Rock It

by Jennifer Chance

  “So hard,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek along the length of him, kissing the very tip as Dante reached out for her hair, her head. “Nuh-uh-uh,” she mouthed the words against his skin, working her way down to where his balls were bunched at the base of his cock, and then drawing her tongue up the underside of his shaft to the quivering tip. Dante groaned deep in his throat, almost in surrender and she smiled. “You just lay there and take it.”

  Lacey dipped her mouth over the head and tasted salt and heat, another punch of desire skating through her. Almost without thinking, she took as much of him into her mouth as she could in one quick rush, and Dante shuddered beneath her, his hands coming up again despite her instructions, smoothing her hair away from her face, his fingers burying themselves in the mass of it, as she licked and sucked and felt him tighten and struggle against the release she knew was building inside him so fast it probably surprised him as well.

  “Lacey, honey, you’re going to have to slow down,” he said, drawing her up to meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy, and she could tell even in the semidarkness that his skin was flushed, his mouth tight. “I want this to last—”

  “And I want you to lose control,” Lacey said, shaking off his hands to cradle the impossibly soft skin of his balls, then returning her fingers to a silken slide up the length of him. She held his gaze and sank lower again, thrilling as he stared at her, transfixed, as her tongue darted out to lave the tip of his straining erection. “Can’t you do that for me?”

  “Fuck” was all Dante managed as she moved her mouth over him again, slicking him with long, firm strokes. “You’re going to need to back off, Lacey, and now. Finish me with your—I’m serious, sweetheart—shit!”

  But she wasn’t going to back away, not when he cursed or when his body seemed to contract beneath her, and not when he exploded with a string of half-garbled words and the urgent, sweet saltiness of his release mixed in her mouth with her own wet heat. She rode out his orgasm, sensing the moment his body relaxed, reveling in the wonder of it all, her mind whirling with a sense of power—satisfaction—and something else. Something that all at once didn’t feel quite right. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

  “Mmmm” was Dante’s only response.

  Lacey peeled herself up off the bed and headed into the impossibly lush bathroom. She turned around in the dimly lit space, soaking in its richness, trying to quell the strange discord that was now growing inside her in leaps and bounds, until she looked up again and caught her own image in the huge ornate mirrors that lined the room. The setting was gorgeous, stunning and opulent, everything she would have expected in a rock star’s hotel master bath … except for the girl who was standing in the middle of it, who seemed suddenly, completely, irrevocably out of place.

  What … what had just happened here? Numbly, Lacey pulled thick towels off a rack. She turned the faucets on, running a thin stream of hot water over the cloth, dampening it slightly. She glanced up again to see her own reflection tracking her actions in the mirror, closer now, the truth more obvious to her eyes with each passing second.

  She looked flushed in that mirror. Dangerous.

  And guilty.

  What had she just done?

  Biting her lip, Lacey turned away to move back into the bedroom. With each step across the luxurious carpet, however, cold awareness seeped further into her brain, bringing with it a wave of dread that was almost suffocating. By the time she reached Dante’s bedside, a full on panic was surging through her, the reality of her situation hitting her squarely between the eyes.

  Oh, my God. What had she just done?

  Lacey sat down rigidly on the edge of the bed, unable to move for a moment. Because she knew what she’d done. Without so much as a second thought, she’d just engaged in freaking oral sex with the number one client of IMO—breaking every rule in every handbook that had ever been written about client management. Worse, she’d completely lost control of her own emotions, getting swept away with each kiss, each sigh, each touch of Dante’s hands, his mouth, his—God. Lacey suddenly felt on the verge of tears, struggling not to shake. What had she been thinking? How was she going to manage Dante going forward, now that this thing was between them? Would he ever take her seriously again? Could she even take herself seriously now?

  And would she ever be able to look at another man the same way, now that she’d had even the barest taste of Dante Falcone?

  Gradually, Lacey realized that Dante had started staring at her with confused, half-dazed eyes, and she murmured something soft and soothing, leaning forward to towel off his still-twitching skin as she struggled to stop the clamoring of her own churning brain.

  She would just have to act like this was no big deal. Because it wasn’t a big deal—it couldn’t be. Certainly not to him. Dante was a celebrity. He had women in and out of his room all the time. He’d probably expected something to happen with her, at some point, even if it wasn’t this something, and even if he hadn’t expected it to happen tonight.

  And then there’s that. Had she caved too early? Was this even worse than she’d thought? Had she fallen for Dante’s “Rock Star 101” seduction sooner than he’d planned, like some sort of hyperventilating fangirl who’d ended up disappointing him because she’d let him—she’d let him—

  “What are you thinking about?” Dante’s rough voice startled her back to attention, and she glanced up to see him eyeing her with foggy concern. “ ’Cause I don’t think it’s anything like what you should be—”

  “Shhh, everything’s fine,” Lacey said, startling herself with the steadiness of her own voice. She laid a second folded towel beside Dante, and pulled the thick, fluffy comforter farther up from the base of the bed. His satisfied rumble was cut short, however, when she dropped the comforter on top of him and stepped away, leaning over to grab her clothes. This was all no big deal, she told herself again. She just had to keep it together. “But I need to get going—I didn’t expect to stay here this long.”

  “What?” Dante pulled himself up against the pillows, staring at her now as she pulled her trousers back on. “What are you doing? You don’t need to go anywhere, Lacey. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  His words made her heart lurch, and Lacey weathered a rush of hope, excitement, embarrassment, and desperation that made tears prick at the back of her eyes. Oh, God, please tell me I’m not going to cry. He didn’t mean those words like she wanted him to mean them. He just wanted her to spend the night. “And I appreciate that,” she said, giving him a hard-won smile. She had to keep moving before she lost it completely. “But let’s be realistic, okay?”

  Swiping her shirt off the bed, Lacey hauled it on over her head and pressed the thin material to her eyes, scrubbing away the traitorous moisture that was now threatening to spill out over her cheeks. She was so stupid! How could she have let things go so far with Dante, so quickly? What had she been thinking? She’d just lost every shred of credibility with him, and for what? A mind-blowing sexual experience that had ruined her for any other man?

  Lacey found herself smiling tightly at that thought, which made her next words steadier than she otherwise would have thought possible. “You’re my client, Dante, not just some random guy I picked up in a hotel. We have to work together closely for the next two weeks, and while I am not going to deny that I find you incredibly appealing, I have no interest in jeopardizing our work relationship over what just happened.”

  “Over what just happened?” Dante asked, his tone sharp and almost accusatory. “You make it sound like some sort of crime, Lacey. I’m not going to apologize for—”

  “And neither am I,” Lacey snapped back, her tone harsher than she expected—too harsh, too strident. She was ruining this! She was ruining everything, and now even her memories of this night would be terrible, all because she couldn’t make her words come out right. She had been dreaming her whole teenaged life of being alone with Dante Falcone, of being in his arms and kissing him, touching h
im, and now she had finally gotten what she wanted and she was destroying it!

  “Look, Lacey, take a breath.” Dante rubbed his hand through his tousled hair. “I don’t know why you’re freaking out.”

  “I’m not freaking out!” Lacey’s retort was sharp, demonstrating that yes, in fact, she was freaking out. She was on the verge of colossally freaking out. Get out, get out, get out! She implored herself. She gave her shirt another little snap and stood even straighter, trying for a smile when suddenly, unaccountably, all she felt like doing was bawling her eyes out. “Dante, it’s all good,” she said with her last, desperate bid at bravado. “You are amazing and you have to know that. But now I have to … I’m just going to …”

  And just like that, all of the fight seeped out of her, a crushing weight slamming down on her heart. She had screwed all of this up, every last moment of it. She’d annihilated her one perfect night to be with Dante Falcone, and she’d never get this chance again.

  “I’m just going to leave now,” she whispered.

  Dante didn’t say a word as Lacey turned around, didn’t make a sound as she walked across the room and opened the door.

  And he didn’t call her back as she slipped out into the hallway and shut the door carefully behind her, her vision now blurring as hot, mortified tears slid down her face.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lacey settled more deeply into her plush captain’s chair, trying and failing to stop feeling so sorry for herself. She was on Bus Three for the day’s trip to Baltimore, under the pretext of needing to go over tour details with Harry. Dante hadn’t seemed to care about her temporary change in travel arrangements when she’d informed him early that morning—had barely even shrugged at her—and that was fine. Everything was fine.

  It was all just perfectly fine.

  Smaller and a bit less posh than the other buses, Bus Three was where the older roadies liked to gather, which was why Harry favored it. These guys weren’t the ones who had been featured on the first YouTube webisode, though they’d been polite enough in the face of the younger roadies’ revelry and reactions. They were merely there to do their job, and they never forgot that fact.

  Just like she should never forget—like she wouldn’t ever forget again, not after last night.

  Still, even as one mile piled upon another, Lacey didn’t start feeling any better. In fact, she felt increasingly melancholy. She’d played last night all wrong. She hadn’t needed to act so indignant over her and Dante’s sudden drop into bed—she should have just taken it in stride. He was a rock star for heaven’s sake, and she was a starry-eyed fan. She didn’t need to make a federal case out of the whole thing, just, you know, keep her clothes on around him from now on. Instead, she’d let her decade-long crush get the best of her, and she’d acted like some sort of whacked-out, teary-eyed, heartsick teenager. Hell, Dante was probably calling Brenda right now, asking for an actual grown-up to come replace Lacey on the tour. She didn’t blame him.

  She turned toward the window and grimaced, staring at the landscape sliding by, willing the bus to never stop, so she’d never have to face Dante again. The whole thing was just a debacle. When Harry wandered up and slouched down into the seat next to her, she ignored him, too, willing him to go away. They’d already gone over the tour details; there was nothing more that needed to be said. And, to his credit, the manager let her stare out the window for another several minutes before he finally spoke.

  “You got it bad for him, don’t you?”

  “What?” Lacey looked over, startled, then her gaze immediately jumped to the front of the cabin. The other, older roadies were bent over a game of Hearts, none of them paying any attention. “I’m sorry.” She smiled, doing her best to project weariness and completely non-teenaged-heartsickness stress. “I’m just tired today. You guys wear me out.”

  “It’s more than that,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen a million women come and go, love. I know the look. It’s hitting you worse just because you know you should know better, but you shouldn’t give yourself such a hard time. It’s the nature of the beast.”

  “But I—” Lacey cut off her own protest. Harry didn’t give a crap about her sense of propriety. “It’s not what you think, exactly,” she said with a rueful shrug. “But yeah, I’ve got it bad.”

  “Makes you a lot of money, I bet he does.”

  “He makes a lot of people money, but that’s not all he does.” Lacey turned her gaze to the road, her mind catching on an unexpected memory. “You remember when he performed on that hospital tour? He was what—sixteen? And he decides all on his own that he wants to set up a tour where he plays on hospital grounds, and all the kids get to come free, same with their families—everyone else has to pay, and all the money goes to research? And local companies all supported it, and his brand ended up skyrocketing. He couldn’t have mapped it out any better, but I honestly don’t think the money was what drove him. I mean, he didn’t announce it broadly. The news only started covering the hospitals when he hit the last few, but he’d been at it for a while by then. Never made a big deal. He did it over and over in what—ten cities, in all?”

  Harry gave her a funny look. “About that.”

  “And the best part—Did you know this? Were you with him then?—he knew there were kids who were too sick to come outside. So he went to see them twice—before his show and then again after. So they wouldn’t feel left out either way. Ten cities. Hundreds of sick kids. Tons of money for research, and I bet it was the kids he saw in their own wards who meant the most to him. Those were the ones that made it worthwhile.”

  Harry’s words came out of nowhere. “Were you sick, Lacey?”

  “Me?” She pulled back but shook her head. “Oh no. He never played for me. It was in his file. Pictures and stuff—that’s how I know. You’d be amazed at the stuff we have, dating all the way back to his first auditions for cereal commercials and state fairs. It was—it was in his file.”

  “His file.” Harry’s tone was skeptical. “Someone else collected all of that for you.”

  Lacey’s nod was the only answer she could risk for that one. “And I’m telling you Harry, this one little boy’s face … You had to see his face to understand. The kid looking at Dante with stars in his eyes, and Dante looking right back, like that kid was the most important thing in the world. It just—” Lacey lifted her hand to her face, surprised to have it come away wet with her own tears. “It was all just very cool.”

  Harry frowned at her. “You know his older brother was sick, right? I assume that made it into your database?”

  “What?” Lacey snapped her gaze to Harry’s. “What do you mean—like, sick sick?” She felt betrayed suddenly, like all of her information was immediately called into question. She didn’t know a ton about Dante’s family, but surely something like a seriously ill brother would have made the news. “We didn’t have anything on that. Did he—is he okay now? I mean—”

  “Oh, yeah. This was a long time ago, well before Dante ever picked up a guitar.” Harry’s smile was wry. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t make the cut.” He shrugged. “Something was wrong with his brother’s heart—he had to undergo a series of surgeries to fix a hole that kept trying to open up. It was all over by the time Dante was ten, but it made a huge impact. He’d spent a lot of time in hospitals by then, seen a lot of sick kids.”

  “Oh, my God,” Lacey said, unable to keep from staring at the manager, even as she felt the tears well up again. “I had no idea. No wonder he—no wonder—” She stopped then, her throat tightening, no more words able to come out.

  “Yeah,” Harry said, deadpan. “You’ve got it bad.”

  “Yo, Harry.” Lacey startled at the voice of one of the other roadies. Lacey turned away to let them talk, and gathered her notes around her like a protective shield.

  They fell into an uneasy silence after that, the rustle and chatter of people around them lulling everything into a kind of easy rhythm that Lacey s
upposed was the whole point of being on the road. The very act of moving seemed to lend a kind of character to the discussions, like the lot of them were out on some insane adventure through uncharted territory. Lacey went over her files, listened to the clamor of her own thoughts, and watched the road go by. She felt Harry watching her again after the roadie had wandered off, the two of them tied together by a decade of shared memories though they’d only met this week.

  Finally, as they crossed over the Maryland border, Harry heaved a sigh and seemed to gather himself for another launch into conversation. “Baltimore is where Dante’s from, but I assume you know that, right?”

  Lacey smiled, back on solid ground. “Of course,” she said crisply. “His high school held a Battle of the Bands that got covered in the local news. It wouldn’t surprise me if the producers intercut footage from that with tonight’s episode. And if they don’t …” She tilted her head. “You know, maybe I should give them a call.”

  “Yeah, well—there’s a little more to it than that.” Harry shook his head as she looked over at him, now curious. “Baltimore is where Dante was a performer before he was a star, if you know what I mean. And yes, I know—” Harry lifted a hand to forestall her fangirl objection. “He was always a star. I get it. But Baltimore was a gritty town, with the very rich and the very poor shoulder to shoulder. There was a lot of opportunity to experiment. To figure out his sound, what he wanted to do.”

  Lacey nodded. It was the Battle of the Bands that had landed Dante on the reality show after he’d gotten covered on the local news. He’d faked a birth certificate to show he was sixteen when he was still only fourteen, and he’d signed his first contract just after he’d turned fifteen years old, all the while lying about his age. He’d insisted his original band come along too, and fortunately they had been decent enough to not be a liability. When the label had pressured Dante to move on, Dante had made his terms clear. A new band was only possible if the label bought out the old band.