by Arell Rivers
She turns her head, and our lips crash together. I’m pounding into her tight, wet pussy while kissing her senseless, my hand tight in her hair. I’ve never felt so out of control, so desperate to come.
“It’s you, Ro. Just you.”
She keeps pace with my frantic thrusts, moaning her encouragement. All too soon my balls tighten, signaling that I’m about to come.
“Now!” I order, and her pussy contracts around my cock.
“Oh, Cole!” she cries out. “Yes!” With one more thrust of my hips, I come in long spurts. A few minutes pass while our breathing calms. Then I turn us on our sides and take care of the spent condom.
“That was,” she starts.
“Amazing.” I finish.
“Yeah. Amazing.” She nuzzles my neck while I run my hands up and down her body, paying particular attention to her ass.
She giggles. “You’re a true ass man, aren’t you?”
“What can I say? You found me out.” She shimmies her ass in my hands.
“You better stay still, or else I’m going to have to make you scream again.”
In response, Rose thrusts up against me once more, accompanied by another one of her delightful giggles.
“Game on,” I murmur into her ear.
Later, after she’s had three more orgasms to my two, I say, “I seem to remember your promising to cook me dinner.” I’m staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. We’ve just come out of the shower, sated from the day’s sexual escapades. At least for now.
Smiling, she responds, “I already prepped everything, so it won’t take me too long. I even made red velvet cupcakes for dessert.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had red velvet. I think Mom made a red velvet cake for Jayson’s birthday a couple of years ago.” The memory makes me smile.
Picking up on my good mood, Rose says, “If you want to eat dinner while it’s still dinner time, we better get down to the kitchen. Someone was asleep most of the day.”
“But I was worth the wait, right, baby?”
“Always. Let me go grab my apron,” she pauses and grins at me. “And I’ll start cooking.”
My eyes follow her as she sashays out of the bathroom in one of my button down shirts. She bends over to pick up the apron in the corner of the bedroom, giving me another glimpse of her perfectly round, bare bottom. After winking at me, she turns and leaves the room.
I’m as close to pure bliss as I’ve ever known. I want to bottle this feeling to protect us from the outside world forever.
I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and join her in the kitchen. The oven is on, something is simmering in one large pot and she’s working over another sauté pan on the cook top. The scent of fresh herbs makes my mouth water. She has my iPod on and is humming tunelessly, dancing through my kitchen. My chuckling makes her turn and stare at me with a dangerous glint in her eye.
“You’re not making fun of my singing, are you, Mr. Manchester?”
Placing my hand over my heart, I shake my head. “Of course not. I’m laughing with you.”
Her eyes narrow as she shakes a wooden spoon in my general direction. “I don’t remember laughing.”
A good offense is the best defense, so I ask, “What are you making? Looks complicated.”
She smiles. “I’m making Chicken Milanese with coconut rice and a white bean soup. They’re my mother’s recipes.”
“Smells wonderful.”
“Take a seat. Salad’s on the table.”
“I could get used to this. I love seeing you in my kitchen. It appeals to the caveman in me.”
“Well, plant your ass, Tarzan, ‘cause soup’s up.”
Playing along, I grunt in response, which elicits a giggle from my Jane. “Told you I was laughing with you.”
“Right.” She gives me a stern look that almost makes me pull her down into my lap. “Now enjoy.”
I bring a spoonful of the soup to my lips, praying that it’s good. The bacon makes the beans pop. “Rose, this soup is delicious. Sit down and enjoy it with me.”
Her face flushes pink at the compliment. Sliding into her seat at the dinette, she says, “Glad you like it.”
The following course is just as delightful. So is dessert. I can’t get over how much I love eating dinner together like any other normal couple. Patting my full stomach, I offer, “Compliments to the chef. Dinner was perfect.”
“Thanks. It was fun cooking for you, but don’t get too used to it,” she quips. “I’m home later than you most nights.”
The mention of her job raises the specter of last night. “Did everything play out the way you wanted it to in the press, Ro?”
Placing her napkin on the table, her lips form a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, you and Emilie were the talk of all the tabloids.”
“Hey,” I reach for her hand. “We did what we had to do. Gruesome was there, at Ultra, giving us directions.”
She nods. “I know. I spoke with Greta while you were sleeping. Everything’s right on track.”
“It was rough for me being out with Emilie last night. She’s a nice girl, but she’s not you. My heart was here with you all night. You know that, right?”
In response, she looks down and says, “Yeah.”
“Hey,” I say, grabbing her chin and forcing her face up to mine. “I’m telling you the truth. You can ask Emilie. I think she got sick and tired of hearing about you.”
Wide-eyed, Rose asks, “You didn’t tell her my name, did you?”
“Of course not. I just told her that I have someone very special in my life.”
“Oh. Okay.” Rose’s voice turns to a whisper as she says, “The pictures of you two look great. You’re a striking couple.”
“Rose, stop it. You fixed us up for a purpose and we were both playing our parts. This situation is tough on all of us. Emilie’s nursing a broken heart. I think the fact that I wasn’t interested rubbed some salt into it, I’m afraid.”
Rose’s ice blue eyes meet mine, and I continue, “You know, I showered and brushed my teeth in your Command Center before getting into bed with you last night. I didn’t want to bring my work into our bedroom.”
“Really? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you. Besides, I enjoyed watching you sleep. You’re so beautiful.”
“You don’t have to lay it on that thick.”
“I’m telling you the truth. You are beyond beautiful to me. When I look at you, I don’t just see your gorgeous body. I see straight to your wonderful and giving heart, scary-smart brain and wicked sense of humor.” I touch her heart, head and mouth to emphasize my points and pull her in for a long, deep kiss. “Not to mention your great rack, perfect ass and tight pussy.”
She swats at my hands as I try to emphasize these points. “Nice, Cole. Way to make a girl feel special.”
“Oh, I want you to feel special, all right.” I grin at her, and she smiles back. Her smile reaches her eyes now. “Are we good?”
“We’re good, Cole. I needed that. After seeing the photos from last night and having to post on your social media sites today about Emilie, I felt a bit . . . off. Which I knew was ridiculous because I was the one who suggested her. But Mom said,” she stops short with a quick intake of air.
I cock my brow. “What did your mother say?”
She stands and brings the dishes over to the dishwasher. “I called to confirm I had her recipes right. When she asked why I was cooking such an elaborate meal, I told her about you. About us.”
My heart jolts. I’m no longer her dirty little secret. Grinning, I bring more plates over to the dishwasher, and kiss her cheek. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Yeah, well, don’t be so quick.”
“C’mon, I want to meet the woman who made you who you are.”
She steps around me, and wipes down the counter. “Remember when I told you Mom doesn’t trust men?” She scrubs at an invisible stain and conti
nues, “Well, most men. Her best friend’s son, him she adores.” Under her breath, she mutters, “She’s obsessed that he and I will get back together.”
My mind ticks back and I remember that her mother and her first boyfriend’s mother are best friends. That’s ancient history. I place my hands over hers, stilling their path. “Once I meet your mom, I’m sure she’ll understand I’m not most men. That I’m with you for the long haul.”
Troubled blue eyes reach out to mine. I try to share her worry, but I’ve yet to meet a woman who I can’t charm. With Rose as my incentive, I’m sure I’ll win her over in no time.
“She’s quite stubborn.”
“Hmm. A Bloomer trait?” I tease.
She smiles and swats at me with the sponge, dripping water down my shirt. I look down my torso to the water stain that’s rapidly expanding, and then back up at her face, which is now starting to flush.
“Seems like I’m already wet. Now it’s your turn.”
“OKAY, EM, HAVE a safe flight. I’ll see you when you get back from Rio.” I kill the call.
Walking over to the patio, I join Rose by the pool. “Love your bikini, baby.”
She smiles at me and asks, “Was that Emilie?”
“Yeah. She’s on her way to Rio for a magazine shoot.”
Rose nods. “She’ll be back here in a couple of days, and then you’re flying out to New York together.”
“The paps will love that.”
“Your media romance is going very well, Tarzan. This morning I saw a photo of you and Emilie that was supposedly taken a few days ago in Paris.”
I snort. “As if. I’ve never been there. Even if I wanted to leave LA, the album’s post-production schedule has been too crazy.” The past few weeks have been intense, finishing up Moving Forward Slowly. Not to mention navigating life with my stalker, who seems fixated on Rose. She sent an ugly email to Rose’s work address, which was promptly turned over to both our private investigator and Detective Mahoney. Thankfully, Gruesome didn’t find out about it. I want this dealt with like yesterday.
I’m done thinking about my stalker and talking about my fake girlfriend, especially since my real one is sitting right next to me. My eyes zero in on Rose’s bikini top and I move one cup to the side, exposing her boob.
With a pink face, she swats, half-heartedly, at my hand. “Cole.”
“Rose,” I counter, catching her nipple between my fingers and rolling it, enjoying its instant puckering. Leaning down, I lave it with my tongue, which elicits a little gasp.
“Tarzan, we have to get ready for the party.”
“Mmmmm.” I suck hard on her nipple, knowing it drives her crazy.
“Agh,” she moans as her body arches in the chaise. “People will be here in an hour.”
“Relax.” My fingers move southward, pushing her bikini bottom to the side to stroke her wet folds. “You’re so ready for me, Ro.”
“We have to prepare,” she says unconvincingly. “The party.”
In response, I find her clit and begin the ministrations that soon bring her to the brink. Stopping suddenly, I tease, “I guess we should make sure that everything’s ready for the party.” I begin to pull my fingers away from her wet heat.
“No!” Rose grabs my hand to keep it between her thighs. “Finish what you started.”
“Bossy.” I kiss her neck. “I like it.” I nip at her earlobe as I insert two fingers into her opening.
“God.”
“No honey, it’s just me. Cole.”
I torment her with a rhythm that brings her to the precipice but doesn’t allow her to fall over it. My cock strains against my bathing suit, demanding to join in the action. Pulling a condom packet out of my pocket with my free hand, I turn it over to Rose. “Please do the honors.”
With glazed eyes, she takes the packet from me and rips it open with her teeth. I fucking love that I can make Rose, who thrives on control, so crazy.
She pulls my bathing suit down and rolls the condom over my throbbing cock. Not bothering to remove her bikini, I bring her astride me, move the material of her bottoms to the side and thrust into her hot pussy. I trace the flower birthmark at her hip with my fingers. She rides me fast, rubbing her clit against me, and we both shatter within minutes.
Following a short respite, Rose says softly, “You’d think some of this would have worn off by now.”
Chuckling, I push her hair from her face. “What would have worn off?”
“The crazy monkey sex we always have.”
“Monkey sex?” That makes me laugh so hard that she nearly falls off my lap. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, you always turn me on.”
“Yeah. But it’s been over a month and our sex life only seems to be getting hotter.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No. It’s a great thing.” She blushes. “It’s just different.”
“We’re different, Ro. We’re us. Don’t overthink, keep enjoying.”
Noise from inside the house draws our attention. Quickly, I right her bikini while she fixes the front of my bathing suit.
Wills leads the caterers onto the patio. “Just in the nick of time,” I whisper in Rose’s ear, causing her to smile. Hand in hand, we walk over and direct the set up.
Rose leaves to get changed for the party. I turn to Wills and ask, “Everything all set for tonight?”
“Yes. Roberto and I are at the front gate, and Shawn is watching from the street. We have everyone’s photos, so we know who to let in. Of course, we did background checks on every one of the caterers. You’re good to go.”
We shake hands, and he disappears back into the house. I hate that some nut job stalker has forced me into living like this, but I refuse to take any chances where Rose is concerned.
Fifteen minutes later, all the preparations are well underway and I’m up in our room getting dressed. Rather, I’m changing into a different pair of trunks and throwing on a T-shirt. Rose has a sexy dress over a tankini, and her hair hangs loose around her shoulders.
“I appreciate that you only wear your bikinis for my private pleasure.”
“Don’t let your ego get too out of control. This was my only clean bathing suit.”
I walk over and play with the strap of the bathing suit underneath her dress. Pitching my voice low, I say, “You’re fucking hot, especially when you’re dirty.” Her shudder brings a smirk to my face. “You were made for my private pleasure, though. Don’t forget that.” I smack her on the ass as a reminder.
“Okay, Tarzan. Let’s get downstairs and greet our guests.”
We wander down the stairs and check to make sure that everything is in order. The party is a small gathering of our closest friends to celebrate my new album. I’m excited to share the cover art with my “inner circle,” but, more importantly, this is the first party that Rose and I are hosting as a couple.
The doorbell rings and I open the door. Little Emma stands between her parents, holding their hands.
“Wow. And did you drive over here, Miss Emma?” Smiling, I bend down and scoop up my goddaughter.
“How are you doing, baby girl?” She gurgles in response.
“Hi, Suzanne,” I lean over and give her a peck on the cheek. Shifting Emma slightly, I give Dan our patented man-hug.
I walk into the family room with Emma in my arms, moving toward the new toy I bought for her: a tiny, baby piano. Rose and Suzanne make for the bar area, and Dan joins me and Emma. “She’s getting more gorgeous every time I see her, Dan. Thank God she takes after Suzanne.”
“Thanks, man.” He rolls his eyes. “She is the most beautiful baby, if I do say so myself.” We both smile and listen as she plays. Rather, bangs the keys.
Dan faces me. “So, have you told her yet?”
Even though I haven’t told him so, Dan’s guessed that I’m in love with Rose. “No. I haven’t found the right moment.”
“You will. I’m happy for you. Rose is an amazing woman. She keeps yo
u in line and on your toes. I like her.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “Don’t screw it up.”
“Yeah, well I’ll try not to.”
Dan ruffles his daughter’s hair, then fixes her pink bow. “How are things with Emilie? You’re all over the gossip sites, you know. Rose is a fabulous publicist.”
“Among her many other talents.” I smirk. “Em’s fine. She’s in Rio now.”
“Does that woman ever stay in one place? I get tired just hearing about her schedule.”
Emma’s babbling and pounding on the keys draws our attention for a moment. “Yeah, she’s all over the globe. Which is great for her career and even better for me since I don’t have to actually go out with her much in order to keep our names linked.”
“How’s it all working out on Rose’s end?”
“Well, Ro’s the one setting up all our dates, so at least she has some control over it. But seeing photos of us kissing and stuff kinda freaks her out. I wish Rose and I could go public, but with my stalker . . .” I pause and we look at each other, concern written on both our faces. Clearing my throat, I continue, “Plus, Gruesome would have a cow if she found out about us.”
My gaze travels to Rose and Suzanne, who are sipping their drinks and chatting like old friends. Dan glances at them too, then says, “Your security for the party is good. Discreet.”
“Thanks.”
The doorbell interrupts our conversation. Leaving Dan to watch over his musical prodigy, I greet Jessie and Amanda. Rose comes up and gives them both hugs before ushering them into the house. I’m about to close the door when my friend Ozzy walks up the sidewalk.
“Manchester!”
“Martinez!”
I slap him on the back and he punches me on the shoulder, our typical greeting. I ask, “How’s it hanging?”
“To the right, as usual.” Smirking, he hands me a bottle of Cristal and enters the house.
“Thanks for this.” I hold up the bottle. “I’m stoked you were able to make it. It’s been way too long. How’s the tour been?”