by Layne Harper
I tuck my legs under me and turn so I’m facing his side. “What do you use now to make everything stop?”
“I hadn’t found anything legal until I met you.” His hand rests on my bare thigh.
Picking it up, I kiss his palm before placing it back where it should stay forever. “I suggested you take up swimming again. Have you thought any more about it?”
He grabs my breast, which is sore from the abuse I bestowed on it earlier. “Fucking beats swimming any day.”
I laugh. “Fair enough, but it’s something to consider.”
He’s obviously ready to change the subject. “So tell me more about your plans for the site.”
I explain about giving my two weeks’ notice and how I promised to hire and train my replacement.
When I’m done, he states, “I think that’s rather generous of you, considering.”
“Considering what?” My nose crinkles in confusion.
“Considering what Michael did to you.” His head is laid back against the couch cushions and his eyes are closed so I can’t read his expression.
“You mean saving us from making a huge mistake which we both would’ve regretted?” I find Aaron’s views on relationships to be a bit twisted, so I try to explain. “I’ve had a couple of serious relationships, or what I thought were serious at the time. But I can now view them in hindsight and realize they weren’t what I needed. Sure, I could’ve married Michael. We’d probably have two kids and third on the way. But would we be fulfilled? I don’t think so.” The thought actually makes me a bit sick to my stomach. “I see him and his wife in mass every Sunday. He touches her like he never touched me. He was brave enough to take the hard road and end our relationship instead of slapping the family diamond on my finger and pretending it’s what we both wanted.”
Then a thought occurs to me. I place my wine down on a table and straddle Aaron’s lap. Grabbing his head, I pick his chin up so we’re eye to eye. We’re both nude, so the position is provocative, but the mood isn’t. “I know you said you haven’t really dated, but before you became famous were you ever in love?”
He hands me his drink and I lean back, resting it on the table. Then he pulls me against his chest as he wraps me in his arms. My head fits perfectly between his chin and his chest. After a while he replies, “No.”
His hands travel from my behind to the nape of my neck. “I think the bad experience with the person who birthed Jude probably turned me off love. I’ve had relationships but they were always just sexual.” He swallows hard. “I’ve never held anyone like this.”
Silence fills the room. I turn his words over in my head. That’s twice in one night he’s admitted he has strong feelings for me—that I’m special. This could really be more than a fling or a one-stand stand. Do rock stars really fall for plain Janes like me?
“You don’t have to tell me you feel the same,” he says, kissing my hair. “Show me.”
He pushes me back just enough so I meet his eyes. They’re soft and glistening. He looks dreamy. “Don’t fuck me. Make love to me,” he whispers so softly I could imagine that I made up his request.
I don’t know if I’ve ever made love before. I’m not even really sure what it means. So I just dig deep, pushing my repressed feelings to the surface and do what feels right. Sliding back, I tilt my hips, catching the tip of his penis. Pushing up a bit on my knees, I slide down, taking him bare to the hilt.
“Oh God, MK.” His eyes look skyward while he grips my hips, holding me in place. “Let me feel you, sweetheart. It’s been eighteen years since I’ve been bare inside of someone.”
I’m not quite sure how to take his admission so I go with the compliment, happy he’s practiced safe sex. Staying perfectly still, he holds on for dear life, like if I leave him he’ll slip away, never to find his way back.
Slowly, I begin to rock back and forth. His grip is so tight that I can’t move much, but I don’t care. His features are twisted as if he’s in agony, but I feel this’s what he needs—maybe this is his baptism.
Gently, I move up and down and hope with as little movement as he’s allowing that this’s enjoyable for him.
Still inside me, he picks me up under my behind and walks us to his bedroom at the back of the house. I kiss his neck, chest, and cheeks. My kisses are more soothing than hungry, and he responds with sighs of contentment.
Once we’re in his room, he lies down on the bed, allowing my hips to move. Up and down and in circles, I dance on top of him. My head drops back, and I place my hands on his thighs as I bring us to another angle.
He’s silent, which is odd for him, and I wonder if I’m doing a good job. Is this what making love is? I sit up straight and look into his eyes. The moonlight streams through his naked bedroom windows casting Aaron in a pale blue light, once again making him my fallen angel. His face is no longer twisted. He’s relaxed and appears to be at peace. His eyes are closed, and his lashes dust his high cheekbones, and his bottom lip is so full it almost meets his chin. Gorgeous.
“Is this okay? Am I doing it right?” My voice is high-pitched and anxious, which makes me cringe.
He smiles, and it meets his eyes as he reaches up, tucking my bangs behind my ear. This time they stay. “You’re perfect for me.”
With new confidence, my hips begin to move once again. This time, I’m not so gentle.
His hands latch on to my waist, and I stop moving, allowing him to use me. He does, and I love his dominance from a submissive position.
“I’m going to come,” he warns, and I climb off and use my mouth to finish him.
After he’s spent, I lie down, snuggling against his side. We’re both quiet for a while. His arm wraps around me and his finger draws circles on my bicep. I’ve never felt this content.
“You didn’t come,” he says in a lazy voice.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him, and I am. What we just shared was a mental orgasm—and I learned it’s so much more fulfilling than just physical.
My head rests on his heart as his arm holds me fiercely to him. Aaron’s heartbeat begins to slow, and his breathing becomes shallower. We’re lying diagonal on the bed. There’s just enough comforter that I can bring it over us, covering more of me than him.
Midnight has to be coming soon, so I just enjoy the peacefulness of the evening and unexpectedness of today. Talk about a crazy range of emotions.
I must drift off to sleep because suddenly my eyes fly open to find Seamus standing at the foot of the bed. My heartbeat races like crazy, and I gasp to catch my breath.
“I’m sorry to startle you. He’s asleep,” Seamus states.
Clutching the comforter to my breast, I raise a bit and look at Aaron. “Yes. He’s asleep. Why don’t you close the door and wait outside and I’ll wake him?”
“He hasn’t slept for days. Let him be. I’ll lock up.”
The strange man exits the room, and I make note that Aaron and I need to chat about personal assistants walking into his bedroom while I’m here.
Now, I’m wide awake without a prayer of going back to sleep. I’m able to extract myself from Aaron’s arm and seek out his bathroom. I open one door. It’s the master closet that goes on for days. How much room does one guy need for jeans, T-shirts, and fedoras?
Quietly, I close that door and open another one. Sure enough, it’s the bathroom. It’s nothing too luxurious or over the top. The floor is slate. There’s a deep soaker tub and separate shower, a double vanity, and a water closet. It’s clean and nice, but not what I assumed a rock star’s bathroom would look like. It’s just a very nice, simple room.
I take care of my needs and pull the white fluffy bathrobe off the back of the door. My clothes are still in the other room, and I don’t want Seamus seeing me naked in case he’s still lurking around.
Tiptoeing back through the bedroom, I shut the door behind me. My clothes are in a pile by the dining room table. I find my pants, sweater, tank top, bra, and panties. Also, I need my phone. Aaron
not having an alarm clock in his bedroom is a problem for this working girl.
Armed with my things, I quietly pad back to my sleeping boy. I open and shut the door without disturbing him and slide into bed. I’d planned to sleep in his bathrobe, but his body is so warm and I miss the feel of his silky skin so with as little movement as possible, I manage to get the bathrobe off.
He’s toned and fit but not musclebound. As he sleeps, I’m able to study his relaxed face. His cheekbones are gorgeous. They’re high and thick. Women would kill for them. And his lips—wow. Definitely made for kissing. His hair is all over the pillow. Maybe I should show him how to sleep in a terrycloth headband.
He mumbles something I can’t understand and rolls to his stomach, tucking me against him. His long leg locks over my hip. Butterflies dance in my chest. For the first time in a long time, I’m completely at peace. This bliss is an awesome place to be.
Seven o’clock comes way too soon. The alarm on my phone chimes and I dive off the bed to silence it, hoping not to disturb Aaron, but when I see those bright blue eyes I know I haven’t been successful.
He bolts upright and asks in a panicked voice, “What time is it?”
“Seven o’clock.” I walk over to him and kiss his cheek as my hand runs through his tussled morning hair. “Calm down. You fell asleep.”
His hand drags across his morning stubble. His facial hair is light but I can see it when the morning sunshine hits it. “But I was supposed to record last night with Bobby.”
“Seamus said you needed to sleep.”
Aaron wraps his arm around my waist.
I kiss his forehead. “By the way, I’m not okay with anyone coming in and out of your bedroom when I’m here. It was icky.”
He looks up and grins. “Icky?”
“Yes. Icky. Thank goodness I had covered us up or he would’ve seen both of us naked.”
“Good point. I’ll tell him to stay out. What about my band? Can they come in and out of our room?”
Smiling. I pretend to think about it. “Hmmm . . . are they going to join in?”
His eyes grow wide. “Damn, MK. You can keep up with me.”
He drops his hands. He looks well rested, and he throws back the comforter, showing me that all of him is awake.
I make an exaggerated point of looking at his morning wood. “As appetizing as that looks, I have to get home, shower, and be at work in an hour and a half.”
He reaches out, grabbing my arm and yanking me into his lap. “I’ll drive you to work. How much time does that buy me?”
I smirk. “Maybe fifteen minutes, but no kissing.” I scrunch up my nose. “Morning breath”
“Perfect!”
So what’s the first thing he does? He gives me a toe-curling kiss which makes me forget all about unbrushed teeth. He slides a finger inside of me and uses his thumb to rub my clit. “You may only need five minutes,” I moan.
His huge grin tells me just how pleased he is with himself. I draw my knees up, and he replaces his finger with his long, hard, gorgeous cock. His thumb continues its massage and my hips move with his thrust. Sunlight streams into his bedroom, highlighting him in a golden hue. The bright ink on his body is almost luminescent. It looks like I’m having sex with a god.
“You ready?” he asks.
Unable to speak, I think I nod because he pinches my clit as he slams against my cervix and I see stars. Moments later, he leaves me feeling empty as he comes on his sheets. He lies down on the other side of me and places his hand on my stomach.
I open my eyes to his smug face.
“Took me six minutes. Wanted to give you a few minutes of recovery before I drive you home.”
“How do you know it took six minutes? You don’t have a clock in this room.”
He laughs. “I played my new song, ‘Let It Rain,’ in my head. It’s six minutes.”
“Of course you did.” I smile.
He grabs my phone and pushes some buttons. “Car will be out front in a few. Get up. Get dressed, working girl. In two weeks you’re mine in the mornings because this is usually when I’m going to bed.”
It’s with much sadness I stand and throw on my pants and tank top. Aaron goes into his closet and emerges moments later in jeans and an off-white sweater.
“No flannel today?” I ask as I slip on my dress shoes.
“Dirty. It’s laundry day.” He helps me to my feet. “So when can I stop pulling out? Because we have now have spouge on my couch, jeans, and bed.”
I follow him through the house. “Crass, Aaron. You could’ve put on a condom. Your come. Your problem.”
He slaps my ass. “My problems are now your problems. Oh, and congrats, it’s a girl.”
“What?” I ask as I check to make sure I have all of my things.
“You said you want kids. You can help me parent a college freshman girl. You missed the fun stuff like periods, boys, bitchy little friends, and slut makeup. Now, she’s finally fun again.”
Wow! I’m going to need some time to process that one.
Parked on the street in front of Aaron’s house is something sporty and red that looks like Aaron’s compensating when he clearly isn’t. Seamus nods, tosses him the keys and disappears down the driveway.
Aaron opens my door by lifting it up. I’m thankful for the help, because I’m not sure I would have been able to figure out how to get in otherwise. He drops the door and walks around the front of the car, giving it a tap on the hood. He slides in the driver’s seat and flashes me a shit-eating grin. “Buckle up, sweetheart.”
It’s too early in the morning for this. He pulls away from the curb and I say a quick prayer that he doesn’t kill me.
He does some sort of crazy shifting, making the car purr like a kitten. His smile is cocky, and I roll my eyes.
We don’t talk the whole couple of blocks to my house. He’s too busy showing off. When I inform him that I have no parking and he has to leave the car on the street, he gives me a pouty look.
When we get inside, I turn on the shower and then show Aaron where his children’s breakfast cereal is before I go into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. When the last article of clothing is tossed into the dirty clothes hamper, Aaron opens the door and comes strolling in the bathroom.
“Just in time,” he announces as he closes the lid on the toilet and sits down, all while balancing the turquoise mixing bowl filled with cereal in one hand.
“That’s gross.” I point to the bowl as I step into the shower. “The bathroom is one of the dirtiest places in a house. You shouldn’t eat in here.”
He ignores me and keeps chomping away. “So like I asked earlier, and you didn’t answer. When can I quit pulling out?”
The warm water washes over me, and I pretend we aren’t discussing this at seven-thirty in the morning. “When you prove to me that you don’t have groupie cooties on your dick.”
“I don’t.” He pauses. “I bet I could join you in the shower and get you off in ‘Breath of Fresh Air’ minutes.”
I stick my head out of the shower, ignoring his sex invitation. “Prove it.” Closing the curtain again, I grab the shampoo bottle and squirt a bit in my hands and begin massaging it into my hair.
“Okay. It’s only a three-and-a-half minute song, but I’m that good.”
“No,” I yell, frustrated. “Prove you don’t have cooties.”
“I was tested for everything under the sun in rehab, and you’re the first person I’ve had sex with since.” It sounds like he has a mouth full of cereal. “Ball’s in your court, sweetheart.”
Chomp.
Chomp.
“Clean as a whistle and on birth control.” I step under the water spray and rinse the suds out.
“Fan-fucking-tastic. No more pulling out for this guy.”
He can’t see me, but I smile at his outrageousness.
“Next order of business.” I think he pauses to swallow. “Band is coming to town to record. I want you to meet everyone.�
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“Okay,” I respond as I work conditioner through my ends.
“And you get to play mommy to my daughter.”
“What?” My head pops back around the shower curtain.
His face is lit up like Bourbon Street. “Just kidding. Jude and my sister, Grace, will be here this weekend.”
I rinse the conditioner out of my hair and think about how to phrase the next question. I come up with, “So exactly what do they know about me?”
I’m clean enough, so I shut off the water.
Seconds later, the shower curtain is pulled back and Aaron stands there with a towel. “I like this part,” he says with a childish gleam in his eye. The mixing bowl is resting next to my sink.
Standing patiently, I’m dried with such precision one would think I was breakable.
Still naked, I walk to the sink to brush my teeth. I wipe the condensation off the mirror so I can see him. Before I put the brush in my mouth, I repeat my question.
“Well, I already told you that I discussed you with Jude. So since she knows, Grace knows and my mom knows. Those three can’t even keep Christmas presents a secret. Now, the gossip rags don’t know so you probably should talk about us in code on your site. You can refer to me as Larry. But I frankly don’t care. My life is an open book, as you’d see if you Googled me.” He pauses for a second and reminds me, “except for Jude. Remember no talking about daddy’s little girl.”
I spit my toothpaste. “Just confirming . . . Jude’s okay with you dating.”
He shrugs. “As long as it’s you.”
I spit again and cup my hand, bringing water to rinse my mouth. “She doesn’t know me.”
“She follows your site. Huge fan.” His eyes grow wide.
After rinsing my toothbrush, “but she doesn’t know me. How has she behaved when other women have been around?”
Aaron walks to me and cups my breasts in his hands. “I told you that I’ve never really dated and all my relationships have been straight-up sex. You don’t believe me?”
“Surprised is all.” He begins playing with my nipples, and I slap his hands away. “Stop it.”