by Teagan Kade
Easy, cowboy.
I let an open C ring out, the echo of Sel’s voice lingering.
I mute the strings. “I have to admit. That was kind of incredible.”
“I always thought it was better as a duet. Why’d your Dad stop playing it?”
I promised him I’d never share it.
So what? He’s dead.
I take a deep breath before I speak. “Before me, Mom and Dad lost a child. She was born premature.” My hands fold together nervously. “They even named her… Hope.”
Selena’s eyes open in shock. “Wow, I never knew that.”
“He made me swear never to tell anyone, but there you go.”
“So why tell me?”
I shrug. “Because I trust you. Because there’s no one I feel as close to right now.” I want to say more, but I leave it at that. “You can stay in my old room tonight. Come on. I’ll settle you in.”
I place the guitar down and follow Sel upstairs. Her ass looks incredible in those jeans, tightly packaged away in the denim. I’m dying to get my hands on it, my cock twitching in agreement about to damn well poke a hole in my pants if it gets any stiffer.
Why does she have this effect on me? It’s supernatural is what it is.
I switch on the light. She walks into the center of my old room spinning around and almost losing her balance. I rush forward and hold her, our eyes meeting.
“Hasn’t changed a bit,” she says, voice soft as a summer breeze, but I don’t think she’s talking about the room.
I’m not shy or nervous. I don’t wait for the ‘right moment.’ When I see something I want, a pretty girl, I move in for the kill. It’s the Barton way. I mean, my father met my mother with the line ‘You looking for a good lay, sweetheart?’ for crying out loud.
But now, with Sel? She’s kryptonite. My powers of persuasion are weak. I feel like a teenager all over again with a tube sock on my dick busted in the act—vulnerable. Is it a good thing? I have no fucking idea, but I do know I want her with every ounce of my being, with everything I have. Rick might not have treated her right, but I’ll make her the princess she deserves to be, give her everything she needs and more. I don’t care what I have to sacrifice to do it.
I’m the one who breaks eye contact, my hands lifting off her arms, my head screaming ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ I nod to the poster above my bed. “Goat’s Head Soup. Great album.”
Are you for fucking real right now? Great album? It’s like I’m unable to put together rational thought right.
Probably because all the blood in your body’s been sucked down to your dick.
Sel turns, still a little off-kilter but far from drunk. “I always thought that poster was kind of disgusting, actually.”
“Oh, so we’re being honest now, are we?”
“Of course. Why, you have something you want to ask me?”
Her whiskey eyes pull me in, her lips slightly parted, warm breath leaving them in thin whispers.
I swallow hard. Think, you idiot. “Why Rick?”
She bites the corner of her lip and looks down for a second before taking a seat on the end of the bed and fiddling with her hands. “When you decided to go off on your world tour, he started calling—a lot. I don’t know. I suppose he thought you were competition or something, and he was charming, at first. Don’t get me wrong. This went on for years, mind you. It’s only recently I finally said yes to dating him.”
“But…” I lead.
Sadness pulls her expression down. “He wanted to move fast and I wanted to move slow. That’s what it came down to.”
I laugh. “I’ve never known Selena Torres to move slow in my life.”
“When it comes to matters of the heart, I do, something you’d know nothing about.”
I’m a little offended at that, but I don’t let it show, and yes, she does have a point. I haven’t been a relationship that’s lasted more than a few nights. I never quite understood why, but sitting here now with this angel, this perfection, it’s becoming clear. No one could compare. No one could live up to her.
I pull in a deep breath. Here goes fucking nothing. “I never stopped thinking about you when I was away, Sel.”
She swallows hard. “What do you mean?”
We’re so close, the heat from her body radiating against my arm, the air still. “I mean, there’s only ever going to be one girl good enough for me… and it’s you.”
She stares at me, no expression, unmoved.
Shit.
I’m almost certain she’s about to pull away, to come up with an excuse to leave, but then I see it—the spark. It starts at the corner of her lips, the way her blouse beats out in time with her heartbeat, the movement in her pupils. Everything is a green light.
So I lean in. I kiss her, the tequila still warm on her lips.
And it’s crystal clear, a giant billboard blinking in my head.
I never knew how much I wanted this until now.
CHAPTER NINE
SELENA
Our lips pull apart, the kiss lingering.
Holy shit.
He smiles, placing his hand over my own. I freeze up instantly, my heart tripling in stride.
Even in the dark his eyes shimmer. “You’re so god damn beautiful.”
I blush fiercely, thankful for the low lighting.
“I should have done this years ago. Your perfect face, your smile, the way you laugh, the way your butt looks in jeans — everything about you is incredible.”
My hand is burning below his. “Stop it.”
“Never.”
I’m a mess of hormones and sexual energy.
I actually gasp when Mat leans a little closer and his hand moves to undo the top button of my jeans.
What happened to slow?
But I want this.
Fuck slow.
My mouth hangs wide open as I turn to him. He’s smiling as his fingers close around my zipper and pull it down slowly. The sound is barely audible. I can’t breathe, completely stiff.
Mat’s fingers lightly come against the waistband of my panties. He watches me the whole time. I drown in his ashen gaze.
Oh god. I’m hot, so hot it’s unbelievable. My chest is tight.
His fingers roll over the waistband and under the thin cotton heading south. They make quick progress, moving through the light curls at the top of my mons, over my clit and into the soaking canyon below as he comes forward to kiss me again.
His tongue moves inside my mouth. I meet it with my own.
When he presses a single finger into my slickness, I actually twitch. He pulls back and watches my face with fascination as the tip of his finger dips in and out of my pussy.
“How’s that?” he whispers.
A hollow gasp is my only reply, soon silenced once more by his lips.
His thumb moves up. The pad of it pressing against my clit, rubbing it in slow circles as his fingers move through the puffy folds below.
My back arches forward. Everything in my body seems connected to his fingers, his lips. New sensations run up and down my spine, my core pulling tight as Mat increases the pressure on my clit, the material of my panties pressing out as he moves his hand with expert finesse.
His lips come against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “You’re so wet,” he moans.
My hand’s shaking as I shift it against his crotch, finding the outline of his cock there hard as stone.
“Yes,” I breathe back. “I’m wet for you.”
“When was the last time you came?”
His words undo me.
“A while.”
It’s true. I’ve touched myself down there thinking of him, but the last time I had an orgasm? I don’t know.
His thumb moves in languid figure-eights as his lips close around my earlobe and pull.
My nipples are rock hard, pressing into the cups of my bra, my breasts tender under my shirt.
Everything is swelling inside me as the finger in my pussy
moves a little faster and Mat scoops up my slickness with it, coating my clit before applying his thumb once more.
My back bows again. Something begins to build inside me, growing and growing.
I’m panting in tiny breaths, trying to remain quiet. I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because I still half-expect Mason to appear in the doorway, joyously proclaiming he’s onto a winner, scrawled sheets of lyrics in hand.
But no. We are alone in the White House now.
Mat’s thumb presses with more pressure, his finger easily slipping in and out of my tight hole. I begin to buck helpless against the overwhelming need to release.
My panting becomes louder and I’m forced to close my eyes, pulling the quilt together with my fingers to stop myself from shooting off the bed.
It builds and builds, rising and rising until I can’t take a single second more.
“Mat,” I mew, desperate.
I explode inside as I experience my very first orgasm by Mat’s hand. My legs snap together, trapping his fingers. I go to scream just as he turns my head and covers my mouth with his own. His tongue darts between my lips and I take it with mine, wrapping them together as waves of pleasure roll throughout, my pussy clenching and releasing around his finger.
We kiss until the feeling wears off and I’m left limp and content.
Mat removes his hand from my pants, bringing the glistening digit to his lips, pressing it inside his mouth and murmuring, “Tastes good.”
Oh hell.
I almost come again.
He places the same finger against my lips. I taste myself, the tart, ripe juice of my sex. It’s an incredible turn-on. That’s when I get a crazy idea.
Seductively as I can, I turn to Mat. “Your turn.”
I keep my eyes on him as my hand undoes his jeans and fishes into his underwear for his cock.
He seems taken aback, surprised by my sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t protest.
I gasp again when I take his cock in my fingers. It’s hard as a steel bar, long and stiff and hot, so, so very hot.
I’ve never felt a cock like it before. The skin’s smoother than I thought it would be. I can feel the ridges and veins below, the soft swoop of the head and the sensitive glans underneath. It’s beautiful.
I move my fingers deep into his pants and cup his balls, finding them heavier than I imagined and… looser. I roll them in my fingers until his eyes close and he falls back, his head hitting the mattress. It feels so good finally being able to pleasure him like this. My panties grow wet again as I curl my fingers around his shaft and begin to lightly pump up and down. I’m out of practice, but I don’t think he cares.
Whatever I’m doing, it has the right effect, because slowly Mat begins to thrust his hips forward so his cock slides through my fingers. I jerk my hand a little faster, again looking to the door, which remains empty.
It’s hard to keep the momentum going, but I try as Mat’s breathing deepens and he begins to moan.
God, he’s gorgeous. I cannot believe I’m finally doing this. That we’re here. That his cock is in my hand.
I concentrate on the head of his member, pressing firmly against his glans. He almost hits the roof, panting hard and telling me not to stop. I keep going, concentrating just on the top section.
“Please. Don’t. Stop.” Mat lets out a soft, pained cry as he stiffens. I don’t stop as his cock jerks and twitches in my grip.
He’s close, but I want more.
I want him inside me.
I stop.
He looks stunned. “What are you doing?”
I look him deep in the eyes. “I want you inside me—now.”
That’s all the encouragement he needs. He picks me and places me on the bed before him, his mouth on mine and his cock the unspoken heat between us.
He works quickly, dragging me to the edge and kneeling between my legs. He pulls my jeans away with a single tug, my panties balled up inside. With a hand on each of my knees, he spreads my legs. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he exclaims before burying his face into my pussy.
My breath catches.
It’s the first time anyone’s gone down on me.
Mat’s tongue dives into my folds, running up and down my slit, collecting the juices that pour from my slickness on the way. He focuses on my clit, sucking and pulling it into his mouth until I’m gripping the sheets, my face muddled with mixed emotion.
He laps at me thirstily, moaning against my wet flesh as he points his tongue and drives it inside me. I throw my head back as familiar tendrils of pleasure begin to work themselves through my frame.
I cup my clothed breasts, feeling the sensitive pebbles of my nipples pressing into my palms.
A cool draft comes from the balcony, but I’m so hot I feel I could combust at any moment as the tip of Mat’s tongue brushes against my inner folds. He holds me open, his fingers splaying me wide.
I start to shake and convulse, murmuring and moaning aloud as Mat sucks my clit between his lips, the air sealed in my lungs.
I’m teetering on the edge of coming again as he licks up and down my pussy in long strokes from the sensitive bud of my clit to the small patch of no man’s land just below my wet hole.
I’m about to lose it when he stops.
“Mat?” I question, my voice wispy.
He’s smiling as he reaches into his pocket and takes out a foil packet. He sheathes himself quickly, scooting to the edge of the bed and placing his cock against my slippery opening.
I take long, deep breaths.
“Are you sure?” Mat’s holding the top of my thighs, the head of his cock just inside my pussy.
I nod and he grunts, thrusting forward hard and plunging deep into my soaking sex.
I scream out hard. He’s big, far bigger than any man I’ve slept with before, but slowly, as his cock slides back and forth in my wetness, I get used to the sensation, and once I do…
He pulls out to the tip, the walls of my sex closing tightly around his shaft, before spearing forward again. I’m so wet that it’s easy for him, but I’m still tight. He slides back and forward again, and slowly it begins to feel good – really good.
My hands wrap around my breasts and I lift them high on my chest as my mouth hangs open and automatically my hips shift to meet his thrusts.
He lifts my legs over his shoulders, his cock plunging deeper. My ankles swing in the air as he fucks me, stuffing more and more of his hard cock inside me.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, driving forward, sweat building on his brow.
Mat holds onto my hips and really starts to slam into me, drawing me to him with every thrust. Our bodies slap loudly as they come together, our fucking desperate and needy.
I teeter again, fire running through my veins and everything tightens inside me.
Please. Please.
Mat doubles his thrusting, driving into me faster, harder, calling my name. He pounds into me like a hammer, his cock running deep inside my aching sex.
I’m shaking, sweaty, flipping up and down on the bed as I draw closer and closer to release.
His balls are heavy as they batter against my butt.
He pulls out and lies down, drawing me over him, my pussy sheathing him easily.
He starts to lift me up and down on his cock.
In this position, it’s different, my clit grinding against him as he fucks me.
My hair hangs around my face. I’m panting hard again, mouth slack and loose as Mat runs into me over and over.
He takes his time enjoying the tight confines of my body. He tells me constantly how good it feels, how beautiful and sexy I am. How much he can’t wait to feel me come around his cock.
I buck up and down, encouraged by his words, the silence of the room deafening.
I place my hands on his hard chest and begin to slide back and forth, milking his cock as he holds my ass, his fingers pressing deep into my flesh.
Pangs of pleasure shoot from my pussy to my
brain, from my brain to my nipples, everything interconnected and increasing in force until I’m on the verge again.
It hits me completely out of the blue, swelling up so fast I can barely catch a breath.
“I— I’m going to…” I cry out as the climax slams into me, my eyes closed and head dipped as my tiny sex clamps and releases around Mat’s beautiful cock.
It goes on forever. I drift blissfully through fields of color and light, my legs trembling, muscles tightening and releasing between them in powerful contractions.
It doesn’t end. I’m insane, completely crazy as I flop around like a madwoman, barely making any coherent sounds as my climax continues.
Mat cries out, stiffening and jerking off the bed, his face contorted as he finds his own release.
Exhausted, I fall over his chest, his hard body crushed below.
“Whoa.” It’s all I can get out.
Eventually, I roll off him and lie looking up at the ceiling. It moves in and out of focus, the aftershocks of my orgasm continuing to roll through my body. “So that is what it’s like to have sex with a rock star.”
CHAPTER TEN
MAT
My role at the bar is shifting. It seems I’m spending more time on stage these days than tending drinks, which is fine by me, and Seth seems pretty happy with how much I’m lining his pockets.
Today I end my shift with a fresh round of songs, the band and I are familiar now, no chord charts or cues required. That’s the problem with LA. Any one of these guys could easily run rings around most session players, but they lack connections, confidence… something else. Hollywood might be the go-to for the dreams of performers, but at the bottom of the pyramid it’s just a big cesspool of wasted talent.
I spot a familiar face amongst the crowd as I wrap up the last song, a cymbal crash setting off a round of applause and wailing.
I make my way off the stage. “Well, well. If it isn’t Dominic Palmer, super-agent.”
He laughs, hands in his pockets. “You make it sound like I should be getting around in tights.”
“Anything would be better than that suit you’ve been wearing since 1999.”
“You’re a chip off the old block, you know? You’re Mason’s son. No doubt about it.”