[Found in Oblivion 03.0] Dirty Duet

by Cari Quinn

  Reaching down, she unzipped her jeans. God, she needed to start wearing skirts and dresses. Easier access. He muttered something similar and released her breast long enough to yank her jeans and panties over her ass. The slap of cooler air against her bare skin made her squirm. She bumped her ass against the wall, shocked anew she was doing this.

  Then he was there, shifting her, spreading her thighs open with his hard cock. She hadn’t even been fully aware of him pulling it out. All she knew was that the flared head was rubbing against her clit, already so swollen and needy, and she couldn’t catch her breath. He felt so good bare. That hot skin warming her where she’d gone cold. She grinned against him, tightening her legs around his hips, clinging for all she was worth. Meeting his hungry lips with her own so that when he pierced her, that thick flesh spreading her wide, she moaned against his tongue. He answered her with a moan of his own, surging deeper.

  So good. Raw. She tossed her head back and forth, fighting to continue the kiss when her system was rioting and she was so close already. His eyes popped wide, but she didn’t care. She rocked her hips, taking more of him with a groan.

  God, nothing had ever felt better than the two of them skin on skin.

  She crushed her breasts to his chest and gripped his head, the sharp pricks from his short hair somehow adding more sensation. Bouncing on his cock as he pulled out and shoved himself home again wasn’t just natural, it was an imperative. She couldn’t get enough. Her clit was so stiff, and she knew she had to be drenching him. His teeth sank into her lip and her eyes opened, latching onto his as her climax loomed.

  No staving it off. No waiting.

  “Now, now, now,” she chanted, begging him. Even if he didn’t want her to beg, she had to. He had to know how he affected her. That he was everything she’d ever wanted and more than she could have imagined.

  “Gotta. Can’t wait. Lo.” He gripped her ass, his big hand spanning her cheeks as he held her in place. His eyes pinning her as surely as his dick held her wide open, trembling on the verge.

  Then he drew back and slammed forward once more, and she sliced her nails down his neck, howling out her pleasure until his mouth crashed down on hers and muffled the sound. A moment later, he followed her, his shaft swelling impossibly huge before he pulsed his release deep inside her, filling her with his warmth as he grunted against her lips. She cradled him close, prolonging the moment, rolling her hips to meet his. Not wanting to waste a single drop.

  She’d never expected to be possessive. To be so dirty and love every second of it.

  He’d given her that too. He’d given her so much.

  Panting, she tipped her forehead to his, framing his stubbled cheeks with her hands. Just breathing with him until her chaotic heartbeat started to slow.

  “I can’t believe I did this,” he whispered, jerking back, his cock still embedded inside her.

  “What?” she whispered back, half delirious. She’d come so hard her spine was still vibrating. If he moved just a fraction, dragged himself just right against her inner walls, she could probably come again.

  “I’m inside you. Raw.”

  “I know. God, so good. I didn’t know it could feel like that—” She reached for him, confused when he slammed a fist against the wall right beside her head. She startled, but not because she thought he would hurt her. Down deep, she was certain he wouldn’t.

  Ever.

  But then the haze cleared and she understood. He didn’t know. She hadn’t shared her surprise with him yet.

  So many things she hadn’t told him, picking her moment. This one, and the other, bigger one.

  The one involving three little words that loomed so large.

  “I’m supposed to protect you. I know better. This is my responsibility. Fuck, I couldn’t even do this one thing for you. I need to keep you safe. Always.” He slammed the wall again and she didn’t even flinch this time.

  She touched his arm. “Baby, wait, you don’t understand.” The sweet lovey-dovey nickname felt foreign on her tongue, but his fury felt even more so. “I did a thing—”

  “Whatever you did, I did this. Just like I’ve done so much else.” He pulled himself out of her and the loss of his presence inside her was worse than a slap. Being without him when he was so angry caused a physical ache in her core.

  When he let her legs down, she wrapped her arms around herself, just standing there as he blew out a breath and hauled up her panties and jeans before dealing with his own. He zipped and buttoned her up, then took care of himself, turning around to face the opposite direction.

  “West.” She touched his shoulder, but it was like granite. Immovable.

  “I’m no good for you. You have to see it. Your mother was right. If I get you in a bad way—”

  She pressed her face against his back and slid her arms around his waist. “I told you. There is no bad. Whatever happened, we’d handle it together. But you don’t have to worry here. I’m protected. We’re protected. I got on BC as soon as we got back to California. All good.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “A guy like Ethan wouldn’t do shit like this. He wouldn’t be so reckless and put his own needs in front of yours. Nothing should come before you. Nothing.” He gripped her hand, tapping it against his heart. Though he wasn’t facing her, she could imagine the pain written on his features and it tore her in two. “He’s a good man, Lo. So much better than me. With a real job, one that matters—”

  “Goddammit, West, I’ve had about enough of you feeling sorry for yourself. So quit it. Fucking quit it right now.” She yanked him around to face her, well aware that people were close by.

  They could probably hear every word, and the last thing she wanted to do was shame him or cause him public embarrassment in any way. But this needed to be said.

  “You’re right. Ethan is a good guy. That’s why he’s been my best friend all these years. I miss him. I hate that I missed the signs right in front of my eyes. But he’s not you. He doesn’t make me laugh just by crossing his eyes and tickling me. He doesn’t reach over and hold me in the night when I have a nightmare. He definitely doesn’t tuck my head against his chest so I can hear his heartbeat and know that everything is going to be all right.”

  West stared at her, clenching his jaw. Then he closed his eyes, shutting her out.

  Fine. That was just fine. Because she wasn’t through, and he’d listen whether he wanted to or not.

  “I’d just finally decided not to go back. Not to go back to my parents and school and my life. You know why? Because my life, the real one I thought we were building, is with you.”

  His eyes flashed open and he fisted his hand at his side.

  “I want us to be together. I want us to figure out what it means to create something real and strong and true. More than we’ve seen at home. More than we’ve known ourselves. Because you know what? The past doesn’t fucking define us. It’s a starting place, but it’s only an ending one if you make it so.”

  Again, he flexed his fists, as if he wanted to reach for her and couldn’t figure out how. “Lo,” he murmured, and that single word was wrought with more pain than she could bear.

  “I love you,” she said softly, holding her ground and his gaze when he lifted his head, his expression stunned. “I love you, and I want this with you. I want everything with you. Not someday, now. At our own pace, on our schedule. No one else’s. Fast means we just got lucky quicker than others. It doesn’t make it wrong.”

  “Fuck, no, it’s not wrong.” He stepped toward her and stopped, his jaw clicking as he snapped it closed.

  And that was the sticking point. He wasn’t ready to move all the way toward her, because he didn’t think he was good enough. Didn’t believe it down deep where it mattered most.

  “This is going to keep happening,” she said, fighting to get the words out around the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what caused what you did on stage. I don’t know if everything just crashed down on you and you flipped
out. If this is all too much. But maybe it doesn’t matter.”

  He didn’t speak, just avoided her gaze.

  “You’re going to keep waiting for people to leave, for me to leave. You don’t think you’re worth anything more. Everything I see, everything we all see—your fans, your friends, the people who love you—isn’t enough to fill the hole inside you. You have to see it too. Have to believe you’re so much more than just the guy you were at seventeen.” He tipped back his head and she reached out to cup one of his fists, clenched so tight. “And you know what? That guy, I bet he was pretty amazing too. I bet I would’ve been honored to have a baby with him. But we can’t go back and change things. Stuff happens as it’s meant.” She swallowed hard, shutting her eyes and then opening them again.

  They were wet, but her tears hadn’t fallen. Yet.

  “As it’s meant,” she repeated, releasing his hand. The hardest thing she’d ever done.

  She walked into the hallway, more than a little numb. If she didn’t walk away now, she would never be able to. But he was the reason she was able to at all. To know fully how much she was worth.

  More than anything, she wanted to be with him. To make this work. For keeps. But she couldn’t convince him or reassure him. She couldn’t give him the self-worth he was still lacking. Somehow.

  He had to figure out all of that by himself, just as she had. She’d help him in every way possible, but he had to tell her what he was thinking. He had to trust that no one else on this freaking planet could be half as good for her as he was.

  She stopped by the backpack he’d dropped against the wall. She couldn’t leave it there. He’d forgotten it.

  Biting her lip, she bent to pick it up, stopping short at the envelope sticking out of the pile. Pink. She’d seen it in the stack at home.

  His home. Not hers. Not yet.

  Without fully being aware of what she was doing, she thumbed it open. The flap was unsealed. There was a letter, but she didn’t read it. She just pulled out the picture and pressed her fist against her mouth to stifle a sob.

  The picture was of a dark-haired, smiling man, with a beautiful blond girl with long, silky ponytails at his side. She was grinning, and above them stretched a banner proclaiming it the father-daughter dance.

  All at once, she understood.

  Gripping the picture, she stood and turned, searching for him. He was standing in the doorway to the green room, his expression unreadable.

  Saying nothing, she walked to him and wrapped her arms around him. Squeezing him tight. Trying to show him without words how much she loved him and that when he was ready, she’d be right there waiting for him.

  She’d wait forever.

  She pressed the picture into his hand and let the sobs free for a second before she forced them back. “She looks just like you. So pretty and sweet and good.” She reached up to touch his cheek, unsurprised to find it was wet. “She looks happy. You gave her that.”

  He cupped her hand against his cheek. And for a moment, it was almost enough.

  Almost.

  He was the one who’d helped her see she couldn’t settle.

  Not this time either.

  Not even for him.

  Trembling, she eased back, taking one last long look at him. Then she turned around and kept walking.

  Nineteen

  West pulled the blanket over his head. Fuck the world. Fuck the phone. Fuck the goddamn internet. He’d tortured himself all night with videos of Lauren at his last few shows. He hated watching his own shows.

  Fuck.

  The YouTube from the fan club show was on a loop. He had it playing on his phone, and projected on the eighty-foot television in his apartment.

  Again and again, he watched the sap on the screen crouch in front of the beautiful girl with blond hair. His girl. He’d kissed her hand, for fuck’s sake.

  In front of people.

  Of course, he’d rewound that one part of the video at least eighty-seven times.

  How the hell was he going to do this? It felt like there was a boulder on his chest. On top of the boulder was regret and a car-sized stack of mistakes.

  Ones he’d made since the age of seventeen all the way through to last night.

  He swiped his hand over his buzzed head. The ultimate badge of stupidity. Not that he would take it back now. He was glad he’d given his hair to a worthy cause, even if it had shocked the crowd into silence. There had been a bunch of screams after the first bit of scalp had been revealed on the screen behind him on the stage.

  But replaying that night, he only remembered the worry and loss in Lauren’s eyes from the front of the stage. The disappointment had been the worst part.

  He’d never wanted to see that on her face.

  Never wanted to bring his great steaming pile of issues to her door.

  But he’d put them on stage and stomped on them like a spoiled toddler.

  And now he was alone, just as he deserved to be.

  His phone buzzed in his hand, but he flicked the message away. He didn’t want to hear from anyone. As the day faded into twilight, he slept in snatches. Each time awakening to her smile filling the screen mixed with images from the concert.

  His door shook off the hinges sometime after sunset. “Open this fucking door.” He heard voices arguing in the outer hallway, then another mini-quake as two sets of hands pounded on the door.

  “Fuck off!”

  “Michael needs you, you piece of shit.”

  “Jules?” West rolled off the couch and landed in a pile of magazines and chip wrappers. He stumbled to his feet and weaved from lack of water or coffee. He hadn’t gotten to binge drinking yet. He figured he could go down that road tomorrow.

  But all the hazy moroseness of his own problems sharpened and shifted as he rushed to the door and unbolted it. “What the hell, Jules?”

  Tristan and Sparks were hulking behind her with menace in their eyes. Tristan’s eyebrow went up. “Are those Cheetos crumbs?”

  West wiped them away with orange-stained fingers. “What about it?”

  Juliet gave him a disgusted grunt and pushed him back into the doorway. “Get in the shower and get dressed. You can have your existential breakdown tomorrow. Right now, Michael needs everyone at the hospital.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Chloe went into labor and it’s bad.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

  West scrubbed his head with his hands. “I haven’t paid attention to my phone.”

  Juliet glanced into the living room and saw the videos. “I don’t know what you said to her, or what you did, but I can’t worry about that right now. I only have room in my head for one emergency.”

  West pulled his shirt off and grabbed a fresh one from his laundry basket of clean clothes that he hadn’t bothered putting away.

  “Shower. You can take five minutes for a shower. You smell like burnt ass.”

  West glanced at Tristan, who nodded. “With a fine layer of dumpster fire mixed in.”

  West rolled his eyes and threw the shirt back into the basket. “What’s wrong with Chloe?”

  “The baby decided to come early.”

  “She’s still got three weeks.”

  “Evidently, she doesn’t. Get in the fucking shower.”

  He exhaled and ran down the hall to his bathroom. The one good thing about his buzz cut was that his showers took a lot less time. Five minutes later, he was half dry as he shoved his legs into jeans.

  He hopped down the hall as he tugged on socks, then grabbed his shirt out of the basket. Tristan and Sparks were sitting on his couch, watching television.

  Sparks grabbed the remote and turned it off. “This reeks of an asshole move, you realize that, right?”

  West didn’t want to talk about his issues. He jammed his feet into his boots. “Is Michael okay?”

  “He needs his best friend,” Jules said impatiently.

  West just
nodded as the other two guys stood up. “Let’s go.” He snatched his phone off his end table and flicked through the half dozen messages from Jules and two from Michael.

  They all climbed into Tristan’s sports car, Juliet in the sad excuse for a backseat with him as Tristan and Sparks navigated LA traffic. Snarls from Tristan and a cool-headed list of directions from Sparks were the only voices in the car for the first few miles.

  About ten minutes away from the hospital, Juliet smacked him in the back of the head.

  “What was that for?”

  “I’ve lost count of the reasons.”

  “Is Chloe all right?”

  Juliet pulled out her phone and scrolled. “So far, so good. She’s possibly ready to rip Michael’s balls off and feed them to him, but she’s a little too worried about a breech birth to give into violence.”

  “Breech birth? Do I want to know?”

  “Baby’s coming out feet first.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, it isn’t. They’ve been trying to turn the baby for the last hour.”

  West couldn’t imagine that had been pleasant for baby or mom. He leaned forward and gripped Tristan’s shoulder. “Maybe break a few laws?”

  Tristan gave him a thumbs up and they coasted off the interstate at a cool seventy as they pulled into the underground parking structure for the hospital. They all ran into the elevator and up to the maternity ward. Michael was pacing just outside the nurses’ station.

  “Michael,” West shouted as he ran down the hall.

  “Thank fuck. Where have you been?”

  West waved away his question. “I’m here. What are you doing out here?”

  “They kicked me out.” Michael’s hand shook as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Can you fucking believe it? I thought it was kosher to have the dad in the damn delivery room.”

  A scream had them all rushing for her room. Michael was the first through the door. A doctor and two nurses were holding onto Chloe’s shoulders as she bucked off the bed.