by Jessa James
We’d spent a lot of time in the showers after practice, fucking up against the tile, right next to the rest of the girls’ soccer team in their private shower stalls.
I used to play a game, catching every gasp and cry of her pleasure in my mouth so we wouldn’t be discovered by her teammates just a few feet away.
Pointing to the tiled floor just outside the shower door, I saw the little black square. A condom. She'd come prepared. She'd wanted to be fucked in here all along. Once I was sure she could stand on her own, I opened the door enough to grab the condom, rip it open and toss the wrapper onto the floor.
“Let me,” she said.
I didn't deny her when she took it from me. But when she gripped the base of my cock in her left hand and began to roll the condom down my length, I couldn't stifle the groan. Her fist was hot and snug; she knew just how to hold me. The condom was on in record time and she arched a pale brow. When her lip quirked up, I knew I had to do something about that sass.
“Turn around. Hands on the tile.” My voice was deep, commanding, but she just had to say no and I'd carry her to bed and make love to her, slow and sweet. That wasn't what she wanted though, and when she did as I said and put her hands on the marble, I ran a hand down the long line of her back. “Step back. More. Good girl. Now bend down so I get a good look at that perfect ass.”
As she positioned herself, she looked over her shoulder at me, watched me look at her.
Her hips were wider than I remembered, her ass the perfect heart shape. It begged to be spanked and I did just that, one playful swat. She stiffened, but bit her lip. I watched as her breasts swayed, my handprint formed a pretty pink on her pale skin.
“What was that for?”
“For being too fucking hot.” I ran a finger over her pussy, pink and dripping.
“Kit!” she cried, wiggling her hips.
“What do you need, kitten?”
“You,” she whimpered when I pulled my hand away.
Stepping up to her, I took hold of her hip, aligned my dick up and slid right into her. One long, fucking perfect stroke.
“Oh god,” she groaned.
“Fuck,” I hissed. My eyes fell closed and my fingers tightened. “This first time's going to be rough. Then I'll learn every inch of you. All night long.”
“Yes.”
That was the end of talking. I couldn't do it anymore. My basest needs took over and I took her hard. Fuck. Rut. Claim.
In. Out. I wasn't gentle but she didn't seem to care. The way she chanted my name and pushed her ass back against every thrust told me she wanted it. Hard.
I'd give it to her.
Damn, I wished I wasn't wearing a condom, but we had to talk first. Fuck now, talk later. Then she'd be mine and I could go bare and mark her with my cum. That had my balls tightening and I was so close.
“Come, Crys. Come all over my cock.”
I wasn't sure if she came because I'd commanded it or because it was so fucking good. It didn't matter because when her tight pussy began to ripple and clench around my cock I knew she was coming. I followed her right over, my cum pumping out of me and into the condom as she milked it from me.
There would be bruises on her hip where I gripped her, but I didn't care. Neither did she. It was just another mark of ownership, of giving her exactly what she needed.
Me.
Reaching out, I turned off the water and scooped her up into my arms, carrying her out of the bathroom. That was round one. Round two would be in a bed.
Chapter 7
Crystal
“I should just let you fall into your post-sex nap and leave,” I said.
I'd taken a few minutes to savor the double orgasm, but it was time to face reality. One: Kit was as good as I'd remembered. Better. Damn it. Two: He was just a one-night stand. No matter what he said—and he'd said he wanted to talk—he wouldn't change my mind about leaving. This was not a sleepover. This was not happily-ever-after. He'd broken my heart once. I wasn't going to let that happen again. So this was just sex. Really, really good fucking sex.
Kit lay beside me on his back, arm thrown over his eyes. I watched as the corner of his mouth tipped up. The rest of him? Yeah, he was naked and bare and hot as hell. His cock was still hard. And big.
“You should.”
His arm dropped and he rolled onto his side. Grabbing the sheet, he pulled it up over me so my lower half was covered, although the glint in his eyes told me it was intentional when he stopped well below my breasts.
“They're bigger than I remember,” he said, his dark gaze focused on them.
“Yeah, well, lots of things change in ten years.”
The smile slipped.
“I've followed you in the news,” he said. He met my eyes, held. “I'm so proud of you.”
It warmed me to hear him say that. I hadn't gotten those words from my parents. A few friends, but not anyone whose voice held value.
“Thanks.”
“Really, kitten. You did just what you said.”
I glanced away, swallowed. His endearment wasn't making this easy for me. “Not all of it.”
When he didn't say anything, I looked at him.
“Your dream was to get out of your house. Go to Stanford.”
“Yeah, but it was also to be your wife.”
If I'd stabbed Kit in the chest with a knife, the look on his face wouldn't have been as bad as this. He looked in agony.
“You married someone else.” His voice was quiet.
Yeah, Robert. God, he was a mistake. “You weren't exactly an available option.”
I turned to roll off the bed, toss on my clothes, but he grabbed me about the waist, spun me back. His touch was gentle, but I wasn't going anywhere.
“Say it.” His eyes were darker. There was anger there, but not at me. “Say it, Crys. You’ve waited years to scream at me. Go ahead.”
“You slept with Lindsay Mack. You made your choice.”
He ran a hand over his face, sighed. “Do you remember what my parents said they'd do if I took up music?”
His parents were rich and stuck-up, more interested in appearances than people. At least they had been back then.
“They threatened to disown you.”
He smiled at that one. “One thing about them is they don't lie. They followed through, Crystal. I knew they were going to do it, too. Labor Day weekend, when everyone else had moved into a college dorm, I moved out. No money. No place to live.”
God, that must have been so hard. My parents didn't care about me at all, but I'd had the shelter a full ride scholarship, four years at Stanford. A dorm room, a dining hall, all of it. He'd had none of that.
I deliberately took my time looking around the room, at this ridiculously expensive hotel room famous for hosting movie stars and Presidents. “It looks like you made something of yourself, gave your parents the middle finger.”
He offered up a weak laugh. “Yeah, I did do that. I had nothing, kitten. I was nothing. And you? You were going places. Your dreams were all going to come true. I couldn’t fuck that up.”
I didn't like the way this conversation was turning. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. “You were part of my dreams,” I countered.
He shook his head against the pillow. “No. I would have killed those dreams. Every single one. You had to go to Stanford. Show everyone how smart, how fucking perfect you are. And you have.”
I jumped out of bed then, pacing the room, not caring I was naked. I looked down at the suite's fancy carpet, at the way my bare feet sunk into the soft strands. Back and forth, processing what he'd just said. I stopped. I swear my heart stopped. Slowly, I turned to face him. “You didn't sleep with Lindsay Mack.”
The words were no more than a whisper, but he heard me. He didn't deny it. Didn't say I was wrong.
“Oh my god, Kit. Why?”
I started to cry then, remembering the moment he'd pushed me away. He'd ripped my heart out. He hadn't looked like a guy who'd be
en indifferent. He'd tried to look like an asshole, and he'd been really good at it. In my darkest hours, I’d thought I’d seen a hint of pain in his eyes, of torment, but only for a second. I’d scolded myself for imagining him in pain as he'd looked as crushed as me. But that look hadn’t been my imagination. I saw it again now.
He was quiet for a minute. Ten years the truth had been hidden. Ten years he'd remained silent, let me think the worst of him when in fact he'd done it for me.
“Because you had to go. You were talking about turning Stanford down, staying with me. I couldn't let you do it.”
I could barely see him through the tears.
“But—”
“Come here.” His voice was soft, but I heard the steely undertones.
I moved to the bed, put my knee on it. He pulled the covers back, settled beneath them and tugged me into him. The covers went up and over me so we were face-to-face, so close I could see the dark flecks in his eyes.
“You wouldn't have left me without a good reason. I had to break your heart, and I’m sorry. But you would’ve stayed and I couldn't let you do that.”
“It wasn't for you to decide,” I countered, wiping my eyes with my fingers.
“Yes, it was. You were mine. To love. To protect, from those assholes at school, and in the end, from yourself. I couldn’t let you give up your future for me.”
I shook my head, the tears falling again. God, what he'd done. My heart had been destroyed but I understood. And he was right. I was eighteen and stupid. I was going to walk away from a full ride scholarship at Stanford and chase him to New York? And do what? Wait tables and try to pay for community college on my own while he played gigs?
He’d been strong, and a hell of a lot smarter than I was, at least about us. He’d loved me enough to let me go, and I could only imagine what he'd felt pushing me away.
“And now?” I asked.
“And now we have a second chance. I want you in my life.”
Ten years was a long time. We were completely different people now. His life was crazy and he lived in a fishbowl, always in the public eye. Barring this promo tour, I lived a quiet, solitary life. I kept to myself, kept my head down and worked. Yes, I still loved him. A part of me always would, but we weren’t just different people, we lived completely different lives. And I wasn’t the kind of woman who could deal with groupies, drugs and cheating. So not going there.
“What about all those women?” I offered, trying not to feel jealous of all of his encounters.
“What women?” he asked and I felt my jaw drop. What women? Did he think I was a moron? A blind, deaf, idiot?
That shut the tears down. “What women?” I asked. “There are a million photos all over the internet. Do I need to Google you? I’ve got them burned into my eyelids, you with beautiful women practically hanging all over you. Lots of women.”
“Jealous?” he asked and it just made me mad. How was I supposed to answer that? Jealous? Yes. For years. But he wasn’t mine. Kit hadn’t been mine in a really long time.
My silence earned me a frown and the teasing tone faded from his voice completely. “Look, you were married. Settled down. In love. Some asshole put a ring on your finger and I was fucking jealous. How else was I supposed to deal?”
I thought of Robert. What we had was a farce of a marriage. I thought I'd be happy with him, but I'd been lying to myself. I never loved him. I never loved anyone but Kit.
“We didn't work out. I divorced him two years ago. There's… there's been no one since.”
I saw the flare of heat in his eyes knowing it had been a long time, a really, really long time since I'd been with a man. Two years. Before tonight, I’d felt like I had cobwebs in my vagina.
“I won't lie, there were women in the past. But none of them mattered, Crys. I didn’t love any of them. There was only you. When you got married, I had to let go. I was trying to get you out of my system.”
“And now?” I asked.
He rolled us so I was on my back and he was looming over me. His fingers stroked my hair back from my face. “Now, you’re mine.”
It was what I'd always wanted him to say. I'd dreamed of him showing up on my doorstep and wanting me back, telling me he was making me his. But it had never happened. Work. School. A shitty marriage and an even more painful divorce. That kind of thing washed the shiny and new off my innocence like acid on flowers. I knew what this was, right now. Right place, right time, lots of chemistry. But I wasn’t a naïve little girl anymore. This was one night. Just one night. I didn’t expect him to give up his lifestyle, the women, the touring, or the parties just for me. He was a rock star. He wasn’t my Kit anymore. He belonged to the whole world. I couldn’t compete with that. I didn’t even want to try, not when I knew I’d just get my heart broken.
We'd both accomplished our dreams, but we’d grown even farther apart in the process. There was just no way I could see this working out in the long term. But I had him right now. Tonight. I could take this one night and file it away as the best night of my life. I'd think back on the sex, on his hands and his kiss and his cock, and count myself lucky for a long, long time.
When he lowered his head to kiss me, I kissed him back like it was the last time. No, I wasn’t going to sneak out while he was sleeping. Morning traffic, schedules, and the reality-suck would come crashing down on our private party soon enough. And when he nudged my legs apart with his knee and slipped two fingers into me, I knew walking away was going to be one of the hardest things I ever had to do.
Chapter 8
Crystal
I woke up warm. And cozy. In Kit's arms. Oh my god. Last night. Kit Kaswell.
I'd stripped off my clothes and climbed into the shower with him. I was never the aggressor when it came to sex. Never had been with Kit, until now. He'd said he'd wanted a shower and I thought of him naked, water running down all those hard muscles. I knew he had tattoos, but I'd wanted to see them. Once I put my hand on his back, he'd taken over.
All. Night. Long.
I was sore in places I'd forgotten even got sore.
My back was against his front with his cock was pressing heavy and thick against my bottom. The arm thrown over my waist held me securely and his palm cupped my breast. A perfect fit.
“Morning,” he said, his voice gruff and deep with sleep.
His hand moved, playing with my breast as his fingers gently worked my nipple. This wasn't the crazy pace of our time in the shower, but a gentle coaxing. It was working.
“Mmm,” I murmured. “Again?” I asked when he shifted his hips.
“Always.” Leaning forward, he nipped the spot where my neck met my shoulder. It hadn't been a hot spot for me when we were teenagers but I definitely liked it now. And he knew it. He'd known it at three in the morning when I'd woken up to his head between my legs. Wow, an orgasm was a great way to wake up.
But now, now I had to pee.
I shifted out of his hold and slid from the bed. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him watching me, a sly grin on his face.
As I made my way to the bathroom, I shook my head at him. “You are so bad.”
He pushed the covers back, gripped his cock, the part of him that had rocked my world three times last night, and stroked it. “Damn straight.”
I shut the door behind me, leaned against the cool wood. Blew out a breath when I heard the phone ring, followed by him cursing as he spoke to someone on the phone.
Real life, here we come.
I was in big trouble here. I moved to the mirror, saw myself. I looked like a well-fucked woman. My hair was a wild tangle, snarled and matted. My skin had a pink glow to it and my nipples were hard. I stepped closer to the mirror, looked down. I had a love bite on the upper swell of my breast. Kit had paid very close attention to both of them but I'd missed when he'd done that. It would be there for days.
The smile slipped from my lips. Days. I'd be gone. No, he'd be gone and yet his mark would linger. I didn't need to have the lit
tle red splotch to remember our time together. I wouldn't forget it. Ever. Just as I hadn't forgotten our time as teenagers.
It was just one night. It had been amazing, but he was going to crawl out of that bed and out of my life. I'd have to take a walk of shame back to my own hotel. Shit. I'd been the groupie he'd taken back to his hotel room after a concert and I'd be the groupie that left, walking a little bow legged, in the same clothes as the night before. And the staff at this hotel? They probably noticed everything. Every. Thing.
So embarrassing.
Kit wasn't going to give up his band and I refused to be the one to hold him back. The parties, the women, the lifestyle. God, this hotel room. I’d never been in a room like this, never even dreamt of it. The whole thing reeked of money, from the thick down duvet to the thick cream-colored carpet under my bare feet. No, this wasn’t my life. It was time to go back to reality. Being a rock star was his dream, and I’d never heard anyone claim that having a conservative wife was part of the rock star equation.
And I was not the kind of woman to sit home and patiently wait while he left me for months at a time. Long distance relationships were bullshit, and I knew my heart wasn’t cut out for that kind of stress. I wouldn’t survive trying to do a long distance thing with Kit.
When I left the bathroom, Kit was sitting on the side of the bed.
“Tia called. A TV station set aside time for us on their noon show. I have to go.”
The ache already began. The loss. This time, it was my own fault. I'd let him in and now I'd have to live with the pain of not being able to keep him.
“I have to shower.” He came up to me, stroked his knuckles down my cheek. Why did he have to be so damn sweet?
I couldn't say anything past the lump in my throat, so I just nodded.
“Give me ten minutes, then I'll get my mouth on your pussy again. One more taste before I go.”
Said pussy got wet just from his voice, the mental picture of him kneeling on the floor, his hands gripping my bottom as he ruthlessly licked and sucked on my clit.