by Mia Caldwell
"Just now? In the bus?" he whispered, his breath as soft as silk against my skin. "That was not how I wanted it to be with you, Monique." He snaked his hands around to cup my ass and pull me flush against his hardened length. "I'm going to take off those clothes now...that okay with you?"
Chapter Twenty-One
Tanner
That mess in the lobby was already banished from my mind. Leo would take care of it. Right now, the only thing I cared about was the soft exhalation Monique was making against my neck.
"Yeah," she said. I loved how tight her voice got when she wanted me. The harder she tried to fight it, the more turned on she got. I bet if I put my hands between her legs right now, I could have her cumming around my fingers in under a minute. "Yeah, you can take my clothes off, Tanner."
I slipped my hand between her legs. The heat I found there nearly knocked me backwards. "Say please," I growled, pressing upward.
Her hips rocked into me, finding the heel of my hand and wiggling in desperation. She was as ready to go as I was. "Please," she groaned, half in anger, half in desire. "Please stop fucking with me and give me what I want."
Oh that mouth on her. It was enough to make me crazy. I moved my hand away, and she hissed and tried to grab it back. When I held my ground, her other hand flashed out and gripped me right by the balls.
"Two can play that game," she spat, licking her lips and sinking to her knees.
Heaven. Holy hell. The way her hot mouth gripped my cock, like she was trying to suck it clean off my body. I shuddered and had to grip her shoulders to keep from falling over. Her half-muffled cries vibrated against me, and I gripped her hair and pumped my hips in and out of her. "I had...unh...this vision...of it being all nice and sweet with you..." I grabbed her ponytail and pulled her free. "But you don't want it that way, do you Monique?"
Her eyes were wild. "I want you," she moaned, tugging at her jeans. "Now. We don't have time for nice and sweet."
I should have understood her then, but she was already naked and my desire for her took over.
I flipped her around, pressing her back down until she braced herself against the marble step of the tub. Hot steam billowed upward, giving her skin a glistening slick sheen. She was slippery when I gripped her from behind.
"Yessss," she hissed as I pressed myself up inside of her.
"Good Christ, baby, how the fuck are you so tight?" I started to move inside of her, or maybe she was moving for us, her hips rolling and undulating, pressing back to meet me each time I thrust forward. "Fuck, I can feel you, you know that? You're about to cum for me, aren't you Monique? Go ahead, I want to feel you. I want to feel you get all hot and tight around my cock while I'm fucking you, you hear me? You let go, right now, baby girl."
I was babbling like an idiot. I couldn't help myself. The rough slap of our skin sounded like a backbeat and I was writing lyrics to our song. Her sharp cries were the chorus and when we came together, it was better than any song I had written in my life.
And then I took her into the bed and had her one more time before sleep finally took me. But even then I still dreamed of her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Monique
The unfamiliar hotel room, the rumpled sheets, the smell of sex lingering in the air...and Tanner Brock's naked body stretched out next to mine. Every part of this was completely otherworldly.
I rolled over and surreptitiously swallowed my birth control pill, coughing a little without water to wash it down. Then I turned to look at him, watching him stare up at the ceiling, and wishing like hell I had my camera on me to capture the way his golden stubble swirled on his jawline. He was a work of art.
"How you feeling?" he asked the ceiling...or me.
I considered for a moment before settling on the truth. "Pretty great," I yawned, stretching out.
He rolled towards me and I came face to face with his chest...and all the damage I had done to it last night. Bite marks, claw marks, lines of bruising along his neck. My own body awoke at that moment, and all the little bruises and scratches flamed to brilliant life. "Holy shit," I murmured, reaching out to touch one particularly nasty scratch.
He hissed a little. "Glad you're feeling better," he smiled. "So now, I gotta ask you, do you still want to kill me with your bare hands?"
"Hmm," I smiled up at him. "Maybe?"
He grinned and swiped a rough kiss across my lips. "Good," he rumbled. "Wouldn't want you going soft on me now. Just 'cos you like the way I fuck you..."
"Who said anything about that?"
"You did," he growled, rolling over on top of me. "With that punch-drunk expression on your face. Tells me everything I need to know about how bad you've got it for me..."
"You son of a..." he caught my lip between his teeth and bit down. I snarled at him, and then pressed my naked body up against his. I felt him stir to life, the length of him pressing against me and moaned. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he could get me wet.
He held my lip with his teeth, immobilizing me just as easily as if he was holding me down with his hands. Holding me with his blue gaze, he slipped a finger down into my wetness. When I hissed again, he sank it inside of me, testing.
I moaned, helpless the to sensation. Everywhere he touched sent out a trail of sparks leading directly to my core. My legs spread of their own accord and he growled his approval.
When he pressed himself against my entrance, I wiggled downward. He released my lip, but caught my hands instead, pinning them over my head as he drove himself up inside of me.
His eyes went wide again. "Wait, baby, the condom." He pulled out of me and I practically hissed in frustration.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer. "Just once," I begged him. "You feel so good."
His eyelids fluttered, those long lashes casting a shadow across his cheekbone. He froze in mid thrust and blinked, then fixed me with that blue stare. I was completely helpless in his gaze as he slowly, torturously, rolled his hips.
Inside of me, a series of explosions fired off, one after another. He was touching me...everywhere. All those secret places I never knew existed suddenly came rushing forward to meet him. His skin, my skin, the feeling of no barrier between us...
"Shit, Monique, I gotta stop..."
I moaned as he pulled back, panting hard. Then I smacked the pillow in frustration.
"Sorry baby," he growled.
"Don't call me baby," I muttered petulantly. He looked at me, so uncertain that I had to laugh. "I'm not gonna bite you or anything," I sighed. "You're right, we...we...can't do that yet."
"Next place we stop, we can go get tested," he said eagerly. "I'm clean, I promise, but I don't expect you to believe that just yet."
Just yet. I pressed my lips together and stared at the ceiling. We had spent exactly three whole days together. That was it. What was I thinking, letting him inside of me without a condom? I knew nothing about his past, only his word to go on.
Strangely, his word seemed to be enough.
"What are you thinking?" he asked. "I can see all those worry lines wrinklin' up that pretty forehead of yours." He leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss across it, like he was trying to smooth the lines away.
I pressed my lips together more tightly. I wanted to tell him...but I also didn't want to hurt him. In twenty-four hours time, I had gone from only wanting his body, to wanting his happiness. His smile lit up the room like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. How could I be the one responsible for dimming the sun?
"Nothing," I sighed instead. "Just frustrated." I darted a quick kiss on his shoulder. "Female equivalent of blue balls."
"I have an idea that might help," he grinned evilly. His hand went roughly between my legs, shoving them apart.
When his tongue met my center, I arched into him, aching for him harder than ever. And the whole long, delicious time he stayed down there, I didn't have to think about the fact that we only had three weeks together. Three weeks and then he c
ontinued his tour in Europe and I went back to my regular life...without him.
When I came, there were tears in my eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tanner
I knew she didn't think I was serious, but I was. We had soundcheck early today, but the second I got some free time, I had no problem with marching hand and hand with her down to the clinic.
That moment of connection when I was inside of her, no barrier between us, clinched it. I was gone for her. This challenging, feisty, gorgeous woman owned me completely and I wasn't sure I was ever going to be the same. Or that I wanted to be.
But when her last cries died away, there was a knock on the door. "Ah, sorry Tanner," Jimmy's voice was abashed. He knew what he was interrupting. Fifty bucks said the other guys ganged up on him and forced him to knock. "But they moved soundcheck up and all and er..."
Monique squirmed under me, grabbing the sheets and wrapping them around her lithe body, hiding her magnificent breasts, and I sighed. "Gotta head into the office, baby," I whispered, kissing her while the taste of her still lingered on my tongue.
She blinked rapidly. "Good. I'll get some shots of you guys playing." She slid to the edge of the bed, her shoulders weirdly tight. "I need to work today too." She bit the edge off the last part of her words.
I stood still for a moment. "You okay?"
She stood up, a casual smile plastered on her face. Too casual. Monique couldn't hide her feelings for shit, and right now something was bothering her. This time I was pretty sure it wasn't me, not while I still had the smell of her on my chin anyway. "I'm great," she said, pressing her hand to my cheek. "Time to go to work."
Any chance I would have had to press her was lost when Jimmy tapped on the door again. "All right, all right, I'm comin'," I grumbled, pulling on yesterday's jeans.
Tonight was the true kickoff to the tour. Last night's solo show was just a warmup, a way to work through a few lighting cues, while simultaneously making the label bigwigs feel special. Little silvery flashes of nerves sung through my veins. No matter how long I'd been living on the road, there was always that jittery feeling before a show. Excitement mixed with nervousness, mixed with more excitement. I considered taking a swig of bourbon to calm my nerves, but if I started now, I'd be completely soused by the time the show opened. Those days were passed.
I made good decisions now. Careful ones, with the future in mind. This tour was a means to an end, and at the end of it was Brock Ranch, fully operational and ready to be lived in full-time. With a wife and kids running around. Little kids with eyes like their mama.
Wait, what the fuck?
I jolted myself out of my little daydream just as Monique emerged from the bathroom with a towel knotted around her chest. Those eyes of hers...the eyes I had just seen on the different faces in my daydream....
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked warily.
I blushed, hard, certain that she could see right into my skull and all the plans my brain was making without my consent. "Because you're the prettiest thing in this room," I smiled, hoping it sounded smoother than it felt.
She shook her head, pulling on her shirt over a lacy little bra that was getting my blood all hot again. "Flattery will get you nowhere, cowboy, we gotta go to work." Her delectable ass disappeared into a pair of perfectly fitted jeans.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I teased her as I buttoned my shirt. "Denying me and keeping things all business. That's kind of your thing."
She shot me a look and before I could react, she had that huge camera in her hands, wielding it like a weapon. "Strictly business, as you'll recall," she smiled, firing off that blinding flash before sauntering into the main suite.
I grinned and shook my head and followed her, humming a tune I couldn't identify yet. This girl was inspiring in all sorts of ways.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monique
The band trouped into the backstage area like it was nothing at all. So I bit my lip and did the same, grateful that my camera could hide the wide-eyed awe.
The stadium was a cavernous space, and in the center of it all, the roadies scrambled around, assembling lighting towers the size of skyscrapers and giant screens four stories tall. Huge backdrops had been wheeled into place - dead white in the glarey houselights - giving the whole stage a hyperreal aura.
I fell back and checked my meter, then fired off a few test shots as the band found their marks. The technician up in the booth boomed something technical sounding over the house speakers and Tanner pursed his lips quizzically. I watched, fascinated, as he checked with each bandmember in turn, wielding a quiet authority as easily as he slung his guitar. With a few nods and a quick clap on the shoulder to Blake, he turned and raised two fingers in the air.
Then a crash of sound thundered through the air. In an instant, I recognized it as the song Tanner had closed with the night before, but the effect here was totally different. With the full band backing him, he strutted around, for a moment, riding the music to a crescendo. My camera fell to my lap and I watched raptly as the music paused and Tanner approached the mic, eyes closed.
"Wild hearts, wild nights..." he crooned into the mic...then stepped back, his face a storm cloud.
"Dale, my monitor...."
A fat roadie hustled from the side of the stage, an abashed look on his face. Quick as anything, he lifted the earpiece from Tanner's head and replaced it with a new one. The whole moment was like a well-oiled machine.
These guys were pros.
I sat through the rest of soundcheck, only occasionally remembering to take pictures. I spent most of the time just watching Tanner. Every single thing he did was fascinating to me, the little muscle that jumped at his jaw, the way he ran his fingers through his hair, front to back, back to front. The way he closed his eyes, his mouth so close to the mic he looked like he would kiss it, make love to it, his hips undulating...
Damn.
I crossed my legs, leaning forward a little, pressing myself into the seat, glad that no one could see I was in serious trouble here.
And then at the worst possible moment, the video display kicked on, and I was treated to a four-story high version of Tanner Brock's beautiful face as his eyes snapped open, singing the words right to me. "And our love will be, ever wild...."
A funny tightening in my throat, an even funnier little skip to my heart. It was ludicrous, the words weren't for me, every intelligent part of me knew that. But his blue eyes never wavered from staring right into my soul.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tanner
Soundcheck had run later than I wanted. When the houselights came up, I could see Monique sitting there, her eyes blazing at me from clear across the stadium. It took a superhuman effort not to throw my guitar to the ground and rush right to her.
"Tanner...?"
"Tanner...?"
"Tanner...?"
It was like everyone needed me at once. My guitar tech asking something stupid about the acoustic, Keith about an upcoming date change, Leo about security backstage. They all came at me, relentless and needy, the people who depended on me for their livelihood. The jackals who fed off my songs.
With one last, forlorn look at Monique, I allowed myself to be swept into their nonsense. With only time enough to wolf down a quick sandwich from the craft table, it was time for the show to begin.
Each of us had our own little warmup rituals. After a quick huddle, we went to separate corners to be alone with our thoughts before showtime. Blake always found a quiet corner and bent his head, his lips moving in silent prayer. Jimmy hopped up and down, boxing the air ferociously with muffled little grunts and whoops. Carter paced like a caged wildcat, six steps in one direction, then an about face and six steps in the other direction. Fitch always disappeared entirely, not emerging until the last possible second before we went on.
Me, I always listened to the opening band. I liked the young guys, scrappy and full of rock star dreams. Openi
ng for me was the biggest moment in their career and their excitement fueled my own. Sitting in the wings, I let myself get carried away by memory...to the nights spent in my van, the one I had paid for myself even though my father had offered to buy me a bus outright. The freedom I had felt being unshackled from my parents' money, while at the same time missing my family so badly it hurt. The loneliness that had seeped in...the people who were all to ready to exploit it...the women who were only to happy to relieve it....