by Anthology
Clothes went through the war of wills and she wasn’t sure any of it would be salvaged. She wasn’t sure she’d fare any better. And finally, there was just Deacon. She drew him down on top of her until every line and curve of him was pressed into her. And still, it wasn’t enough.
Her fingers dug into the powerful ridges of muscle at his back, and she opened herself up to him. Madness clawed inside her, singing every surface he touched. She felt the silky head of his cock at her entrance and gloried in it. This—yes, this is what she needed.
“Just you.” She reached between them and dragged the tip of him through her wetness. “Only you inside me.”
“Are you sure?” His brow furrowed, even as he rocked against her.
Dying to feel all of him, she nodded. “I’m on the pill.” She was drenched with the wanting of him and the captivating moment that was only theirs. Six weeks of sharing him with the world, his bandmates, her job, the bus.
This was just for her.
Just for him.
Just for them.
And only now did she realize how much she needed this. The thrill of the chase, the outdoors, even the muffled excitement of his bunk, paled in comparison to this simple bed and the quiet.
“Harper.”
His voice was thready with need and hope. She needed this as much as he did. Maybe even more. She lifted her hips until she sheathed him in her heat. The stretch of him inside her with no barriers fired up the blood between her ears until the room was nothing but white noise and Deacon.
He tried to pull back, his eyes widened in realization and in an awesome pleasure that reverberated inside of her. She dug her fingers into his flanks and moved under him.
“Deacon.” His name was a shuddering cry that didn’t seem like it could have been her voice. It was choked and rough with the wanting of him. But it was enough. He seemed to understand that she was giving herself to him as selflessly as she could.
He looked between them, at his cock driving into her, and then he looked up and into her eyes. The brutal beauty of his straining body over her shaved off any hope of holding back from this man. She folded herself around him and took every punishing thrust. He held onto her so tight, she knew there would be bruises over her shoulders and back. She knew the insides of her thighs would scream and still she took him.
She surged under him as all of her muscles locked, and her brain winked out, leaving nothing but pleasure and scent behind. The ocean scent of him rolled her under, and what remained was a hollowed out woman. Surely, she had nothing else to give him.
And yet, when she managed to peel her eyes open, she saw him smiling above her.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
Every nerve ending inside her begged to differ, but he simply pulled her leg from around his hip until he could stack it on the other. He lifted her knees higher on the bed until they both groaned at the deeper pressure.
She closed in on herself as he rocked inside her. He lowered his mouth to hers, muttering nonsensical things about how tight she felt in that growling timbre that he usually saved for the stage. But some nights, she got to hear a taste of it.
He scored his teeth down her exposed throat then to her shoulder. He bit the crest of her clavicle and then found her nipple, sucking strongly. He pounded into her faster until nothing mattered but where they met. The position was friction and power, and the glory of this man with a savagely beautiful body hurtled her into a wall of pleasure.
He arched his back, and his huge hand branded itself into her hip as he held on. Fascination burned through the red haze of lust as she watched his corded neck flex and his face turn to bliss. She’d never had a man inside of her without protection, so the actual feel of his release was like a wash of heat inside of her.
His hips undulated against her again and again as her body clasped him tighter, refusing to let go. And like an aftershock, the sprinkle of contentment blanketed her in shivers of awe.
Instead of pulling out of her, Deacon curled around her and lightly pulsed inside of her, his arms warm around her waist and his chin in her neck.
“Deacon, I…”
“Shh. I know.”
He knew what? She didn’t even know yet. Everything was jumbled inside of a ball of ecstasy and warmth. And as she slipped into sleep, she held onto him so very tight.
* * *
Dawn crept into his room on a whisper. They’d spent the night wrapped around each other. He’d woken to her soft touch in the cover of darkness, and again with an insistent hand that had ended in a shower during the dead of night.
Exhaustion dragged at him, willing him back to sleep, but he’d forgotten to close the curtains last night and he was too used to the coffin blackness of his bunk on the bus. Even the stillness of the bed felt a little weird to him. He was so used to the overnight travel and close quarters.
They had a king-sized bed to themselves and still, Harper was sprawled over him like a blanket, her cheek against his chest and her hand riding low on his hip. She shifted, and he hissed as her fingertips brushed his morning erection. Last night should have sated him, but he already hungered for her again.
Morning biology was only part of his discomfort. He didn’t want the night to end yet. Harper had been so open and free with her touches. Every time with her was exciting, but last night had been different. She’d held nothing back.
She’d been completely his. Body, heart, and mind.
He didn’t want to see her pull back again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to push down the pain if she tried to make excuses or ignored the very real love that had surrounded them last night.
“Deacon?”
He stroked a hand down her back. “Hmm?”
“I don’t want today to be the last time I see you.”
His hand stilled and his heart slammed. “What are you saying?”
She levered herself up. “If you were serious, I think we can try and make the long distance thing wo—”
Deacon rolled her over onto her back and squeezed her tight.
She tapped his shoulder, laughing. “All right, Big Guy. Breathing isn’t an optional thing.”
He pressed their lower bodies into the mattress, propping himself up on his forearms. He couldn’t stop from threading his fingers in her hair. “We’ll make it work. I promise.”
She smiled up at him, her perfect sky blue eyes shining. “I think you’re insane, but I’m in. How am I supposed to give up all these awesome orgasms?”
He lowered his mouth to hers. “The sex is definitely in the stratosphere.”
She wiggled until she could get her legs around his hips and let her roll them over. Sunflowers and warmth curtained him with her golden hair. “It’s not only the sex.”
The little niggle of doubt cracked in his chest and he breathed in deep. “It’s a really good side benefit though.”
She laughed. “Damn skippy.” Her arms slid around his neck and she hugged him tight before propping herself on her hands over him. “This is new territory for me, Big Guy.”
“For me, too.”
“Good. We can blunder through it together.”
He lifted her up and fit himself along her warmth, sighing when he found her so very receptive to him. Her eyes fluttered shut as he lowered her on his cock. “Show me just how good we are together.”
She moved against him with a soft sigh, her body opening for him instinctively. Her hips moved in time with his easy strokes, and when her eyes slitted open, she let out a soft cry that ended in his name. When she rose above him, he barely managed to swallow down words of wonder.
Shining blonde hair haloed around her as she rode him with the sun kissing her skin. He reached up to cup her generous breasts, leaning forward to catch a tip in his mouth. She wound her arms around him, dragging his mouth to hers, and he swallowed her cries of surrender.
Clasped around him, she milked him into a mind-numbing orgasm that almost let him turn off his mind. With her warm and cuddly at
his side, he drifted off.
It felt like only a few moments later his phone let out an irritating fog horn alarm. As much as he wanted to hide out in his room with Harper and make love to her until her eyes were crossed, he needed to go downstairs. Jackson Miller had called an early afternoon meeting with the band. He’d been insistent that they do it now, and not at the end of the tour.
Was that because they’d be out on their asses tomorrow?
It felt like the tour had been successful enough to warrant at least entertaining the idea of an album. So what did it matter if they waited until after the last show?
The entire car ride, he’d gone over every possible scenario, including the implosion of the band thanks to Snake’s arrival. Loyalty was very much a part of Nick’s make up when it came to the band, and it was one of the reasons Deacon was here with them.
They hadn’t given up, even when it had looked hopeless. Even before the song he’d written with Gray had gone viral, there had been a steady decline in hope. Just how long could they pretend that Snake hadn’t been dragging them down?
And now, with Jazz and Gray? There was no doubt their new drummer had infused the band with life again. Even Snake at his best couldn’t touch the talent and drive that they found in her. Add in Gray’s innate talent that blended seamlessly on stage with Nick, and they were unstoppable now.
But if Nick was stupid enough to try to put Snake back into the band, would they even get a contract? Wouldn’t that ruin every chance they had? Jazz was the reason they’d exploded on the scene.
Nick had to know that.
A hand came up and caged over his nose and mouth.
“Stop thinking so loud. You’re interrupting my REM sleep.”
“I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
She levered herself up and touched her nose to his. “Right. Like that’s going to happen. What’s up, big guy?”
“Just band stuff. Same as last night.”
She sighed then pressed her cheek to his. “Nick’s not dumb.” She crawled over him, stacking her hands on his chest so she could rest her chin on them and stare him in the eye. “He has dumb moments, like…oh, last night. But in the clear light of day, he’s going to realize that it’s not just about him anymore.”
“I want to believe that.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I have seen Nick do too many stupid things over the years to trust it.”
“Then why do you stay?”
He gently slid out from under her to sit on the edge of the bed. There were some days when he had to ask himself that very question. “Because I remember how it felt the first time I sat in with Simon and Nick on the boulevard just near Venice Beach. It was balls hot, and no one was paying attention to them.” He laughed. “Simon was singing his heart out to an old Led Zeppelin song and butchering the words.”
He eased back on the bed, and she curled onto her side to listen. “He was buzzed on cheap beer and high as a damn kite, but there was magic there. Nick was laughing at him and kept shouting out the correct words, but Simon didn’t care.”
She smiled at him, the delight obvious in her eyes.
“What?”
“Just you.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss over his jaw then up to his lips. “I can see the love there. And that’s why you stay.”
He sighed. “From that moment on, I was hooked. They had such amazing, raw talent. Neither one of them could stand music classes, so they were pretty much self-taught.”
She crawled up until she could curl into the pillows beside him. “And you took every class you could.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if there was no room for doubt.
“All right, smart ass.”
She poked him in the chest. “You seem like you were the class geek.”
“Do I look like a geek?”
Harper’s laugh was priceless. The same laugh from the tattoo studio when he’d first fallen under her spell. He didn’t get to hear that laugh too often, but when he did, it was pure magic. He grabbed her and pulled her under him, tickling her sides.
“Do I look like a geek?”
“No!” She twisted away from him, kicking out until he pinned her down, one hand braceleting both of her wrists over her head. “No, you’re not a geek!”
“That’s better.” He hovered over her. The worry twisting his gut easing with every puff of her breath and echoing giggle.
“What?” She wiggled, trying to get out from under him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason. Just glad that you’re here.”
She stopped struggling and lowered her lashes. Just when he was going to back off, and let her go, she met his gaze again. “I’m glad I’m here, too. But we’re not having sex again. I’m freaking hungry.”
He rolled his hips against her. “You sure?”
“Put that weapon of mass destruction away there, mister.”
“It’s never been called that before.”
She snickered. “Put that dimple away too. Lethal,” she muttered and wiggled out from under him. “I’m taking a shower.” She looked over her shoulder. “Alone. You can’t be trusted.”
He grinned and watched her perfect ass disappear into his bathroom. He stretched out and rolled off the bed. He dragged on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and went out into the hall. There was a central room on the top floor where all the wings converged, but that was empty.
Jazz’s door was shut, as was Gray’s. Surprisingly, Simon’s was ajar. Deacon patted his pockets, but he’d forgotten to grab his phone. He went back to his room and flicked his iPhone to life. It was barely eight in the morning. Either Simon was still partying, or he’d never made it to bed.
There was no way he was willingly awake. Deacon padded to Nick’s side of the penthouse and found his door open as well. He peeked in and saw the bed had been slept in.
He headed down the stairs to the kitchen. Beer bottles littered the counter as well as a melted tub of Rocky Road ice cream. He scanned the room, finding more bottles and a half empty decanter of scotch. A nest of blankets lay on the L-shaped couch, but no sleeping body.
Had Snake stayed the night? Or had Jazz curled up as she normally did but found her way to bed eventually? It didn’t seem likely that she would have stayed down there with the party, but stranger things had happened.
With a sigh, he began gathering the bottles. Ten minutes later, he had the brunt of the mess cleaned up and a garbage can full of chips and ice cream that had gone stale. He nearly stepped in a seven layer dip that looked more like dog chow. He didn’t want to know why that was on the floor.
“Deacon? Is that you down there?”
“Yeah,” he called up. He turned to find Jazz at the top of the stairs in fuzzy pink socks, an oversized Foo Fighters t-shirt, and pink cotton pants with cupcakes all over them, George in her arms. Her dark hair didn’t have any of the clips of color in it like usual. Instead, it flowed in an unrelieved inky black down her shoulders and back.
Her eyes were puffy from either a sleepless night or a crying jag. The way she cuddled George close, he figured a mixture of both. Deacon opened his arms, and she flew across the room to him, rocking him back a step as she burrowed into him.
“I don’t know what to do, Deak.”
“I know. We’ll figure it out.”
She looked up at him, lashes starred with tears and not a stitch of makeup on. Not even her contacts. She looked about twelve fucking years old. How could Nick be so heartless?
He sighed and pressed his cheek to her hair. “We’ll make him see reason.”
“We shouldn’t have to.” She stepped back. “Who is he to even try to say that Snake should be back in the band?”
“The guy that started the band.”
Jazz whirled around, but took a few steps back until she butted up against Deacon. He laid a hand on her shoulder.
Nick’s gaze was even and his chin lifted, but he quickly dipped his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. “Look, abo
ut last night…”
“Yeah?” Jazz stood as tall as her five-foot frame could get.
Simon came through the door after Nick. He had a pitch black pair of shades on his face and a large coffee in his hand. He lifted his cup. “Nick’s an asshole, and he’s sorry. Can we put it aside?” he said wearily.
“Just like that?” Deacon folded his arms over his chest.
Nick took a pack of smokes out of his pocket and flipped a cigarette between his fingers. Finally, he tucked it behind his ear. “I was stupid last night.”
“You think?”
“Aww, come on, Jazz, I was just happy to see Snake. I got a little too drunk, and the old days were too close. I started talking out of my ass.”
Deacon frowned. “That’s a quick turnaround.”
Nick scratched the back of his head. “Yeah well, after a few gallons of beer and a talk with Snake last night, we decided it was better if we go our separate ways.”
Simon slapped Nick on the back. “More like we saw the light, but Nicky isn’t going to own up to that.”
Nick wouldn’t meet Deacon’s gaze. Instead, he went into the kitchen and spun the K-cup holder until he found his preferred blend and snapped it into the Keurig. He shoved a mug under the spout and turned around. “I can’t go back to how it used to be. We can’t.”
“Really?” Jazz sniffed. She set George on one of the stools in the breakfast nook, and tucked her arms around her stomach. “Because Snake’s not up to playing?”
“No.” Nick came around the counter in front of Jazz. Nick dug his hand into her clamped down arms and shook her hands free. “No, because he’s not you. C’mon, you’re the Pink Power Ranger. You kick ass. We can’t replace you.”
Jazz wrapped her arms around Nick, and Simon came up beside them to hug the two of them.
“Such a beautiful moment,” Simon said with mock sniffles.
“Shut up.” Jazz pushed him away. “Get off me, Super Slut.”
“There we go, all is right with the world,” Simon said and set his coffee on the table. He uncapped the decanter and sloshed a hit into his coffee before putting the top on. “Now, I’m going upstairs to sleep and shower until our meeting. What time is Jackson coming again?”