He rubs harder. My bra is too thick. I can't feel enough.
"More," I groan again.
He slides his hands into my bra cups, one at a time. His thumbs toy with my nipples. He rubs me up and down, left and right, in zig zags, in slow circles.
Fuck, those circles.
I let out an incomprehensible groan.
My eyelids flutter closed.
My lips find his.
I kiss Joel deeply as he toys with my nipples. Each brush of his thumbs sends another wave of pleasure to my core. I forget what we're doing here. I forget everything but the desperate ache between my legs.
He presses his index finger to my nipple, holding it in place so his thumb can work its magic.
It's more pressure.
More pleasure.
I dig my hands into his hair to hold his mouth against mine.
I kiss him harder.
My body takes over. I sling my leg over his hip. I grind my crotch against his.
There's too much fabric in the way.
"Joel," I groan.
He presses his lips against my neck. "Yeah?" It's a tease. He's waiting for my demand.
"Make me come."
His voice gets heavy, breathless. "Fuck yes." He drags his lips down my neck. Then he's pulling my top over my head.
His eyes go wide as he peels off my bra. It's like he's never seen me naked before.
It's like he's never seen breasts before.
His stare makes me hot all over.
"Now," I groan.
He takes his time sliding his hand down my torso. Dragging his lips down my neck, over my collarbone.
His lips close around my nipple.
He sucks on me as he unbuttons my jeans. Undoes my zipper. His fingertips press my panties into my skin.
He rubs me over my panties.
The damn fabric is still in the way.
"Joel," I breathe. "Please."
Still, he rubs me over my panties. The pressure gets harder. Harder. Pleasure fills my pelvis, but it's not enough. I need his hands on my skin.
I push my jeans off my hips.
Then the panties.
I shimmy out of both garments. The damn things get stuck on my ankles. I kick them off so hard my foot smacks into Joel's shin.
He gives me a long, slow once over.
The desire in his eyes still excites me. It still makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the universe.
I stare into his gorgeous green eyes as I take his hand and place it between my legs.
He doesn't tease. He rubs my clit with those slow circles. It's exactly what I need.
Pleasure knots in my core.
Almost.
Almost.
He leans down to suck on my nipple. Damn, the pressure of his soft wet tongue. It's almost too much to take.
Joel growls against my skin. "Say my name, angel."
My eyelids press together. "Joel."
He rubs me harder.
There.
I scream his name again and again as I come. Pleasure spills through my limbs. The world goes white. I can't see or feel anything but bliss.
Joel presses his fingertips to my lips. The gesture is so affectionate that I nearly forget what we're about to do. Then he presses his fingers into my mouth, and I taste myself on them, and I remember.
His eyes meet mine. "You ready?"
"No, but I trust you."
He nods and pulls off his t-shirt. I take my time exploring the lines of his chest. His stomach.
He groans as I cup him over his jeans.
I unbutton, unzip, slide the things off his hips.
He pushes them to his ankles.
Then the boxers.
Joel's naked in bed with me.
I stare the same way he did. He's still the best thing I've ever seen.
He kisses me hard and deep. When he pulls back, he shifts to grab something from the bedside drawer.
A bottle of lube.
And a sleek vibrator.
"Is that—" I'm not sure what I'm asking. Only that my muscles are threatening to clench up again.
"It's new." He runs his fingers through my hair. "Look at me, angel."
I do.
"I've got you. Just close your eyes and let me lead."
My eyelids flutter closed.
He plants a soft kiss on my lips. Then it's harder deeper. He lifts one leg and sets it over my hip.
His fingers brush against my clit. My sex. My perineum.
My anus.
It's the softest touch, but it's enough to wake up all my nerves.
It's different.
But not bad.
Not at all bad.
Joel squirts lube onto his fingers. This time, the brush of his fingers is slick.
He does it again. And again. He does it until I'm rocking my hips, pressing my body against his hand.
He slides a finger inside me.
Fuck. That's intense.
I stare into his eyes.
He stares back. More?
I nod. "Slowly."
Slowly, very slowly, he pushes his finger deeper. Deeper. His eyes go back to mine. He gives me that same look.
I nod. I want more. It's intense, but I want more.
He adds more lube and works me with his finger. I let my eyes flutter closed. I forget everything but the sensations.
More lube. A second finger.
Damn. That's a lot of pressure. But it feels good.
Dirty.
Like I'm offering myself to him.
He works me with both fingers. Then it's more lube. And he's going deeper, faster.
He pulls his hand back. "Get on your hands and knees, angel."
Slowly, I shift into position on all fours, my legs spread as wide as they can go.
Joel positions his body behind mine. He spreads my cheeks, then he's working me with his fingers again. One. More lube. Two. More lube. Three.
I want more.
I want him inside me.
I can't believe how badly I want it.
"Please," I breathe.
He groans. Still, he works me. Every single one of my nerves is awake. I'm really ready for this.
He pulls his hand back. Then he's spreading lube over his cock. His hands go to my hips.
His tip strains against my anus.
Slowly, he enters me.
Fuck.
That's a lot more intense than his fingers.
But it feels fucking good.
Different, but good.
He starts with shallow thrusts. Then he goes deeper. Faster. Harder.
He reaches for the vibrator with his clean hand. Then he's turning it on, dragging it down my pelvis.
He presses it against my clit.
Against my sex.
He's going to—
Fuck.
"Yes," I groan.
He teases my sex with the toy again and again.
Then he slides it inside me.
Fuck, the pulsing of the toy—
Him thrusting into my ass—
I lose track of everything but pleasure. Of the overwhelming sense of being filled.
Of being his.
My fingers dig into the sheets.
He fills me with the toy.
He fills me with his cock.
"Fuck, Bella," he groans. "You feel so fucking good."
His movements get harder, faster. His voice drops to that low demanding tone. Only he isn't letting out any words.
It's all groans.
God, I love the sound of his groans.
I love how dirty I feel.
How full I feel.
With the next thrust of the toy, I go over the edge. I groan his name, my hips rocking as I come. Pleasure spreads out to my fingers and toes.
He's still rocking into me.
Still fucking me with that toy.
The sounds and sights of the room blur together. The sensations in my body blur together. Everything spins into this intense pressu
re. This intense pleasure.
Then Joel is groaning, shaking, digging his nails into my skin.
The pulsing of his cock pushes me over the edge.
Then he's there.
And we're coming together.
Groaning together.
Collapsing as a sticky, dirty mess together.
I'm really his.
And he's really mine.
Right now, I really believe this is a forever kind of thing.
Any other possibilities are too horrifying to consider.
34
Joel
We shower together. We watch the last Harry Potter movie on the couch together. We go to bed together.
Neither of us says a fucking word about tomorrow.
Fuck, when did I become a coward?
Bella is sound asleep in my bed. In my arms.
It's a scene straight out of a movie. The moonlight is pouring over her closed eyes. Her chest rises and falls with steady inhales and exhales.
She looks comfortable.
Safe.
Certain.
Okay, she's asleep. She may be dreaming, but she's not thinking anything.
I don't want a divorce.
But I've been pushing her too fucking hard.
I can't do that here.
I need to listen to what she wants.
I should wake her up. Insist we deal with this now.
But I can't bring myself to do it.
Tomorrow.
We'll talk about this first thing tomorrow.
Before the ball is in motion.
Before this is over forever.
Sleep eludes me. Sometime around five a.m., I get up. I head to the gym down the street to sweat out all my thoughts. I head home. I shower.
I down several cups of coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon.
None of it tastes like anything.
None of it wakes me up.
Fuck, loving someone is difficult. I'm actually nervous. I can't remember the last time I was nervous about anything.
I watch the sun climb into the sky. It casts everything in an orange glow. Then it's that soft blue light of dawn.
In the bedroom, Bella stirs.
A few moments later, she opens the door and steps into the main room.
Her eyes meet mine. She stares at me like I have the power to crush her heart into a thousand tiny pieces.
Fuck.
I'm staring back with exactly the same expression.
"Joel. Um." She pulls her arms over her chest and rubs her triceps with her palms. "I… Um…"
"Yeah?"
"I should brush my teeth." She spins on her heels and locks herself in the bathroom.
I take a long sip of my coffee. It's still lacking taste, but the familiarity of it is almost comforting.
I can't let her dodge this.
I can't dodge it.
One of us needs to say something.
But when she steps out of the bathroom, my lips refuse to part. My tongue refuses to cooperate.
I stare back at her with that don't break my heart expression.
And say nothing.
Not one fucking thing.
35
Bella
I hide out in the bedroom, poring over my wardrobe choices.
My clothing selection is limited. There are two dresses nice enough for a meeting at a law firm. One is dirty. That means I don't really have a decision.
It's emerald green pencil dress or nothing.
The dress is formal. Appropriate for a settlement conference. But it's not right for the end of my marriage to Joel.
How can it be ending?
He's not saying anything.
I'm not saying anything.
This, us getting a divorce, is the plan.
As long as we continue the silent staring contest, this is what's happening.
I change into my dress and I attempt to pep talk myself into calling this off.
Joel, let's stay married.
Joel, let's cancel this appointment.
Joel, please, fuck me now. Tell me you love me. Make me believe it. Make me believe I'm not out of my fucking mind wanting to stay married to someone I met a week ago.
By the time I have my hair in a bun and my makeup perfect, I almost believe I can say those words.
I touch up my pink lipstick. For luck, I guess.
I slip into a pink cardigan.
I step into my heels.
Fuck, even with all this makeup, I look as washed out and vacant as I feel.
My heels are more awkward than usual. My legs are jelly. It takes great concentration just to walk into the kitchen.
"Hey," I whisper.
"Hey," he whispers back. His eyes meet mine. For a split second, they fill with something luminous. Then they're dark, and he's staring at his coffee. He motions to the kettle. "It should still be warm."
"Thank you." I move into the kitchen and fix a cup of tea, but I'm going through the motions. The water is steaming.
It's hot enough to scald, but it feels like nothing on my tongue.
It tastes like nothing.
Joel, is this what you want?
Joel, tell me what you're thinking.
Joel…
Fuck, I don't know what to say here. My thoughts are going in circles. In my head, the divorce still makes sense.
But in my heart…
Joel fills his mug with coffee from the carafe. Still, he doesn't look at me.
I'm only barely managing to look at him. His eyes are filled with frustration, but he's not tense. Not exactly. His shoulders and jaw are soft.
He accepts this.
Is it what he wants or is he only barely tolerating it?
I won't know unless I ask.
But when I try, the words won't get out.
My mouth is dry. Finishing my cup of tea doesn't help.
I can't bring myself to ask. Hell, I can't manage to find any words much less get them off my lips.
I sit on the stool next to Joel's.
He turns towards me. Finally, he meets my gaze. "You want me to make eggs?"
My stomach is spinning. Food might help, but I'm not willing to risk it. "No thanks."
"We'll leave in twenty." He slides off his stool. "I should get dressed."
"Sure." I press my palms into my thighs. As much as I appreciate Joel in a pair of boxers, I have to agree that he should put on slacks and a collared shirt.
The thought of him in a suit does something to me. It makes it hard to remember we're heading to our divorce.
It fills my head with images of stripping Joel out of his suit, of binding his wrists with his tie and forcing him to watch me touch myself, of need filling his green eyes.
The reality of Joel in a suit is a hundred times better than my mental image. The slate fabric brings out the grey in his eyes. His one shade darker tie does too. It would look so perfect around his wrists. Or mine. Honestly, I don't care. I just want his body pressed against mine again.
I just want his eyes filling with desire.
With his hair neatly combed, and his suit covering most of his tattoos, Joel really does look like a nice guy I could bring home to Dad.
No matter what, Dad won't like Joel. I'm not sure it's possible for my dad to like a guy I married in Vegas. But Dad will come around once he realizes how successful Joel is. How well Joel treats me. How much Joel…
Well, I guess I don't know if Joel loves me.
I can't blame him for his silence. It's not as if I'm getting any words off my tongue.
I contemplate my inability to open my mouth during our incredibly silent drive. There isn't much traffic and we aren't going far. The drive only takes ten minutes, maybe twenty, but it feels like hours pass.
My entire body is cold, numb.
Then we pull into the parking garage, hand the keys to the valet, and step into the elevator and my head starts spinning.
This is really happening.
In the next
hour.
Neither of us is stopping it.
Fuck.
The elevator is a tiny space. And Joel is sticking closer than necessary. His palm is still pressed against mine, his grip firm and steady.
There are no signs of nervousness in his posture or his expression.
He's a rock.
Or maybe this is what he wants.
Maybe he's looking forward to being done with this.
My eyes go to the sign on the wall.
Lux and Lawrence. Third floor. The green light flashes Lobby. Then Two. Three.
The mirrored doors slide open.
Joel nods to the lobby. "You ready?"
No, but this is as ready as I'm going to be. "Thank you."
My legs wobble as I step into the lobby. It's a beautiful office. The walls are cream with oak accents. The furniture is all brown and grey hues, much of it the same oak hue.
I would be lucky to work somewhere this beautiful. With these big windows. With all this light. With a view of the crystal blue waters of the marina and the ocean behind it.
Joel squeezes my hand. He leans in to whisper. "You okay?"
No. Definitely not. But I can't exactly be cuddling up and taking his comfort right now. I force myself to smile. "I will be." In theory.
His expression gets incredulous. Still, he moves towards the front desk.
His hand stays glued to mine.
"Chase and Young," he says.
"The divorce. Of course." The woman at the front desk tries to paste a smile on her face, but she keeps staring slack-jawed. Her gaze stays on our pressed together hands, even as she presses the intercom. "Chase and Young are here."
Our names sound good together. Like a law firm. Or a married couple. It rolls off the tongue, Mrs. Bella Chase and Mr. Joel Young. It looks great on a Christmas card. Mom and Dad always sent Christmas cards, with pictures. Dad stopped after she died.
We could pick up the tradition.
Only we can't.
We can't do anything.
We're ending our relationship. By the end of the day, we will no longer be married.
This will end, and I'll fly back to New York, and Joel will become that interesting story I tell my friends. Did you hear the one about how I accidentally married a rock star? And we'll all laugh about how improbable it is that I did anything bad. Because I'll have some new clean cut doctor-slash-lawyer-slash-MBA husband.
No.
I can't do this. "Joel, I don't know—"
A voice interrupts. "Sweetheart, how are you?"
Dangerous Rock: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 3) Page 24