by Eden Bradley
“Our Cadillac margaritas are the best in town,” the waitress said. “One for each of you?”
Janie held her breath, waiting several endless beats to see what Cole would do. But he waved a hand and said “Iced tea for us both. She’ll have the number three plate and I’ll take the number six combo. Thanks.”
She hated that there was still this small seed of doubt. But he’d hardly been paying attention to anything but the food. If he’d noticed her tension he didn’t mention it. Maybe he really was so far past it that alcohol no longer even registered on his radar. Maybe. Hopefully. Because the idea that it might scared the hell out of her.
Cut him some slack. He’s been clean and sober for years.
And she’d be a fool to allow herself to get so caught up in the past that she turned her back on the future they could have together.
She took in a deep, cleansing breath and forced herself to calm. Reminded herself that she was spending the evening with the man she loved, and who loved her back in a way no other man ever had. She’d be crazy to do anything to sabotage things. They were together. And right now, that was all she needed to know.
“You okay, my baby?” he asked, sweeping her hair from her face, stroking her head with his thumb, his gaze on hers.
So much love in his eyes it overwhelmed her, suffused her soul.
She smiled, reaching up to smooth her fingertips over his jaw. “Yeah. Everything is perfect, babe.”
Dinner was easy, a relaxed warmth between them, as if speaking their feelings had loosened something for them both. And on the ride back to Cole’s place, she held onto him tighter than ever, the night sky whirring past them, laced with a blur of stars.
They loved each other. Everything was going to be all right.
Please let everything be all right.
Chapter Seven
When they pulled into the big, spotless garage, Janie got off the bike and waited for Cole to help her with her helmet. She was perfectly capable of doing it herself, but it was one of those little things he did that made her feel taken care of. It was one of the things she loved about him.
She shook her hair out as he hung the helmets on the wall hooks, then he started to strip off one of his black leather fingerless gloves.
“Babe? Wait.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wait for what?”
She reached out, stroked her fingertips over the leather on the back of his hand. Shivered. “Leave these on for me?”
One corner of his lush mouth quirked in a grin. “Oh, baby… Your wish is my command.”
He stepped toward her and picked her up, backed her against the wall, his hard-packed body holding her there while he stripped her shirt over her head, kissing her neck as her bra came off. Sensation fluttered through her system, lighting her up with a stark desire that pooled low in her belly, between her legs. And the lovely, thick bulge of his erect cock pressed against her. He shifted lower, so the hard ridge was between her thighs. There was too damn much denim separating them.
“Come on, Cole. I need you,” she pleaded, her body desperate for his.
He stepped back to unbuckle her belt, then she helped kick her way out of her jeans. Reaching for him, nearly blind with the rushing heat, her pulse thundering behind her eyes, in her aching clit, she managed to unbutton his jeans and found his naked cock.
“Ah, baby girl,” he moaned as she wrapped her fingers around him and squeezed. “Yeah, make it rough. You know how I like it.”
She squeezed harder, loving how thick he was, how heavy his flesh in her hand, even half-held in his tight jeans. She reached farther, wrapping her fingers around the base before drawing them back up the long shaft, his skin like velvet under her touch.
“Mmm…yeah, Janie girl,” he murmured, his eyes closing.
She began a hard stroke then, her desire rising along with his ever-hardening cock, until she felt the heavy pulse in the swollen head that signaled his oncoming climax.
Oh, she loved this—the feeling of power, that she could do this to him. Loved the scent of their arousal in the air, hearing his moans. And that shaft of lovely, throbbing flesh in her hand…she’d always been turned on by his cock, had always loved to touch him, to take him in her mouth. To feel his pleasure blending with her own until she couldn’t tell where his began and hers ended.
With a guttural groan he pulled back, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away.
“Not yet. Not like this. It’s your turn, my girl. Now.”
With his hard, muscled torso and one hand on her ass, he backed her up again until she was pressed firmly against the wall, and plunged the other hand between her thighs, hard against her mound through the sheer lace of her thong.
“Oh!”
“Ah, you’re soaking wet already.”
“I told you. I need you. Cole…”
“You want the gloves?” he asked, his voice a low, rasping growl.
“Oh, yes.”
He yanked her in tight once more, pressing her naked body tight against his with a hand gripping her waist. She could feel his erection against her bare thigh, wanted him inside her. But she knew he intended to give her what she’d asked for—anything else would have to wait.
He kissed her neck, bit gently, then harder when she moaned. His whisper was a low growl in her ear. “Hang on, Janie girl.”
She did as he said, snaking one hand up under his T-shirt, exactly as she’d been dying to do all night, and wrapping her other arm around his neck. He lifted her, guiding her to wrap her legs around his waist and stepped back a bit, far enough that her upper back was stable against the wall, leaving her ass available for his wickedly talented hands.
“Good girl,” he said. “I’m going to spank you now, and you’re going to love it. It’s going to make you so wet. It always does. And I’ll love that. And while I’m spanking you, know that it’s because you asked for it. That I’m doing what you need. That it brings us closer. And that I’ll enjoy the hell out of it.”
“Oh…yes, please,” was all she could say, desire shimmering over her skin, making her squirm.
“Still now, baby.”
“Yes, Cole.”
She pulled in a deep breath. And gasped when he smacked her ass, the leather glove a sharp sting on her needy flesh.
“Good, baby?” he asked.
“Mmm…yes.”
He smacked her again, harder this time.
“Oh!”
“Thought you needed to sound a little more enthusiastic, baby.”
“I’m plenty enthusiastic!”
“Then show me, Janie.”
He slapped her ass hard, and she swore she could feel the texture of the leather on her skin, imprinting it. She knew she’d be marked. She wanted to be. He spanked her again, and again and again, setting a steady rhythm as he kissed and bit her neck, making her shiver, making her legs tighten around his body. She found herself falling into the beat of it, her brain shutting down as sensation took over—pain and pleasure melting into a hot pool that swarmed her system. But as soon as she settled into that groove, he began to spank her in earnest. She tried to writhe beneath the pain, but he held her firmly in his arms. His hands on her, commanding her, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her wet lace-clad mound, were adding to the sensations like crazy. The pain rose, the pleasure spiraled. She was soaking wet.
He stopped, and she panted out her pain and her desire while he pulled back to look at her. His eyes were gleaming, a glossy blue in the bright light of the garage.
“You with me, Janie?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Good. Pick a bike.”
“Wh—what?”
“Pick the one you want me to bend you over while I spank your delicious, perfect ass some more.”
“Oh…my.” She bit her lip. “Can it be the
Indian?”
“It can be whatever you want.”
“Then the Indian,” she decided, looking at its long, low lines, the 50s-inspired paint job in maroon and cream, the tan leather seat and saddlebags.
“Excellent choice. A beautiful machine for my beautiful girl. Come on.”
He kept an arm around her, knowing she was already a little dizzy from their hard play, she was certain, and led her to the bike.
He moved her until she stood beside the sleek Indian with him behind her. Running a hand up and down her spine, a soft, soothing touch, he said, “Bend over, baby girl.”
She had to touch the leather seat first, to feel it under her hands. Then she bent and laid the front of her body over the bike, her nipples going hard as her breasts pressed against the leather. With a hand on her lower back, Cole steadied her.
He didn’t ask if she was ready—he just started in. His hand came down on her ass over and over, paused to pull the lace of the thong aside and slip between her thighs, into her slick juices.
“Oh yeah, that’s what I like, baby. And you like it, too, I can tell. Do you know how hard this makes me? My beautiful girl, my beautiful bike. Fuck…too good to be true. But you’re here. All mine.”
“Yes…”
She gasped when he spanked her hard, beginning another volley of sharp smacks, all the sharper for the leather gloves he wore. All the better when he slid a hand down and pressed two fingers inside her.
“Ah, God, Cole.”
He thrust into her as pleasure poured through her, sharp and tingling, pleasure and pain all one lovely sensation as she went over that keen edge, her climax ripping through her.
“Ah…I’m coming!”
“Yeah, come for me, love.”
A few hard smacks had her yelping, her fingers clenching hard in the air, her pussy clenching harder. Then she was flooded with endorphins, the lovely brain chemicals that made her fly, and she went limp, shuddering against the cool surface of the bike.
“I’ve got you, Janie girl,” he murmured as he picked her up in his arms and carried her into the house.
He set her down on the white faux fur rug in front of the fireplace. The room was dark except for the glow from the city lights below the Hollywood Hills, which glimmered like a blanket of tiny jewels, lighting up the night. He pressed her down, onto her back, and all she knew was sensation—his firm hand between her breasts, the fur beneath her bare skin. The sensation of yielding to him—to the man she loved. Had she pleased him? She hoped so. Wanted to. Needed to.
As if reading her mind, he bent and whispered in her ear, “You took it so well, baby. My baby. Your ass is a perfect shade of pink…your skin is glowing. It makes me so damn hot, knowing it was my hand that did it. Seeing you like this. Feeling you yield to me. Need to be inside you now.”
“Oh, yes please…”
He kissed her cheek, her eyelids, her hair, then he moved down to her mouth, his tongue slipping between her lips. She breathed in his breath—he breathed in hers, and they made out like mad, kissing so damn hard she knew her mouth might be bruised. Didn’t matter. She needed it. Needed him.
He paused to pull off his shirt and the gloves, kissed her again, stopped once more to stand and yank off his boots, his jeans.
“Dammit. Condom. Hang on, baby girl. Don’t move an inch.”
She kept her eyes on the lights and the stars through the window while she waited, her body blazing with anticipation, like a low fiery hum in her veins, throbbing between her thighs. He was back in a moment, his beautiful cock sheathed and ready.
Then he laid his long, lean body over hers, and it was a symphony of sensation and emotion. She could feel every hard ridge and plane of muscle. She could feel his heart beating against hers. When he kissed her this time, something between them shifted, and they breathed each other in—one breath, one body as he entered her.
Pleasure suffused her, slipping up her spine, then down, deep into her sex as he filled her. Her arms wound around his neck, her legs around his hips, pulling him in.
“Cole…I can’t…can’t get you close enough.”
“I’m right here, baby. I’m a part of you. Feel me…”
He tilted his hips, pressed deeper, and his rigid flesh inside her was exquisite. Sensation seared her as they came together, body to body, and for the first time in too many long years, open heart to open heart.
“Love you, my baby,” he whispered as he surged into her over and over.
“Love you, babe,” she whispered, losing herself in the heat. In him.
In the distance, the jeweled city lights faded into the night.
“God, it’s loud in here,” Celine shouted in Janie’s ear as they hugged.
“I know. Isn’t it awesome?”
Ink & Iron’s new album played, the songs so recognizably Cole’s writing, full of rage and love and power backed by his growling vocals, Chase’s unique guitar work, Jaden’s primal drumming and Ryan’s heavy bass. The record release party at their LA studio was already at full throttle and packed with people.
“It’s some really great stuff. What an exciting night for them—and for you. Love looks good on you, Janie. And those leather pants are gorgeous. You look damn good, sexy little mama.”
“So do you, hon, as always.”
Celine truly always did. At five-foot-nine she could have been a runway model instead of an art teacher. And tonight she was dressed all in slinky black—a short knit dress, knee-high boots, and a little leather vest that showed off the sleeve of roses and thorns down her right arm. Janie knew she’d been in an accident as a kid, that she hadn’t been expected to use her arm again, but Celine had triumphed over her injuries and gone on to study art—and to have her scars tattooed over, roses and thorns to represent the beauty and the tragedy that was life. It was her beautiful tattoo work that had first started them talking.
“Where’s your man?” Celine asked.
“Here somewhere, I’m sure. Want me to introduce you around?”
“Hmm…yes. Especially to him.”
Celine gestured with her chin and Janie turned to look.
“Ah, Jaden. He’s a doll.”
“Yes he is,” Celine murmured. “Love the dreads. And that caramel skin. He’s so tall…and so unbelievably hot.”
Janie grabbed her friend’s hand. “Okay, get your hormones under control and I’ll introduce you to him.”
“No promises.”
Janie laughed and pulled Celine across the room.
Jaden was talking to one of their record producers, but the moment she walked up with Celine in tow, he stopped and simply stared. Of course, Celine got that kind of attention a lot. But Jaden could have any woman he wanted, and it was very obvious he wanted Celine.
“Celine, Jaden. Jaden, this is my friend Celine.”
Without looking at Janie, he took Celine’s hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it, smiled at her. “Lovely Celine. That sounds like a song.”
Celine batted her long, dark lashes, and Janie shook her head, smiling, and backed away. They looked like they didn’t need any company. She turned and bumped into Cole’s brother, Chase. He looked a lot like Cole did, but with longer hair and his eyes were more green than blue. He gave her a quick hug.
“Hey, Janie. You having a good time?”
“I am. It’s a great party, a great night. And the album is amazing, but I knew it would be.”
“We’re all pretty damn happy with it. The crowd seems to be going for it.”
She nodded agreement. “Have you seen Cole anywhere?”
“Not for a while.”
“You’ve been too busy not fighting off the girls fawning all over you?”
He grinned. “One or two, maybe. It’s a rough job, but I’m up for it.”
She shook her head. “You rock st
ars.”
He leaned in, his voice low. “Can I tell you something? I’ll never get used to this rock star thing. I mean, I go home and take out my own garbage, you know?”
Reaching up, she patted his cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone your dirty little secret. Hey, if you see Cole, will you let him know I’m looking for him?”
“Sure.”
She decided to find the restroom and do a quick lip gloss check. Her small black leather clutch purse in her hand, she moved through the main studio and down the narrow hallway packed with people. At the end of the hall the bathroom door stood partway open. She pushed through and went in—and was surprised to find two men standing over the tiled counter, one of them Ken Stacy, the band’s manager. He looked up, wiping his nose.
“Janie? Didn’t see you there. Hi.”
“Hi, Ken. I’m sorry—I didn’t know anyone was…”
Her polite smile froze when she saw the line of coke laid out on the counter, the rolled up bill in his hand. Her stomach knotted.
Fuck.
Cole’s manager doing blow in the bathroom. It was too much like the old days—the bad old days when Cole had partied himself right out of her life. And if Ken was getting high…
Panic flooding her, she took a step back, then another. She felt sick.
She could not go through this again.
She turned and hurried down the hall, her heart a jackhammer in her chest, pushing past the people, most of whom she didn’t know and maybe didn’t ever need to.
What had she expected from the music industry? This was a party. One where the man who said he loved her was nowhere to be found. Where she’d caught people doing drugs in the goddamn bathroom.
Classic.
And she was a classic fool.
She pushed her way through the double doors that led to the lobby area, through the heavy door that led to the street. Pausing to lean against the wall, she drew several deep gulps of air into her tight, empty lungs. It was several minutes before she remembered she was on a Hollywood street at ten at night, and she pulled her cell phone from her purse and called a cab.