Pop Star

by Meredith Michelle

“Not on your life.” You pull him into a deep kiss. Every inch of your skin is beautifully relaxed and deliciously aroused at the same time, and you don’t want the feeling to end.

  You strip off his shirt, leaving only a little necklace on a leather cord hanging around his neck. You yearn to feel his muscled chest against your skin.

  He seems to pick up on your thoughts and reaches around to unzip your top, moaning as your breasts spill free. His eyes rest there for a moment, but he refrains from reaching out to touch them. Instead, he pulls you close. His skin is hot against yours, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart.

  He eases you back onto the bed so that you recline onto the pillows. He runs a finger down your forehead, pauses to press your bottom lip, then runs his finger down your chin, slowly from your neck, between your breasts, and down your stomach. He lowers his mouth and kisses you there, sending a new set of shivers to your toes.

  With a series of small kisses, he moves up to just below your breasts, and lays his palm flat on your belly, gently skimming his fingers over your mound as he does, sending a new set of sparks through your body. With his other hand, he lifts one heavy breast, running his tongue along the low curve to just below your nipple. He moves his other hand up to gently pinch the nipple of the other breast.

  You gasp in response, and reflexively push up into him. He smiles a little and begins to suckle your breasts slowly, one at a time, and moves his hand lower. He works his fingers beneath your waistband and finds your most sensitive spot, stroking you gently there. He deftly skims your leggings off and away.

  He works rhythmically, and you close your eyes to see strobes of light begin to flash in your mind. You are returned to that first moment in his DJ booth, and you can hear the beat of the music perfectly echoing the rhythm of his strokes as brings you close.

  When you grasp his hand to pull him away and reach into the LV clutch on the nightstand to extract a condom, Jett looks into your eyes and kisses you again, making the music pulse louder and lights dance behind your eyelids.

  When he enters you, you can hardly breathe. You wrap your legs around his and bury your face in his neck as waves of pleasure pulse over you, in perfect time with the rhythm of the music in your mind.

  He pulls back and looks into your eyes, then thrusts into you. You feel him shudder as he kisses you deeply.

  You have no memory of falling asleep after, and you wake in the morning to a feeling of complete peace. You gently move out from under Jett’s arm to peek at the clock. Seven thirty-six a.m. You rub your eyes and blink until they adjust to the light, then roll back over to watch Jett in his sleep.

  His hair is adorably mussed in a wild array of blonde spikes and his face is beginning to show the slightest hint of the need for a morning shave. He seems to sense you watching, and slowly opens his eyes. When he sees you, he breaks into an immediate smile.

  “Good morning,” he says, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

  “A very good morning,” you agree, and intertwine his fingers with yours.

  Just then, the door to your room swings open.

  “Well, well, well,” Sasha sashays into the room, wearing a tank top and a pair of zebra-print drawstring pants. “Look what the bee brought home.” He makes himself at home, sprawling out at the foot of the bed, stretching his long frame and propping himself up on one elbow. “I guess you do catch more flies with honey!”

  You throw a pillow at Sasha’s head. “Very funny.”

  Sasha rolls onto his stomach, kicking his legs into the air behind him and showing off his fuzzy unicorn slippers.

  “What are you wearing?” you laugh.

  “Didn’t realize you had a dress code,” he answers, arching an eyebrow in Jett’s direction. “This is like some kind of wild dream, being in bed with the two of you,” Sasha rolls onto his back. “Not exactly as I imagined it, but still not a bad way to wake up.”

  To his credit, Jett chuckles as he rubs sleep from his eyes.

  Sasha rolls back onto his stomach and pushes up off the bed. “Well, I will leave you two lovebirds alone. But do invite me next time around. It’s always more fun with unicorn slippers.”

  “I’ve got to look into getting a pair for myself,” Jett laughs.

  “Oh, I can hook you up,” Sasha winks.

  “Goodbye, Sasha,” you call, as Sasha glides out of the room, blowing you a kiss before closing the door ever so gently. “I think he likes you,” you tell Jett.

  Jett blinks his eyes and runs his fingers through your hair. “Is that what that was?”

  “Believe me, that was much better than it usually goes when he meets my b—uh, some of my friends.”

  Jett grins mischievously. “What were you just going to say?”

  “What do you mean?” you ask, all innocence.

  “It sounded like you were about to say something other than just friends.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” You smile, roll out of bed, and pull the sheet around you.

  You quickly brush your teeth and return to find Jett sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his shirt.

  “Busy day?” you ask him.

  “Not until tonight. But I’ve got to hit the gym. It’s kind of my morning ritual. Care to join me?”

  You think for a second, knowing you’ll get plenty of exercise on stage tonight, but a little extra cardio—and a little more time with Jett—can’t hurt. “Sure,” you tell him.

  You slip into a sports bra and your Lululemons, slide on a pair of sneakers, and throw your hair into a high ponytail.

  Jett clearly knows his way around the gym. He cycles through a series of reps on several machines.

  You choose a pair of ten-pound hand weights and work on your triceps.

  “Nice form,” Jett comments.

  “Thanks.” You smile.

  Jett moves to a bench and loads a bar with a stack of heavy-looking weights.

  “Spot me?” he asks.

  “Um, sure?”

  “Just make sure I don’t drop the bar on my neck and suffocate.”

  “No pressure.” You laugh nervously.

  “Don’t worry. I haven’t dropped a bar yet,” Jett reassures you.

  Jett lies on his back on the narrow bench and places his hands on either end of the heavy bar, just inside the each stack of weights. You stand by his side, not sure what you’re supposed to be doing.

  “The spotter usually straddles the lifter,” Jett directs you.

  You look around, glad the gym is empty except for the two of you.

  “Seriously?” you ask.

  “All you have to do is stand over me and give me a hand placing the bar back on the rack when I’m finished with my reps.”

  You gracefully step over Jett’s prone body and stand, legs splayed, over his chest. You feel very silly.

  Jett looks up at you and grins. “This is a much better view that I’m used to.”

  Jett easily lifts the bar from the rack on which it rests and brings it down to his chest in a slow, controlled motion, before heaving it back up. His chest and arms bulge as he lifts. He continues the exercise until a sheen of sweat breaks out on his chest and brow. He heaves the heavy bar up one last time. “Okay,” he says.

  You stand at the ready as Jett lifts the bar with trembling hands toward the rack. You reach to help him make the final inches, your hands splayed on either side of his, and together you set the bar back into its resting place.

  “Thanks,” Jett breathes. “Couldn’t have done that without you.” He moves his hands so that they cover yours, still wrapped around the cool, steel bar. “Come here,” he whispers, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting the slightly salty flavor of his workout on your lips.

  His hands move to your back as he kisses you, pressing you to him, and you brace yourself against his strong chest.

  “God,” he says, “you look so good in those pants.” He moves his hands to your backside and squeezes gently, then presses you to him. You feel him hard and re
ady against you through the thin cotton of your workout pants.

  Jett rises to sit on the bench, straddling it as he pulls you to him. He runs his hands lightly over your breasts, making your nipples stand out hard against the thin fabric of your sports bra. He pulls you onto his lap and thrusts against you, the slippery fabric of his shorts providing just the right amount of friction. You reach past him and use the weight bar to steady yourself as you move against him.

  Your head swims as he kisses you again, and your body is on fire from the mix of adrenaline and pure lust. “Hold on,” you say, and break away for a moment to bolt the door so no one walks in on you. You can feel Jett’s eyes follow you as you walk toward the door.

  As you walk back to join him, he stands. His erection is huge, straining at the elastic of his shorts. He pulls you to him to kiss you, thrusting his tongue in and out of your mouth, takes you by the shoulders to turn you away from him, then bends you over the weight bench. He pulls down just the back of your stretchy bottoms, runs a hand reverently over your backside, and strokes you. He moans as he gauges your readiness. You feel him bare against your buttocks, thrusting gently, then hard as he drives into you, filling you instantly. With one hand he reaches around, sliding his fingers under the elastic bottom edge of your bra to squeeze and caress your nipple as he thrusts. With every thrust, he slides almost completely out and then plunges deeply back in, bringing you quickly to the edge. When he brings his other hand around to stroke you, it is too much to bear, and you succumb to waves of pleasure. Jett quickly joins you, squeezing your breast and burying his head in your shoulder as he comes with a primal growl.

  A second later, there’s a knock at the door.

  “Oh no!” You scramble to pull your pants back up and reposition your bra.

  “Coming!” Jett yells, sending you into peals of laughter you stifle with the back of your hand.

  “Should I open it?” you whisper.

  “Give me a second,” Jett says, trying to adjust himself. At last, he gives up and grabs a towel, which he holds as casually as possible over the front of his shorts while he unlocks the door with his other hand.

  The muscle-bound weightlifter waiting on the other side of the door gives Jett a suspicious look as he opens the door.

  “That wasn’t locked, was it?” Jett asks smoothly.

  The meathead grunts and pushes past you on his way to the weight rack. You give Jett a look as you both exit hastily.

  Jett leaves you at the door to your room, giving you one last kiss. “Thanks for a great workout,” he says, making you giggle as you close the door.

  Sasha sits on the couch, flipping through a Vegas tourist guide.

  “Hey, Sash,” you say, attempting to slip past him.

  “Not so fast,” he stops you in your tracks. “Come sit.” He pats the empty spot on the couch, beside him.

  “I’m all sweaty,” you tell him, trying to escape. “I really need a shower.”

  “I bet you do,” Sasha replies, a droll smirk on his face. “But you can grant me two minutes of your time.”

  You perch lightly on the edge of the sofa.

  “You seem awfully flushed, Henrietta,” Sasha says. “I know you didn’t work out that hard.”

  You can feel your face redden as you drop your eyes. You can’t help but grin.

  “Wow,” Sasha observes. “You really like him.”

  You raise your gaze to meet Sasha’s eyes. “I do really like him,” you admit. “He’s a good guy.”

  “And he is smoking hot,” Sasha adds.

  “He’s not bad,” you admit. “We’re having a good time. But what happens in Vegas . . .” You trail off wistfully, painfully aware that tomorrow morning the tour moves on, and that you still haven’t officially ended things with Crispin, even if it feels like he’s ended things with you.

  Sasha takes your hand and squeezes it gently. “For what it’s worth, I like him, too.” That’s high praise from Sasha, and you don’t take it lightly. “You never know, maybe your paths will cross again. Or maybe you can convince him to become a groupie if the DJ gig doesn’t work out.”

  “Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun. I was beginning to think those frown lines might become permanent.”

  “What about you?” you ask. “Are you having fun?”

  “Honey, Vegas is a gay man’s dream. Between the drag queens, Elvis impersonators, and the married men looking for a hookup in almost every public restroom, what is there not to love?”

  “Sasha!”

  “I love it that I can still shock you, Henrietta.” Sasha laughs. “But seriously, if you ever find your way into a residency here, I won’t be mad. Then I can have my share of casual sex and you and Jett can live happily ever after.”

  “It’s tempting,” you tell him.

  “Go get that shower,” Sasha says. “I want to go explore the Strip with you on my arm before your appearance this afternoon. Maybe you can invite Jett along.”

  “Sounds like fun,” you say, and make your way to the bathroom.

  You spend the day popping in and out of casinos and exploring Vegas’s shops, both the high-end boutiques and the tacky tourist stops. Jett takes you to his favorite diner and you share a sinful chocolate milkshake. Sasha seems to genuinely enjoy Jett’s company and the repartee of a companion who can keep up with him. You’re sure he’s enjoying the view, too. Jett’s cheeks have picked up a tiny hint of color from his walk outside, making his blue eyes glow against the frame of his dark lashes. Everywhere you go, you’re stopped for a selfie or an autograph, and you bask in the adoration of your fans and the burgeoning friendship you feel developing between the man who means so much to you and the man who is beginning to mean more to you with every minute you spend together.

  The day goes by too quickly. You say goodbye to Jett as he heads to his room to get ready for work and you go back to your room to prep for your appearance.

  That night, the ballads in your set list seem to take on a new meaning. When you sing the opening line to “I Never Knew Love ’Till I Found You,” you instantly picture Jett’s face. You scan the first few rows of the audience, hoping maybe he’s found a way to make it to the show, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

  You host a hasty meet-and-greet after your final encore and head back to your hotel room, thinking maybe Jett will come to visit when he’s finished with work. When he doesn’t appear, you shower for the second time that day, wash your face and towel dry your hair, then head to bed.

  You wake from a dreamless sleep to feel the covers lift, the bed dip, and someone slide in beside you. The scent of smoky club, subtle cologne, and the signature scent you can only describe as something green, tells you right away that Jett has come to join you.

  He presses his body against yours, fitting every angle of his body against the curve of your back. “Sorry to wake you,” he says, nestling his head into your neck. “I just had to see you. And Sasha didn’t think you would mind.”

  You roll toward him, unsure whether you are awake or have found yourself lost in a dream. “Sasha was right,” you tell him, and pull him into a kiss.

  You make love in a sleepy, dream-like state, then curl up against Jett and fall back to sleep feeling safe and satiated, his body wrapped around yours.

  The next morning is a bustle of activity as the tour prepares to move on. Jett stays by your side, helping you pack and even bringing your bags to the bus to save Sasha the extra work.

  You spend the morning trying not to think about the fact that you are leaving and that you have no idea when you’ll see Jett again. You want to remember your time with him as happy, and you don’t know why you’ve even allowed yourself to become so attached when you knew from the start that it could never last.

  When the last of the costumes are loaded, Jett walks you to your bus, dragging his feet slightly along the sand-dusted pavement.

  Sasha interrupts you
r goodbye to give Jett an enormous hug. “Thanks for being an excellent host.”

  “Totally my pleasure,” answers Jett. “I’ll miss you guys.”

  “I’ll miss you more,” smiles Sasha, blowing Jett a kiss and skipping up the stairs to the bus. He turns around with a slight shimmer in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to give up that silly DJ gig and hop aboard?”

  Jett laughs. “It’s certainly tempting.”

  “That’s exactly what Honey said when I suggested a Vegas residency,” Sasha tells him. “Spooky.”

  “Really?” asks Jett.

  “Really,” Sasha tells him. “I, for one, think we would make a fabulous threesome. Think about it. It’s not too late!” He winks at Jett then disappears into the bus, leaving you and Jett alone at last.

  You both begin to speak at once, then look at each other and laugh.

  “You go,” says Jett.

  You look down at the dusty ground then up into his clear, blue eyes. “I was just going to say how much I’ve enjoyed this,” you tell him. “It really has been exactly what I needed.”

  “Good,” Jett says, kissing you softly on the lips. “I feel exactly the same way. You’re an amazing woman, Honey. I am so glad to have met you.”

  “Well, I hope we’ll meet again. Someday.”

  “I know we will, Honey,” Jett tells you. “And until then, you’ve got to promise stay in touch, no matter how busy you get. Will you do that?”

  “Yes,” you promise.

  Jett folds you into a long embrace and kisses the top of your head. “Safe travels,” he tells you.

  You nod your head, unable to get any more words out around the lump in your throat.

  You buckle yourself into your seat, push your sunglasses up onto the bridge of your nose, and try not to look back as the bus pulls away. At the last second, you turn to see Jett standing stationary as he watches you leave. Glimmering waves of heat flash around him and then slowly envelope him until he disappears like a mirage in the distance.

  Sasha reaches out and squeezes your leg. “You’ve still got me, right?” he asks.

  “Thank goodness,” you tell him, blinking a film of moisture from your eyes.