Hard Rock Deceit: A Rock Star Romance

by Athena Wright

  "I was really scared," I whispered. "You really, really scared me."

  August drew me down, pulling me into his lap. It was awkward on the desk chair, my legs on either side of his hips, perched on his knees. Still, I snuggled into his chest as best I could, burying my face in his neck.

  Warm, strong hands ran soothing lines up and down my back. Inhaling slowly, I breathed in his scent. Somehow, no matter the time of day, he always managed to smell intoxicating.

  "I never meant to scare you," he said. "It won't happen again."

  "It better not," I mumbled. "Or I really will throw something at your head next time, unconscious or not."

  Strands of his hair tickled my cheek as he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. Then my ear. Then my jaw.

  "You'd have to get in line," he mumbled against my throat. "The others will probably kick my ass before you have a chance to get to me."

  With a gentle touch on my chin, he lifted my head, dipping down to place a kiss on my neck. A pulse of pleasure went straight from that kiss, down my belly, to settle between my legs.

  "You've got good friends," I managed to say.

  "I do," he agreed.

  Keeping my head tilted back, he covered my neck with his lips, tongue and teeth. Quick pecks at first, then slow, sucking kisses, soon followed by sensual nibbles, just verging on the edge of pain.

  I squirmed in place, thighs clenching and squeezing, as I was assaulted by thrilling sensations.

  With a palm on the small of my back, August urged my hips forward to nestle against his.

  I'd only felt his hardness against me once before, that time on the roof. Since then, I'd thought my mind had exaggerated the memory, making everything seem much more… impressive than it really was.

  But my memory was correct. The rise in August's jeans was large and hard against me, straining against the zipper. I could feel how hot he was through my leggings. The heat of him was nothing compared to the inferno rapidly gathering strength inside me.

  I rocked against him, bringing us closer together. I hissed as his length pressed against the very core of me. He let out a groan, his lips stilling on my neck.

  "What are you feeling right now?" he asked, the teasing words muffled against my throat.

  Wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders for balance, I continued with the small rocking motions, rolling and writhing against him.

  "Probably the same as you," I said, pleasure singing through my veins.

  August's hands went to my legs, stroking up and down. His thumbs rubbed my inner thighs, inching upwards with every pass.

  "Right now I feel like ripping off those damn leggings of yours and licking you 'til you scream."

  My cheeks flushed red hot, even as a groan left my lips.

  His lips curved into a wicked smile against my skin.

  "Is that what you're feeling?"

  I suddenly envisioned a dozen scenarios involving August's naked body and my tongue. My insides throbbed at the thought.

  Indistinct voices sounded from outside the bus. Still distant, but coming closer.

  We stilled.

  "Shit." August dropped his head back and blew out a breath.

  I scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning with embarrassment now. I took a quick inventory of myself, making sure my hair was smoothed and my clothes were unrumpled.

  August adjusted himself discreetly.

  "Someday soon I'm going to get you alone," he said.

  I shivered at the husky words, full of promise.

  "And then what?" I asked, aiming for playful.

  "And then I won't have to ask what you're feeling."

  Ice blue eyes burned into me, hot enough to melt glaciers.

  "I'll have you screaming it for hours."

  Chapter Sixteen

  "Noah, tell me why you decided to put a piano piece on your most recent album. It's an unusual choice for a heavy rock group like yours."

  Noah turned his dark eyes to the brunette interviewer sitting across from him. I angled the shot to get both of them in the frame. I expected Noah to give a short, curt answer. Maybe something close to, because I felt like it.

  "The first time I played it through from start to finish, it sounded complete."

  His low tones were barely audible, making the interviewer sit up and lean toward him, pushing the hand mic closer to him.

  "I knew I didn't want to change a thing," he continued. "It was perfect the way it was."

  The interviewer jotted something in her notebook, satisfied with his answer.

  It was nearly midnight. The group of us arrived at our hotel, relieved to make our way to our presidential suite, only to be stopped by a journalist from a local paper. Usually interviews were held at the concert hall, but we were on a tight timeline for this leg of the tour.

  As exhausted as the guys were, you wouldn't have guessed. They plastered on friendly and polite faces the moment they realized she was a journalist, not a crazed fan breaking into their suite.

  The interviewer finished her notes and turned her mic toward the twins.

  "As Darkest Days' famed twin guitarists, you used to be indistinguishable from one another. Fans have taken notice recently that you're not dressing alike, and have started asking to be called by your own individual names. Why is that?"

  Damon and Ian shared a glance.

  "We've been pretending to be each other for years," Damon said.

  "Even our own band mates couldn't tell us apart," Ian continued.

  "It's fun to fool people, but it gets old after a while."

  "We're getting past the age where pranks like this are fun."

  "It's time for us to be ourselves," they both said at the same time.

  The interviewer blinked at their synced words, nonplussed, before turning to the next band member.

  "August, can I ask about the incident that happened last week?"

  "When I passed out in the middle of the concert, you mean?"

  August reclined into the sofa, looking at ease. He didn't seem to mind the question.

  "There are rumors about what might have happened," she continued.

  "It was a combination of dehydration and exhaustion," he said. "The others always say I work myself too hard. I guess it just caught up to me."

  The effortless lies were disconcerting. If I didn't know better, I would have taken him at his word.

  "Damon, fans have been loving the behind the scenes photos of the band." The interviewer turned her attention to the twin. "How does it feel to have someone taking photos of your private moments?"

  "I'm cool with it." He grinned wickedly. "Our photographer's cute. I don't mind having a pretty girl following me around."

  I flushed behind my camera as Damon turned to throw me a thumbs up and a wink.

  The interviewer followed his gaze. Her eyes fell on me. I'd been trying to be inconspicuous, staying in the background as I snapped away.

  "This is her?" the interviewer asked.

  She gave me a once-over. While she wore a smart pantsuit and a neat braid down her back, my hair was loose around my face and I was wearing my usual baggy shirt and leggings. I wondered if she was judging me. I wasn't exactly dressed professionally.

  "I'd love to ask you some questions," she said.

  My glasses slid down my nose.

  "Me?" I asked, just to clarify.

  She nodded emphatically.

  "Yes. Your photos have been shared all over the internet. People are loving them. These aren't quick snaps from a camera phone taken by an intern. You clearly know what you're doing."

  "I hope I do," I said without thinking.

  "This would make for a great story. Maybe I can interview you separately? An on-camera interview? I'd like to know more about your process. Your inspirations, things like that."

  "I'd rather not," I said weakly, heart spiking in my throat.

  The interviewer gestured to her own camera operator behind her, not hearing me.

  "L
et's get a shot of her and the band for the paper."

  The tips of my fingers went cold even as my face grew hot. This was my worst nightmare. I belonged behind the camera, not in front of it.

  "There are hundreds of people who would kill to be in your place," the interviewer said as she shoved the mic in front of my face. "Can we talk about how you scored the job?"

  "I just—" I stuttered, tripping on my words as the camera operator scooped in close, trying to get the whole band in frame behind me.

  "Cassie. Tell me why I chose you."

  I turned my head to look at August. The calmness in his expression, his easy smile, blunted some of my nerves.

  "Why did I choose you?" August asked again.

  "Because—" I started without thinking.

  August nodded at me encouragingly. I remembered step two of his challenge.

  Step out of my comfort zone.

  Do things that scared me.

  "Because… you said you saw something special in my work. Something you didn't see very often."

  "And what was that?" the interviewer jumped in.

  I pushed some of my hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ears. I met August's eyes, ignoring the interviewer, ignoring the band, speaking only to him.

  "You said I had passion."

  "Interesting," the interviewer drawled. She flicked her gaze between me and August, searching.

  I quickly glanced away, fiddling with my camera.

  She continued asking me questions. With August's silent support, I managed to answer most of them, talking about my artistic background, my education, my previous work. I'd begun to actually relax into it when she said the words I'd been dreading.

  "So what made you want to be a photographer?"

  "I suppose—" my throat closed up, nerves getting the better of me. "It's a way to express things."

  "What kind of things?" she asked.

  "My thoughts. Feelings. Emotions." I flushed and looked away.

  August stood up.

  "That should be it for the night, yes?" August spoke directly to her and her camera operator.

  I heard the woman start to argue and plead for more time, but August began to usher them out the door.

  I fled to my room, glad for the chance to escape. I took a moment to shake off any residual nerves, and started to get ready for bed.

  I'd never liked being asked about my work. Why did it matter what my thought process had been while taking the photos? Why did it matter what my inspiration was? Would knowing what I'd been feeling change how the person viewed my photos?

  I didn't like that idea. I didn't like the idea of baring my soul to the public for consumption. I put enough of myself into my art. I had to keep some parts of me private.

  I'd just stepped out of the bathroom, calmer now with my teeth brushed and face washed, when my door creaked open.

  August peeked his head in.

  "You doing okay?" he asked. "Haven't thrown up or climbed out the window?"

  "I managed to suppress the urge."

  He closed the door behind him.

  "I'm proud of you."

  I snorted.

  "I barely managed to make myself coherent."

  "You did something that scared you and made it through. Baby steps."

  As I contemplated his words, his eyes dropped, taking in the tiny tank top and sleeping shorts I'd put on for bed. A simmering heat glinted behind those ice blue eyes.

  My nipples hardened into stiff peaks. "Did you know she was going to interview me?"

  His gaze was locked on my chest, not trying to be subtle in showing his interest.

  I remembered his words from the tour bus.

  The next time he got me alone he was going to make me scream for hours.

  "No," he said. "I would have warned you if I'd known."

  He took a step forward. My back was to the wall. I couldn't have inched away if I'd wanted to.

  I didn't want to.

  "I don't know why she thought anyone would care about me. I just take photos." My breath hitched as he came within arm's reach, his delicious scent filling my nose.

  "Because I'm not the only one who sees passion in your art." His voice was low in his chest, a husky murmur. The heat in those words sent my pulse racing.

  "It's all thanks to you. You're the one who helped draw it out."

  He took a final step. He was right there, a hairsbreadth away from me. I had to tilt my head up to see his face.

  "Don't thank me yet." His eyes blazed. "I'm not done with you."

  Heat flooded my system, melting my heart in my chest, turning my belly to liquid, dripping down my thighs.

  "I locked the door." A sly smile crossed his lips.

  August cupped the back of my neck, urging me forward, until his body pressed against every inch of mine. His hands slid down my throat, coming to rest on either side of my ribs. I could feel the indentation of each finger as they gripped me tight, drawing my body closer.

  "That means no more interruptions," he added.

  August's thumbs caressed the underside of my breasts. I inhaled sharply. Those wandering thumbs continued their exploration, brushing against my pebbled nipples, rubbing small circles.

  I took in a shuddering breath. It was as if my breasts had a direct connection to the apex of my thighs, those tiny motions sending pleasure straight to my core.

  Arching my back, I pushed my chest forward. He took the encouragement to cup me in both hands, stroking and massaging. I stifled a groan.

  He still hadn't kissed me yet. I pressed forward, bringing my mouth to his. He licked at the seam, tongue brushing a slow, sensual line along my upper lip. My legs nearly fell out from under me. He found a weak spot I hadn't known I'd had.

  Chuckling into my mouth, he did it again, slower this time, teasing. I moaned. He swallowed it with a kiss, his tongue brushing mine in time with his fingers brushing my nipples. The dual onslaught had me reeling.

  I whimpered his name. He growled low in his throat. Taking both my hands in his, he pinned them to the wall above my head. I was left helpless to do anything but squirm and writhe against him.

  His lips left mine to trail down my neck. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of my throat. Pleasure exploded between my thighs. I nearly came right then. Another sensitive spot.

  He continued kissing lower until he reached my breasts. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, nipping lightly through the thin cotton of my tank top. The material barely blunted the sensation.

  While his mouth played with my breasts, he transferred my wrists to one hand, using the other to trace a line down my body. He ran down my sides, my belly, and curled around my hip. His fingers teased at the elastic of my sleep shorts, tugging them down. My breathing went shallow as I stepped out of them.

  Two fingers slid between the valley of my thighs, rubbing me through the thin cotton of my panties.

  I gasped, clenching down, my inner walls already slick and wet and aching.

  August pressed a kiss to my mouth. His eyes gleamed, an odd curiosity in his gaze, almost masked by the desire I saw in them. That gaze roved over my face, taking in every minute change in my expression, examining me.

  "Aren't you going to ask what I'm feeling?" I managed to choke out.

  With one deft motion, he pushed my panties aside and dipped between my folds, parting me.

  I let out a small, embarrassing sound, half-groan, half-squeak.

  "I think I have some idea," he said, wickedly amused.

  Those fingers teased at my entrance as I rocked against him, urging him without words to continue. He would circle, rub, then pull back, over and over again, driving me crazy.

  I whined.

  "August, please—"

  He placed his mouth on mine, muffling my shriek as he plunged a finger inside me. I panted heavily into his mouth. He pumped in and out, that finger slick, my wetness easing the passage. I bucked against him, wanting more, wanting it deeper, faster.

&
nbsp; He obliged, slipping a second finger in next to the first. My head thumped back against the wall. The pleasure was almost too much, the flames inside me rising higher and higher.

  I was close, almost there, when he pulled away. My head jerked back down to gape at him.

  "What—!"

  "Shh," he murmured into my mouth.

  For a moment I was confused as he crouched down in front of me. Then he peeled my panties down my legs to my ankles. My limbs turned to jelly as he used both hands to spread my thighs open, baring me to his gaze.

  He leaned forward and blew a hot puff of air on the most intimate part of me. I gripped his hair in both fists to keep myself from toppling to the floor.

  Without warning, August buried his face between my legs and sucked my clit into his mouth.

  I did shriek out loud then, heedless of who might hear us. It was like the night on that rooftop, when the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving us as the only two people in the universe, until it was just me and August and the pleasure he was giving me.

  He used his tongue to circle and swirl, his lips to suck and kiss. My legs trembled. My head thrashed back and forth. My grip on his hair must have been painful, but he didn't complain, didn't stop, just continued sending me to greater and greater heights.

  I was close. So close. It was too much, and yet not enough. I was aching inside, throbbing almost painfully, empty and needy.

  He thrust two fingers inside me, crooking them forward.

  I screamed, breaking into pieces, shards of me exploding outwards like shattered glass. My body tensed, muscles locking, fireworks shooting across my vision. I gasped for air, panting, shuddering, pulsing.

  I'd never felt anything this good before in my life. Not even when I'd touched myself. This was what sex was supposed to feel like. I mourned for my younger self. If I'd known pleasure like this could be had at the hands of someone I cared about, I wouldn't have pushed myself. Wouldn't have forced myself to try and feel something.

  I would have waited. Waited for August.

  If only I'd met him sooner. I wouldn't have spent years thinking there was something wrong with me. Thinking I was broken.

  I wasn't broken.

  I was complete. I was made whole under August's touch.

  Finally, the pleasure slowly began to abate, turning into something more manageable, less overwhelming. Falling forward, my whole body began to relax, even as small tremors still made me twitch and jerk.