by Carian Cole
“Reach under you and hold my cock, Evie,” he whispers against my lips.
It takes me a second to grasp what he’s doing and then I get it. Reaching beneath me, I hold his hard shaft while he gently lowers me down on him, my lips spreading over the head. We kiss and he lowers me a tiny bit more. I gasp and moan into his mouth. This position is crazy, his cock entering me at such a strange angle. It’s tantalizing. As we kiss, he lifts my body up and down, just a tiny bit so the tip of his cock teases my opening, in and out, in and out.
I practically claw at his chest and try to clench myself around him, wanting more of him, much more. I am completely helpless in this position, unable to move my legs or push myself down.
“You feel so amazing,” I whisper to him, caressing his cheek. I don’t know what this man is doing to me, but he has completely rattled me. My whole body and heart are aching for more of him.
He turns and lays me on my back on the couch, spreading my legs. His hand goes to my wet heat again. Licking his lips, his eyes watch intently as his finger slides in and out of me.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, glancing up at me.
I reach for his hand and pull him toward me. “Storm . . .” I’m losing my damn mind wanting him. I hook my leg around him, pulling him further onto me.
He sighs then sinks down on me, his mouth coming down on mine as he spears his cock into me. I gasp and buck up and he stills, giving me a moment to stretch around him, then slowly starts to push further into me. Pain flashes through me, my body not used to the size of him.
“Holy fuck, baby,” he whispers, slowing his thrusts, rolling his hips gently, feeding me tiny bits of him at a time until my muscles relax.
We kiss slowly, softly, matching his thrusts. My hands clutch his muscled ass, pulling him to me. He lifts my leg up, pressing my thigh against his chest and driving harder down on me, hitting my g-spot.
“Storm . . .” I start to gyrate against him. He feels incredible buried inside me. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. If he stops just when I’m about to climax again, I will die of frustration. My body can’t take any more of the start and stop.
“Not a chance.” His voice is low and strained, his eyes dark and intense as he watches himself plunge inside me. The mere visual of him above me sends a thrill throughout my body. Watching his abs, thighs, chest, and shoulder muscles contract and flex as he makes love to me is a remarkable sight. His long hair hangs down between us, tickling my breasts like erotic feathers with each thrust. His eyes latch onto mine and he grins impishly.
“Like what you see?” His voice is sultry and playful.
I wind my hand around his neck and pull his lips to mine.
“I love what I see.”
I wake up with his naked body spooned against the back of mine, his arm curled around me, holding me to him. I carefully get up and walk to the bathroom. My entire body feels sore from last night. Memories of it send a warm flush through me. I never imagined a man could be so sensual and passionate. Storm was no wham-bam type. He worshipped my body, leaving no inch untouched or un-kissed, always assuring me he was connected to me—soft kisses, caresses, and sweet playful words intermingled with fast, hard thrusts that shook my core.
I clean up my face, brush my teeth and head back to the living room, pulling on a short silk robe. Storm is still sleeping soundly on the couch, his naked body stretched across the entire length of it. Looking at this beautiful, sexy man, last night feels like a dream. How can someone like this want me?
My buzzing phone tears my attention from staring at his ass. I pick it up to see a text from Amy.
Amy: #BlizzardChick is trending on Twitter! Someone posted a hot photo of you and Storm.
Oh, shit. I run to my desk and turn on my laptop, navigating to the band’s social media site. I gasp and cover my mouth. Right there is a photo of Storm pinning me against the wall at the club, his hands on my ass, his tongue practically down my throat.
Underneath: STORM VALENTINE’S NEWEST TOY—#BLIZZARDCHICK. LOOKS LIKE HE’S MELTING HER SNOW NOW!
Shit, seriously?
Biting my lip, I read some of the comments.
I’M SO JEALOUS!!
THIS WON’T LAST !
I’D LIKE A PIECE OF THAT ASS!
SHE’S FAT! #FATTY
I LIKED HIM BETTER WITH MELODY MEADOWS!!!!!!
IS THIS THE CHICK HE WAS IN THE BLIZZARD WITH?
I’D DO HER!
LUCKY BITCH!!
DAYUM, I WISH HE’D DO ME LIKE THAT.
PUBLICITY STUNT! I’M FRIENDS WITH SOMEONE IN THE BAND. HE’S JUST DOING THIS FOR PUBLICITY!
All the comments make me feel nauseous on some level, but that last one makes my hair stand up.
He wouldn’t.
I’m not sure how long I sit there staring at the screen, watching the new comments roll in. It’s like a disease, spreading, morphing, making my skin crawl.
“Baby, what are you doing? You better not be working over there.”
I hear him stick his e-cig in his mouth and come up behind me. I slam the laptop lid down and turn to him, hopefully hiding my growing panic over all the comments and hashtags.
“Just checking my email.” I smile up at him.
“I’m naked on your couch and you’re checking your email?” He reaches over me and lifts the lid, his eyes scanning the screen. “Oh, fuck me. Already, this shit is starting with these assholes online?”
“Apparently so. Hashtag BlizzardChick is trending.”
He rolls his eyes and goes back to the couch, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.
“Come over here.” He takes a drag on his cig. “You look upset. Come talk to me.”
I close the laptop again and cross the room, sitting on the couch next to him. I curl my legs under me and pull the pillow into my lap. “I’m a little upset,” I admit, peering up at him from beneath my hair.
“Why? I thought we had a great night. Did I hurt you?” Concern furrows across his face.
I grab his hand and lace my fingers with his. “No. Well, yeah, a little, but that’s not it.”
“Then tell me.”
I nod over at the laptop. “The comments, the picture. I’m not used to all this stuff. Some people are saying really nasty things about me. About us.”
He pulls me onto his lap. “Evie, I know it’s hard, but you can’t let that stuff get to you. I don’t want to keep you a secret. I want to be out in public with you. But with that, comes this shit. We have to just ignore it as best we can. I grew up with this stuff, and it sucks. I’m used to people putting our pictures in magazines and then this social media crap. I hate that you have to deal with it now, too.” He pushes my hair off my shoulder and rests his lips there. “Last night was fucking incredible. Let’s talk about that instead.”
“It was, but—”
“But what?”
“One of the comments . . . it says they’re friends with the band and that you’re just with me for publicity. To get attention, I guess.”
Pulling away, he shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “Are you kidding me? You don’t believe that shit, do you?”
My eyes drop, and my hesitation to answer him infuriates him.
“Fucking Jill probably posted half that shit. She does crap like that all the time to start trouble.”
Well, that would make sense. She obviously wants to make me uncomfortable, and she seems the type that would do stupid things to try to come between Storm and me.
“I don’t fucking play games or do shit for publicity. I don’t want publicity.” He runs his hand up my thigh, under the thin silk material of my robe, his fingers sliding between my legs. “My feelings for you are real. I care about you more than anything.”
“I’m sorry. This is just all new for me. I don’t mean to be untrusting . . . I just feel like I have to be cautious and not ignore signs like I did with Michael.”
“Evie, this is new for me, too. And I don’t blame you for being leery, b
ut I need to have your trust or this will never work.”
Before I have a chance to reply, he’s kissing me, deep and rough. I can feel the anger in his touch, his disappointment in my distrust. I hate that I doubted him.
He turns my body, laying me down in front of him, his lips never leaving mine. His hard, hot cock presses against my ass. He pushes my thin robe up around my waist and lifts my leg, pulling it back behind me and laying it over his. In one smooth push, he buries his cock into my pussy from behind, causing me to gasp. His hand moves up to cup my breast, his lips on my neck, sucking and biting.
“Does that feel like a game to you, baby?”
I arch my back and open myself up to him, moaning against the pillow.
“Don’t you ever doubt me, Evie.” He rolls over toward me a bit more, crushing me into the couch, laying more of his weight on top of me. He slams into me harder, his balls slapping against me.
“I love fucking you even more than I thought I would,” he growls into my ear. “I can’t get enough of you.”
He slows, pulling his cock out gradually, inch by inch, then pushing it back it even slower, drawing out the feeling, then pulling out again. He rotates his hips, slowly grinding back down into me. I reach behind me and grope for him, my hand settling on his muscled thigh, nails digging into his flesh, trying to pull him harder into me.
“Don’t be greedy,” he whispers, pounding down into me. I cry out his name deliriously. My body begs him for more, my sex dripping wet, clenching his shaft as he pounds me from behind.
“Your pussy loves me, doesn’t it?” God, I love dirty, Storm talk just as much as I love his sweet talk. I think he could make me come just talking in my ear.
He grabs my hand on his thigh and entwines our fingers, then brings our hands above my head. Turning our bodies until I’m lying face-down flat on the couch, his full length lies on top of me. His free hand snakes under me and lifts my hips up, ass in the air, and he plunges into me. Sliding his hand between my legs, his fingers find my clit, swollen and pulsing, waiting for him. He works his magic on me, rubbing the throbbing nub as he pistons me from behind. I squeeze his hand and scream his name into the couch as I come, my wetness engulfing his huge cock inside me.
He pulls out suddenly, ripping me from my orgasmic dream-state, and flips me over quickly beneath him, sliding his shaft into me again. I wrap my arms and legs around him, my lips and tongue exploring his chest. I gaze up at him as he climaxes, his eyes rolling up, mouth parted. He looks in pure ecstasy.
A few minutes and short, lazy thrusts later, he opens his eyes and stares down into mine.
“I love you, Evie. I know since we met it’s been like a crazy train on the loose, but I really love you.” He takes a deep breath. “Love is something I don’t joke about, you know that. It’s also not something I thought I’d have. You’re a surprise to me.”
“Storm . . .” My throat tightens with emotion. The sincerity of his words shakes me. I’ve been slowly falling for him since the first day, fighting it with everything I have—afraid he will hurt me, afraid I might hurt him. “I love you, too. It scares me to death, but I do.”
“Then we’ll be scared together.” He kisses me softly. “I want a partner, Evie. A best friend. I think we’ve got that. I mean, I want to fuck you silly, but at the end of the day, what I really want is someone to come home to who’s just gonna sit with me and hold my hand and love me for me, and let me love them.”
“I want that, too, Storm. So much.”
“So . . . we should give it a try.” He grins and raises his eyebrow at me.
I rub my foot up and down his calf. “I don’t know how to do this.”
He brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek and contemplates me for a moment. “Evie, I don’t know how to do this, either. I haven’t been in a relationship since I was nineteen years old.”
“That really scares me, Storm. What if you can’t stop . . . with the girls? You’re used to just jumping on anyone, anytime. What if you don’t like being with just me?”
“I can stop. I have stopped. That’s not going to be a problem. I’m not a sex addict, Evie. And ya know what? Half that shit you read about me online isn’t even true. Just because I was with a model or a porn star at some party, it doesn’t mean I had sex with her. I told you when we first met that I have a few female friends I would have sex with on occasion. That’s it. Even I have some standards.”
I sit up. “Storm, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. All the pictures online . . .”
“It’s okay, I know.” He pulls me closer to him and wraps my legs around him. “I’m going to be honest with you. What I want, what I fantasize about with you . . . is you being my sweet angel during the day and my whore at night. I want you to always want me. I don’t want you to ever push me away or say no to me. I want to buy you sexy lingerie, and slowly take it off you. If I want to drag you into a back room at a concert and ask you to blow me, I want you to want it. And not because I’m in a fucking band, but because you want me.
“But on top of all that, I don’t want it to just be sex. I want the trust and the love that’s supposed to come with all that. That’s my fantasy, and it started when I met you. Could I live without that? Of course. Will I love you no matter what? Yes. No doubt. I would never cheat on you, no matter what. Maybe you think I’m a sicko now. If so, then I’ll deal with it. But that’s what I want.”
I stare at him for a long time, trying to wrap my head around everything that is him. Somewhere in him is a huge fear of rejection, of not being loved or wanted for who he really is. He’s lost in his fame, and I think his first wife did a number on his head and heart when he was too young. I want to heal him and give him everything he wants. “Yes,” I say simply.
“Yes?” He frowns at me, confused.
I wind my arms around his neck. “Yes, I want that. Yes, I can be that. You can trust me, Storm.”
“I know, Evie. It’s what I love about you so much—I know I can trust you. I know this won’t be easy and it’s new for both of us, but I will try like crazy to make you happy.”
“You don’t have to try. You already do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’M SITTING ON THE COUCH AT the cabin, Halo and Niko at my feet and my laptop propped on my legs, chipping away at Aria’s incoming emails. Her latest book made bestseller in under a week, and now a movie deal is in the works for a book she published three years ago. I double-check her calendar before booking more meetings, as Gram’s ninetieth birthday party is next month and we are planning a big party for her.
While I have my laptop open, I check Storm’s social media sites and post an update on their next show and links to new band merchandise. Over the past few months, I’ve been working closely with a graphic designer to better brand the band with a new logo and adding new items to their swag. The women’s black fitted tee with a rhinestone snowflake has been a huge seller. Storm thought it would be fun to take advantage of our blizzard story, and he was right—the female fans all wanted an Ashes and Embers snowflake shirt.
A few weeks after we went public, a female rock journalist interviewed us, wanting to showcase us as a ‘real couple,’ and specifically focusing on the fact that men can—and do—love natural women. Since then, most of the hatred for me on social media flipped to admiration, my own inbox flooding with emails from young girls asking for relationship advice. Kind of ironic. Yeah, I still have haters, but I ignore all that now.
I shut down my laptop and head out to the garage, barefoot, to find Storm sitting on the ground with a motorcycle in pieces around him. I grab a bottled water from the garage refrigerator and hand it to him.
“Thanks, baby.” He tilts his head up for a kiss. I smile at him, wipe some grease off his cheek, and give him a long, slow kiss.
“How’s it going?” The bike he’s working on is his favorite. It’s painted a glossy jet black with wolves airbrushed over the fenders and tank. It’s beautiful.
H
e nods, sipping his water before replying. “Pretty good. Next weekend, we’re going for a ride.”
“I can’t wait.” It’ll be my first ride, and I’m looking forward to it.
“Did you call Vandal? I called him earlier, but he’s not answering his phone. Maybe he’ll talk to you.”
I kneel down next to him. “Yes . . . we talked for a few minutes. He’s all right, just doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.”
Storm throws his wrench. “He fucking hates me. All of us.”
I rub his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Storm, you guys did what you had to do. He’s too messed up to be in the band right now, you guys know that. He’s pissed, but he understands. He knows once things settle down and he gets better, he can come back.”
“I’m not sure he’s ever gonna be better, Evie,” he mutters.
“He will. It’s just going to take some time.” I try to sound hopeful, even though I know deep down Vandal may not ever come out of the dark place he’s in.
“All the time in the world can’t fix what he’s going through, baby. He’s done.”
The situation with Vandal is devastating. A month ago, he fell asleep at the wheel while driving late at night, killing his five-year-old daughter, a female friend and a driver in another car. Vandal spiraled into a horrific depression, distancing himself even further from the band—his only family. Sometimes, he’ll talk to me, but not often, and he says very little. Once a week, I stop by his house, bringing him groceries and cleaning up the mess he leaves.
I have a soft spot for Vandal. When I first met him, he scared the heck out of me with his dark looks, bad moods, and utter silence. He hardly ever spoke. The first time I stopped at his house after the accident, he was a mess—throwing things, screaming, and swearing. I questioned my sanity for showing up at his home alone. Then he just collapsed in front of me, and I sat on the floor with him and just held him. I never said a word, just held him. From that moment on, we’ve had a quiet friendship. He doesn’t yell anymore. He eats the food I bring him and thanks me for cleaning his house. It’s the least I can do. Storm loves his cousin, and family has to take care of each other.