by M. S. Parker
“We got Candice all wet and ready for you,” she purred, gesturing toward the girl lying on the couch.
I clutched my phone tightly in my fist. I wanted to be in the mood for this, kept trying to let the visual of the three sexy women stir something inside of me, but it just didn't. It didn't feel right. Whatever we'd had going on before was ruined now, and I didn't want them in my sight anymore.
“I changed my mind,” I said. “I'd like you all to leave.”
“To leave?” The brunette's eyes bulged, and she reached for me. “You're just joking, right?”
I stepped out of her reach and pointed to the door. “I'm not joking. Get out.”
“Did he just tell us to get out?” asked the girl on the couch.
“He did,” I said. “So hop to it.”
Nineteen
Hazel
Ah, the frozen burrito. One of the world's most versatile meals. Available in gas stations and grocery stores everywhere, the frozen burrito was ideal for those on the go, short on time, or just stuck in the backstage area of a concert while they waited for everyone to get packed up and get out to the trailers.
The veggie burrito in my hand was the standard microwave burrito temperature – scalding hot on the outside, still frozen in the middle. It was, I was sure, an acquired taste.
The stage crew passed in front of me, lugging big black boxes and chatting about everything from how great the show was to their thoughts on the new “Star Wars” movies.
I'd taken a couple photos of the crew packing up at the beginning, but now there was nothing left to photograph. So I settled into my ultra-glamorous dinner and waited.
Just as I reached the burrito’s chilled core, the green room door flung open on its hinges. Three messed up looking women stormed out, talking to each other in quiet, sharp tones.
“Hey, guys,” I called, getting their attention.
The girls stopped and looked at me with furious expressions.
“Want to get some more photos taken?”
Not one of the three girls saw through this obvious tactic to learn more about what had happened in the green room and why they looked so pissed off. Instead, they all happily lined up against the far wall. They each struck a pose that I could tell they'd coordinated in the mirror before, which I found infinitely amusing.
I snapped a couple photos of the three wannabe models, then paused to pretend to look over them on my screen. “Did you have fun with Sean?”
One of them snorted. I looked up out of curiosity, and the expressions that had been pristine and emotionless while I took the photos were bitter once more.
“Let's go,” the tallest one commanded. “I'm over this.”
She and the shorter brunette took off, rolling their eyes in disgust at me as they passed. The third, noticing my bewildered expression, hung back a little.
“He kicked us out,” she filled in quietly, as if afraid others would overhear.
I assumed she meant they had sex and he kicked them out. That was what made the most sense to me.
But then she said, “It was total bullshit. Everyone knows Sean is always down to fuck.” She sighed disdainfully. “I guess it's just all hype.”
The disgruntled groupie floated off in the direction her friends had gone, leaving me to digest this confusing piece of news.
Why would Sean turn down sex with three gorgeous groupies who would have done anything for him? That didn't seem like him at all. Or it didn't seem like the Rock Star, anyway. Had the real Sean surfaced somewhere during this thing? And why? I wondered if he was still there. I was still skeptical that there was a “real” Sean to see under all the ego and arrogance, but there was little more damning evidence than him tossing out the three vixens.
I picked up my forgotten veggie burrito, now completely cold as opposed to cold only in the middle, and chomped down another bite while I thought. I was starving.
I remembered the moment we had in his hotel room after the party in Montana. He'd been – if not frank – at least a little more open. Maybe what Justin said was true. The Rock Star was a flickering persona, and the real Sean was so close beneath the surface that it was becoming easier and easier to get to him. But why?
I was a little worried, truth be told. If Sean was about to have a breakdown or something, wasn't it my responsibility as a member of his entourage to try to circumvent it? Or at least that was what I told myself. That way I didn't have to admit to the fact that I kinda, a little bit, just a smidge, cared about Sean. And I didn't know why.
I passed the door Justin had disappeared behind on my way to Sean's room. He'd left the door ajar, and inside he and his groupie were engaged in a primal, passionate tumble around the room. My face grew hot just from the momentary glance, and an image flashed in my head. Me, hair splayed across the ground, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. Sean, on top of me, groaning. shuddering.
Oh god. Enough of that.
I shook my head and walked directly to Sean's room. I knocked lightly on the door, but there was no answer. After waiting a few seconds, I knocked again. Still no answer.
Well, here goes nothing.
The door creaked as I opened it and slipped inside. Sean was stretched out on the couch and either knew that it was me entering or didn't care a lick about the fact that somebody had just broken his alone time.
I walked around to face him, but even when he saw me, nothing registered on his face. He was holding an open bottle of whiskey in one hand, which he'd clearly drunk a few healthy swigs from already. In the other, he was toying with a pair of pink panties. I assumed one of the girls from earlier had left them.
Sean stared straight at me, but it was almost like he didn't see me. As I watched, he raised the bottle to his lips and took another swig.
This...this was the aftermath. Of what, I wasn't sure. I intended to find out, but first...
I held up my camera and snapped a photo. Sean kept staring the whole time, right into the soul of the photo. Right into my soul.
I lowered the camera, yet still, he didn't say a word. It felt like a year had passed before I found the breath to speak. The stillness of the moment was captivating, consuming.
Finally, I cleared my throat.
“What’s wrong?”
Twenty
Sean
“What’s wrong?”
Why was she here? Why was she here, asking all the questions I didn't want to answer? I knew I'd brought her here. It was my fault. But I hadn't expected this.
Nobody ever asked me if I was okay, or if something was bothering me, except maybe my brother. And he already knew, so it wasn't like I even needed to answer when he asked.
But when I was on tour? It was like my fame made me anonymous. People saw the face, the body, the dick – and that was the way I always preferred it.
But now a beautiful woman who didn't care about any of those things was staring down at me with intelligent, steel gray eyes. She asked what was wrong and she meant it.
She meant it.
I didn't answer her. I didn't know what to say. I just stared instead, trying to find duplicity in her gaze. I hadn't had anyone try to get to know me without having ulterior motives in so long. How could she be any different?
Even if she was different than anyone I'd ever met.
Hazel realized I wasn't going to answer and sighed. She walked over to the couch, roughly pushed my legs away, and sat down by my feet. Before I had a chance to complain about that, she reached out and snatched the panties from my hand. Studying them, she quirked a brow and gave me a small smile.
“These are cheap.”
I chuckled. “The girls I fuck usually are.”
Hazel tossed the panties toward the trashcan at the other side of the room. They didn't make it there, fluttering to the ground just in front of the bin like a pink satin butterfly.
“I know you didn't sleep with those girls,” she said after a moment.
I adjusted myself on the couch, sitting up a little
so I could still spread out my legs. We both looked so casual, so comfortable. It was easy to forget that she hated my guts and that I had invited her only to get in her pants.
Maybe it was the atmosphere of the moment. It was like we'd called an armistice to our unacknowledged war.
It was like we were friends.
“What tipped you off?” I asked.
She smiled, tucking her feet up under her and twisting around until we were facing one another. “The fact that they all seemed pretty upset when they came out made me suspicious. I figured it was either that or you were crap in bed.”
I laughed at her teasing and reached out with my foot to poke her shin. “If you'd like, I can prove to you right now that isn't the case.”
“Not necessary.” She poked me back. “So...what changed your mind? You seemed pretty gung-ho about the whole situation when you first took them in there.”
The playfulness of the moment before had been replaced by serious inquiry. She was determined to find out what was going on with me. Why? Why did she care so much?
And why did it feel so good that she did?
I hesitated, trying to think of some excuse I could tell her.
The girls annoyed me.
I was too tired.
I got a cramp.
But when I opened my mouth to say one of these things, the truth spilled out.
“My brother's in rehab. I got a call when we first came in here about some family therapy shit they want me to go to with him. It just kinda hit me like a splash of cold water to the face.” I shrugged. “It reminded me a little bit about what's important. That's all.”
I was going to stop there, but there was a warmth in her gaze that encouraged me to continue. Her gaze propped open the floodgates, and the truth just kept on spilling.
“I needed a moment to be me. I feel like I never get those moments, and it's probably because I don't allow them, but still...” I licked my lips, staring straight into the depths of those beautiful silver eyes. “Every once and a while, I remember that this life I'm living isn't the real world. That there's more out there, and just because I'm in this bubble of fame doesn't mean I should ignore the grit of life. Or the things that matter.”
Hazel just stared at me then. At first, I wondered if I'd said something wrong, if I'd offended her. But no, that wasn't it at all. She was staring at me with wide, compassionate eyes for another reason entirely. I understood, just as she understood that she was seeing me for the first time.
I should have felt vulnerable, raw. But instead, I felt lighter than air, like those words I'd never told another soul had been dragging me down like leaden weights into a sea of despair. And now I was paddling above the surface. And she was there.
Hazel gulped, glanced uncertainly toward the door, and stood up. “I should go,” she said. “It seems like you need some time alone.”
She only made it a couple steps toward the door before I stopped her, tugging on her hand to turn her back around. Hazel's breath caught in her throat, a glimmer of pink spreading over her apple cheeks. She was so fucking beautiful. She looked down to where I still held her hand, and I let go before she could pull it away. If she'd been about to pull it away.
“Hazel.” My voice was low and soft. I rolled off the couch and stepped toward her, breathing in her sweet, fruity scent. She didn't step away.
“Yes?” It was barely above a whisper.
Her cherry red lips called to me. They looked plump and delicious. So sweet. So perfect. I wanted to kiss her so bad, and to do it as me – as Sean Morris. Brother to Dave Morris. A man who grew up in a small town in the middle of nowhere and yearned for greatness. I didn't want to kiss her like I kissed all the other faceless women in my life. I didn't want to kiss her as the Rock Star.
“I'm going to kiss you now,” I said, sliding my palm along her cheek and angling her face up. “You can slap me afterward if you want. But I need to taste those lips.”
She didn't resist as I lowered my face to hers. Our lips brushed slowly. Gently. Then I pressed down further, molding my mouth against hers while my thumb stroked her cheek. Neither of us moved. I was afraid to spook her. I think she was afraid of what she might do.
I pulled back a little, watching as her eyelids drifted back open. Her lips were still parted. She looked so sweet and innocent.
Then she reeled back and gave me a slap I wouldn't soon forget.
It sparked a fire in my veins. I could tell it had done the same in hers too because the moment I slammed my mouth back down on hers, she melted against me, gripping my back as a long sigh escaped her lips.
I'd kissed more women than I could count, but none of them had felt like this. So reserved and hesitant, but with an undisguised lust hanging just below the surface that demanded to be fed. The more I kissed her, the more she kissed back. My tongue speared into her mouth, and she let out a tiny, incredibly sexy moan.
I wanted her. More than I'd wanted any woman ever. My cock already throbbed with the need to sink inside of her and claim her as mine, to give her the kind of pleasure she'd never experienced before and never would again.
Twenty-One
Hazel
You know those moments in life that are so unexpected and crazy that they hit you like a stone to the chest, leaving you gasping for air? They’re the ones that leave an indelible mark on your memory, and no matter what you do your life will always be a little bit different because of them.
That's what kissing Sean was like.
I know it was crazy – how could it be that unexpected? He'd been trying to sleep with me since the moment he met me.
True. Except not really. Because the Rock Star had been trying to get in my pants for fun. And the Rock Star wasn't the one kissing me. For all intents and purposes, the Rock Star had left the building.
The man I was currently engaged in a mind-blowing make out session with was Sean – and only Sean. It was obvious just from the way he looked at me, the way he talked to me, the way his hands slid over my lower back with such tenderness it made me want to coo like a satisfied dove.
And it was a moment I knew I'd never forget. For good or for bad.
His mouth was like a drug to me. He knew exactly how to kiss to make my insides quiver and my core melt into piping hot magma. There, in his arms, surrounded by his heat and manly scent, I forgot all about wanting to wait before having sex. I was ready right then, even if I might regret it later. The pressure on my sex begged for release. And the rock-hard bulge pressed up against my tummy was almost too tempting to take.
Sean pulled back, eyes nearly black with lust. I tried to catch my breath but was still reeling from the kiss.
“I want to taste you, baby,” he said in a low, gravelly tone that made my spine tingle.
I was confused. Wasn't he already...oh. Right.
I gulped. “Nobody has ever...”
A smile ticked at the corners of his mouth. To call it devilish would have been the understatement of a lifetime. That smile was pure, unfiltered sex. I clamped my thighs together as a wave of pleasure went through me. He could do that just with a smile? I was in trouble.
Sean's mouth found mine again, but this time it was different. The kiss was hungry, unbridled. I could taste how much he wanted me, and I was sure he knew how much I wanted him too. He began leading me toward the couch, hands roaming over my ass and back, squeezing and scratching and digging.
I was in another world. I barely noticed as he started to undress me until I realized that this was my opportunity to finally get my hands on his tantalizing musculature. I nervously snuck a hand under his shirt as he undid my pants, earning a low laugh from him. He pulled the shirt off, giving me free rein for my explorations.
His body was incredible. Seeing it was completely different to touching it, to feeling the grooves and tight curves of his muscles, the way the lines of his tattoos textured his skin. He was hot to the touch. Beautiful.
Sean pulled down my pants, and I kicked them o
ff to the side. Next went my shirt, my bra, my panties. I'd never been naked in front of a guy like this before, and I thought it would make me self-conscious. But how could I feel anything but pleasure at the way his eyes raked over me? The way his hands explored me like I was a treasured artifact from an ancient time?
“You're so fucking beautiful.” Sean dipped his head and took one of my nipples into his mouth.
I moaned and leaned back, supported only by his large hands splayed over my back.
He lowered me down onto the couch, pulling me up until I was right at the edge of it, leaning into the cushions. I was nervous about what came next. It seemed so personal to have somebody's face that close to my sex. So intimate. But any hesitancy I had was wiped away the moment Sean kneeled before me, hooked a leg over each of his shoulders, and dove into my heat.
I cried out and arched my back, unable to handle the magnificent sensation of his tongue swirling against my clit. It felt like he was stimulating nerve endings I didn't know I had. He looked up at me, eyes barely visible above my heaving breasts. The look of bliss on my face was all the encouragement he needed.
Sean's mouth worked me like an expert. Heat pooled between my thighs, growing hotter and hotter every second. I could feel a knot of tension tightening in my core, and I grabbed onto the back of his head just to keep myself from floating away.
Sean hummed against my clit, and I felt an unexpected pressure at my entrance. He was sinking a finger inside of me. As it inched farther and farther along my canal, I groaned and bucked against him, unsure if I could handle the double assault on my senses. Sean stayed latched on, applying a gentle suction that made me squirm even more. It felt unbelievably good. Too good. I could feel my orgasm approaching. I could barely breathe.