Strum Your Heart Out (Sinful Serenade #2)

by Crystal Kaswell

  "You're a little late for that."

  "I don't want to hurt you." His voice gets low. "But I can't stop touching you. I can't stop talking to you. I can't stop being around you."

  This warmth builds in my body, but there's something off about it. This is no confession of love. It's not even some high school request to make things official, so we're really boyfriend/girlfriend.

  It's nothing.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.

  He exhales so slowly. He drags his fingertips down my arms and hips. No answer, I guess. Or maybe this is the answer.

  Drew wants me enough to throw out all those concerns of hurting me. I don't know whether to be flattered or offended.

  "Is that really it?" I ask. "Or do you not want to get hurt?"

  "I drove for two hours straight and the only thing I could think about was how badly I want you." He hooks his thumbs into my pajama bottoms. "All of you."

  I open my mouth to ask for an explanation, but I can't force the words out. They'll only confuse me more. The truth is, I feel the same.

  I can't think straight.

  I can't think anything but I want Drew. All of him. Whatever that means.

  He runs his thumbs over the waist of my pajamas. His lips press into my neck.

  I want Drew.

  All of him.

  Whatever that means.

  He tugs at my pajama pants and pulls them off my ass. All the way to my knees.

  My head is swimming, but common sense has no chance next to the desire rushing through my body.

  I kick off my pajamas and rub my body against Drew's. He's strong and warm.

  He runs his fingertips over my outer thigh, starting at my knee and working his way up. His fingers graze one of my scars. His touch is soft and gentle. There's no sign he's repulsed.

  He presses his body into mine. "When was the first time?"

  "It was the day my parents told me about the diagnosis." I trace the light scar in my right wrist. "They were both so scared and so sad. They looked at me like they were worried I'd be scared and sad too, like it would kill them if I wasn't sweet and bubbly anymore."

  I take Drew's hand and bring it to my wrist. He runs his fingertips over the line of one scar after another. Until he's felt all of them.

  My body fills with the strangest warmth. It's something more than lust or friendship. Something pure and deep and impossible to ignore.

  I try anyway.

  I close my eyes. I arch my back to press my ass against his crotch. I turn my head to press my neck against his cheek.

  But that feeling won't go away.

  "And?" he asks.

  "And I stayed their rock. I nodded and told them it would be okay, that I could cook dinner, and clean the house, and walk to school instead of getting a ride. I sat there with a smile on my face for the rest of dinner while they explained everything that might go wrong, that my dad might not have that much time left. They kept looking at me like they were waiting for me to break. Like it would kill them if I did."

  He runs his fingers over the scars on my wrist.

  "And I did. But I waited until I was in my room. I was scared and angry, but I couldn't manage to cry or scream." I push through my discomfort. "I locked myself in the bathroom and broke my compact mirror on the ground. When I was cleaning up the mess, I nicked my arm. It hurt like hell, but there was something so relieving about that. It took me out of that awful sense that my dad was going to die. I tried it again, on purpose. The pain made me feel like I was in control."

  Drew slides his arm around my waist and holds me tight. "How does it feel?"

  "You have plenty of tattoos. It's like that. It hurts but there's something exhilarating about it. It's like all the awful feelings inside me pour out with the blood." I play with the fabric of the sheets. "I know it sounds grotesque, but—"

  "I get it." He runs his fingertips over my hips. "I've had plenty of nights like that."

  "Tell me about them."

  "Another time." He drags his fingertip over one of the scars on my thighs. His voice is strained. "When was the last time?"

  "Before I moved to LA."

  "If you ever want to do it again, you call me first."

  "I won't." I hug my arms against my chest. "I'm damaged enough already."

  He traces another scar. A deeper one. "Everyone is damaged."

  "Not like this. Not this ugly."

  Drew presses his lips into my neck. "There are no ugly parts of you." He slides his hand over my inner thighs. "Every part of you is beautiful."

  His fingertips pass over dozens of scars. Even in the dark, they stand out. They're raised and rough and harsh.

  He moves his hand to my other leg and traces a line from the inside of my knee all the way to the edge of my panties. He touches every scar with tender care, like he's committing them to memory. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch doesn't hurt. It's sweet. Gentle.

  His breath catches. His hips shift, so his crotch is pressed against my ass.

  He's hard.

  I let out a sharp gasp.

  Drew laughs. "You didn't believe me."

  My cheeks burn. The heat spreads to my neck and chest. All the way to my stomach and thighs. And then it collects right between my legs.

  He's not turned off.

  He's not running away scared.

  He's hard.

  He pulls the strap of my tank top off my shoulders. I'm not wearing a bra. I never sleep in a bra.

  Drew cups my breast. He brings his lips to my ear and sucks gently. "More than beautiful." He swirls his finger against my nipple. His breath strains. "Sexy as fuck."

  "That's poetic."

  "Thank you." He nips at my ear. "I go out of my fucking mind thinking about touching you."

  He rubs my nipple harder. A pang of pleasure shoots through me. I let out a low groan.

  "You're never been eaten out, have you?" he asks it without a hint of shyness.

  I bite my lip to keep from blushing. "Never."

  Drew presses his lips into my neck. "So that makes me your first."

  He kisses his way to my chest and sucks on my nipples. Harder and harder until I'm ready to scream. I buck my hips.

  He pushes my tank top to my waist.

  He kisses the skin between my breasts.

  Then just under it.

  My eyes close. I move my hands to the sheets and brace myself. Touching my scars is one thing, but he's going to be face to face with them.

  My body is screaming at me to ignore the apprehension growing in my chest. Somehow, Drew's lips are even better than his hands. It shouldn't be possible for one person to be blessed with such talents, but he is.

  He pushes the tank top down to my hips, all the way to my knees. It meets my pajama pants and he pulls both off my feet.

  "Drew, I..." I take a deep breath. That heavy feeling is still right there on top of my chest.

  "I'm going to go out of my fucking mind if you ask me to stop."

  "Don't stop." I like the way those words feel on my tongue, but my heart is still pounding against my chest. "The scars are... they're ugly."

  He grabs my knees and pins them to the bed. "Take that back."

  "They are."

  His voice gets low, deep, desperate. "Everything about you is sexy." He lowers himself so he's right between my thighs. He presses his lips into the skin just above my knee. "Even your scars."

  I swallow hard.

  "I'm still waiting to hear you agree."

  "Not happening."

  Drew kisses me again, a little higher, a little closer. "You're lucky I've been dreaming about you coming on my face."

  "Is that right?"

  "Or else I would never let you get away with this bullshit." He plants a soft kiss on the inside of my thigh. "You're going to admit it."

  "Fat chance."

  He kisses his way up my thighs until his lips are two inches away from my sex. I lose any interest in making or he
aring comebacks. I lose any concern over what he thinks of my scars.

  There's only one thing on my mind.

  I need Drew.

  Now.

  Drew wraps his hands around my inner thighs and pins me to the bed. He flicks his tongue against the space where my crotch and my leg meet.

  So, so close to where he needs to be.

  His fingers trail over my inner thighs. Over my scars, sure, but it doesn't bother me. All that apprehension is gone.

  As long as Drew is touching me, I'm sexy. Every part of me.

  His tongue slides over my sex.

  I let out a slow exhale. It's so strange and wonderful all at once. His mouth is wet and warm. It's soft but the pressure is intense.

  All that need whirs around me. I close my eyes and dig my hands into Drew's hair. Not to guide him or hold him. Just to make sure he knows how fucking good I feel.

  He licks me from top to bottom and back again. He sucks on my lips. Soft at first, then harder. Harder. I let out a low groan and tug at his hair.

  There.

  He does it again. Again. He lavishes my other side with the same attention. He draws zig zags over me with his tongue.

  I've come before. Some with the ex-boyfriend. Some by my hand. Okay. More than some.

  But this is a whole other level of bliss.

  Every one of my nerves is on fire. Every part of me feels alive.

  Drew's tongue slides over my clit.

  Oh, hell yes.

  I tug at his hair. Every flick of his tongue sends another wave straight to my core. I buck my hips and he buries his face between my legs.

  Licking.

  Sucking.

  Biting softly.

  I'm lost in the feelings he's stirring inside me. It's so intense I can barely stand it.

  He flicks his tongue against my clit. It's hard and fast. And then it's exactly where it needs to be.

  I surrender to the warm, wet sensation of his mouth. It's better with every flick of his tongue. Better, better, better, until I'm there. I'm at the edge, about to come. The pressure inside me builds to a crescendo.

  I groan. "Drew."

  My sex clenches. Almost. Every flick of his tongue pushes it higher and higher.

  I scream his name. "Drew, Drew, Drew."

  And then I'm there. I come in waves. Pleasure spreads through my body, bouncing off every single one of my nerves.

  I use his words. "You're amazing."

  He groans an "I know" into the skin just above my hipbone and kisses his way up my body, stopping at my chest to flick his tongue against my nipples.

  Oh, hell yes.

  That want spreads through me again. I need to feel him. I need him tugging at my hair and screaming my name as he comes.

  Drew plants his lips against my collarbones. My neck. My chin.

  And then he kisses me. He tastes like me. It's strange, but it only makes me want him more. It only makes me more desperate to feel him inside me again.

  He pushes himself up and locks eyes with me. "Are you on birth control?"

  I nod. "Still on the pill."

  "I'm clean."

  "Me too."

  He drags his fingertips over my stomach. "If you want to be careful, I can get something."

  "No." I pull off his t-shirt. "I want to feel every inch of you."

  "Fuck yes." He plants his hand right above my shoulder. His eyes find mine. "Say my name like that again."

  My cheeks flush. I shake my head. "You'll have to make me."

  His eyes flash with desire. He kisses me hard and drags his fingertips over my breasts. "You're asking for it now, Kendrick."

  I explore the muscles of his chest with my fingertips. "And what am I asking for?"

  "Coming until you scream."

  "I better ask for it again."

  "Until you can't take it anymore." He sucks on my lower lip. "You taste so fucking good."

  He bites my neck.

  I groan.

  "And you sound so fucking good."

  I reach for his jeans. There's the button. And now it's unbuttoned. Zipper, unzipped. "You sound so fucking good."

  He slides out of his jeans. Then the boxers. It's dark but there's just enough moonlight to cast a gorgeous shadow over the hard lines of Drew's body.

  He grabs onto my thighs. My chest tightens for a split second. And then it relaxes.

  Drew pries my legs apart. He moves closer. The tip of his cock brushes against my sex. A desperation builds between my legs. I need him inside me. It's the only thing I know. The only thing in the entire world that makes a lick of sense.

  He thrusts, entering me. I can't help but gasp. He feels so damn good. I drag my hands over his chest, taking in every contour of his muscles.

  He shifts, going deeper. Then he shifts back, until his cock is at my tip again. He rocks into me, filling me again.

  Again.

  Again.

  I shudder. This is exactly where I need to be.

  I look into Drew's eyes. His expression is heavy with desire. It tightens the knot building inside me.

  He adjusts my leg, pinning it to my chest the way he did when we were stretching. "I want those behind your head."

  I nod.

  "I want you pinned to the bed so you're totally at my mercy."

  He slings my other leg over his shoulder. My back curls. My ass shifts into the air.

  And there I am, pinned and totally at his mercy.

  He plants his hands outside my legs and thrusts into me. It's hard and deep. It hurts for a minute and then that drifts away.

  Drew holds my gaze as he fucks me. His breath gets heavy. He moves faster. Harder. I let out a groan when it's just right.

  "Drew," I breathe.

  He keeps the same rhythm. Every thrust brings me closer. I scrape my nails against his chest.

  "Drew," I groan his name again.

  God help me, I love the sound of it on my tongue. I love the flash of need in his eyes when I say it. The way he goes harder. Deeper.

  I can't bear to keep my eyes open. It feels too good

  "Drew," I groan.

  He sinks into me, pushing my legs all the way behind my head, pushing my ass further into the air.

  He thrusts into me again. Even harder.

  Even deeper.

  All I can feel is that perfect tension. It aches in the best possible way. I lose control of my breath. I claw at his shoulders and back.

  "Drew, Drew, Drew."

  The pressure hits its peak. More and more. So much it hurts.

  An orgasm overtakes me. I come in spasms. Pleasure spreads out from my core.

  He sinks into me. Harder. Deeper.

  His breath strains.

  He's almost there.

  Drew is almost there and there's nothing in between us.

  I pull my eyes open to watch the ecstasy build on his face. His teeth sink into his lip. His eyelids press together. He squeezes the sheets between his fingers.

  He groans.

  There.

  I can feel him come inside me. It's amazing. His cock pulses. My sex clenches instinctively.

  Drew lets out a dreamy sigh. He kisses me, sucking hard on my lip. I dig my hands into his hair, holding his mouth against mine.

  He's mine.

  Whatever we are, he's mine.

  And I'm his.

  And I'm not about to ask any questions that will ruin how good this feels.

  He shifts, unpinning my legs and collapsing next to me in one fluid motion. His fingertips trail over the space between my breasts. "You want to come again?"

  I shake my head. "I'm spent."

  "Too bad." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. "I'll have to get you tomorrow."

  I pinch myself.

  Still awake.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Drew is on the couch in his boxers, hands wrapped around a PlayStation controller, messy hair falling in every direction.

  "You want eggs for breakfast
?" he asks without looking up from the TV.

  "Cereal is fine." I descend the stairs and take a better look at his game. It's colorful and bright. Not one of those gritty shooters where you take out wave after wave of zombies.

  I stare at him for a minute, trying to figure out what I want to say about last night, what I even think about last night.

  The words never stream together, but it sure is nice looking at Drew. The muscles in his shoulders tense and soften. His biceps too. The forearms. He's pressing his fingers into that controller with so much attention and care.

  Dammit, I need to get ahold of myself. I pour a bowl of cereal, fix a cup of tea, and take a seat at the table.

  Drew pauses his game. He pats the spot on the couch next to him. "What do you think you're doing so far away, Kendrick?"

  I scoop cereal into my mouth. "Eating breakfast." No way any words are going to stream together if my body is pressed against Drew's. I'll be lucky if I can manage anything more complicated than don't stop.

  "You eating dry cereal again?"

  "I like it this way."

  "Eat it over here." He turns back and makes eye contact. "I won't bite." His eyes light up. "Unless you're into that."

  Yes. Please. All. Freaking. Day.

  I chew my cereal and swallow hard. I need control of my senses.

  I like him too much.

  Drew rises from the couch. The light streaming from the window falls over him just so.

  It's wrong how sculpted his body is. The way his tattoos curve over his muscles like they're highlighting every delicious line. Right now, he's not my best friend. He's pure rock star perfection. A wet dream come to life.

  And he wants me next to him.

  "I fixed your phone screen. Took a few pictures to test it." Drew motions to my cell phone on the kitchen table.

  I play it cool. "I should check for myself."

  "Do."

  Sure enough, the screen is replaced. It's easy to forget that Drew is a computer geek at heart. I look up at him. "Do you keep replacement screens in your room?"

  "About a dozen. A lot of broken iPhones on tour. It comes in handy."

  "So they're going with you in April?"

  "This really what you want to talk about?"

  I shake my head as I navigate to my photos. Sure enough, there are half a dozen pictures of Drew. None are naked, tragically, but they come close. From his lips all the way to the driving-me-out-of-my-damn-mind trail. Okay. That really doesn't have a good ring to it.