“Now, see, I can’t have you looking at me like that, Stella.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re writing X-rated country songs about me in your head.”
“Oh my god, X-rated country songs? Wow, clearly I’ve been missing out on a market I should have been tapping into.”
“No. That market isn’t for good little virgins like yourself.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, stop.”
“What? Does the word virgin bother you?”
“Yeah, it does,” I snap. All the frustration and anger of years on tour, of never letting myself get close to anyone, of his constant taunts about my good girl status, lets loose. “I’ve had sex, Van.”
“What? You lied to me and all of America?” He wears an all-out grin now, and I swear to god, I want to punch him in his pretty nose. “I suddenly feel very unsafe with you.”
“Shut up.”
“Nice try, sweetheart.”
“2007, backstage in my dressing room. I slept with a roadie in Missouri.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true. I had to work with him for another two years because I was terrified he’d talk. I hated seeing him every day after that. It was awkward, and it hurt like fuck.”
“Jesus. Would you quit saying that word?”
“What? Fuck? Weren’t you just asking me two nights ago to repeat it?”
“I was, but when you just drop it into conversation like that, I can’t promise I won’t jizz in my pants.”
“Well, if you keep talking about ejaculating prematurely, I’m going to start thinking that’s a habit for you.” I wink.
Van leans forward with a cocky smirk on his face. “One thing you should know about hockey players is that we have the stamina to last all night.”
“Oh, really?”
“It’s a requirement, actually. Seriously, they test you on that when you try out for the team.”
I laugh and tuck my legs up underneath me on the couch, but I don’t say anything in return because I’ve seen his teammates. Despite having their teeth knocked out every few games, they’re all built and very nice to look at. It really wouldn’t surprise me if they did select players based on their stamina between the sheets. “So, what happened between you and this roadie? Was there actual penetration involved?”
“Of course there was.”
“And you were how old?”
“Seventeen.”
“Jesus. How old was he?”
“He was twenty, I think. I don’t know—I guess I tried blocking it out. It was just after my mom died, and I was far too young to handle any of the emotional repercussions of a career in the spotlight. It just . . . it happened so fast. I got tired of feeling like a good girl, of trying to please everyone, and I guess he saw an easy target.”
“Holy shit, Stella. Did he rape you?”
“No, but I’m not sure I was really in the right frame of mind to say yes, you know?”
“At seventeen and just after losing your mom, I don’t think so either.” He shakes his head and takes a huge gulp of wine. “So why pretend to be a virgin for all that time? I don’t get it.”
I shrug. “My concerts are ninety percent teenage girls. They look up to me, and in a world full of drugs and cell-phone sex tapes, it felt like the right thing to do. All it’s done is put me up on a pedestal for these girls, and when the truth comes out, people will get hurt. It’s just easier to pretend that I am waiting for marriage. Easier for me, too, I think. I have a brand to protect, and I don’t have time for relationships.”
He nods as if he understands. “That’s kind of sad, eh? That we have all of this success and no one to share it with.”
“Do you want someone to share your success with?”
“That depends. Are you asking because you’re looking to be my girl?” Sigi takes that opportunity to whine and roll over for a tummy rub, and I glare at her. She is kind of cute, though. When she’s not trying to eat my face. She must sense a disturbance in the force because she sits up, lifts her nose in the air as if she’s looking down at me, and jumps off the couch, scurrying toward the kitchen. Evil harpy. Van stares at me, but he doesn’t push for a response, perhaps because he’s as unprepared for the answer as I feel. Either way, I’m glad for the reprieve. “I don’t know. I’m twenty-nine years old. I’m at my physical peak and the height of my career, but when I come home from away games, the silence is almost deafening, you know?”
“I do.”
“I have Emmett, but he usually stays with our mom until the day after I get home because we never know what condition I’ll be in after a game.”
“Yeah, most nights after a show I’m wired, but it’s just me and Lana on the bus, and she’s all about ruining my fun.”
“Who’s Lana? Because it sounds like you should fire her immediately.”
“Then my life really would fall apart. She’s my manager.”
“Ah, yeah. My agent’s only a pain in the ass when he wants me to secure a new endorsement, but then I don’t have to share a tour bus with him.”
“Do you ever just want someone to hold you?” I blurt. My eyes go wide, and heat claws at my cheeks.
“You want someone to hold you, snuggle bunny? Then get over here. I can take one for the team.”
I hurry to make it known I wasn’t asking him to hold me now, because that would be weird, and a little desperate. “I mean, when you climb into bed.”
“I’ll race you upstairs.” His eyes glitter with mischief.
“Now that you know about my sexual conquests”—I use air quotes because the idea of me having conquests at all is laughable—“I’m afraid you’ll want more.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Stella. Fear is the only thing holding you back from greatness.”
I give him a wistful smile. “Do they teach you that in training?”
“They teach us a lot of things, but that one is all me.”
“Really?”
“Yep. It’s written all over my endorsement with Bauer.”
“What other wisdom do you have to impart for me?”
“Why don’t you come on over here and I can show you?” he says in that gravelly voice.
“Show me?”
He shrugs. “I’m a hands-on kind of guy.”
I take another sip of my wine and carefully set it down on the table in front of me while I mull that over, and then I slowly get to my feet. His teasing expression says he doesn’t think I’ll actually do it, but I walk around the table and stop in front of him. Van grabs the hem of my flannel, and tugs me closer. His gaze searches mine, beseeching. I’m far too anxious for words. I swallow and nod imperceptibly as my lids fall closed.
“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he commands. My lids snap open and my eyes settle on his. A shiver runs the length of my spine as Van shifts forward in his seat, slips a finger in my waistband, and tugs me toward him. I almost lose my balance, but he steadies me with one hand on my ass while the other slips inside my leggings. Warm fingers caress my cotton panties, stroking the soft cotton over my clit. A ragged sigh escapes me, and then Van’s hand is gone. For a heartbeat, I’m frozen, mortified that I’ve done the wrong thing and afraid that all of this is just a joke to him because tormenting me gets him hard. The blood whooshes in my ears, and I lift my gaze to meet his. “I’m gonna make this good for you, country. I want you dripping wet and screaming my name, but I need to know you’re okay with it. I need to know you want me as much as I want you.”
Is he kidding me? What part of letting him touch me made him think I didn’t want him? My throat is suddenly dry, and my body trembles, but I persist because there is no way I would say no to him right now. With a shaky voice, I say, “I want it.”
Van grins, and for one fearful second I think he really is toying with me, but he slips his fingers in the waistband of my tights and slowly peels them down my thighs, exposing my panties. He teases me again, stroking my flesh through the cotton. I o
pen my legs and allow him access to all of me.
“That’s it, country. Spread your gorgeous fucking thighs for me.” Van’s strokes become firmer, probing, his fingers delving deeper into my entrance despite the damp fabric of my panties. I gasp, my mouth falling open. “Christ, you’re already soaking wet.”
He withdraws his hand, and pressing it to his nose, he inhales as he closes his eyes. My legs tremble. My heart skips over a beat when he does this. It’s the strangest thing, and yet, it’s the most erotic scene I’ve ever witnessed.
“You’re shaking like a leaf.” He slides his big palm up and down my thigh.
“You’re a little intimidating,” I say with a nervous laugh.
“I got you, Stella. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”
I nod because I have no words to convey all the things I’m feeling. Van slips his fingers in my panties and drags them down my thighs, and they join my leggings on the floor. I begin to unbutton my shirt, but he shoves my hands away, and I let him because I’ve never had a man undress me before. His deft fingers work quickly and in seconds, the flannel falls away from my shoulders and my breasts are bared to him. He squeezes them, a little rougher than I expected. A startled cry escapes me, but he rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefingers and I practically melt.
Van pulls me closer, rubs his beard across the soft skin of my belly, and all my fears are swallowed up by need. My nerves are electric as he turns me to face the room. Confused, I’m about to turn around again when his hand comes to rest at the base of my spine. He pushes me forward, and I have no choice but to brace my arms against the coffee table or fall forward into it. Van groans. His hand slaps my ass, and I jump about ten feet in the air. I feel him behind me, his breath on my back, his hands on my hips. My skin prickles with heat and fear as the anticipation destroys my heart.
“The night I met you, I wondered if you’d taste as sweet as you looked. Guess now I get to find out,” he says in that sexy graveled tone. I swallow hard and hold my breath, waiting, dying every second that he isn’t touching me. He wraps one hand around my thighs and pulls me closer, parting my cheeks with the other. His tongue darts out to lick me from front to back, and I feel as if my legs have turned to Jell-O.
“Mmm, just as sweet as you look,” he whispers and buries his face in me, licking and sucking, and I’ve never felt anything like it. This beats the high of a stadium filled with fans singing my song back to me or having the number-one record in the country. This feeling tops everything in the history of ever. Jesus, what the hell have I been missing out on all this time?
I close my eyes and just enjoy his mouth on me, but already I’m tensing to come. I’ve had orgasms before, obviously. Some nights on the tour bus, all I can do to settle myself after the high of a show is to take matters into my own hands. But this is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
“Van, oh god,” I moan, but his ministrations come to a standstill. He pulls away and turns me to face him. “I wanna see your face when you come, and I definitely want to watch your lips as you cry my name.”
He pulls me down onto his lap and I tumble against him. Our lips meet, and he tastes like me. His beard is slick with my arousal. I kiss him hard, and he kisses me back, all the while unfastening his jeans. I lift my hips and glance between us. He’s big, hard, and deliciously thick. It may very well be the prettiest penis I’ve ever seen. I take him in my hands and stroke the velvet length, and then I decide that I want to do something I never have. I ease off his lap and settle into the space between his legs.
“What are you doing?”
“Returning the favor.”
“Jesus,” he murmurs, as I take him between my lips. He sucks in a sharp breath, and I slowly work up and down the length of him. He’s too big to wrap my whole mouth around, so I slide my hand along his shaft in time with my lips. I don’t know if I’m as good as half of the women he’s been with, but he fists his hand in my hair and his moans are low and guttural, so I take that as positive reinforcement. Before long, he gently pulls me away, and I worry that I’ve hurt him.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, babe. It’s not you. That fucking hot little mouth of yours was two seconds away from making me come, and I need a little more time with you yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I get that, but I’m not willing to come before you do.”
“Oh.” Butterflies whoosh through my belly. I bite my bottom lip. “Okay.”
“Why don’t you climb on up here, eh?” Van takes hold of my wrists and pulls me closer. His length presses against my stomach, and the anticipation ties me all in knots. He guides himself to my entrance, and slips against me, the head of his cock rubbing my clit, teasing me. I flex my hips, wanting more of that delicious friction. Thankfully, Van seems content to let me writhe in his lap. He grabs my ass and grinds his hips in time with my own. I close my eyes, feel his gaze on my body, and his longing, the need to be as close as we can get. I feel it, too. I lift my hips as he grabs his cock, positions himself outside my entrance, and slowly pushes in. I suck in a sharp breath. It’s too much. The fullness of him, the position, the angle. I can’t breathe, and I tense all over.
“Stella, I’ve got you. Just breathe, babe. You’re gonna come for me all night.” He glides his thumb over my clit, and my body jerks. Heat builds low in my belly. I moan as he pistons his hips. He pumps into me, slow, bitterly sweet. As I start to adjust and accommodate more of him, his thrusts become harder, faster, until pleasure is spiked with pain, and all I can do is give myself over to it. Van presses his head to my breasts, sucks my nipple, and the sounds that come from my mouth are animal, primal, and like nothing I’ve ever heard before. I come, hard, and a beat later he follows me over the edge and into the sweet abyss.
When I open my eyes, I’m curled up in Van’s bed, hugging his pillow to my chest. The man in question is nowhere in sight, but the scent of eggs and toast wafts in from downstairs. I smile to myself. Sex with Van was incredible, and he hadn’t been lying when he said he planned on making me come all night. I stretch out my aching muscles. I’m sore everywhere. I guess sleeping with a pro-athlete who happens to have a giant cock will do that to you. It takes me far too long to get out of bed and, I hobble a little as I walk to the bathroom. When I’m done freshening up, I throw on his Crushers hoodie and slowly pad downstairs, taking them one at a time because . . . ouch. Van is in the kitchen dressed in a pair of sweats, and nothing else. I wrap myself around him from behind and rest my head against his broad back. He stills for a second and then runs his hands up and down my arms.
“There’s my snuggle bunny,” he says, turning in my embrace. “How are you feeling?”
I groan. “I think you broke me.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t break you.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you did. I don’t think I’ll ever be having sex again. Every muscle in my body aches. Is it supposed to hurt this much?”
“When done right, yeah. You’ll get used to it.”
I stretch on tiptoes and place a kiss on his cheek, morning breath and all, and then because I’m embarrassed I didn’t brush my teeth before coming down here, I turn away. Van’s arm shoots out to stop me, almost knocking the hot pan from the stove, but he catches it just in time. Good reflexes.
“Where are you going?”
“I have morning breath.”
He dips his finger into a glass jar on the counter. It comes out sticky and covered in syrup. “Open up and say ah.”
“Oh my god, you’re an animal.” I open my mouth anyway, and he slides his finger in. I lick the sticky, sweet syrup from his skin, and then I hollow my cheeks and suck hard, releasing him with a pop.
He groans. “Fuck me.”
I chuckle. “Can we eat first? I’m starved.”
Van shakes his head and plates up eggs and toast. He adds a side of bacon for himself. I get to work on pouring coffee for us both. I need it after the sex mara
thon last night.
“No Sigi this morning?”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure we scared her away last night with all the screaming. She comes and goes as she pleases though, so I’m sure she’ll be back.” I decide I may have to do a lot more screaming in the near future to keep Van to myself.
I sit at the table opposite Van, and while we might be eating in silence, the mischievous glances and half-smiles say too much. When I’ve had my fill of breakfast, I climb onto the table and crawl across the space between us, knocking plates, cutlery, and empty coffee cups to the floor. Van looks surprised, but he catches on quickly and pushes his chair back as I climb into his lap. I kiss his mouth, and slide my sticky fingers into his hair. He tastes like syrup. Delicious. I slip my hand between our bodies and into the fabric of his waistband. I tease his hard cock with soft strokes of my fingertips over the crown, and he jerks against my hand. I grip the head and squeeze, and then I lift my hips and guide him inside. It hurts—my body is too tender from last night’s love-making, but I stay still and allow myself to adjust to his thickness. Van removes my oversized hoody and tosses it on the floor amongst the wreckage of our breakfast. He kisses my neck, my shoulder, and finally dips his head to my breasts. I’m done for. Heat surges within me as I rock my hips back and forth.
“Fuck, country,” Van groans. “I love the way you ride my cock.”
I close my lips over his because I can’t get enough of his taste. Nor can I get enough of the feel of him inside me. It’s so hot and hard, and surprisingly tender. This closeness, the warm wet slide of bodies? It’s incomparable to anything I’ve ever experienced. I search his gaze, silently hoping that he feels it too, and when he looks into my eyes I know that he’s right here with me. He’s not fucking Stella Hart, the country star. He’s not out to use me or sell our story to the tabloids, and we’re not anything more than Van and Stella. Just two people who happen to like each other, and who like getting naked together. A lot. And it’s so sweet it about breaks my heart.
Puck Love Page 14