It was a large locker room with several showers lining the wall on the right. Sinks took up the opposite wall, which stood a little higher than my waist. Across the divider, rose a long row of lockers. Wood benches filled the space between.
Idly, I crossed the room, my heels rapping a staccato beat against the floor. My steps echoed in the empty space. Nervously, I ran my finger across the edge of the sink.
The sound of the lock engaging drew my attention. A shock of anticipation centered in my breasts and rocketed to my groin. I could practically feel his hands on me already. And then they were. Pushing my hair aside, Shane scraped his teeth over my nape strong enough to make me suck a ragged breath through my teeth. His tongue swirled over my skin, soothing the sting.
His hands roamed over my hips, moving steadily downward. Grasping the hem of my dress, he began working it up my thighs. “I used to come to places like this to get my next fix,” Shane confessed. “I suppose I still am, in a sense.”
Exerting the slightest pressure against my back, he guided me down until I was bent over the sink. “Further,” he demanded. “Spread your legs for me, Emelia.”
I did as he asked, my breath coming out unsteadily. Shane slipped his fingers along my lips, parting them and finding my clit. A hoarse moan worked its way up my throat. I pivoted my hips, jutting my ass into the air. Shane laughed lowly.
“Greedy for me, are you?”
“Always,” I confessed. “I want you.” In my head, I was fangirling again. He was hot on that stage. Fuckin’ hot. He deserved my worship.
“Not yet, beautiful.” Dropping to a crouch, Shane flicked my clit with his tongue. My knees trembled. He braced my ass by splaying a hand on either side.
“Shane.”
Slipping a finger into me, he began gliding slowly in and out. Every time I moved my hips to match his rhythm, he stopped and halted my movement by splaying his hand across my ass again. “Always in a race toward the end,” he tsked. “This is all about you, Emelia. I’m trying to make it last.”
“I’m all for instant gratification.”
“Greedy,” Shane commented. My retort died on the edge of my tongue when he buried his face against me. My mind turned to mush, except for the sensation building between my legs. Letting go of my ass, he reached forward with his left hand and bared my breast. Rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb, he increased the pressure to the point of pain, while teasing my clit with a series of flicks from his tongue. His right hand continued to pump into me with long, though hastier strokes. I came with a gasp, my body seizing as he wrought every last tremor from me.
“Stop, please, oh God, I can’t take anymore.”
“The fuck you can’t.” Just as the spasms died down, he circled his tongue again, breathing new life into them. My whole body convulsed. My knees gave way. If not for the sink, I would’ve been a pile of boneless flesh on the ground.
“Please!”
“You want me to stop?”
“I want you to fuck me!” His attentions only awoke my desire. They stirred the greedy bitch lying dormant inside me. He engendered an ache that only his cock could satiate. Without it, I felt empty, incomplete.
“Fuck!” Rising to his feet, his zipper fell. I turned my head, watching as he stroked himself. “Addicted, Emelia, I’m fuckin’ addicted to you.” He thrust into me, hard and fast. He wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t without a bite of pain. I was wet, but he was still large, and he moved aggressively. “I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get inside you, and I feel like I’m going to die when I fuckin’ do.” Pulling my hair, he tugged my head back and nudged my ankle, spreading my legs further apart. He pushed himself further in. His hips slapped against my ass. “Ah, fuck!”
“Yes!” It was a shout of pleasure. Yes, I was addicted, too. Yes, he felt like heaven and hell in one hot package.
“Hold on, Emelia! Do you hear me? I’m going to fuck you hard!” I gripped edge of the sink, my fingers whitening around the porcelain. Shane withdrew and slammed forward. I cried out, unable to contain it. My fingers slipped. I scrabbled to get ahold, and found purchase just before his hips crashed into mine again. Still, his force jarred me forward until my thighs flattened to the sink’s edge.
With the support of the sink, I let go with one hand and reached down between my legs, letting his balls brush against my hand with every thrust. They were slapping deliciously against my clit. I felt a certain frisson over his maleness.
“No! Fuck no!” Grasping my hand, he flattened it against the sink. “You’re not going to make me come yet! Not this fuckin’ time!”
Grasping the sink, I felt a mental shifting of planes. Sex with Thomas had never been this explosive or desperate, not even make up sex. I’d done it because it was a necessary evil. It was expected. I’d wanted to please him because it got him off faster, gotten the deed over sooner. There was no love involved in the act.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I was in love with Shane Richardson, drummer for Hautboy. Recovering drug addict. Party boy. Fucker of women. There was no getting around it.
I wanted to please him because it, in turn, gave me pleasure. It gave me power. It made me feel loved and desired. I liked to push him over the edge. I liked to hear his hoarse groans. I liked to hear him hiss my name like a malediction as he came, his fingers digging into my hips and thighs. I liked to know he was as lost to me as I was to him. At least if I was falling, I wasn’t alone. I was taking him down with me.
Slowing his pace and then stopping altogether, Shane ran his fingertips up the center of my back. “What’s wrong, Emelia? You just froze up on me.”
“Please, don’t stop,” I said weakly. Grasping his hands, I guided them to my breasts. Instead, Shane urged me up, withdrawing himself from me.
“Tell me what’s wrong, or I’m going to assume I was hurting you. Was I too rough?”
“No. It was good.” As Shane turned me to face him, I sank to my knees and grasped his cock, taking him into my mouth. I swirled my tongue over his head, while I worked the base with my hand.
“Fuck.” His face went slack. He gathered my hair into his hand, but surprised me again by untangling himself from my grasp. “Stop, Emelia.”
Frowning, I stood. Shane lifted me, setting me on the edge of the sink. When I tried to slide down again, he wedged himself between my thighs. “Why do you keep insisting that there’s something wrong?”
“Because there is. I know you better than you think.”
My jaw slammed closed, teeth clacking together. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“I’ve never been in a relationship of any length before, but I’m not stupid. Just tell me what the fuck I did, so I don’t do it again.”
“You didn’t do anything, Shane!” I exclaimed, and then quickly modulated my tone. “It’s me. I had too much to drink, and I’m getting ahead of myself. That’s all.”
“Getting ahead of yourself,” he repeated, watching me with those ever-so-watchful gray eyes.
“That’s all,” I said evasively. God, please leave it at that.
“Are you falling for me?” His lips turned up into a teasing grin. Ffuuccckkk! I dropped my head into my hands, hiding my face. This wasn’t happening. Here. Now. “Jesus! You are!”
“Stai zitto,” I grumbled through my fingers. I was. I’d known it since I broke the kiss with Garrison. “This isn’t a joke. It’s not funny.” I wasn’t sixteen.
“Hey.” I looked up, found Shane staring back at me. He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek, all humor gone from his eyes. “I’m not laughing at you.”
“I’m sorry.” I felt like such as asshole. He deserved to be happy, and I was ruining it for him.
“For what?”
“It’s just too soon, Shane. This is happening too fast.”
“You can’t deny what you feel, Em. It is what it is.”
“I’m not denying it. I just don’t want to talk about it, not yet, not here in some stinky locker r
oom after a show.”
“Fair enough. As long as you’re not running.”
“I’m not running.” That would be his breaking point. Drugs and alcohol were mine. They were lines neither of us would cross, I prayed.
Shane didn’t bother wasting any more time on talk. We only had a short time left together before he had to regroup for autographs. Taking my mouth in a kiss, he teased my senses back into carnal submission. I found myself shimmying closer to the edge of the sink and widening my legs for him.
“Fuck!” Shane hissed. Grasping his cock, he stroked the length, staring at the juncture of my thighs. I was already glistening for him, so when he began nudging himself into me, he slid easily home in one smooth glide. His hips wedged between my thighs, spreading them wider. Still, he circled his hips as if being in me wasn’t enough.
Dropping my head back, I moaned aloud. I felt Shane’s hands at the bust of my dress, tugging it downward to bare my breasts. He captured the peak of my left in his mouth, and then the right, teasing them rigid with a thin layer of moisture in the cold room. Intently, he watched them pebble, and then fell upon them again.
Watching the muscles and tendons across his shoulders and back ripple and contract as he ravaged my breasts, I nearly came. He was a fucking work of art, his body honed to perfection with all the working out he had done. I wanted to worship every single bulge, starting with the most impressive one, the one between his legs.
“Whatever it is you’re doing,” Shane warned, “stop.” He looked up from where he suckled at my breast. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated. “I can feel every little twitch, beautiful, and right now you’re testing my control.”
“Mind over matter,” I replied. “Take your shirt off.”
“Not a chance.”
“I want to see you.”
“No.”
“Please?” With a sigh of assent, Shane grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. I realized that I had made a big mistake. You see, most women don’t realize that all those yummy photos of men with bulging biceps and pronounced veins are taken just after the subject worked out. It gets their blood flowing, opens the arteries, makes all those lovely tendons come out and pose for the camera. My man Shane had just spent the past three hours moving most, if not all, of his limbs simultaneously. That’s one hell of a cardio.
My mouth went dry.
“Breathe,” Shane reminded me. I took a breath, feeling emotionally unsteady. I really had to lay off the champagne. I couldn’t even keep up with my own emotions.
Unsurprisingly, lust won out. I clung to Shane, meeting his lips halfway. He ceded to my demand and opened, granting me access to his mouth. Our tongues danced, teeth scraping as he picked up the pace, pumping his hips faster and faster.
Breaking the kiss, he focused on my breasts, watching them jiggle inelegantly over his thrusts. Meanwhile, I focused on his abs. Well, sort of focused, because my eyes wandered idly from his abs to his Adonis belt and dropped lower, watching his cock as it plunged in and out of me. The sight nearly undid me.
That was the final straw. Shane grasped my hip with one hand and leaned forward, taking my nipple into his mouth. He tugged it lightly with his teeth, rolling it not so lightly back and forth. The combination of piqued senses overwhelmed me.
The moment the first tremor ran through me, Shane thrust harder, faster, chasing the rush. I could no longer suppress my cries. Our grunt and groans resounded off the concrete walls and across the vast space of the locker room.
My nails scored his shoulders and back, leaving red welts on his flesh as my peak took me fully. I screamed as if I’d come undone, as if he’d unwound the fabric of my soul and altered the course of my universe. For all I was concerned, he had.
Despite my bones turning to jelly, Shane continued to chase his peak. Every muscle in his jaw flexed, his teeth set on edge. His eyes remained fixed between my legs, his hands gripping my hips to keep me in place, while he hammered furiously into me. With my last vestige of strength, I reached my hand between my legs and stroked my clit, sending my already sensitive flesh into a fresh spate of contractions.
I swear, his eyes crossed. Every muscle in his body locked. He growled in a deep timber, a primordial sound that seemed to fill the vast room. His body glistened against the faint light from the dimmers overhead. Hair clung to his face and neck. In that moment, I’d say he was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
We sat there for a length of time in silence, catching our breath. Well, I sat, Shane half stood, clinging to me. I clung to him, balancing precariously on the edge of the sink. My stomach muscles strained to keep us upright, but before long, I began to tremble from the effort and could no longer hide my fatigue.
“Sorry,” Shane said, lifting himself from me. He withdrew and carefully tucked himself back into his jeans, though leaving them unbuttoned. “Don’t move.”
Jogging across the space, he rooted through the linen cabinet and returned victoriously with a towel. By that time, I’d snuck away from the sink and made my way over to one of the stalls in the bathroom adjoining the locker room. No matter what we did during the act of sex, I still had reservations over the after effects.
“I was getting you a towel,” Shane said, startling me. I lifted my head, found him looking over the partition. He was standing on the toilet of the next stall.
“What are you doing?”
“Talking to you.”
“Go away.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“Exactly. So why can’t I—”
“Wipe yourself?”
“I was going to say have a little privacy.”
“I just had my face buried in your pussy and you’re worried about me seeing you clean my cum from your thighs.”
“I was taught to have manners.”
“Your mother told you to politely excuse yourself from the room after sex so that you could blot your boyfriend’s cum from your pussy without him seeing you?”
“God, I hate that word!”
“Cum or pussy?”
“No, ‘mother.’ Please don’t say it again. You’re killing my buzz.” I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t relax with him standing there. I knew Shane was right, and that it was irrational, but it was ingrained.
“You sit like such a lady.” I looked up, scowling. Shane had a joint in his hand. He was passing it back and forth under his nose, smelling the pungent scent of the dried leaves. “Your knees are touching and everything.”
“Shane.”
“Am I really bothering you?”
“Yes.”
“Tough.” Placing the joint between his lips, he rested his head on his arms, getting comfortable. “I want the kind of relationship where nothing’s sacred between us. No secrets. No unease. I want you to be able to say or do anything you want without fear of censure or contempt.”
That was actually quite a beautiful thing to say. Still, I couldn’t go with him watching and listening. “Do you miss the drugs?” I asked as a distraction. He looked at that joint with the same passion he had just looked at me.
Frowning, he jumped down, his feet appearing below the partition. I heard the rustle of his clothes and then the patter of fluid as he urinated in the toilet beside me. Oddly enough, it was enough to ease my own insecurities so that I could go.
“Every fucking day,” he admitted. “What I wouldn’t give for a line of coke right now or a bottle of Idol.” The sound next to me faded. Again, the rustle of clothing as Shane zipped his pants. “But I don’t miss the crash that came afterwards.”
Finishing myself, I quickly flushed and fixed my dress. Shane was leaning against the stall as I opened the door. “Besides, waking up to you each morning is much better than a fuckin’ hangover.”
“Well, thanks.”
“I mean it.” Leaning forward, he stared intently, waiting for the next question.
“Why do you carry that?” I asked, gesturing to the joint hanging from his
lip. It seemed such a temptation to keep it on him all the time.
“Pot should hardly be considered an illegal substance,” he countered, giving me a look that said I was being irrational. “It’s already legal in some states. It’s only a matter of time until the rest of the country follows.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I wasn’t opposed to pot or alcohol, except when it fell into the wrong hands.
Pulling the joint from between his lips, he appraised it while collecting his thoughts. “It gives me a sense of victory every time I don’t smoke it. I take strength from that. Another battle won. Even if it’s a small one.”
I nodded and walked back to the sink to wash my hands. Shane joined me, standing at the sink beside mine. “Do you resent me for making you quit?”
“I’m in a much better place in my life right now, Emelia. You make me happy. How could I resent you?”
“Because it’s insecure of me to judge you based on Tommy’s faults.”
Finished, Shane turned and leaned against the sink, watching me again. “I haven’t exactly been the paradigm of jolly good drunks,” he admitted. “Your concern isn’t without merit.”
“You weren’t in a good place then,” I granted. The words didn’t come out easily. I was stretching my objectivity razor thin.
A smile played at the corner of his lips. “You had a lot of champagne, didn’t you?” He held his hand out. I walked into his arms, settling against his chest.
“Yes.”
“I need to buy champagne more often.” Resting his chin on the top of my head, he sighed into my hair. “You’re running on the theory that drinking affects your mood rather than personality. While you’ve changed my outlook, I’m not sure that I don’t still have those innate fears and drawbacks that made me drink in the first place.”
His father. I think I hated the man as much as my own mother and I’d never met him. “I thought you were amazing out there tonight. I mean really and truly amazing. If your father doesn’t recognize your talent, fuck him.”
“I said fuck him a long time ago, but you know as well as I do that setting it aside isn’t that easy.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “So I drink. When I drink, I push people away. I do or say whatever I have to in order to get them to leave me the fuck alone. That’s the last thing I want to do to you.”
Breaking the Habit Page 19