by Eden Summers
She kissed his jaw, his mouth, his neck, each caress of her lips slow and gentle, like the undulation of his body. “I love you.” Her heart was overflowing with emotion.
He palmed her breast and tweaked her nipple. “Doesn't count. You should know better.” His smile was made of heaven and happiness. Nothing in life had ever gripped her in such a consuming hold like the slight tilt of his lips. “But I'll take your love anyway I can get it, Gabi.”
Then his mouth found hers, taking her breath, making her cling to his shoulders for spiritual grounding. This kiss was demanding, and in one hard thrust he was inside her, sliding home. Their moans filled the room, the noise increasing as his hips began to move, gliding in and out with slow deliberation.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want to feel your fingers on your clit.”
A whimper escaped her lips. She'd always needed that friction to achieve orgasm, yet at this moment, she felt ready to explode without it.
“Do it.”
He continued to thrust, his hips rocking in a languid motion as her hand slid down to where they joined. She felt for him, letting her fingertips brush against his cock while he moved.
“Not a good idea,” he ground out.
She made eye contact and quirked a brow while she encircled the base of his shaft. He closed his eyes and growled, his head tilting back slightly.
“Ahh, damn you feel good.” He pumped harder, once, twice, then stopped. “You've gotta move your hand, sweetheart.”
With reluctance, she withdrew and moved her touch to the top of her mound. His lips found her ear, sucking her lobe into his mouth, his breath coming hot and heavy down her neck. “Never forget me, Gabi. I couldn't take it if you moved on while we were apart.”
She turned her head and gazed into his dark irises, finding renewed anguish lurking in their depths. “You're a part of my life, Blake. One I can't live without. I'll never forget you. It isn't possible. I love you too much.”
He rested his forehead against hers, keeping eye contact while he thrust and withdrew. “I want to make you happy.”
She chuckled softly. “You're currently doing a really great job.”
He let out a whisper of a laugh, his eyes brightening for a moment before sorrow settled back in its place. “My angel,” he whispered, then closed his eyes and ground into her.
Their hips rocked together, the friction igniting her impending release. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts out to rub her nipples against the fine sprinkling of hair on his chest. “So close...”
He rocked harder, faster, opening his eyes to stare down at her. Determination replaced his pain and a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. The low of her belly tightened, her core convulsed and with his next hard plunge, he sent her over the edge, crying out with the ecstasy that took over her body.
Her ears buzzed, and she was sure her grip was tight enough to draw blood. But she couldn't help herself, couldn't regain control with the liquid fire coursing through her veins. His moan vibrated against the walls, the sound of his release spurring her a little longer as her pussy clamped down on his length.
Thrusts turned into gentle rocking which faded away until Blake collapsed at her side, pulling her with him. Gabi sucked in air, trying to regain her steady breathing while her gaze ran over him. His lips were flushed, ruby red and swollen. His normally spiked hair lay limp against his forehead. His shoulders were slumped, the angel over his heart rising and falling in rapid movements.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, working her finger over the lines that made up the angel’s wings.
“Hmm?” He raised a brow.
“Your tattoos. When we first started talking, you were getting them all the time. Some you told me about, like the snake.” She traced her finger along the scaly body until it ran round to the back of his arm and out of view. “But others I had no clue, like the angel.” She placed a kiss over his heart and loved the way he shuddered under her lips. “Then you stopped.”
“I didn't need them anymore.”
She raised her gaze from his chest and frowned. “What do you mean?”
He ran his arm around her belly and pulled her closer. “They were reminders—of the mistakes I've made and the things I need to hold onto to keep me grounded. The pain also helped. Getting a new tat was like a punishment for my fuck ups.” He shrugged. “Then I found you.” He raised his arm and tilted it so she could see the script writing on the inside of his forearm. You saved my soul. Gave me new meaning. Fought against my demons, while I lay sleeping.
“Those are Reckless lyrics.”
He shook his head. “Those are your lyrics. The song is about you.”
She swallowed to douse the tightening in her throat and gripped his wrist to read the writing again.
“I owe you my life, Gabi. I wouldn’t have made it through without you. I had no one else to help me, and after we met in the chat room, I didn’t want anyone else. Nobody could’ve given me the support you did. And when we spoke for the first time,” his face brightened with a smile, “I knew, without a doubt, I wouldn’t go back again. Because I had you.”
Her hand fell away. Yes, she’d known he’d been alone in his struggles, but hadn’t fathomed how much her support had meant.
Blake narrowed his gaze. “Too much?”
She shook her head.
He ran his hand through her hair, brushing it behind her ear, his sight following the movements. “I stopped marking myself when I no longer needed to.” His lashes lifted and his dilated pupils ensnared her, tightening her chest. “I stopped with this,” he pointed to the angel.
Again, words escaped her. She didn’t know how to respond, or move, or breathe. He’d blown her away with his brutal honesty. She let out a ragged breath, then wished she hadn’t when Blake stiffened. “I wish I’d known,” she said in a rush, trying to ease his concern. “Then maybe we would’ve met sooner.”
He gave a shake of his head and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I don’t. I wasn’t good enough for you back then… I’m still not. But at least now I’ve overcome one of my demons, and I can focus on trying to be the man you deserve.”
“Blake.” Her voice held a warning. “Please don’t do that.” She tilted her chin and placed a soft kiss on his lips, feeling his softening flesh slide from her body. “You need to forgive yourself. We both have insecurities, and we can’t focus on those things. We need to trust each other and let go of the doubt. From now on, it’s just you and me, as equals, OK?”
“Yeah. OK.” He spoke into her mouth and swept his tongue against hers. “I can do that.”
“Good.” She went to deepen the kiss but a yawn overtook her.
“Oh, yeah, that’s great. Tell me not to feel insecure, then yawn in my mouth. That really boosts my ego.”
She chuckled and snuggled under his chin. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
He kissed her temple and slid off the mattress. “Go to sleep.”
Her eyelids drooped while he walked around the bed, removing the condom. Water ran in the bathroom, then the lights flicked off and moments later he was tugging at the bed covers and sliding her limp body to lie on the cool sheets. “Goodnight, angel.” He spooned in behind her, resting the hardness of his chest against her back, nestling his face in her hair.
Gabi moaned, loving the feel of his possessive arm around her belly. “Love you.”
“Mmm, still doesn’t count,” he murmured. “But nice try, sweetheart.”
Gabi sat on a plastic chair late the next morning, trying not to cross and uncross her legs too often while she stared straight ahead. The guys of Reckless Beat, along with their crew, were buzzing around the stage, running cables, setting up speakers, tuning instruments. It was like watching a colony of ants prepare for a storm. Everyone had a job, and they all worked together in smooth synchronicity.
“It’s hard to believe that sixteen thousand people will pack this arena in a few days.” Alana spoke beside her, snappi
ng her out of a naughty daydream involving the stage, loud music, and Blake’s “instrument”.
Gabi cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she croaked. Damn, the sight of Blake in a plain white T-shirt, hair spiked, tattoos on display, torn jeans, and wrist cuffs…just—damn. The way he cradled each of his guitars, one after the other, with confident reverence and the concentration that creased his brow as he tuned the strings. The mere preparation had her heart palpitating. She didn’t want to contemplate how her body would react if he started to play.
Alana giggled. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it?”
Gabi dragged her gaze from the stage to give Alana a brief smile. “Definitely. They all seem so…” There wasn’t a word worthy of their description—the mix of self-assurance, intensity, and sexuality.
Alana turned back to the stage with a laugh. “Hot.”
“Yeah, very hot.”
Too mouth-wateringly desirable. Any hot-blooded woman wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of seducing these men by any means possible. And once Gabi went home, she wouldn’t be able to beat them off with a stick.
“Test. One. Two,” Mason spoke over the microphone, sending his voice ricocheting through the empty arena.
“Sounds good,” one of the crew yelled, giving a thumb’s up.
“I wish I could see them play… properly I mean,” Gabi voiced her thoughts and sighed. “I guess there’ll be time in the future.” Ticking that item off her bucket list would have to wait a while. She didn’t have long before she had to catch her flight to Queensland.
“You’ve never seen Blake play?” Alana’s voice rose, and her knees pivoted to touch Gabi’s. “You can’t leave without hearing at least one song. Hold on a minute.” She stood and took a step toward the stage.
“Wait!” Gabi grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “What are you doing?”
“They’re almost set up. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind playing at least one song before you leave.”
“No,” Gabi shook her head. She didn’t want to interrupt the flow. They had a routine, a schedule, and it was all coming together nicely. And besides, she would only embarrass herself when she orgasmed in her chair. “It’s fine. Really.”
“What’s going on?” Mitch’s voice came over the bustle of noise, and Gabi glanced up to see him standing at the edge of the stage, looking down at them.
“Gabi hasn’t heard Blake play,” Alana called.
Blake lifted his head at the sound of his name and frowned. “What was that?”
Mitch’s lips twitched, and he turned to Blake, talking too soft for Gabi to hear. She held her breath while they spoke, the tightness growing in her chest until Blake moved his focus to Mason and asked, “Have we got time for a song?”
Mason shrugged. “I’m set.”
“Sean, how about you?” Blake asked.
Gabi couldn’t see Sean at the back of the stage behind his drum kit, but she heard his reply of, “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Rye?” Mitch jerked his head in question.
Ryan strummed his guitar, one hand sliding over the fret board as the sound pierced the air with a nerve tingling riff. His fingers moved with precision. Gabi squinted to catch every detail, her heart pounding with the impact of each note. Then he gripped the whammy bar and the seductive howl that followed sent adrenaline coursing through her veins.
When the noise faded, Mason positioned himself in front of the mic. “A simple ‘yes’ would’ve sufficed, smartass.”
Another guitar sounded from a different direction, piercing her chest with its ferocity. Gabi snapped her attention to Mitch. He was poised on the edge of the stage, staring down at Alana as he tried to outdo Ryan, playing faster, harder, and longer. One by one, the crew grabbed plastic chairs, all of them sitting to watch the impromptu performance.
As Mitch continued, Leah came out from side stage, striding toward Mason, her tablet computer under her arm. With an air of authority, she grabbed the microphone stand and cleared her throat. “Come on, guys.”
Mitch slapped his palm over the strings, the sudden weight of silence hanging heavy in the empty arena.
“Thank you. Now if you’ve stopped stroking your Johnsons, can you please play something proper for Gabi? She has to leave for the airport in fifteen minutes.” Leah fixed her sights on Mitch. She was professional and determined in her navy tailored suit, her blonde hair loose and falling over her shoulders.
There was a brief pause, then a cymbal crashed, loud and earsplitting, followed by the hard beat of drums at a breakneck tempo. Sean thrashed from his seat at the back of the stage, pounding hard, his arms flying from the high hat to the floor tom, moving in a constant blur before abruptly stopping.
“Sorry,” he called out. “My Johnson felt left out.”
Leah shook her head and thrust the microphone stand at Mason before striding from the stage. Gabi couldn’t tell if their band manager was genuinely annoyed or acting with the usual air of underlying humor. She hoped it was the latter. Nobody had discussed the argument from last night, and both Ryan and Leah had kept their distance, remaining quiet all morning.
“I think we’re ready,” Mason announced, his voice smooth and seductive. “What song, Emo?”
Blake pointed to his groin and mouthed the words “blow me” before turning to Gabi. Their gazes connected, creating a chain reaction of sensations that ran through her limbs. Her stomach flipped, her nipples tightened, and her mouth dried out to the point of pain.
She adored this man. Always had. And seeing him on stage, in a place where he felt most confident, made her all the more addicted to his charm. He was at home up there, and it was invigorating to see him so alive.
“Angel of Mine,” he announced and continued to stare at her while Mason glanced between them.
Nobody knew it was her song. Christ, until last night she’d thought it was written about a friend of Blake’s, just like everyone else had. Now Mason was scrutinizing them, his questioning gaze seeping under her skin in search of the truth.
“OK, let’s rock this,” Mitch announced.
“Ready, Mace?” Sean called, holding his sticks above his head.
Gabi held her breath, waiting.
There was a beat of silence.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Mason answered, palming the microphone in the stand, his gaze focused on her.
Gabi let out the breath congealing in her lungs and smiled in relief at Blake. He grinned back and mouthed the words I love you.
Gabi ignored Alana’s gasp and mouthed the words back. I love you.
“Thanks gorgeous, I love you, too,” Mason replied.
Gabi pierced the lead singer with an unconvincing glare. She couldn’t help that her lips were twitching. Mason had a way of being so sickeningly arrogant that it became appealing. He smirked at her, his brown eyes gleaming, yet his expression held no flirtation. He was teasing her like a friend, treating her as part of the family, showing her she belonged. She didn’t think many people would’ve experienced the caring side of Mason, and she was glad to be one of the lucky few.
Sean tapped his sticks over his head—one, two, three—forcing her to concentrate. In the next beat they began to play, the mix of guitars—rhythm, bass, and lead—along with Mason’s voice and the drums, making the arena walls vibrate.
With trembling hands, she inched forward in her seat, sitting on the edge to get a better view. Blake stole her attention, hypnotizing her with every move of his fingers, the flex of his tattooed arms and the flick of his cuffed wrists.
Lyrics echoed in the back of her mind, and for the first time, after falling in love with this song a lifetime ago, the words now held new meaning.
You saved me from myself, from the drowning and the pain.
As much as she mentally commanded, Blake didn’t look at her. From the first moment his fingers strummed the guitar strings he remained focused on his instrument. His head hung, his eyes closing for long moments at a time.
Sweet angel mine, ke
ep me from the darkness, soothe the acid in my veins.
When Mitch stepped forward for his solo, Blake glanced up and she sucked in a breath at the naked vulnerability in his gaze. She could see how much this song meant to him, could feel it echo inside herself.
He focused back on his guitar, backing up and deepening the piercing sound that emanated from Mitch’s guitar, making it slice through her chest with its ferocity. The intimacy of the lyrics, the brutality of Blake’s life was laid bare for millions of people to hear. Yet nobody knew it was about him. Them.
As Mason repeated the chorus for the final time, Gabi moved to her feet. The song ended with a drawn out guitar note, and by then, she was walking forward, her legs moving without thought as she headed to the portable staircase standing alongside the stage. Her heart pounded against her sternum, growing more frantic with each step.
Blake’s stare followed her, making her weak and vulnerable, strong and certain, all at the same time. She watched him yank his guitar strap over his head and thrust his guitar at Mitch when he walked past, striding toward her. They met at the top of the staircase, and without a word, they moved into one another, his arms going around her waist, hers around his neck, their lips meeting in the middle.
He stole her breath, her heart, her love and gave his back in return. He kissed her as if he lived for the taste of her. He held her like she was his anchor and he needed grounding. His hands delicately stroked her back cherishing every inch of skin he touched. And still she wanted more. She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t kiss hard enough, but she tried, with every sweep of her tongue and every caress of her lips.
His hands slid to her ass, cupping, and then lifting her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him, not caring who watched. They only had now. Tomorrow she would be alone, distraught, and heartbroken. Nothing would stop her from enjoying these last moments together.
“Why don’t you guys take this out back?” Leah’s voice called softly. “You’ve got ten minutes.”