Hard Rock Fling: A Rock Star Romance

by Athena Wright

  He moved from my throat, trailing fingers along my collarbone to the swell of my breasts. "Maybe I should wear leather and eyeliner all the time, if it gets you this worked up."

  I squirmed, unable to look away from those burning eyes.

  "Now you know how I feel when you walk around in those sexy little skirts of yours."

  Ian's lips curved up at the corners. His eyes narrowed into a seductive gaze. That was when I knew. I knew I was in trouble.

  This man had the power to break my heart, and I was practically ripping open my chest and offering it to him.

  I was so going to regret this.

  But I didn't have it in me to resist.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "Shattered glass."

  "What?"

  "Shattered glass," I repeated.

  Ian and Damon had the same look of confusion on their faces. I fumbled with my sketches, switching the papers around to face them, so they could see what I meant.

  "There's a type of material that appears to be shattered glass. It's pliable, so it can be used in clothing. Damon, you're the fighting. You're throwing things around. You're in a fury. You're breaking things. Your material will be dark, like obsidian, but it will glint in the spotlight. Ian, yours will be reflective. Like mirrors. The sex was so passionate. You slammed her up against the door. You broke the mirror on the wall. The mirrored glass will reflect everything, expose everything, because you're exposed to each other. Your hearts are raw and wide open."

  I'd stood from my chair, both palms pressed flat on the table, arched forward to get in their faces. I leaned back, easing up on some of the intensity.

  "There are tons of ways we can do this in videos and photoshoots, but the most important part is your physical appearance. I've got that figured out. I'm thinking of making you each a vest with the material. You can wear it over your normal clothing and take them off to switch places. And I know you love your wrist cuffs, so we can make new ones matching the vests."

  The Twins stared at me, not speaking. Their eyes weren't hidden behind shades. Instead, the sunglasses were perched on top of their heads. The expressions on their face were identical, but unreadable. I tried not to wilt under those dual gazes.

  "I mean, it's just an idea. We don't have to go with that."

  "It's cool," Damon said after a moment.

  "I love it," Ian added.

  My heart lifted. "Awesome!" I hated that my voice sounded so squeaky. I lowered my tone. "That's great. I'm glad you like it." It had only taken me days to come up with the idea. "I'll start sourcing the material right away."

  "How did you decide which one of us was which?" Ian asked.

  "Does Damon seem like the angry, fighting type?" Damon continued. "Or do you like to imagine Ian having sex?" His eyes glimmered with amusement.

  A flush threatened to consume my entire body. "I wasn't thinking about the sex, necessarily." I tried to quickly figure out how to explain my reasoning. "When I think about the two of you, Damon seems more brash. More likely to argue about things. More stubborn."

  Damon narrowed his eyes at me. I swallowed hard, but continued.

  "Ian, you're more… seductive, I guess. You're passionate, but in a different way. You'd grab onto your girl and kiss the breath out of her to stop the arguing."

  Ian's eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak.

  "And how are you so sure it's Damon who's always arguing?" Damon asked. "It could be Ian you see acting like a pain in the ass all the time."

  "Maybe you're both a pain in the ass." Ugh. I'd let my mouth run off again. "I just meant, there are some differences between the two of you. It made sense to style you each in those ways."

  As hard as they tried to be identical on stage and in interviews, I noticed the differences between the two. Even though everyone else struggled with it, it wasn't difficult for me to tell them apart. It was even more obvious ever since I started working at Etude and had the opportunity to watch The Twins in person.

  Okay, I had to admit it. I hadn't been watching The Twins.

  I'd been watching Ian.

  The surprise on his face has faded into something else. With narrowed eyes and a wolfish grin, Ian wasn't the energetic, carefree rock star who teased his fans like they were mere toys to play with. Instead, his eyes were intense, resolute.

  "Whatever. I'm glad it's taken care of." Damon stood abruptly. "I was worried we were going to look stupid or boring."

  "Nothing boring about this," Ian murmured. He was practically undressing me with his eyes. My breath hitched. I couldn't look away.

  He turned his attention to his brother and I was released from his spell. I took a shaky breath in.

  "I'll take care of everything right away," I said after several false starts, brandishing my sketches. The ache between my thighs told a different story. I needed to go take care of something entirely different.

  "See ya, sweetheart." Damon strolled out of the room. Leaving me alone with Ian.

  That wolfish grin spread wider. Ian stood and stalked around the table until he was mere feet away.

  "So you think I'm seductive?" he drawled.

  I froze in place, pinned by the weight of those words, by the hidden promise beneath them. He ran his eyes up and down my entire body. I could feel his lips on my skin. My thighs clenched, warmth flowing from my pink cheeks to my core. When he was within inches of me, he stopped and tilted his head.

  "I asked you a question, sweetness." He pulled me towards his chest with an arm around my waist. I stared into his eyes, frozen. He lowered his head until his lips just barely touched mine.

  We were too public. Anyone could walk in and see us.

  I couldn't make myself care. My terror wasn't strong enough to overpower the effect Ian's mouth and hands had on me. One touch was all it took for me to surrender. A wave of heat ran through me, flooding my every nerve, centering between my legs.

  "I don't have any more meetings for the rest of the day. Maybe we could take a break and…" I left the rest unsaid.

  His eyes flashed with heat. "At work?" he teased. "Naughty girl. Aren't you scared of getting caught?"

  "I could perhaps be persuaded."

  "Looks like I managed to snag a girl with an exhibitionist streak."

  Ian closed the office door and locked it. Pushed me up against the wall. Pressed his hips into mine.

  "So tell me…" His eyes glinted in the dark. "Exactly how dirty do you want to get?"

  All sorts of naughty thoughts ran through my mind, but there was one in particular stood out.

  I pushed myself closer and felt him against my hip. I tiptoed my fingers down his chest, his sides, until I reached the zipper of his jeans. He hissed when I pressed my palm against his length. I unbuckled his belt, pulled the zipper and gently palmed his rapidly stiffening cock. He let out a strangled grunt.

  I caressed the shaft gently at first, with short, small strokes. His already large girth was expanding with every second. I rubbed my thumb over the tip. He buried a groan in my neck. As his breathing got heavier, I stroked faster, twisting my wrist and thumbing the head.

  He bucked into my hand, trying to take control. I pulled back slightly, slowing the pace again, only giving him the barest of touches.

  He growled in my ear and grabbed both my wrists, pinning them behind my back. My eyes grew wide with surprise.

  "You like teasing?" His voice was low in his chest.

  "Not as much as you do."

  He chuckled darkly. "So you enjoyed all my messages?"

  "I don't know if enjoyed is the word I would use."

  Reading his words to help bring myself to orgasm multiple times was bit more intense than just enjoyed.

  "Which one was your favorite?" he whispered in my ear. There was a wicked curve to his lips.

  "I—"

  "Was it when I said I loved how wet you were?"

  I inhaled sharply.

  "Was it when I said loved the sounds you made?"


  My breath hitched.

  "Or maybe when I said I want those pretty lips wrapped around my cock?"

  I whimpered. He let out a pleased hum, knowing he'd got me. He knew how much I wanted him. How much I wanted to taste him, to feel him on my tongue.

  He tugged on my hair, tipping my head back until our eyes locked. That brilliant green, full of need and want, nearly took my breath away. I wanted more of that needy look. I wanted him to fall apart completely. I slowly lowered myself to my knees. I kept my eyes trained on him, reveling in his burning hunger.

  His cock bobbed in front of my lips, drawing my attention. I rocked back on my heels, taking stock of that thick length. Hard, weeping, standing straight out from his body. It twitched with every flex of his abs, as if seeking the wet warmth of my mouth.

  I placed one hand on his thigh to keep myself balanced. With a careful touch, I wrapped my other hand around him, pumping once, slowly. He let out a soft sound from the back of his throat. My tongue darted out, a quick lick, tasting him for the first time. He grunted and tightened his grip on my hair. From the trembling of his hands, I knew he was trying not to push me onto his cock. I leaned up and pressed my pursed lips against the head. His whole body went tense.

  I parted my lips and took him in one slow, wet slide. Ian let out a long moan, his whole body shuddering.

  I paused there, more than half his cock fully in my mouth, listening to his strained panting. His thighs trembled under my touch. He swallowed heavily and took a deep, calming breath in.

  On his exhale, I slowly pulled back, using a tight suction, dragging my tongue along his cock the whole way. He let out a groan and fisted my hair tighter.

  "Sweetheart, you're killing me."

  A sweet sense of satisfaction pulsed through me. It started in my chest, squeezing my heart, then made its way to my core. I clenched my thighs together as wetness gathered between my legs. This was turning me on as much as it was him.

  If he was hard before, he was rock solid now. I stopped teasing and began a steady rhythm. I let him slide in and out of my mouth and across my tongue. I didn't go too deep, taking him slightly more than halfway.

  With every withdrawal I sucked on the head and swirled with my tongue. Ian couldn't help bucking his hips slightly, wanting that heated suction. I teased, bobbing down a few inches, then pulling back, swirling and kissing and licking. He growled and cupped my face with both hands, one on my cheek, the other stroking the underside of my jaw. I could feel his restraint, could feel how close he was to thrusting in.

  I finally gave him what he wanted. With one quick movement, I sucked his cock down until the tip hit the back of my throat.

  "Fuck!" Ian slammed a hand against the wall, stopping himself from toppling forward.

  I forced my throat muscles to relax. Like before, I waited until he had his breathing under control, then slid my lips back to the tip. He let out a continuous series of gasps and grunts as I bobbed up and down, back and forth, taking him all the way, then retreating.

  I knew he was close when he tugged on my hair frantically. "Hope, I can't—"

  I gripped his thighs with both hands, keeping his hips still, keeping him in my mouth. I sucked harder, using my lips and my tongue to take him over that edge.

  With one choked cry, he fell forward, fists clenched in my hair. The warm, slick taste of him coated my tongue in spurts. I kept my mouth clamped and swallowed, wanting to take everything he had to give me.

  After several long moments, the flood subsided. He let out one long shuddering moan. I leaned back and let him fall from my lips. I licked every last drop along the way.

  "S-stop," he groaned. "Too much."

  I pressed my forehead against his abdomen. The muscles shifted with every heavy rise and fall of his chest. My lips curved into a smile as the grip on my hair eased up and fingers softly sifted through the stands. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and curled his arms around my shoulders, bending forward to envelope me. I basked in his embrace.

  Eventually he relaxed and let me go. I stood up on aching knees and tucked him back into his pants.

  "Fuck, sweetheart, that mouth of yours…" he tugged me to his chest and plastered his lips to mine. "I've never felt anything like it," he murmured.

  A pang of hurt shot through my chest. Those were the last words I wanted to hear after what we'd done. I pulled back. "Don't compare me to other girls."

  His brow furrowed, distressed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

  "I'm not going to be like the others. You can't make me fall for you with pretty words."

  I wasn't going to let that happen again.

  "That's not—" He closed his eyes, frustrated. "I swear to you, that's not what I'm doing."

  "Really? So you don't say that to all the girls?"

  "Hope, I swear to you, you're not just another notch on my bedpost."

  "Then what am I?" This conversation was getting too serious, too close to a topic I didn't want to examine. But I had to know.

  "You're—" he stopped, tilting his head and giving me a piercing stare. "I don't know what you are."

  "Gee, thanks."

  "No, I mean it." He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. I resisted the urge to push it back. "I don't know what this is. But there's a connection between us." He cupped my face, bringing my head up to meet his eyes. "From the moment you called out my name after that concert, I knew you were…" he trailed off, glancing away. "This sounds so fucking stupid."

  "What? I'm what?"

  Those green-gold eyes flicked to mine. "You're different from the others."

  I let out a sharp bark of laughter without meaning to. "Seriously? You're going to use that line on me?"

  He groaned and leaned forward to rest his forehead against my shoulder. "I know! I told you it's stupid."

  "You don't have to sweet talk me to get me into bed. It's too late for that."

  "It's not sweet talk. It's the truth."

  If it was only a line, if it was only something he said to all the girls, I didn't care.

  I wanted him.

  I watched him grumble as he struggled to buckle his belt. Sexy, gorgeous, and all mine.

  I focused on smoothing out my own rumpled dress. I had to remind myself. He was only mine for now. This wasn't permanent.

  But despite the voice in my head yelling a multitude of warnings at me, I was dangerously close to falling for a playboy rock star.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After that afternoon in the office with Ian, I threw myself into my work. I needed a distraction to keep from obsessing over him, and his possible feelings for me, and my growing feelings for him.

  With the guys getting ready to wrap up recording, there was plenty to do. I worked long hours with the Marketing and Product Development departments. I was put in charge of overseeing clothing fittings, working with tailors and seamstresses to make sure each outfit fit perfectly. The guys had to look their best.

  That's when my plan to avoid obsessing over Ian completely failed.

  I was stuck in a room with half naked rock stars, including the smoking hot guitarist I'd been sleeping with. And I had to be the one telling them to take off their pants. I didn't think my heart could take it.

  The guys were professional about it — mostly. Cameron couldn't keep himself from cracking a few naughty innuendoes.

  "Couldn't wait to get me naked, could you?" He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, not taking his eyes off me once. "You don't have to pretend it's for work. I'm more than happy to strip for you any time you want."

  A few well-placed elbows in his ribs made him eventually shut up. It didn't stop the shit-eating grin from taking over his face.

  When Cameron stripped off his t-shirt to try on his outfit, I didn't blink. I'd seen his naked chest enough times it had no effect on me.

  We'd worked hard on Cameron's outfit. It was split in half, like Two-Face from the Batman comics. The right side had one pristine whit
e suit pant leg and a matching half-cape. He was shirtless underneath, as per his request. The left side, for his "demon" persona, consisted solely of one tight black leather pant leg. It was the accessories that made it. Clawed, bloody nails, a glow in the dark eye contact, and one bat wing sprouting from his shoulder blade.

  I'd worried the half-and-half style would end up being ridiculous, but Cameron pulled it off with ease. He especially loved playing with his half-cape. He draped it around the interns and pulled off courtly ballroom moves, dipping them for pretend kisses. Surprisingly, he played the part of the chivalrous prince quite well.

  August's outfit consisted of a tight white top and black leather pants so shiny and slick they looked like liquid ink. One could almost think he'd jumped into a pool and came out soaking wet, which had been my intention.

  I left Noah’s fittings to one of the older, more brusque assistants. I was still a little wary of him. We hadn't spoken much at all, and he always appeared to be in a bad mood.

  His outfit wasn't too far from his usual. For him, we'd put together a black leather jacket, half-adorned with spark spikes, their tips dripping with fake blood. We all had to move carefully around him, so we didn't accidentally get poked.

  When Noah took off his shirt, my jaw nearly dropped. My eyes swept up and down his chest, drinking in the sight without meaning to. His abs were something most guys could only dream of, a rival to Cameron's.

  Someone cleared their throat. "See something you like?"

  I jumped. Ian stood behind me, his lips twitching. I didn't know whether he was trying not to laugh, or trying not to frown.

  I ducked my head, embarrassed I had been caught staring. "I didn't know Noah was so, ah—" I tried to think of another word for drool-worthy, "—built. He's always wearing that leather jacket."

  "You got a thing for hot lead singers?" Ian's tone was light, but there was a biting tone underneath his words. Maybe he was jealous of Noah. The thought that he cared enough to be jealous made my heart flutter.

  I wanted to reassure him, but we were in the middle of work, surrounded by other employees. I couldn't very well tell him he was the only one I wanted to see naked.