Undesired Lust

by Eden Summers

  She matched every stroke of his tongue, while she shuffled further up his thighs, the heat of her core settling over his cock. Her hands wove around his neck, her thighs tightening around his hips. Then she began to rock, not just literally with her sweet little pussy against the crotch of his cargo pants, but his world in general.

  With my head above water, I’m still drowning in you.

  He lowered the straps of her bra down her biceps, letting the material hang at her elbows. “You. Me. Floor. Now.” He punctuated each word with a scrape of his teeth against her lower lip.

  She nodded, holding him tight as he hugged her body to his, and then shuffled off the stool, falling to his knees. He took them to the floor, laying her against the soft pile rug, while keeping her hips cocked to meet his pelvis.

  As she relaxed into the rug, she untangled the bra straps from her arms and threw it away. He was caught up in her movements, the curve of her belly, the swell of her breasts. Fucking delectable. When his gaze reached her face, she swallowed and the tops of her cheeks darkened.

  Nervous? Embarrassed? She had no need for either. She was smokin’ hot. A vision of natural beauty above all others. Nobody else could ever incite the adoration currently expanding his chest.

  “Get these off.” She leaned forward, her gaze not meeting his, and then grasped the waistband of his cargos.

  She fumbled with his belt, while he hovered over her, unclasping the button on her jeans. Their movements were frantic, yanking, tugging, pulling until they had each other’s pants undone. He lowered the material down her legs, exposing her inch by agonizing inch. She kicked off her shoes as he worked, her sweet arousal filling the air. He could practically taste it on his tongue, and the temptation had him moving faster to get the last vestiges of clothing off and throw them without a care.

  Seconds after the missile left his hand, something crashed behind him. Fuck.

  “It’s your Fender Strat.”

  He winced, picturing one of his most treasured assets in an unacceptable position.

  “Get the girl or the guitar…” she mused, a curve tilting her lips.

  His pride and joy could be on the floor in a mass of broken strings, and he would still choose the girl. This girl. He wouldn’t ignore the siren call of a misused instrument for anyone else. “There’s no question, kitten. It’s you all the way.”

  He worked his pants off, his gaze devouring her while hers did the same to him. Nerves still shone bright in her eyes. She clenched her thighs together and tilted her legs away so he couldn’t see every inch of her. He had to admit, he felt a little edgy himself.

  This was his opportunity to make up for his mistakes. To set them on the right path. Hell, he even had to live up to a drunken threesome on one of the best nights of her life. The best sex he’d ever had…and he had to outdo it. Oh, shit. His erection began to wither under the pressure. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

  “Mason?” Sidney leaned up on her elbows, frowning in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  The rocket is not prepared for launch sequence. I repeat, the rocket is not prepared for launch sequence. She was lying on the god damn dirty floor for Christ sake.

  “Nothin’,” he lied. “Come here.” He sat back, his legs outstretched in front of him, and encouraged her to straddle him.

  She eyed him nervously, shuffling on her knees toward him. He could feel her, every succulent inch of warm flesh against his body. Her breasts were in his peripheral, her kiss darkened lips right in front of him. He grasped her ass in his palms and hitched her higher, making her pussy rub against his cock.

  It didn’t take much. The mere brush of her arousal over his dick was enough to make the commander fall into line. “Kiss me.” It wasn’t an order, it was a plea. He needed her to initiate the affection. He had to know he wasn’t the only one instigating.

  Her approach was tentative, slow, causing his chest to pound harder with each second. The light touch of her hands landed on his shoulders, her gaze seeping into his heart the moment before her lips met his.

  He moaned into her mouth, grinding his shaft against her pubic bone while their tongues danced. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, and every touch shot through his body, straight to his dick. He wanted to bottle this sensation, the tight restriction in his chest that bordered on euphoria and raw brutality.

  She began to gyrate, her hips undulating, the juices from her pussy coating him as he began to work his hands over her smooth skin. He stroked the curve of her breasts, gripped her hips, and followed her lead.

  It wasn’t until she pulled back, lowering her grip from his hair, her fingers trailing over his stomach, that he paused, holding his breath. She leaned to one side, grabbing his cock in her hand and gently glided it to her heat.

  “Jesus, kitten.”

  Their gazes collided, hers filled with lust, and then slowly she lowered onto him. She released a breathy exhale with her descent, her eyes rolling back as her body arched, her breasts pushing forward. He supported her with an arm around her waist, while his lips sought her nipples, licking and sucking until she began to buck against him.

  “Mason…”

  “Fuck.” His name, her voice, the panted breaths, it was too much.

  He thrust up into her, hard, fast, taking each of her gasps as an indication for more. Her wildcat claws scored his back, her pussy contracted around him.

  “Mason. Don’t stop.”

  Stop? He couldn’t if his life depended on it. The base of his shaft throbbed, the pleasure climbing to the head of his cock. Nirvana was in his grasp, waiting to be taken.

  “Kiss me,” she demanded, grabbing his chin and forcefully taking what she wanted.

  Damn it. She was perfect. His tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with the movements of hers. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only drown in the sensation taking him higher than he’d ever been.

  “Mason…”

  Her warning tone blasted his arousal into the stratosphere. The base of his shaft tightened, throbbing inside her. “You close?” he panted, lowering his forehead to her shoulder, praying for the right answer so he didn’t blow not only his load, but his chance with her.

  “No.”

  Fuck.

  “I’m there,” she whimpered. Her shallow breaths increased, her undulations becoming jerky. She threw her head back and then a cry broke her lips.

  He groaned, in thanks, in pleasure, in a fucking hallelujah to the heavens, and followed her into nirvana. He pulsed inside her, sinking deep with every burst from his cock. Then her mouth overtook his in a punishing kiss, and they came down from the high together, their lips joined as well as their bodies.

  It wasn’t until his breathing started to even out and the wild rush of oxytocin lessened in his system that the harsh reality of their current situation became clear. He’d been hasty again. He’d been a jerk. Again. Trying to rekindle their fucked up relationship on the floor of his studio. Classy.

  Oh, fuck! He grabbed her hips and dragged her off him to rest at his side. “We didn’t use protection.”

  Her face paled, her eyes widened, and the slight parting of her lips told him he was going to be in a world of hurt. She swallowed, crossing her arms over her chest to cover herself. “I—I didn’t even think.”

  “Let me get you a cloth.” He pushed to his feet, needing to leave so he could curse himself in the privacy of another room.

  “It’s OK,” she murmured. “I’m on the pill. You don’t need to worry about an unwanted pregnancy.”

  Thank fuck for heavenly favors. Problem was, a kid wasn’t the major issue. He’d been irresponsible with the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose. And right now, the pinched expression on her face told him that his mission to win her over had back pedaled to the starting blocks.

  AFTER SEX CONVERSATION had never been Sidney’s forte, but this was ridiculous. She was embarrassed at how quickly she’d fallen back into his arms, ashamed for not realizing the la

ck of protection, and clueless at how long it would take to get over the humiliation.

  Mason had given her space, allowing her to freshen up and get into her clothes while he ordered pizza and then retrieved her belongings from the pool house. She hadn’t even been wary of him scavenging through her belongings. For one, she couldn’t stand the thought of stepping into the back yard alone at night, and two, she’d needed the space.

  Now they were back in the studio, sitting on the rug they’d had sex on less than an hour earlier, eating pizza in silence. Even worse was the white stain on the pile beside her foot. It glared at her, reminding her of her stupidity, cementing her lasciviousness.

  “You’re quiet,” he murmured and then took a bite of pie.

  Yep. That’s the reaction you get when you throw a naked woman off your lap.

  “Do you want more soda?” He reached for the bottle, and she shook her head.

  “No, thank you.”

  More silence. More thick, unyielding, emotion-filled silence that made her want to scream in frustration.

  “Look, Sid, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t think.” He lowered his slice to the pizza box and ran a hand through his wavy hair. “I fucked things up, royally, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’ll get an STD check tomorrow. I’ll do whatever you want to ease your mind. I haven’t had unprotected sex in years, and I promise I don’t have any known issues with my junk. So, please don’t think I went into the situation planning on putting you at risk.”

  Oh, stupid, traitorous heart. Her chest began to flutter with his emotional plea. STDs had been her main concern. He was a pussy whore, after all. She wouldn’t have been surprised if his dick had been worn down to a nub from overuse, so the possibility of catching a disease was frightening. Funnily enough, with all her other worries about the paparazzi stalker and the renewed media attention, she couldn’t bring herself to panic. Not yet, anyway.

  “A test would be great. I’ll have to get one too.”

  He gave a somber nod, settling them back into uncomfortable silence. Eat, drink, breathe—that was the process for the next five minutes.

  “You know—” Mason cleared his throat. “I wrote a song about you too. Well, not really a song. More like a few lines thrown together.”

  Sidney paused in the middle of bringing her glass of soda to her lips, giving him her undivided attention. “Should I be concerned?”

  He chuckled, pushing to his feet. “It’s no Pussy Whore, but I think it has potential.”

  “OK, I’ll bite.” She placed her glass beside the rug on the wooden floorboards, a grin spreading her lips. “Can I hear it?”

  “Sure. As long as you don’t judge me. I’ve been pretty rusty on lyrics lately.” He reached for his Gibson acoustic and then strode to the stool in the middle of the room.

  She met his gaze and wondered if the softness in his eyes was due to nervousness. “I promise…” She covered a hand over her heart, “not to judge you any more than I already do.”

  “Nice, kitten.” He chuckled, resting the guitar against his thigh. His fingers slid over the frets, positioning perfectly against the strings. “No laughing.”

  “I won’t,” she whispered, watching in awe as he lowered his head, concentrating on his instrument while waves of shoulder-length hair curtained his face.

  She’d always appreciated these moments with him on his guitar. Nobody else, apart from his bandmates, had the opportunity to see him like this. He didn’t play on stage, he focused on vocals, on working the crowd, and driving the fans nuts while Ryan, Blake, and Mitchell handled the guitar work. It was a blessing to see him strum the strings. To witness the connection he had with his music.

  “I crossed a line, I paid my time, now I’m fighting for what I lost.

  Bridges were burned, tables have turned, and nobody but me knew the cost.

  I’ve struggled without you, please tell me what to do. When will this shit ever end?

  Cause without you I can’t breathe, I’m tortured, in deep, I’m broken, I didn’t just bend.”

  He pressed his hands over the strings, silencing the melody, and met her gaze. “That’s it so far.”

  She nodded slowly, sucking in a deep breath.

  “What? No applause?”

  Her lips trembled and she struggled with comprehension. Did he really feel that way? “You wrote that?” she croaked. “About me?”

  He scowled. “Yeah, why? Have I fucked up again?”

  She shook her head. “No.” The word was a breath, barely breaking the sound barrier. “I just…” Don’t want to place hope in thinking you care.

  “Don’t like it…”

  “No.” This time her voice was filled with passion. She would love if he sang the Statute of Limitations in that gorgeously smooth voice of his. But this…this knocked her off her feet. It also strangled her heart with longing. “I love it. I love your voice. I love the brutality. I’m just shocked.”

  His lips curved. It wasn’t arrogant, it wasn’t seductive. It was a shy smile that made her blood burn. “I’ve spent endless nights dreaming about your voice,” he murmured. “Did you end up sending your demo into Grander?”

  Her axis tilted from joy to heartache. “Wow. That question came from left field.” She was stalling, not willing to have this conversation, now or ever.

  “I remember you mentioning something about it before we…became porn stars.”

  She scowled, hoping her anger would dissuade the unwanted topic. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  He winced in apology. “If we can’t joke about it, who can?”

  “Nobody,” she snapped, moving to her knees. She fumbled with the pizza boxes, closing the lids and placing them neatly on top of each other.

  “Sorry, kitten. I’ve just always loved your voice. Why didn’t you take the plunge?”

  She didn’t want to lie, and telling the truth was equally favorable. “The limelight’s not for me.”

  “Why not? Blake said you received rave comments on the YouTube video we pulled together for Gabi. I bet if you contacted Grander they’d sign you in a heartbeat.”

  If history served, that would depend on her sex life. And besides, she was done with the dream of becoming a solo artist. The recording executives could burn in hell for all she cared. After the public scrutiny she’d lived through, she didn’t want to be anywhere near the spotlight.

  “It was a great song, but I’m no longer interested in Grander.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, with Mason’s focus falling heavy on her shoulders. She didn’t want to meet his gaze. She’d crumple, spilling her verbal diarrhea all over his studio floor. And to be honest, she didn’t want to lay more guilt at his feet. Today had shown he’d suffered enough.

  Everybody and nobody were to blame in this whole friendship fiasco. Filling him in on the way her life had turned upside down wouldn’t change the future, and it certainly wouldn’t change the past.

  “Right,” he muttered. “No longer interested in signing with the biggest recording label in the business or earning millions. Not to mention having every person in the world hearing the breathtaking way you sing…yeah, seems totally legit.”

  “Please, drop it.” She lifted her gaze, hitting him with a look part plea, part glare.

  He scrutinized her, taking long moments to study her features. Guilt hung heavy in the air, hers and his. Things had changed in the last two days. Mason was no longer the villain. They’d all made mistakes, and although his actions caused the most harm, she could understand his reasoning. He’d been hurt too. Admitting to all the things she’d lost and all the fights she faced would tarnish the first steps they’d taken to right their friendship. Besides, she had her own pride. Knowing her empire had crumpled so easily wasn’t something she liked to discuss.

  “Did you want to continue working, or can we call it quits?” she asked. “I thought my afternoon siesta would’ve kept me awake until the early hours, but I’m already exhausted.”
<br />   He continued to watch her as he stood. “Let’s call it a night, then. We can start again in the morning.”

  She would’ve been thankful for the reprieve if the look in his eye didn’t tell her the conversation was far from forgotten.

  MASON SAT ON the edge of his bed, listening to the whir of the spa bath from his private bathroom. Sidney had been in there for ten minutes. Ten torturous minutes that left him alone to think about what she was hiding from him. First, she’d tried to bury the problems with her family. Now, there was something up with Grander.

  His intuition was bugging him. He let the record deal question slide earlier because Sidney had begun sharpening her claws. Now, he couldn’t ignore the nagging at the back of his mind. Something had happened between her and the label. Something he needed to find out if he ever planned on sleeping again.

  He could’ve called Leah to investigate, or spoken to his rep at Grander, but he couldn’t bring himself to go behind Sidney’s back. Getting an explanation from her was the only option. He just wished he had the restraint to wait for the perfect time.

  Completely devoid of remorse, he strode to the bathroom door and pushed it open, letting the deep purr of the spa jets hit his ears as he leaned against the door jam. “So, when are you going to tell me what happened with Grander?”

  Sidney squealed, the water sloshing past the edge of the tub as she glanced over her shoulder, wide eyed. “Get out!”

  Like earlier, he was mesmerized. She was a dream before him, her back glistening from moisture, her hair pulled into a messy bun. He wanted to lick every droplet of water off her skin, and run his hands through her hair.

  Focus. “Did they try to fuck you over with a shitty deal?” he asked over the buzz of the spa jets. He knew how Grander Records worked. They played hardball, giving the bare minimum to new clients unless they had a hardass legal representative who knew what to look for in their longwinded contracts.

  “Do you mind holding your questions for a time when I’m not completely naked?” she grated.

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