by Lee Piper
Emotion flits across Reid’s features, only it’s so quick I can’t determine what it is. “Wanna know what’s worse?”
“Not particularly.”
Reid’s free hand cups my cheek, his thumb digging into my jaw. “You’re still exactly the same.”
He kisses me.
Holy smokes, does he kiss me. Reid’s lips devour mine, his tongue ruthlessly claiming my mouth. I moan, pressing myself against him as I return every touch, every lick, every taste.
“You make me so fuckin’ angry,” Reid growls, nipping, sucking, teasing his way down my neck.
I pull against his hand restraining my wrists. It’s futile, but I get off on the struggle. “You make me want to nut-punch you.” An overwhelming need to get closer, to tear him apart so I can lose myself inside him, rolls through me. Gruesome but true.
His hold on me tightens. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Make me forget.” He bites my shoulder, and I shiver. “Make me forget so I can sing again.”
Reid’s gaze finds mine, his pupils so dilated they take up almost the entirety of his eyes. I can’t look away. The man has the power to pin me in place through look alone. Something deep inside him draws me closer, deeper, like a siren’s song.
I’m so effing screwed.
We stare at each other for a long moment, searching for something just beyond reach. It’s there but not. Doesn’t matter. I’m too distracted by the heat blazing from his skin to care. It burns.
The thumb of Reid’s free hand presses into my swollen bottom lip. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll still feel me on stage.”
Whether that was him or me moaning, I have no idea. All I know is my mouth is open and I’m sucking his finger. Salt. Delicious.
“I’m going to own your body.”
Should I start my last rites now?
“Every square inch will be mine.”
Our Father, Who art in heaven.
“You ready for me, darlin’?”
No. “Yes.”
Reid lifts me by the ass. Turning, he presses me against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist. Thankfully, I now have my hands free, meaning I can run my fingers through his hair and tug on it, relishing the sharp sting of his corresponding nip.
So. Fucking. Good.
His lips claim mine. Over and over, his tongue thrusts inside, perfectly matching the rhythm of his hips grinding against me.
Halle-frickin-lujah.
Breaking away from our kiss, Reid yanks my shirt up and over my head. No words, no pleasantries, just boom. Gone. He growls. The man actually growls when he sees my lace-covered girls jiggling in time with his movement.
He ducks his head, his tongue tracing a line from the top of one breast to the other, taking his time to devour the valley in between. Reaching behind me, he unclasps my bra, pulls it off my body, and discards it over one shoulder. It lands in the general vicinity of my shirt.
When Reid sucks on my nipple, teasing it into a pebbled peak, my eyes literally roll back in my head. Groaning, I arch my back, my shoulders and ass the only points of contact between the wall and me. He takes more and more of me into his mouth, sucking, stroking, biting until I’m a mess of incoherent words and guttural sounds. I’m pretty sure I’ve called him every deity known to humankind, pagan ones included.
Reid switches his attention to my other breast, dedicating the same time and attention as he did the first. I curse, holding his head close, my fingers digging into his scalp.
I moan.
He groans.
Two of the hottest sounds ever produced.
Moving from the wall, Reid carries me to the bed and throws me onto the mattress. It’s lucky I grip the coverlet or else I would have bounced straight off again.
Grabbing my ankles, he pulls me to where he stands at the foot of the bed, my legs hanging on either side of his strong thighs. Within seconds, my top button is undone, my zipper lowered, and my pants are around my ankles. With a final tug, they’re clear of my body and thrown over one shoulder.
Assertive. I like that.
Reid drops to his knees between my legs, his mouth only inches from my lace-covered pussy. Closing my eyes, I drop my head back.
“Look at me.”
Can’t.
He bites my inner thigh.
My eyes fly open. “Ouch.” Okay, it didn’t hurt, but the action called for a reaction.
Reid licks away the sting. “You’re gonna look at me when I feast on your pussy.”
Christ.
Leaning forward, his nose skims the length of my soaked G-string. He inhales deeply.
Mother Mary and all the saints.
He slides his hands up my sides, slipping his fingers under the strip of material before giving a sharp pull.
Gone.
The man just tore my panties.
Rising onto my elbows, I glare at him. “They were my favorite pair.”
He winks. “Mine too.”
This. Man.
But in the next moment, all murderous tendencies dissipate because his mouth, sweet baby Jesus, his mouth is on me.
He devours my pussy.
It’s official, I’ve reached Nirvana. There is no other explanation. The sight of Reid between my legs and the pleasurable waves of sensation flooding my limbs is better than anything else on this earth. Forget porn, forget one-night stands, this is what I’ve been missing.
Reid.
His tongue circles my throbbing clit.
“Oh, God.” Whether it’s a cry or a plea, I have no idea. All I know is I need more. So much more. “Reid.”
“Shh, darlin’. Let me take care of you. You know I will.”
That I do. The vibration from his low voice, his fingers pushing inside me, not to mention the other hand sliding up my stomach to palm my breast, all combine to send me out of my ever-loving mind.
Pleasure builds, the intensity growing stronger with each flick of Reid’s tongue. My body comes alive with pulsing energy. The world around me darkens as specks of silver and gold dart across my vision. This is it. The orgasm of the century is barrelling toward me. My limbs tense, preparing for detonation.
“You’re gonna come. You’re gonna come all over my mouth.”
Sweet merciful Lord.
“And I’m gonna lick every last drop.” He bites my clit.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.”
“Come. Now.”
I do. With a scream, I come so hard I actually black out. Again. Moments later, Reid is murmuring words too soft to decipher as he licks his way across my hips, stomach, and ribs. It’s his lips that bring me back from the darkness.
Christ on a crouton.
Before I can process what the heck just happened, Reid is back on his feet. The man is still fully clothed. There’s something seriously wrong with this picture. Not so gracefully, I shift to my knees, light-headed and swaying slightly. When I look into Reid’s face, his expression is hungry, famished even. A tingle breaks out on my skin. Taking his belt buckle, I unclasp it. Reid watches me with hooded eyes.
Slowly, I undo his top button and lower the zipper, the backs of my knuckles grazing his hard length. Hell yes, I do it on purpose. However, just as I’m about to slip my fingers inside his black boxers, Reid grasps my wrist, stopping me. With a small shake of his head, he steps back, reaching behind him. In a well-practiced movement, he pulls off his T-shirt, dropping it by his feet.
I exhale.
Man, I love it when he does that.
Standing before me in nothing but an open pair of jeans and dark boxers is the sexiest man ever to brave sleeve tattoos. They start at the first joint of his fingers and cover the entirety of his forearms, biceps, and the majority of his shoulders. I’m drooling. No use pretending I’m not.
The tattoos are colorful too. The reds and blues seamlessly mingle with the blacks and grays. And then his nipple ring is glinting at me. That damn piece of metal is my kryptonite.
&nb
sp; Reid kicks off his shoes, peels off his socks, and removes the remainder of his clothing.
Fuck me.
The smile on Reid’s face tells me I spoke the words out loud. No cares given.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Mouth-watering. Any adjective my brain tries to associate with this man is quickly dismissed. They don’t do him justice.
My gaze drifts down, down, down his body. I’m fairly certain my eyes bulge out of my head when I take in the sight before me. Long, thick, hard. Reid Tate has a cock worthy of a stupa. A grin tugs the corner of my lips when I notice again how it tilts ever so slightly to the left. For some reason, this idiosyncrasy makes me beyond happy.
“Lie down, arms above your head.”
His commanding voice resonates with a need deep inside me, and I’m instantly wet. Scooting back, I do as he says. My hands brush against the suede headboard. I can’t get a decent grip, but I keep them there regardless. For now.
“I want to touch you,” I whisper.
“And I want you to write decent song lyrics, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”
“Asshole.”
He smirks. It’s both hot as hell and fricking annoying. However, Reid’s expression turns predatory as he stalks toward me on the bed, then his arms and legs cage me in. I’m totally okay with this.
“Are you on the pill?”
I nod.
He grunts, resting between my open thighs. “I’m gonna fuck you raw.”
“Omigod.”
“When you’re on stage, my cum is still gonna be inside you.”
Cue brazen moan.
“Do you trust me?”
I blink. “You told me not to.”
His hips rock against my opening. I throw my head back, my eyes flicking closed.
“Shit’s different now.”
Looking into his face, I murmur, “Is it?”
“Yeah.” He grinds against me.
Relief washes through me. I have no idea where it came from and I sure as hell don’t want to read anything into it, but it’s there anyway.
His hand grips my jaw. “So?”
“Yes. Yes, I trust you.”
And with a single thrust, he’s inside.
“Reid.” My back arches, my vision swims, my body comes alive as his deep penetrating movements blow my mind.
Reid mutters a low curse. After lifting my legs until they’re perched on his broad shoulders, he holds my hips, pinning me in place. I’m pretty sure his cock kisses my cervix. My fingers scramble to hold onto the headboard, only it’s useless. With no grip, I push against it, putting the laws of physics to the test. When his thumb brushes against my clit and his gaze burns trails across my breasts, I know I’m failing spectacularly.
He impales me over and over.
My breathing is ragged. “Oh, shit.” Another orgasm builds. This one is more intense, amplified by the nine inches of holy fuck mercilessly moving inside me. And when Reid twists his hips just so, he not only finds my sweet spot but exploits it. Entirely.
I fall.
Shuddering, screaming, and quite possibly tearing chunks out of the headboard with my fingernails, I come apart.
But he isn’t finished.
Reid removes my legs from his shoulders and pushes them together, pressing them against the mattress on one side of him. From this position, it’s tighter, he can take me deeper, and I’m rendered incoherent from pleasure.
“When you’re on stage, you’re gonna think of this. You’re gonna think of me and my cum inside you. Nothing else.”
“Yes, yes,” I chant, a woman possessed.
He slaps my ass, and I moan. “What are you gonna think of?”
Licking my lips, I groan, “You, Reid. Only you.”
Another deep thrust. “Good girl.” Leaning forward, Reid’s lips are as ruthless as his cock. “Are you ready, darlin’?”
I whimper.
“Are you ready for me to fill your sweet pussy with my cum?”
His words, his kisses, his cock. It’s enough to send me over the edge yet again. Exploding light flashes as shockwaves of pleasure course through me. I incoherently scream his name until I run out of air.
With a curse, Reid thrusts once, twice, three times. He pulses, a low groan sounding as he fills me with his seed.
Panting.
Breaths.
Silence.
Minutes pass, but neither of us move. When the chaos finally settles, Reid takes a deep breath, pulling out of me. I can’t help crying out at the emptiness. His gaze searches my face. It’s softer, kinder than before. My heart does this strange flip in my chest, but I do my best to ignore it. Lord knows he isn’t making it easy.
Reid’s stare travels the length of my body, coming to rest between my thighs. I swear I watch the possessiveness overtake his features. It’s in the jut of his chin, the glimmer in his eyes. The way he pushes his cum back inside me.
It actually happens.
I gasp, my eyes widening in shock. “Damn, that’s hot.”
Without a word, he moves off the bed, his back to me. It doesn’t take him long to dress, and I already miss the scent of his skin, the feel of his touch, the weight of his body on mine. It’s probably why I state the flipping obvious. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
I nibble my bottom lip. “Will you be there for our performance?”
Before I even realize what’s happening, Reid is on top of me. His hands cup my face, his gray eyes intense. “I’ll be there.”
I exhale a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “Okay.”
He kisses my lips. Softly, sweetly. A sob catches in the back of my throat. With one last nip, he’s off the bed and striding toward the door. It closes with a thud behind him.
I lie back, staring at the off-white ceiling. My mind is full. Completely and utterly full. Even though Reid is gone, he’s everywhere. He fills my thoughts, my body, my—nope, not going there. Too much is at stake. I don’t have time for anything other than rocking the hell out.
There’s a competition to win.
The boys and I work our asses off getting the next song ready. It’s not easy, but somehow we manage. Despite Reid’s protest, I’m going ahead with the lyrics from the beach. It’s a killer track. End of story.
Not that I want to sing it.
The crowd is growing restless. From where we stand in the wings, I stare at the overhead rig, wishing I could climb the rungs leading to the spotlights and hide behind the biggest one. Forever sounds like a good timeframe.
“You okay, sis? You’re looking a little pale.”
The acidic tang of bile burns the back of my throat. I swallow, then grimace. “Yep. Fine.”
Jasper gives me a strange look but is distracted when Vivienne announces our band. “That’s us. Let’s go.”
He leads the way on stage. I’m thankful for the blinding PAR lights since it means I can’t see past the foldback speakers.
But I can still hear them.
The audience is hollering, applauding, even stomping their feet on the polished concrete. My heart pounds. They’re hungry for our unique brand of rock and I want to give it to them. I want to blow their ever-loving minds. But I want to turn fetal more.
“Fuck, Jesus, shit.”
I take one last look at my bandmates and move to where my Fender is perched on its stand beside the mic. Slipping the leather strap over my shoulder, I’m comforted by the familiar weight of the instrument. My fingers strum the steel strings.
“You good?” I ask Jasper.
“So good.”
Turning to Tobias, I ask the same question. He settles on his seat, twirls his sticks, and nods.
When I shift my weight, there’s a blissful ache between my legs. The thought of Reid’s claiming is grounding, it calms the raging storm. Closing my eyes, I welcome the discomfort. I embrace it, own it, turn it into a force to be reckoned with. Opening my eyes ag
ain, I blink.
Then sing.
We start off well. Ribbons of notes encircle, caress, and tease the audience. My body sways in time with the music, and I relish how my voice fills the arena. Jasper is on point, the fingers on his right hand flying over the fret board, while Tobias owns the drums, his sticks thrashing the skins.
Then it all goes to shit. Some genius in the production room thinks it’s a stellar idea to turn up the house lights. Soon, the shadows become people, the people have faces, and that scares the crap out of me. The crowd becomes real.
Real people hurt.
Real people love.
Real people lose.
My throat tightens and I falter. Jasper shoots me a warning look. With a deep breath, I pull myself together. Mostly. I clench my eyes shut, pretending we’re back at our recording studio and this is another jam session. Only the security guards are shouting. One of the diehards in the front row launches off the stage in an epic dive, and the people perched on each other’s shoulders at the back scream their appreciation. As far as rock shows go, it’s tame, but my heart doesn’t get the memo as it does it’s best to launch out of my chest, no doubt searching for a saner body to inhabit. My head goes into lockdown and the lyrics, the ones I wrote myself, become abstract phrases making next to no sense.
The boys give me sneaky side-eyes, confused but trying not to show it. They won’t let me get away with this for much longer. Thankfully, the remainder of our show passes without incident.
I’m dumb and mute in the post-performance interview. Luckily, Jasper laps up the limelight and Tobias is too busy staring at Vivienne’s incandescent veneers to notice. I make it off stage and out of Rising Star without having to interact with anyone.
However, I’m obligated to attend the after party since it’s at my house. Fucking Jasper. I’m giving it half an hour, but after that, hermitage awaits.
“Here.”
Taking the cylinder from Willow’s outstretched hand, I smile for the first time in ages. Diving for a handful of Pringles, I come out with only one. My eyes narrow.
She shrugs. “Your brother grabbed some on my way past. He said you’d understand.”
Crunching the last remaining chip, I ponder a suitable punishment. Poison ivy in his boxers? Itching powder on his Gibson? A blind date with Crazy Kristy, the not-so-lucid sales manager from work? Possibilities, all of them.