Serenade Me: A Rockstar Romance (Rock Chamber Boys Book 3)

by Daisy Allen

  “You were lucky.”

  He smiles, “I was.”

  And suddenly, it hits me. A sadness I haven’t let myself indulge for a long time. I try to swallow the sob, but it just catches in my throat and makes it louder. I turn away from Marius, running towards a dark corner in the garden. It’s not as manicured here, it’s wild and slightly overgrown. It fits my mood.

  And I’m crying. Hot, thick, salty tears are streaming down my face and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I cover my face but that just splashes the wetness against my cheeks, so I just let them fall. A river of sadness as the ache burns hot and searing in my chest, like a blazing iron ball, weighing me down. I feel rough grass and pebbles under my knees, I barely realize I’ve sunk to the ground. But I’m not alone. There are arms around me, and hands in my hair and warm breath against my ear, cooing to me, comforting me, letting me know that all I have to worry about is letting it all out, to release the valve on my pain, and lighten the burden.

  “I’m here, darling. I’m here. Just let it all out,” he whispers, and there’s a husk in his voice, as if he understands the pain I’m going through. But he doesn’t, he can’t. His parents are still alive.

  “Oh god, I miss them so much,” I hear myself sobbing. And I do. God, I miss them so much. I miss them with every breath I take, with every step I take, with every note I play. I miss them so much, I don’t know who I am and where I want to be going.

  His arms grip tighter around me, and I feel him move, my face is pressed against his chest and his heartbeat is racing against my ear. A sob chokes in my throat and I feel my body shake to get rid of it.

  “Make it go away, Marius… please, just make it all go away.”

  I feel myself look up at him, his face is blurry through my tears but it’s him. And the look in his eyes isn’t pity, it’s… it’s something else. Something I’ve never seen before, from anyone. It’s something I want to get lost in.

  “Marius, please,” I beg him, knowing only he can ease the sorrow in my heart right now.

  “Anca,” he whispers, taking my face in his hands.

  And my lips are on his.

  Hard and desperate and hungry and urgent and frantic.

  And suddenly, it’s not an escape I’m looking for.

  It’s a destination.

  Him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Marius

  “Anca,” I try to say. It comes out muffled between the frenzied movement of our lips against each other.

  I don’t even know why I’m saying her name. It’s not because I want her to stop. It’s not because I want to stop, I don’t think I could if I had a gun to my head. Maybe it’s to remind myself that it’s her, it’s her that I’m kissing. This tempestuous witch who’s taken over my body and mind since the moment I saw her at the bar just a week ago. From someone I couldn’t pick out of line up, to the reason underlying every single one of my decisions.

  I’m kissing her, or she’s kissing me, or we’re in this equally together.

  “Marius,” she sighs, and the blood rushes to my head, dizzying me.

  She pulls away, her lips even fuller and more luscious than usual from the crushing of my mouth against hers.

  She bites it, as if aware that it’s puffed up against the whiteness of her porcelain skin. My hand reaches up to cup her face, and it’s wet. She’s been crying.

  Oh my god, you utter fuckhead, she’s been crying and you’re taking advantage of her?

  “Shit!” I curse myself and pull my hand away, rubbing my temple with my other hand.

  Her eyes instantly narrow slightly, there’s a furrow of her brow. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… no.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, we can’t be doing this?”

  “Why not?’

  “Because YOU… you’re upset, and I… ugh, when you kissed me, I just couldn’t stop.”

  “You weren’t… aren’t supposed to stop.”

  “Then why did you pull away?”

  “Because I still need to breathe,” she says, and there’s a tone of defiance in her voice.

  “I think we both need to breathe,” I tell her, getting up on my feet, pacing back and forth in front of her.

  She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches me. I try to ignore her eyes on me, knowing if I look at her, all logic, all reason leaves me.

  Finally, I turn back to her. She’s still on her knees, her hands on her lap, looking up at me. Her eyes are still glistening, wide, bright, her pupils open, and her lips haven’t lost their plumpness. And all I want to do is take her in my arms and make love to her. All that vulnerability, all that longingness, I want to dive in and bathe in it. And I want her to bathe in my want and yearning for her.

  “Anca,” I sink back onto the ground in front of her, taking her hands in mine, “what are we doing?”

  She shakes her head, as if ruminating over the stupidity of my question. Then she stops, and looks at me, pupil to pupil, as if nothing exists but us.

  “We’re living, Marius,” she says. “You said it, now or never.”

  Now.

  ***

  The train ride and walk back to the hotel is done in silence.

  Her hand never leaves mine and my eyes never leave hers.

  Everything that needs to be said before we do this, is being said without words.

  Leaning towards the elevator door, I press the button for our room’s floor, her hand still gripped in mine, as if there’s an understanding that if we let go, this all disappears in the wind. Let’s hold on, at least for these moments.

  The ding of the elevator startles us both, and the doors open. There’s a hesitation. I’m not sure from whom, but neither of us race to step off. I smile at her and she looks away for the first time. But just for a moment, then she leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss to my cheek before stepping off the elevator and leading me to her room.

  Pulling the key card from her pocket she slides it into the slot and pushes the door, and I follow her inside.

  For the first time, we let each other’s hands go, and stand there in the foyer of her room, staring at each other.

  “Anca,” I say, and it’s the first thing I’ve said to her since we left the park.

  She smiles and presses her finger to my lips, shushing me. Pulling her finger away, she replaces it with her lips, and then the hunger for her reignites in my torso.

  “God, Anca,” I say, this time, and my own voice sounds somewhat erotic in my own ears, saying her name.

  “Marius, take me, make love to me,” she whimpers, and those words, her voice saying those words, redefine what eroticism is in that instant.

  I take her hand and pull her arm over my neck as I scoop her up into my arms.

  I lay her on the bed and she pulls herself up onto her knees. I sit on the edge as I watch her.

  Watch as she hooks her fingers into the straps of the dress and slides them off her shoulder. The dress slinks down her body and, oh god, she’s not wearing a bra. And she is… she is exquisite.

  “Anca,” I say again, this time with barely any breath left in my body.

  She smiles and holds her hand out to me, I take it, gently. She giggles softly and yanks me against her, and I fall, losing my balance, against her. She helps break my fall with her hand on my shoulder, but then my mouth finds her. Her skin. The soft, silken, milky white luxuriousness of her flat but soft stomach, the valley between her breast, her décolletage, and then, fuck, holy fuck, her breasts. Her plump, gorgeous, soft, delectable breasts. What little patience I had is lost as soon as her nipple hardens at the first touch of my cheek against her, and I suckle on the sweet, pink nub with an urgency I’ve never felt. Her moans vibrate from the pit of her stomach and I move my mouth to her other nipple, flicking the tip with my tongue, feeling it tighten and swell in a matter of split seconds.

  Her hands are in my hair, massaging the sides of my head, an
d I wonder how it can get better than this.

  “Marius. Don’t make me wait. I’ve waited for you long enough. Make love to me. Now,” she says.

  I pull off her, off the bed and she sits up, following me. I fumble with my belt, but she reaches out, replacing my hands, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding the zipper down. Her hands graze my hard cock as she does, and my whole-body freezes.

  Fuck.

  God, I want her so bad.

  She looks up at me, a soft smile playing on her lips, and there’s something so sweet about her that I crave. I lean over to kiss her.

  As I do, she slides my pants and briefs down my legs, and when I finally pull away, I’m hard and ready in front of her. She bites her lips, looking at my cock and then back at me.

  I can’t help but chuckle at the sexiness of her look.

  “No, bad girl. You can’t touch me until I’m inside you or else this will all be over way too fast.”

  “Fine, I just hope that you recover fast then.” The look she gives me is sly and I almost blow on the spot at the thought of her mouth wrapped around me.

  It’s a delicious thought, but not what I want.

  I want her.

  I want to be inside her.

  Taking her and giving to her, everything.

  I pull my t-shirt over my head as I kneel on the bed, and she moves up higher, her hand bracing against the bed head, her breasts, her goddamned fuckable breasts exposed to me completely. I pull the dress down her legs and trace my fingers over the soft purple cotton panties covering her from me.

  “God, Anca.” I say, feeling the fullness of her lips against the fabric.

  “Hmmm, Marius, stop playing,” she murmurs.

  “Oh, baby, there’s no chance of that. My job is to play and make beautiful music, remember?” I whisper into her ear as I lean over her, my fingers hooking into her panties and pulling them down. She lifts her hips, helping me help her get naked. “And I’m going to make you whimper and moan and scream and beg until you’re hoarse. You’re my instrument, darling. And I’ve been waiting a lifetime to play you.”

  With my last words, I dip the tip of my finger inside her, and she arches against me. I hold her wrists against the headboard with one hand as I ease my finger all the way inside her. She groans, and it matches mine when I realize how tight she is.

  This witch has me spellbound for life.

  “Marius… please,” she begs me softly, my name like syrup spilling from her lips.

  “’Please’ what, darling?” I murmur into her ear as my finger delves deeper into her, feeling her warm, wet, softness squeeze around me, giving me a preview of what’s to come for my cock.

  Her eyes close and her head shakes from side to side on the pillow as her hips rise again, pushing against the hand playing with her sex, getting her ready.

  “Say it, Anca, I want to hear you say it,” I urge her, my need growing so fast, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out on my threat that I will tease her until she begs me for it.

  My thumb reaches for her clit, circling it gently for a moment before running the tip over it. Her whole body jumps and her eyes fly open, her tongue darting out to run over her lips.

  “Marius!”

  I grin at her, her reaction to my touch on her most sensitive spot.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “Stop playing…”

  “And…?” I prompt.

  She reaches for the back of my neck and pulls my face to hers, pushing her mouth against mine, kissing me so hard my teeth graze the inside of my lips. But I don’t care. This is the Anca I want, alive, filled with need and lust… for me.

  I pull away and she looks at me as if I’ve betrayed her.

  “And...?” I prompt her again. “Stop playing and what Anca?”

  Her eyes narrow, as if she can’t believe I’m making her talk at a time like this, like I’m a dickhead for wasting time when I could be giving us both what we want.

  My thumb runs over her clit again, and she moans.

  “Fuck. Marius!”

  “Yes darling?”

  “Fuck!”

  “Fuck what?”

  “Fuck ME, you goddamn fucking asshole!”

  I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh, which gets me an evil glare from her.

  I lean over and kiss her softly, before whispering into her ear, “As you wish, my sweet, sexy girl, as you wish.”

  Reaching for the condom, I quickly tear it open and slide it over me, careful not to linger. I already don’t think I’ll be able to last too long inside her.

  I lift her legs, spreading them to rest on either side of my hips.

  She doesn’t take her eyes off mine, and I promise myself not to ever break her gaze. I want to watch her, watch every single expression on her face.

  I ease forward, running my fingertip along the soft, silky skin of her inner thighs. God, she feels so fucking divine. My fingers run to the soft plump lips of her sex and hold them open as I press forward with my hips, the tip of my hardness pressing against her.

  “I want you so much, Anca. You can’t even imagine how much I want you, want this.”

  She reaches up to run her fingernails lightly over my face and it makes my skin tingle.

  I take one last breath and slam my hips forward, my cock driving all the way into her.

  I hear a roar, but I don’t know if it’s from me or her.

  I pull out and slam myself back into her again.

  I watch as her head fall back against the pillow.

  “No, don’t look away, I want to watch you come, Anca.” I tell her as I piston my cock in and out of her.

  Her brow furrows as she struggles to open her eyes, her hand reaching up over her head to steady herself against the headboard as I thrust against her, her sex taking every inch of me.

  “Oh fuck, yes. Marius, I’ve wanted you for so long,” she moans, her eyes dark and filled with lust.

  “I know, baby, god, I know, we’ve wasted so much time,” I grunt as my hands come down to grip her hips, anchoring her so I can fuck her harder. I’m losing all sense of reality as the sheer pleasure of being inside her, making love to her, fucking he,r takes over.

  “Anca…” I can just hear myself whimper. I’m so close, already, damn, what has she done to me?

  I feel her move under me, her legs bending, and suddenly she’s squeezing me even tighter. The breath catches in my throat.

  “I’m going to come, Marius…” she tells me, promises me, threatens me.

  And the thought sparks fireworks in my brain.

  “Come, darling, come for me. I want to watch you, feel you,” I struggle to say between my own ragged breaths.

  I reach out to touch her cheek, a tender moment before the deluge.

  She turns her face and grazes her teeth over the soft pad of my thumb.

  “Come, Anca, now,” I tell her. And she obeys.

  Unable to keep her eyes on me, her whole body tenses her hips lifting from the bed, her back arching, pushing herself as far onto my cock as she can.

  “FUCK!!! Oh god!” She screams as I bite down on the inside of my cheek, holding back my own orgasm until she’s done. I don’t want to miss a single moment.

  I watch as she shakes as tremors wrack through her torso, over and over until she falls back onto the bed. I can’t wait any longer I grip her thighs and drive myself faster and faster into her until I feel every muscle of my body tense so hard it hurts and then release.

  “Ahhh! Fuck. Anca. Baby!”

  “I’m here, Marius,” she murmurs, with the last of her strength, urging me on.

  I fall against her when I’m finally empty, collapsing into a heap of sweat and satisfaction.

  There’s a roaring in my ears as the blood in my body races back and forth, my heart filling and emptying all at once. When it finally quietens, all I can hear is the sound of our breaths slowing and a soft thump thump in her chest.

  “Areyoeeleengokayee,” I think I h
ear her say.

  “Hmmmm?”

  “Ahhhoooeelingookeee?” she mumbles, only a fraction louder and no more intelligibly.

  “Yes, that’s much clearer.”

  There’s a soft humming and lifting of her chest as she giggles softly. And somehow that sound gives me even more joy than what we’ve just experienced. I shuffle up the bed and pull her into my arms, brushing the few strands of hair matted to her damp forehead.

  She grins at me; no, she beams.

  Like my very own star, shining down to grant light into my life.

  “Hey,” she says, sticking to a shorter, more manageable phrase.

  “Hey,” I beam back, and she settles against my chest.

  And we sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Anca

  I look out into the crowd, three thousand glowing cell phones raised into the air, and I want to dive off the stage and fall into the array of twinkling lights and adoration.

  I’m standing in the wings watching the guys perform their closer, an electric, monolithic version of Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven and there’s not a single soul who’s not transfixed by the magic happening on stage. Except that it’s not just on stage. The absolute brilliance of the Rock Chamber Boys experience is that it’s all encompassing, enveloping every one into the fold. There’s something so generous, so giving, so welcoming and inviting about their music, their performance, that every single audience member feels like it’s a personal concert for themselves and yet everyone is invited, everyone and anyone who wants to be a part of it.

  It can only be that way because that’s how the guys really are, to their core. There’s no ego, no put-on airs about their talent. They know they’re fucking good, but they also know their talent is a gift from somewhere, and that they had no hand in it. And they don’t want that talent to go to waste, it was a gift to be nurtured and shared with the world.

  Behind me I can feel the crew rooted like statues to the floor, watching the finale, looking out from behind the scenes to see their hard work come together.

  We watch as the guys on stage move into a circle, playing off each other, spontaneous and practiced all at once. The spotlights dance off their strings like silver droplets, scattering over the awed faces of the crowd, as the music builds and builds and builds, each knowing what notes are going to come off their bandmate’s instrument even before they do.