For him, the best sex always turned into something primal – two bodies in direct communication, working on little more than instinct.
She clutched at his arms, digging her nails into his flesh. He moved faster, sucked harder. She was almost there. So close he could taste it on her skin. Her cries grew louder and scissored his fingers inside her. At the same time, he licked then nibbled, licked then nibbled at her clit. Just before he sensed she was about to peak, he stopped licking to look up at her face. Her eyes were screwed tight shut, her lips brought together in a luscious pout.
He would have loved to look into her eyes, but he didn’t dare speak to her and risk breaking her concentration. Then she tipped over the edge and came long and loud. If there were any guests left asleep at that hour, the sound of Angie’s climax would surely have woken them.
He kept on moving his fingers, holding her simmering in sexual need. Now it was his turn. If he was going to change position, he had to do it soon or she’d be soaring away on her next orgasm. He moved his hand so that his two middle fingers were inside her and he could rub on her clit with his thumb. A little extra pressure had her writhing against him, already back on the path to satisfaction.
He groped blindly at the bedside table with his free hand and eventually came across the little square packet he was looking for. Tearing it open with his teeth, he had to let go of her to sheathe himself. She reached for him, turning his face to look at her. Her eyes were open again. She gave him an exhausted smile and he moved up the bed to kiss her magnificent lips.
Her hands went to his face, then to his waist, then to his ass. He guided his aching cock up inside her and both of them gasped. “I wish you could see yourself,” he said as he started to move inside her.
He pulled out and went deeper, his eyes never leaving hers. She was so amazing and she didn’t even know it. This time, he took things slowly, drawing out every touch, every tensing of her muscles around him. He took her breast in his hand and she blinked ever so slowly. He took another kiss, but however many times his lips met hers it was never enough. Her mouth opened to his tongue just as her sex welcomed him in.
Noah held back for as long as he could, but he couldn’t keep going forever. His orgasm crept over him slowly and steadily. He felt it build, raising goosebumps on his naked skin. He shouted as he came, clutching at her breast until he worried he might hurt her. But she was still smiling at him.
After a pause to let the sensations run their course, he started up again, thrusting harder to bring on her climax before his erection faded away. Holding her by the wrists, he rammed into her, feeling her breasts jounce between them. He wished he was ready to come again, but then orgasm number two took her and it was enough just to watch. She spasmed around him, her mouth forming a little ‘o’ of pleasure. He held himself above her as the wave subsided. When it was over, he lay beside her and they shared tender kisses.
CHAPTER 11
After several false starts and somehow managing to run out of time for breakfast, Angelique and Noah made it back to the tour bus before nine. She’d considered heading over there separately to make things less obvious, but it was pretty pointless. Everyone had seen them go for a walk together and then stay out all night. She drew the line at holding hands though. There was no reason to actively draw attention to themselves.
John, all three members of the band and all of the roadies lined up on the tarmac to welcome them back and they got a standing ovation. Even the driver clapped from his seat behind the wheel.
“I won’t ask where you’ve been,” said John as he ushered them inside.
She didn’t say a word. Neither did Noah. A flush of warmth crept up her throat, but in the main she was too happy to feel embarrassed. They were both adults. They could do as they pleased.
Angelique went straight to her bunk and got out her new Ian Rankin. Climbing onto the bed with it was tempting, but in the end she settled for taking it to the table. It was insanely difficult to concentrate on reading, but it was easier than having to look anybody in the eye. Noah plonked himself down next to her. She didn’t look up, but he squeezed her thigh under the table and she squeezed him back.
Surprisingly, no one said much about the new couple after that. The tour got into full swing and Angelique got to see Noah in proper rock star mode. Watching him up there on a huge stage with all the lighting effects, and hearing the crowd scream for him – it was pretty damn surreal.
The man whose name they were shouting – who women were lining up to see at the stage door – that was the man who’d told her she was beautiful and made love to her in a way she’d never experienced. She watched him play every night for a week straight and she still wasn’t able to reconcile those two versions of him.
They didn’t get another chance to sneak away together – John had set the tour up so it started off gently, but after the first couple of days the pace really picked up. Things got so hectic, she couldn’t help worrying what Noah might be tempted to do in his down-time. She spent as much time with him as possible, and everyone on the tour knew what his situation was, but little seeds of concern quickly grew into some sizable fears.
What worried her most was that he’d taken to lying closed up in his bunk for great chunks of the day. It was a classic sign of depression. And the last thing she wanted was for him to start self-medicating.
One morning when Noah was still asleep, she asked John outside to talk things over.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he told her as soon as they stepped off the bus.
“Aren’t you worried? I’m pretty sure he hasn’t been using, but that might just be a matter of time. Have you seen how thin he is?” He’d come so far. It would kill her if the pressure of the tour sent him back to square one.
“He’s fine. This is what it’s like on the road – it’s hard, but when it’s all over we’ll have time to catch our breaths again.”
“What if he doesn’t last that long?” Nearly five more weeks. What would the extra stress do to him?
He put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s why you’re here. Talk to him. Be there for him to lean on.”
“I’m trying.” But there was so little opportunity for them to spend any time together. The last few days had seen everyone eating on the bus on the way to the next gig. There was no privacy. No chance to sit down and have a meaningful conversation. “He needs a break, John. I can’t talk to him when we’re stuck on the bus all the time.”
“I know you two need some... alone time.”
She shook her head and opened her mouth to object, but he talked over her.
“We’ve got three more concerts before we head over the border to Scotland and then we’ve got a night off. I can make some arrangements. Book you in somewhere for the night. What do you think?”
A whole night to themselves. “It’s a start. But I still think the schedule’s too much for him.”
“Come on, Angelique. There’ll be other nights off. We can’t afford to do this for six weeks if we don’t play enough gigs.”
“I know.” When it came down to it, she’d only been hired to keep him in a fit state to do the concerts and earn enough money to keep him solvent. Keeping him sober was the most important thing. If he lost his house – his home – that was just as likely to push him over the edge as the pressure of playing nearly forty venues in six weeks.
“Take him out. Get him to talk and make sure he’s okay.”
“I will.” In the meantime, all she could do was pray he he’d make it through the next three nights without doing something he’d regret.
***
It wasn’t until they drove into Scotland and the prospect of a night off became tangible that Noah realised just how bone-tired he was. All week he’d been thinking about the holy grail of Sunday. He’d been on the internet searching for a suitably romantic place for them to stay and daydreamed about loch-side strolls in the moonlight.
But when the driver parked up and John told e
veryone they could “piss off for the night”, he found all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. The way Angie kept smiling at him made it clear that wasn’t an option.
“So, do you want to be Mr and Mrs Smith, or have you got another alias in mind?” She sidled over to take his hand and he kissed her palm.
“No reason not to go with the classic.” They started to walk, neither of them raising the question of where they were going.
The driver had brought them to the only car park in the village. Well, the area was probably big enough to qualify as a town. He’d never heard of the place, but it had a lot fewer sheep and quite a few more shops than he’d been picturing. He guessed the small hotel he’d seen online was about fifteen minutes away on foot.
It was too early for moonlight, but as he walked along beside her, he began to lose interest in the idea of going to sleep. Bed, though... Going to bed still seemed like a great thing to do. He stopped in the middle of the pavement and spun her into his arms for a kiss.
God it felt good to hold her again. They stood smiling at each other for a few beats, then he took her hand and they carried on walking.
He’d tried to sneak a few affectionate moments since that first night, but she was always paranoid that someone would be watching. Personally, he didn’t care. After the way they’d got together, everyone on the bus knew they were an item. What did it matter if they saw them kissing? But Angie felt differently.
Then there was a concert every night and he didn’t have the energy for anything amorous. He’d see her sitting at the table with John or one of the others, and he’d barely have the strength to wave. He didn’t know how the band did it – especially the drummer. That guy really threw himself around the kit every set, and then he’d wake up in the morning with no bags under his eyes and the complexion of a dairy maid. With a beard.
He only hoped he wouldn’t prove a disappointment to Angie. It was important to him that their second night together should be as special as the first. But he definitely wasn’t feeling his best.
They walked on past the shops and houses and took a path along the edge of a field. It turned out that the hotel he’d booked a room in was the same one John had mentioned to Angie. The rough, dark stone they’d used for the walls gave the place a harsh appearance. It was bigger than the cottage they’d stayed in on that first night. He hoped it was cosier inside than the exterior suggested.
It didn’t take long to check in and make their way up to the room. The decor was plain and minimal – neutral colours and geometric prints on the soft furnishings. He sat on the bed while Angie checked out the bathroom. He resisted the temptation to lie back. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay awake if he did that.
Her phone rang on the bedside table and she came back in.
“Hello. Yes.” She walked over to the window.
He’d already looked at the view – a very empty road and a few shops opposite the hotel.
“What did he say?”
He couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t sound happy. She turned back to him and mimed writing something down. It took him a moment to work out she wanted a pen. He shook his head. He didn’t have one.
Angie marched over to her bag and found what she needed. Repeating each digit back to the person on the phone, she wrote down a telephone number, said goodbye and hung up.
“What was that about?” A sense of dread had settled over the room.
“That was The Cloister. Wesley was trying to get hold of me. They don’t give out staff details so he left his number.”
Wouldn’t she have that already? “And?”
“What if it’s Lewis? I don’t know why else he’d call. Something must have happened to him.” She clutched the phone in her hands, her face a picture of misery.
Noah rushed to her and took her in his arms. “Shh. You don’t know that. Call him and find out.”
“I can’t.” Her tears soaked through his t-shirt to wet his chest.
“Angie, you have to know for sure.”
She didn’t speak. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t think of another reason Wesley would call either.
He held her to him and hoped with all his heart they’d both be proved wrong.
***
She knew she had to make the call. She didn’t want to do it, but there was no other way to find out what was going on.
But first, she wanted Noah to hold her for a little while longer. She clung to him until the tears stopped falling, then she pulled away and looked at the number she’d written down. His mobile number. Up until then, she hadn’t even known the mobile number of the man who was raising her son. What sort of mother did that make her?
She typed it into her phone, pausing with her thumb over the call icon. All the same negative thoughts crowded in on her, but she tapped the screen anyway and put the handset to her ear. Each ring that he didn’t answer was further proof that something awful had happened. Tears prickled at her eyes. If it went through to voicemail...
“Hello?”
“Wesley, what’s happened?”
“Oh, the clinic caught up with you then?”
“What’s wrong? Why were you looking for me? Is it, is it...?” She couldn’t ask.
“Where are you?”
“At work. What’s going on? Is Lewis okay?”
“Lewis is none of your business.”
The words hit her like a slap in the face, bringing her back from the edge of hysteria. “Is he okay?” The silence on the other end of the phone was maddening.
“He’s fine.”
So why was he trying to get hold of her?
“I just wanted you to know I’ve taken out a restraining order.”
“What?”
“They would have notified you by now but no one could find you.” The disapproval was clear in his tone of voice. He knew exactly where she was.
She looked over at Noah. After their little visit, Wesley would know exactly who she was with too. “Why?”
But Wes ended the call without giving an answer. She put the phone in her pocket.
“What is it?” Noah asked, patting the bed beside him for her to sit down. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t go to him. It would be too easy to fall into his arms and let him comfort her. She didn’t deserve to feel better. Everything that had happened was her fault. “He took out a restraining order against me.” She perched herself on the windowsill.
He went to sit beside her shaking his head. “No. No, that’s crazy. On what grounds?”
“I don’t know. When we went round there... He could have said he felt threatened.” She thought of Noah putting his foot in the door. At the time, she’d been surprised at how restrained Wes had been. Perhaps he’d had this in mind even then.
“You were perfectly reasonable.”
But Wesley wasn’t. He never had been. “He’s trying to punish me. He must have thought you were my boyfriend and got angry.”
“I am your boyfriend.” He took her hand and she tried not to meet his gaze. “Aren’t I?”
That was a good question. Circumstances had pushed them together when they were both in a vulnerable place. They’d needed each other. But what would happen when he didn’t need her any more? “You don’t need to get involved in this. It’s my problem.” The stress was no good for him. He may not have said anything, but it was obvious he’d been struggling to cope over the past few days.
“I want to help.”
She looked into his eyes. “I don’t want you to worry about me. You need to focus on the tour.”
“The tour doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t say that.” If it didn’t go well he could lose everything.
“Okay, I need the money, but I don’t want to be here any more.” He stroked her hair back from her face and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Being on the bus with you every day. Not being able to hold you and kiss you. It’s killing me.” He moved to kiss her and she slipped out of his grasp.
&nb
sp; “Then I’m part of the problem.”
“No.”
“I’m distracting you. Getting in the way.”
“No.”
She walked away from him and snatched up her bag. “I can’t stay here. I need some air.”
He got up off the window. “I’ll come with you. We can go for a walk.”
“No.” She put up her hands. “No. I need to take some time.” The depth of the hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable. But then she thought of her son. She had to do something. And she couldn’t let Noah get dragged down by the situation. “I’ll be back later, okay?”
“Okay. Go for a walk. Clear your head. We’ll talk when you get back.”
She nodded. He wasn’t going to change her mind. This was her problem; not his.
***
Noah opened the window and leaned out so he could see Angie when she left. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They should have been out there together, taking a stroll hand in hand. One phone call had been enough to pull her away from him. A wave of thirst rolled over him and he wished he had a drink. It didn’t matter what – beer, bourbon, vodka, brandy. His brain fastened on the theme and he worked his way through an imaginary list, remembering the taste of every alcoholic drink he’d ever had.
A few shots of tequila and he wouldn’t know why he’d been upset in the first place.
But then what? He wouldn’t stop there. He wouldn’t stop until he’d destroyed every part of his life. And Angie would still be gone.
It took a while, but eventually she emerged and crossed the street. She went into the convenience store and came out a few minutes later with a carrier bag. The way she was carrying it made it look heavy.
If he’d been pushed to thoughts of taking a drink just because she’d gone off without him, how must she feel? Her arsehole of an ex had told her the law said she had to stay away from her son. He knew how guilty she felt about losing him in the first place. How much worse must it be to find that out over the phone? Bad enough to make her buy a bottle of something?
Black Girls and Bad Boys: Changing his Tune Page 9