. I just know it,” I mutter to myself. “Now that I’ve written a full album, tell me the true story behind those sad eyes, and I’ll teach you oral,” I tell her.
I’ll last five seconds of coaching her on how to suck me off. Sure be gloriously humiliating for me.
“I’ve been assured that sad stories can put a damper on sexual exploits,” she deadpans.
“I’ll risk it,” I say softly as I twirl a lock of hair around my finger.
“Everyone expects some really big, terribly tragic story. But it’s really the most common story there is. Mine’s only different because it ended good for a change,” she says on a breath as she drops back.
“You can give me the Britt Sterling special and make it as nonchalant as you need to, even if you need to list it,” I murmur as I kiss her jaw.
“I was never physically abused. Not all the kids were mean to me. I was just neglected or ignored. I was as miserable as every other problematic child in the system. I couldn’t properly communicate the things I needed to. Conflict was impossible for me. I had to be really calm and work really hard to talk in no more than three-people-at-a-time settings. Then I got a job as a waitress, and got great tips because people thought I was mentally challenged and doing the best I could. It felt like a lot longer than it actually was.”
I cringe, then suck in a deep breath when she arches an eyebrow at me.
“I’m not sad about it. I often play down how lonely and hard it was just to exist, because people expect me to be sad about it when they know the full depths of all I felt. I’m not often overwhelmed by emotion anymore, but it does happen on occasion, despite the robot memes people make of me.”
I smooth my hand up her back. “People can be dicks.”
“I know,” she says with another shrug. “I understand their impression though, and I’m not offended by them.”
Her eyes move up my body until they meet mine.
“But the pictures of sad eyes with practiced smiles? Those are when I have moments where I feel bad for being one of the few to get a happy ending. I feel sad for the ones who don’t have a brother like I do. And I wish I could do more.”
My mind goes over the countless stories and songs that played out in my head.
“I never guessed right,” I murmur quietly, more to myself than to her.
It seems like it should be a little obvious, but I wrote a lot of songs about the damaged and broken. Not the healed and burdened.
“I communicate better almost daily,” she goes on, dragging me out of my thoughts as I brush her hair to the side.
A loud banging at my door is followed by a few laughs. “Hey, we’re going to play the set for Ralphy. He’s out here if you want to play with us. If not, he’s going to fill your spot,” Taylor calls through the door.
“Let him fill my spot,” I call out. “And tell me what he thinks about the new sound.”
I turn back, finding Britt absently tracing circles over my shirt, her fingertip running the barely-there outline of my abs.
Her eyes flick to mine, and she just stares. “I told you the story,” she says quietly.
Sitting up, I reach back and pull my shirt over my head, and she does the same with a shy smile on her lips. Her light skin has just a dash of freckles here and there, and my eyes rake over them before landing on the very sexy bra.
She loaded up on sexy lingerie during her virginal days and we spent a day with her letting me pick out my favorites. That was a fun day.
As I push down my jeans and boxers, she just watches, eyes half lidded as she stares very deliberately.
Scrubbing a hand over my face again, I say, “Take it in your hand, and then move at your own pace from there. I’ll walk you through it.”
The second her hand touches me, and she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, I realize this is going to be a quick tutorial no matter how hard I try.
When her lips hover just centimeters over my dick for long, palpable minutes of silence, it actually jumps in her hand and startles her. I didn’t make it do that. It’s possessed around her.
“Just let me know when you’re ready,” I say as I clear my throat, while she resumes staring at it. “And no teeth. Please.”
Her hand is just firm enough, but I hiss out a breath when she squeezes a little harder.
“Sorry,” she says, loosening her grip again as she finally leans over and wraps her lips around the head of my cock with zero warning.
I hiss out another breath, this one of surprise, but she either doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care as she sucks me in a little deeper.
“No teeth,” I remind her on a worried breath when I feel a graze.
After a few more trial-and-error movements, I finally work her into a steady rhythm with some really damn good fundamentals. It’s going to be fun helping her ‘improve her technique’ on this.
Maddening woman.
She takes me deeper and deeper, and it’s fumbled and somewhat awkward, and fucking perfect—
“Britt, now’s the time to back away if you don’t want to finish it.”
She doesn’t stop, and it doesn’t take but another second before pleasure spikes up my spine and spreads. My legs stiffen, and I cough out a sound as my hand finally shoves into her hair on reflex. I don’t do anything but rest it there until she abruptly pulls back and takes off running to the bathroom.
My brow furrows as she slams the door, and my hand stays suspended in the air where her head was.
“Britt? You okay?” I ask, starting to worry when I hear the sink come on and water splashing.
When I hear the gargling, I bristle.
“Britt?” I call again, leaning down to grab my boxers.
“Sorry,” she says, though the word is a little muffled as she opens the door, brushing her teeth.
I arch an eyebrow, lips twitching as her cheeks and neck burn a bright red.
She runs back in and spits out the toothpaste before returning.
“I’m decidedly not advanced enough to be a swallower, even without a gag reflex,” she tells me with an apologetic grimace.
Because there’s no way I can speak with a straight face, I just hold up an okay symbol with my hand, as she jogs back in to brush her teeth some more.
Dropping back on the bed, I pull the pillow over my face to muffle the bits of laughter that sneak out as my body shakes lightly on the bed.
Fucking girl.
My laughter turns into a bit of a groan. Sooner or later I’m going to have to tell her I’m in love with her.
Chapter 33
BRITT
“…third dressing room from the back in that boutique, the eastern bathroom on the third floor of the mall with the pink flower wall paper, and the pier,” I say, finishing up the list that has taken me five full minutes to deliver.
Everyone blinks at me, including Corbin, who walked in mid-way through the list.
“Do I want to know what all these random places have in common?” Maverick asks from behind me.
Oh, I didn’t even notice him.
“I don’t,” Corbin says with a firm, certain nod before walking away with his drink in his hand, abandoning us to our corner as the night dwindles on.
The important fund-raising part is finished. Now it’s just the dancing and business talk surrounding us as we sit in a corner like we do at the end of any long event.
The guys keep leaving when they bring up
Base.
“It’s all the public places I’ve had sex,” I tell Maverick, who closes his eyes and shakes his head, palming his face by the end.
“I walked right into it, because now I see how that should have been obvious,” he says behind his hand.
Salem grins as though she enjoys his misery as he walks away, flipping her off as he goes like he knows she’s smiling.
I’ve irrationally missed Base a lot tonight. It’s just one night. But my mind sees other couples doing small things like that, and the ease and familiarity of their exchanges is what makes me miss him.
“That’s a long list for a short period of time,” Bella says on a low whistle. “Impressive. You’re still being safe, though, right?”
Allie gives her a look I can’t decipher, and Bella ignores her in a way that seems intentional.
“Of course,” I tell her.
“And you’re still breaking up when he goes on tour?” Ash asks like she’s trying to understand.
“We’ll stay in touch and be friends, I’m sure. We get along great, so there’s no reason not to be friends,” I go on, even though my foot taps a little nervously.
“You have a toothbrush in his bathroom, and he has one in yours, but you’re still not in a relationship?” Ruby asks me as she studies my face.
“I never pictured her as one to be in denial,” Tria says on a sigh.
“We’re in a relationship,” I tell her. “All interactions with people on a continual basis put you in some sort of relationship with them. But it’s not the type of relationship you’re referring to.”
They stare at me. They keep doing this a lot. I know they think I’m being deliberately obtuse about something.
“A relationship requires work, maintenance, and active communication on the small problems that usually have the potential to escalate into larger, more damaging troubles if not addressed and dealt with,” I explain.
They all sort of bristle in their seats, clearing their throats and darting their eyes around.
“We don’t do that work. We enjoy the fun stuff like getting to know each other…and a lot of sex. It works so easily because we don’t deal with any issues.”
“Issues like squeezing the toothpaste in the middle? Or are we talking about deal-breaking issues?” Rain asks.
I don’t know what deals there are to break. We’re approaching our expiration date, and I really wish time would just slow down so I could enjoy it longer.
“Issues such as a black-tie event not being his thing?” Ash guesses when I don’t immediately respond.
“Issues such as him not being able to step outside his comfort zone,” I gently amend. “I like dressing up and going places in a variety of ways.”
She gives me a slow nod, lips tightening.
“And then there’s the inability to accept help because he always wants to be the hero and thinks he has something to prove instead of listening to any professional advice from people already in the industry. He pushes back against people when they try to give him advice or help, to be more accurate. And that stems to his personal life as well. It’s hard to address things because he’s defensive.”
Ash sits back, shoulders slumping. I realize belatedly that it sounds like I’m sitting here talking badly about him, because they’re all showing concern.
I was just answering the question, and now I feel like I’ve done something really wrong. I don’t want to do anything really wrong with Base.
My palms start stinging, and I look down to see my fingernails have started digging into them.
“Did I just sound like I was being critical?” I ask them, worried now.
“No. No. We know you didn’t mean to be,” Allie tells me dismissively.
“You’re really breaking up when he goes on tour, aren’t you?” Ash asks like it’s the first time she’s asked that question instead of the thirteenth.
“Of course we are. He has a lot of things to accomplish before he feels whole, and his path is completely different from mine. But I think we’ll always be friends because this has been…mostly perfect. We don’t have to ruin it by addressing issues.”
“You’re sure he’s on the exact same page?” Brin asks me like this is crucial information.
“He has plenty of things he wants to address with me that he hints at but holds back as well. He also seems uncomfortable around money, and this is all part of my life too.” I gesture to some of the extravagance surrounding us. “It’s daunting and takes a lot of adjusting and effort. However, tonight proves he doesn’t intend to put forth unnecessary effort. It’s practical. It also means he’s not deviated from the original agreement.”
A small smile graces my lips, because in fifteen minutes he’ll at least get to see my pretty black dress that only goes across one shoulder and has a split up the side to the middle of my thigh. Understated sexy is what Rain called it.
Tria drops to a chair, no longer smirking. I’m not sure why they all look so sad. I’m now thirteen minutes from meeting him outside, and time is still counting down.
Slowly.
So. So. Slowly.
“Huh. I guess we were all the idiots then,” Harley finally says after being unusually quiet on the subject tonight.
My phone chimes with a text, and I glance down to see it’s from Base. He’s been quiet all day, and between helping with the event and getting what Rain calls the ‘princess treatment’ that makes all the hard work feel a little more fun, I haven’t been able to see him.
BASE: Running late. I’ll see you in twenty.
The illogical amount of disappointment I feel from the minuscule delay is a testament to how much I want to cling to these last few weeks before he’s gone.
He’s already later than the original time we discussed by a full hour.
His tone is impossible to tell through text, so I don’t know if something is wrong or if he just lost track of time.
Ash sucks in a breath when she reads something on her phone, and she curses as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
Rain asks me about the toothbrushes again and if our bathrooms look the same with products and stuff. Why the fascination with the random bathroom factoids?
Ash leans up, putting her phone away, and talks over Rain. “So, theoretically, if something happened to his tour, would you consider working on these unaddressed issues and give a relationship a real try?” she asks.
I pause, frowning at the very serious worry/dread on her face. Not sure which. Neither seems good.
“Did something happen to his tour?” Harley asks her, aiding me in explaining the shift in atmosphere.
Ash puts down her phone, smiling tightly at me. “A label pulled strings to have their spot given to a new band they’re promoting, and the guys have been trying all day to—”
I don’t hear what else she says, because I’m lifting my phone and calling Base as I stand and start walking through the throngs of people.
He won’t take this well.
“Hey, sorry I’m running behind, but I’m not too far from—”
“You’re definitely losing your spot on the tour?” I ask him as I needle my way through the doors to where I can hear him better, my heels clicking as I take the sidewalk around the building toward the sea of cars in the parking lot.
He exhales harshly. “I really don’t want to talk about that right now. It’s…definite, though. I also probably burned some really important bridges today that will send my already laughable career careening off the side of a cliff, but fuck it at this point. It was Vince Jaggons who put one of his newer artists in our spot. Stupid, arrogant, self-righteous son of a bitch. Things got heated, because his pompous errand boy stepped all over us like we were dirt. You can’t be honest, hard-working, and get ahead in—”
He stops, exhales harshly again, and makes a frustrated sound.
“No tour,” he sums up.
“I’m so sorry,” I say genuinely, disappointment settling on my chest like I feel it fo
r him.
He gets quiet for a minute, and I shuffle around people as they start exiting.
“The only silver lining is that you and I can do this thing for real now, Britt,” he says so casually.
My spine straightens as I hear the words, and a clock seems to start counting down in the back of my mind.
“Did you hear me?” he asks a little impatiently.
“I-I-yeah. I heard,” I stammer out, unsure what to say just yet as I try to quickly work my words into the right phrasing in my mind first.
“So? Are we doing this for real? No more expiration date?” he prompts.
The rain starts to drizzle twenty-three minutes earlier than the forecast predicted, and I step under a pavilion as it starts to build.
“Britt? You there?” he asks as the rain starts coming down harder and harder.
“I-I-I don’t know. I need time to think about how to communicate our problems together before we jump into a life decision of that magnitude, and—”
“Communicate what problems?” he asks, his voice coming from right behind me.
Turning around, I pull my phone away from my ear slowly, finding Base staring down at me. His hair and clothes are a little wet, and he breathes heavily. His eyes are intently on me, waiting expectantly, as I open and close my mouth.
“I-I struggle with being put on the spot,” I remind him, but he steps in closer, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“What fucking problems, Britt? We never argue. Hell, we don’t even get agitated around each other. Everything is too fucking perfect to say we have problems,” he assures me in that smooth voice that usually makes me really stupid.
But right now my mind is firing in panic mode, and I don’t speak as he gently caresses my cheek, as cars drive around the loop we’re standing in the middle of, sheltered from the now-pelting rain as it loudly crashes onto the pavilion covering.
“Is it Dane? I know he has issues with you dating, but he doesn’t have an actual say in your life,” he goes on, which only makes my brow furrow more.
“No. It’s not Dane. Dane has nothing to do with us. I need time to write this all down so I can properly communicate it after going over it with a few other sets of eyes, and—”