Because of You

by T. E. Sivec

  Reaching both of my hands up to cup his face, I pull it up so I can look into his eyes.

  “Because of you, I am stronger than I’ve ever been. Because of you, I can finally live my own life and make my own choices. You sent me that note and you gave my father back to me. You gave my life back to me. Because of you being here right now, coming here tonight, even though it took you long enough,” I tease him with a smile, “I know that I never want to be without you again.”

  Brady lets out the breath he was holding and quickly closes the distance between us, his lips finally against mine after so long. I breathe him in and I savor the taste of his mouth and tongue, and in an instant, it’s like we were never apart. All of the hurt and pain and sadness is gone, and there’s only Brady loving me and holding onto me, never letting me go.

  Just like always, our kisses never remain innocent; they never stay gentle. We’ve been apart too long and our hearts are too wide open right now to do anything other than devour each other. Brady lifts me up and sets me on the stage as I wrap my thighs around his hips and pull him closer, instantly feeling how much he needs me when he pushes himself between my legs. The song starts over for a third time, and now the words affect me differently. I’m burning with need for Brady, and I can’t get close enough, touch fast enough. We break the kiss long enough for me to quickly slide my hands up his stomach and chest, taking his shirt off as I toss it to the side, then our mouths immediately fuse back together. Brady’s hands slide around my ass and pull me closer to the edge of the stage and closer to him.

  “Fuck, I need you so much, but I don’t want to hurt you,” he speaks against my lips, glancing down at my shoulder and my arm and all of the places where I was hurt. I run my hands down to the button of his jeans and unsnap it.

  “I’m fine, you won’t hurt me. Please,” I beg him as I get his pants unbuttoned and slide my hand inside and wrap it around his hard length.

  Brady buries his face against the side of my neck and groans as I slide my hand up and down him, loving the feel of how smooth he is against my palm. After a few seconds, he curses and moves away from my hand before quickly sinking down to his knees between my legs. He pushes my skirt up to my hips and slides my panties to the side, and before I can even blink, he places his mouth on me. I let out a cry of pleasure as his tongue slides back and forth, over and inside me, bringing me so much pleasure that I want to cry at how much I’ve missed this, how much I’ve missed him. His fingers join his mouth and they glide through me and inside me as his tongue flicks against me in rapid circles. He quickly brings me to the edge with his skilled mouth and fingers. I clutch onto the back of his head and hold him in place as he tastes me and pushes me and soon has me spiraling out of control as I come against his mouth and shout his name from my lips.

  While my orgasm is still pulsing through me, he stands up and in one swift, hard movement buries himself inside of me and we both gasp and clutch onto one another.

  “Jesus, you feel so good. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed your taste and I’ve missed how good you feel wrapped around me,” he tells me softly against my ear as he slowly slides in and out of me.

  “I love you, I love you,” I repeat over and over, in the same rhythm of his thrusts, as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him close. He rocks his hips against me and echoes my words until we’re both chanting them together, not willing to stop letting the other know what we feel.

  It doesn’t take long for Brady to ignite the fire in me, and once again, I’m hurdling through another orgasm and taking him with me. He pulses inside of me as we pant and mumble more words of love through our release until we finally stop moving and sink against one another, holding each other up as best as our exhausted bodies will allow.

  My legs are still firmly wrapped around his hips, and my fingers lazily slide through his hair as he pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes.

  “You’re wrong you know. About what you said before. I’m not the one who made you stronger. You always had it inside of you. It was always because of you.”

  “No! Absolutely not. You are NOT using the bathroom of our bus to have sex with one of your groupies,” Layla argues with one of her band mates as she puts her hands on her hips and stomps her foot.

  I laugh from my spot on the couch of the Luxury Marathon Coach that Layla ordered specifically for the two of us so we wouldn’t have to travel the next few months with her band. She wanted us to have privacy and who was I to argue? I wasn’t about to leave her side for one minute, even while she finished out her farewell tour, so living a few months on a bus that is bigger than my house is fine by me, especially when I get to go to sleep every night with the feel of Layla’s body pressed up against mine.

  Layla shoots me a dirty look over her shoulder for my laugh, and I drop my head to my laptop and finish typing up a report to send to Gwen while the argument on the bus continues and I work to keep my smile contained.

  I have a lot to smile about lately. Things are going good with Gwen. She filed for divorce and so far, her ex doesn’t seem to be causing much of a fuss. He’s not contesting the divorce, and he hasn’t even tried to contact her since he was served. Even though I feel better knowing we don’t have to keep looking over our shoulders, I still don’t trust the guy. Since I plan on being by Layla’s side through this entire tour, Layla suggested that Dylan stay behind to keep an eye on Gwen. Not only was I elated that I wouldn’t have to worry about Gwen and Emma while I was gone, I wouldn’t have to worry about that asshole trying to make a move on my woman. Two birds, one stone, and all that shit. Gwen and I knew Dylan back in high school and finding out he was in the bodyguard business was an added bonus. He and Gwen used to date back then, now that I think about it. This might be a recipe for disaster when she sees him, but that’s not my problem. At least she’ll be safe.

  It’s been three weeks since I went to the Red Door Saloon and got my girl back. Her tour is going great, and while her fans are sad that she won’t be performing for them anymore, they understand her need to move on, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

  Even though Finn tried to cancel the insurance policy on Hummingbird Records, he didn’t have the power to succeed. All of the money came directly to Layla, and once she’s finished touring, she’s going to build again and run the business the way her father did: by being fair, open-minded, and listening to her clients' wishes. Every time I look at her, I’m amazed at how strong she is after all she’s been through. She has her moments, though, and every once in a while I can see the grief and sadness overtake her features, and I know that I need to remove her from whatever situation she’s in, close the door, and just hold her in my arms and let her cry. Some days are more of a struggle then others, particularly when something reminds her of Finn. He was her whole world for a long time, and she constantly battles with her emotions, not knowing whether to hate him or feel sorry for him. She’s going to be okay though, my girl’s a fighter. And I’m going to be here every step of the way to take care of her.

  I look up at Layla when I hear the door to the coach slam closed and she sighs, turning around and removing the computer from my lap before climbing onto me and taking its place, straddling my thighs and wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

  “Boys are gross,” she states with a roll of her eyes.

  I laugh and reach up to brush her bangs out of her eyes.

  “I’m a boy. Am I gross?”

  She shakes her head at me and smiles. “No, you’re not gross. You’re hot. And we should get naked now.”

  Layla starts unbuttoning my shirt while I laugh, and when she’s halfway down, my cell phone rings. With a groan, I pull it out of my pocket and growl my hello while Layla tries to distract me by nipping her teeth into the side of my neck.

  “Austin, what the hell do you want?” I ask, goose bumps rising on my arms as Layla swirls her tongue around my ear lobe.

  “I just got your voice mail. Um, are you sure you want me t
o fill in for you at the office? I don’t think your sister is going to like that very much,” he asks unsure.

  “Yes, I’m sure I want you to fill in for me at the office. Gwen’s got some personal things going on in her life, and there’s no way I want her handling any cases on her own while I’m gone,” I explain to him as I slide my fingers through Layla’s hair and hold her head in place while she nibbles and sucks on my neck.

  “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. That chick will be pissed off when she sees me walk through that door,” Austin replies with a laugh.

  Layla grinds her hips against me, and I have to clench my teeth so I don’t moan into the phone.

  “Austin, I have to go. Just remember one thing: no sleeping with my sister,” I warn him before ending the call and tossing the phone onto the bench next to me.

  Layla pulls her mouth away from my neck and stares down into my eyes.

  “So, where we headed tonight?” I ask as I slide my hands up her thighs and cup her ass.

  “Texas. Then Colorado tomorrow, and after that, Nevada. Are you sick of being on a tour bus yet?” she asks as she cocks her head and smiles.

  “Baby, because of you, I get to travel with the most beautiful girl in the world and go to sleep every night knowing that she loves me,” I reply, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll never get sick of being here, as long as you’re with me.”

  For the first time in my life, I know what true happiness is: she’s right here in my arms, and I’m never letting her go.

  The End

  Turn the page for an excerpt from Playing with Fire, #3!

  Coming Soon!

  Untitled, Playing with Fire, #3

  by T.E. Sivec

  “Okay, so, you’ve got your 9mm, your .22, your .38 Special, and your .357. You probably can’t handle anything more than that, so take your pick.”

  Crossing my arms in front of me, I take a step back and watch Gwen as she looks through the display glass at the firing range for a gun she’ll like. After what happened yesterday, I’m not taking any chances with her safety. Brady will probably kill me because I’m teaching his baby sister how to use a gun, but too fucking bad.

  We’ve been standing in the lobby of the gun shop which is attached to the firing range for thirty minutes, and I’ve gone over each gun in detail ten times. If she doesn’t pick a gun soon, I’m going to stomp my foot and throw a temper tantrum, the likes of which even a woman with a kid has never seen.

  “I want a pink one, Austin,” Gwen finally says, looking up from the case and straight at me.

  “What?”

  She huffs out an irritated breath and mirrors my pose with her arms crossed in front of her.

  “I said, I want a pink one. Where are the pink ones?” I bite my lip so I don’t say something completely irrational like, “Are you fucking kidding me with this pink shit? Just pick a fucking gun already!” I take a deep breath and a step closer to her.

  “This is a gun shop. A place where people come to pick out deadly weapons and then go out back to practice firing at deadly people. Pink does not equal deadly.”

  Gwen takes a step closer to me as well until she’s right up in front of me with her hands on her hips and that vanilla cake smell that always follows her around is tickling my nose and making me want to lick her.

  “I. Want. A. Pink. Gun,” she says softly, enunciating each word with a fierce gleam in her eyes.

  She’s so tiny I could scoop her up with one arm and probably carry her in my pocket, but standing here right now, so determined with her hands on her hips and an attitude on her face, she looks ten feet tall. She’s also got a great rack that’s being pushed out of her tight t-shirt. If I don’t stop staring, she’s going to find a fucking pink gun and shoot me in the balls with it.

  “How about we just pick out a nice, shiny, black one for today, and when we’re done, I’ll order you a pink gun. I’ll even order you a pink holster with sparkles on it,” I beg her.

  Normally, I could spend all day in the gun shop talking weapons with the owner and testing out new items. Using the word pink and sparkles in the same sentence at a fucking gun shop makes me want to puke in my mouth a little.

  “Ooooooh, sparkles! Mommy, you should get a gun with sparkles!”

  We both turn and look at Emma, Gwen’s six-year-old, standing a few feet away from us, brushing the hair of some slutty Barbie in her hand.

  “Good idea, baby! Can I get a pink gun with sparkles too?” Gwen asks.

  “Jesus H…YES! We can bedazzle any fucking thing in this store you want, just pick one!” I growl angrily at her.

  “You owe me a dollar, Austin,” Emma pipes up from right next to me.

  I look down and she’s got her hand out, palm up, waiting for her payment.

  Ever since I started hanging out with a single mom, I’ve had to try and watch my language. Being a Navy SEAL made it damn near impossible, so instead, I gave Emma a mason jar and told her I’d give her a dollar every time I swore. I do believe this one here puts that mason jar up to one hundred and twenty-four dollars now.

  I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and take out a twenty.

  “Here, pipsqueak, I have a feeling your mother is going to cost me a lot of money today,” I tell her as she grabs the bill from my hand and shoves it into the front pocket of her jeans.

  “Okay, fine,” Gwen finally says with a sigh. “I guess I’ll take that black and silver one right there.”

  I lean over her shoulder and see that she’s pointing to a Kel-Tec 9mm.

  “Good choice,” I tell her with a nod as I signal the owner so he can get it out of the case.

  Gwen turns her face towards me and our noses are practically touching. I can feel her breath on my face and I know if I don’t move away, I’m going to be hard as a rock in two seconds. This woman drives me fucking insane, but she’s also hot as hell and the strongest person I’ve ever been around considering what her life has been like lately. She also shoots down all the innuendoes I’ve thrown at her like she’s swatting at house flies. There’s nothing this woman does that doesn’t turn me on.

  “Since I can’t use a pink gun today, can I get a pair of those ear muff thingies in pink for when I’m shooting? And do they have those with sparkles?”

  I take that back.