Heartstrings (A Rock Star Romance Novel)

by Hadley Danes

  Sweat pours down Slade’s face and chest, his white tee shirt sticks to his rippling muscles. He leaps and charges across the stage while Dodge and Joe thrash wildly, throwing themselves into the heavy beat song after song. Melodies weave and change, songs bleed into each other. I’m dancing in my own little corner of the arena, swinging my hips and hair, thrashing and writhing along with the audience. I didn’t even know my limbs could move like this, without inhibition. I don’t want the music to ever end—I only want to be suspended here in this chaotic bliss forever.

  Time loses all meaning as the band continues to play. We all descend into mayhem together, until no one can remember any world other than the one that the band has created here. Against all reason, I long to throw myself onto the stage, into the audience, to be as close as I can be to the raging, charged energy that surges through the entire space. I want to feel the press of bodies all around me, I want to be tossed into the air and carried along by hundreds of strange hands. I want to race through the pit, dodging fists and pushing past skirmishes. I want to throw myself at Slade’s feet and soak up the fury of his epic performance. I want to be right there with him now and forever.

  Just as I’m working up the nerve, just as I think that I can truly toss myself into the fray, Slade lifts his arms triumphantly. The crowd ceases its furious antics and turns its attention to him. I bring my body to a halt, my chest is working furiously to suck in air. It’s over. The show is finished. Turning their backs to the cheering crowd, the members of Flagrant Disregard make their way offstage. I stand rooted to the spot as Slade heads straight toward me.

  He stalks my way, his entire body seems bigger, stronger, more alive than I’ve ever seen it. He looks like he could tear through chain link, or concrete, or sheet metal if he wanted to. I know that he sees me, and I know that he’s placed me here for a reason. He wanted me to see him in this state, to see the change that comes over him when he performs. He wants to know if I can handle it, if I want him like this. And I’m going to show him how much I do.

  As he gets closer, I know that he can see how game I really am. He can see the wild, furious glee in my smile, the sweat rolling down my skin, the charged, aching satisfaction coursing through me. Wordlessly, I tell him how much I want him. He doesn’t even pause to greet me as he approaches. In one swift motion, he draws up before me and sweeps me into his strong arms. Slade brings me close to him, and I hungrily leap up into his embrace, and wrap my legs around his hips.

  He carries me two paces and pushes my back up against the backstage wall. We’re hidden behind the thick black curtains of the stage, tucked away in our own corner of the surging, full arena. I run my hands through his wet curls and bring my mouth eagerly to his. His hands grip my ass, as he kisses me deeply, letting his tongue glide against mine. He tastes like sweat and ire and lust, and I savor it. I tighten my legs around him, arching my back against the wall. Our mouths move together, our tongues sliding and probing into the other’s mouth. I’m dizzy with the taste of him, drunk on his sudden passion.

  I let my hands trail down his firm chest, running along the strong, muscular planes. My breasts press against him, tantalizing him. He pins me to the wall with his hips, and he brings his hands up and cups my breasts. I let out a moan, the sound vibrates against his lips. My dress is bunched up around my waist as he lets his thumbs glance across my hard, erect nipples. I grip the small of his back, kissing him furiously as he kneads my tender flesh. Our hands and mouths are full of one another. We’re surrounded by the ecstatic, unimaginable energy he’s just created out of thin air. I want him right now, right here, with this entire world orbiting around us. But some nagging rational part of my mind knows that I’ll have to wait a little while longer.

  He breaks away from our kiss, grinning at me in the darkness. His strong hands lower me down onto the ground, and I fall heavily back against the wall. We’re inches apart, our chests heaving with desire. I smile up at him, shaking my head in amazement.

  “So, that’s a rock concert,” I say, “Are they all this exciting?”

  “This is the most excited I’ve ever been at one,” he laughs.

  “You don’t say,” I grin.

  “Come on,” he says, taking me by the hand.

  He leads me through the backstage world, pulling me along through the maze of doors and hallways. Crew members are bustling all around us, calling out to each other, breaking down the stage, moving platforms and instruments. We weave through the bustle together, Slade towing me along. I run to keep up with him, my hair snapping behind me. How he knows where he’s going, I have no idea.

  We finally break through the block of motion and come to the backstage door. The portal opens to us as if by magic, and a hundred flashbulbs begin to fire away. Slade pulls me along with him, out into this new cacophonous riot. Fans and paparazzi are clamoring for Slade’s attention, but even as he indulges them with autographs and roughish smiles, he keeps my hand firmly in his. I blink out at the cameras and prying eyes, stunned by the intensity of their adoration and focus. I’ve never seen anything like this.

  Anders is waiting at the end of the stretch, standing with the door of the town car held open. We vault toward the car together and climb into the backseat. Slade slams the door, and we peel away from the venue, tires screeching.

  Chapter Eight

  * * * * *

  I fall back against the leather seat, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. My whole body feels utterly limp, and I don’t think I could possibly move a muscle if I tried. I fall against Slade’s side, and he throws an arm around my shoulders, and pulls me against his body. I close my eyes, resting my cheek against his muscular body. For a long moment, we sit together in silence, savoring our privacy.

  “So,” he says, almost sheepishly, “What did you think of your first rock concert?”

  “It was...something,” I say, at a loss for words.

  “That sounds like a good thing,” Slade laughs, pulling me closer. “You weren’t freaked out at all, were you?”

  “I know I should have been,” I say, “The way the crowd worked, the way they reacted to you...I know it should have freaked me out, but it was just...exciting.”

  “Very,” Slade agrees, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “It can be a lot to handle at first, though.”

  “Please,” I say jokingly, “I’m an ER nurse, Slade. I can handle anything.”

  “I should have known,” he says. “You want some champagne or what?”

  “Sure,” I say. He reaches for the still-chilled bottle and fills a couple of flutes as we race through the city. He hands me one with a big grin on his face.

  “Cheers,” he says, “To you, above all else.”

  “To you,” I counter, “And to whatever the hell just happened back in the wings of the stage.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” he says, his voice scraping along the bottom of his register.

  I could tell back there that he was trying very hard to restrain himself, to make sure that we didn’t move along any faster than I wanted to. I don’t know what I was more turned on by, the way he kissed or the fact that he was trying to hold himself back for my benefit. I knew that it would be wiser to take things slow between us, but that concert had been so electric, so full of life and energy that it was hard to contain myself. I take a deep drink of champagne and settle back against the leather.

  “Things get pretty intense at your shows, huh?” I ask.

  “Every time,” he says, “Our fans are pretty devoted. They’re a weird mix of hardcore and emo kids, sometimes both. It makes for a pretty exciting scene. We try to challenge the norm. We don’t rely too heavily on any one genre, so that we come up with something unique.”

  “I’ve definitely never heard anything like you before,” I say, “Slade, your voice...It’s incredible. There’s something so urgent, and consuming, and...just beautiful about it.”

  “Beautiful,” Slade says, pondering the word, “I don’t think I�
��ve ever heard myself described as beautiful.”

  I think back to how I thought the very same thing only a few days ago, when he called me beautiful for the first time.

  “But you are,” I tell him, “I hope you take that as a compliment. I mean it as one. You’re a gorgeous person, Slade. And I don’t just mean physically. Though, let’s be real...There’s something else about you. Something radiant. It’s no wonder so many people come out to see you, and depend on you for release. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

  “Julia...” he says, looking at me intently, “Thank you. That means more coming from you than it would from a thousand screaming fans.”

  “Thousands, by my count,” I smile.

  “Still,” he says, leaning in close to me. I feel my body respond immediately. Just when I think I can’t possibly be more overwhelmed with sensation, this new closeness sets my nerve endings on fire. I drain my champagne flute and set it down, turning toward Slade on my knees.

  His eyes rake all across my body, drinking in the sight of me kneeling before him in the backseat of the town car. Slowly, deliberately, I lower my hands to the leather and begin to crawl towards him. A low groan escapes his lips as I approach, and my eyes flick down to the front of his black jeans. I can already see him bulging there, waiting for me. A deep, throbbing, longing desire ripples through the very core of me, and radiates through every cell of my body.

  He grabs hold of my hips and swings me up over his body so I’m straddling him on the seat. I feel the hard length of him pressed right where I want it, against the aching, wet place between my legs. I rest my hands on his hard chest and grind my hips against his, savoring the feel of his stiffness as it rubs against me. His fingers dig into my hips, his eyes are closed blissfully. I lean forward so that my breasts are pressed firmly against his chest. I run my hands down along the muscular length of him, and I kiss his neck deeply, relishing the salty sweat still glistening there. His hands glide down over my ass as I run my tongue lightly along his collarbone, bucking my hips ever so gently.

  His hands caress the round rise of my ass, and travel down the smooth backs of my thighs. I gasp as his fingers glance against the tender skin there, the untouched inches of my body. He brings his hands around and slowly spreads my legs further apart. I’m already dripping wet at his touch, and I hold onto his broad shoulders, laying kiss after kiss on his smooth skin. His hands brush against my inner thighs, and my legs are already trembling. He pushes up the hem of my dress, bunching it around my hips.

  I hold my breath as he lets two fingers slip inside my thin panties. He moans as he feels how wet the little strip of fabric has become. I arch my back as he rests his fingers against my throbbing slit. Slowly, deliciously, he runs them along the full length of me, taking his time. He strokes me lightly at first, gently. I hold his face in my hands and lower my mouth to his. His tongue presses into my mouth as he runs his fingers deeper within my silky folds. A shudder runs through by body at the overwhelming sensations. I gasp, my mouth open against his, as he slides his fingers inside of me.

  He flexes his strong digits, and I let my head fall back. His long strokes are sending me into a dizzy haze. I close my eyes, and all the world is Slade. A low, guttural moan escapes my lips as he slides his fingertips from within me to that tender, aching nub. He rolls the little button between his fingers, kneading and rubbing me fast and hard. A deep, sweet pressure starts to build inside as he flicks and twirls me toward orgasm. I bury my fingers in his dark curls and buck against his powerful fingers, breathing hard. I’m on the edge, lingering just beyond the threshold of incredible bliss. I let my eyes rest on his intense features. His lips part slightly, his eyes are closed, and the sight of him in pleasure from pleasing me sends me over the edge…

  I cry out as he runs his fingers firmly around my hard, throbbing nub. I come hard, my mouth open in a silent howl. He strokes me as the waves of pleasure pass through my body, and my legs tremble so violently that they can barely hold me up. The wall of bliss crashes over me, harder than it ever has. I fall against his body, and the sensation peaks grandly. As I pant furiously, resting against him, he lets his arms fall around me, drawing me into a strong embrace. He holds me to him, and I’m happy to stay.

  “Thank you for being there tonight,” he says into my hair.

  “Don’t mention it,” I breathe, struggling to string words together. If I wasn’t spent before, I’m surely done for now. I stay, cradled in his arms, as the town car carries us ever forward. I’ve never been so content in my entire life, so happily worn out. I nearly fall asleep as the motion of the car soothes me. I feel so safe in his strong embrace.

  “Here we are,” he says, after what feels like an hour.

  I blink sleepily through the window and see that we’re back in front of my house. I look at him, a bit taken aback. “Aren’t we going to go to some crazy after party?” I ask.

  “Julia,” he laughs, “Don’t you have to be at the hospital in, like, eight hours?”

  I had completely forgotten that I had one last shift before my two week vacation was to start. I’ve been so wrapped up in Slade’s sudden appearance in my life, in our surprise road trip, in the concert, that work had totally escaped my mind.

  “That is a very good point,” I tell him, climbing down off his lap. “Thanks for the lift.”

  “My pleasure,” he says, opening the door and hopping onto the sidewalk. He offers his hands and lifts me out of the car. He slams the door shut behind me and motions for Anders to get going. As the town car drives away, my confusion deepens.

  “That’s your ride,” I say hollowly.

  “I thought I’d take you up on your offer to come in,” Slade says, all but carrying me toward my front door.

  “Oh...” I say, “Very well.”

  We climb up the front steps to my door, and I fumble with the keys. It’s a miracle I didn’t lose all of my earthly possessions in the chaos of the evening. I push open the front door and stagger over the threshold. As Slade closes the door behind us, I flip on the lights. My home is the same as it’s always been, but with Slade standing there in the foyer, everything seems suddenly new. Vibrant.

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” he smiles, scanning my modest abode with interested eyes.

  “Be it ever so humble,” I say, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Why am I so antsy about him being here? It’s not like I have anything to hide from him. “Do you want some...I don’t know...I have peanut butter and jelly, and not much else.”

  “Some water would be great,” Slade says, smiling.

  I turn toward the kitchen, leading him through my darkened home. There’s a rock star in my starter house...I don’t quite know how to feel about it. I flip on the kitchen light and come face to face with Gustav. He does not look happy about the fact that I’ve left him alone all evening. I rush to give him an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

  “This is the man in my life,” I tell Slade. “Say hello to Gustav.”

  “Hello, Gustav,” the rock star says formally. Gustav looks at Slade critically, aloof as ever.

  “He’s picky,” I tell Slade.

  “Just like his owner?” he asks.

  “Exactly,” I say with a smile. I fetch two glasses and fill them to the brim. The ice cold water feels amazing as it runs down my throat. I didn’t realize it, but I must have been screaming along with the rest of the crowd that whole time. I settle down at the kitchen table, and Slade sits across from me. I can’t get over how surreal it is to have him in my home.

  “Did everyone take care of you backstage?” he asks.

  “Eddie was very welcoming,” I say.

  “That’s good,” Slade smiles.

  “Some of your other friends, however...” I start, not exactly relishing the notion of talking about the band of harpies I met backstage.

  “What other friends?” Slade asks.

  “A few young...well, not ladies...” I say reluctantly.
r />   Slade groans, running a hand through his hair. “Oh,” he says, “You met the girls.”

  “I suppose I did,” I say, turning my water glass around in my hands. “They were...special.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Slade says.

  “So they’re...what...roadies?” I say sardonically.

  “Not exactly,” Slade says, the ends of his mouth turning into a scowl. “I’m sorry you ran into them.”

  “I mean, you knew they’d be there, right?” I ask.

  “They always are,” Slade says. “They sort of...tour with us.”

  “I see,” I say, trying to keep my temper level. I have no right to be angry with Slade over this, do I? We’ve only known each other for a couple of days, after all. I have no claim to him. But still, I can’t shake the angry feeling that’s come over me. “How long have you been keeping women on call like that?”

  “On call?” Slade says, his eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, they’re only on tour with you guys for one reason, right?” I say, meeting his gaze. “I just think it’s sort of a shitty arrangement, is all.”

  “What’s shitty about it?” Slade asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “We’re all consenting adults. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, my frustration boiling over, “They’re basically concubines, Slade! You don’t see how that’s degrading to women everywhere?”

  “We’re not talking about women everywhere,” Slade says, his tone hardening, “We’re talking about three specific women who choose to hang around the band and offer certain...affections.”

  “Affections?” I say, incredulously, “By which you mean blow jobs, yes?”

  “Why are you getting so upset about this?” Slade asks, dumbfounded.

  “I just can’t believe that you think that’s an acceptable way to treat women,” I say, shaking my head, “How can you possibly think it’s OK to keep someone around for nothing but a good fuck whenever you want it?”