No More Yesterdays: A Rock Star Romance (Rocked in Love Book 2)

by Jessica Marlowe

  “Can I get you gentleman some coffee?”

  Ben stood at the bar that was enclosed in a large armoire. “No, thanks. I’ll never sleep. Jerry?”

  He nodded, so Ben poured a second glass of The Balvenie Caribbean Cask fourteen-year-old scotch. “Emily, will you join us?”

  “No thanks, I’ll stick with water.”

  Ben grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge and waved her in. He handed his brother his glass and then sat on the corner of Jerry’s desk. Jerry hated it when he did that, so Ben did it all the time.

  “You poured yourself more, as always,” Jerry noted.

  “I’m older,” Ben replied.

  “Two days,” Jerry said. “That barely counts.”

  Emily smiled. Ben would remind Jerry of that till the day they died.

  “Counts enough,” Ben said.

  She sat in one of the two club chairs in the office.

  “Did you enjoy your time off?” Jerry asked.

  Emily nodded. “I’m sorry that—”

  “My dear,” Ben said. “You’re like a daughter to us, stop apologizing.”

  “Does that mean I get a say in what home to put you two in?”

  They burst out laughing. They’d always enjoyed her snarky sense of humor.

  “I’d sooner trust you.” Jerry leaned forward. “I think my daughter-in-law is trying to poison me, you know, to get the family fortune.” He clutched his chest for effect.

  “She adores you,” Emily said.

  “You don’t know which one I’m referring to?”

  Jerry had two sons and three daughters. “They both adore you, as you are well aware.”

  He smiled affectionately. “They are both exceptional young women, AJ and Doug are lucky young men. Still, it would make for an interesting story, don’t you think?”

  Ben and Jerry were two of the handful of people that knew Emily was a writer and the only two in the office. She’d told them when she’d asked to cut her hours down so she could focus more on writing. They were constantly coming up with story ideas for her. “I don’t write murder mysteries.”

  Ben stood from his perch on the side of his brother’s desk and sat in the large leather chair behind his own. “No, but one of your series is romantic suspense. Your next book could start as a whodunnit.”

  Emily swallowed hard and shook her head. She could never murder one of her characters; they were like family.

  “It’s a great niche to be in.”

  “How do you know that?” Emily asked.

  “Research, young lady. It’s part of what we do here.”

  Emily froze.

  Jerry stood. “Ben, you’re an idiot.” He walked to the chair next to her, sat, and took her hand. “We did the research ourselves and cleared our browser history.”

  Emily relaxed back into her chair. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We’re honored that you trusted us with your secret. We understand your reticence to be in the public eye, and I, for one, have never told another soul, not even Marjorie.”

  “Of course, you didn’t tell Marjorie. Your wife can’t keep a secret,” Ben said.

  They also knew about her accident. She was never really sure how they’d found out, but one day, they’d come out and asked her how her leg was and was there anything they could do.

  Her cell rang. Damn, it was Jack. She’d forgotten to call him. “Excuse me.” She walked into her office. “Hi. I’m sorry, I worked late and forgot to call you.”

  “You’re still at work?”

  Emily checked her watch. It was after seven. Crap. “Yeah, I finished a while ago.” She was afraid he’d overreact if she told him about her car, but he’d said they needed to be honest with each other. “I tried to leave half an hour ago, but my car wouldn’t start. I’m waiting for Triple A.”

  “You’re alone in the office?”

  Emily imagined Jack grabbing his jacket and running to save her. It was sweet, but she could take care of herself, and the sooner he learned that, the better. “No. The women in the office are never allowed to work late alone, so either my bosses or their sons stay until everyone’s ready to leave. Company policy.”

  Jack gave a relieved chuckle. “Sounds like a good policy to me.”

  She’d always thought it was sweet—if a little old-fashioned—but she knew better than to argue with the brothers over company policy. The call waiting tone sounded. “Hold on. This might be Triple A.” Emily switched over to the other call. “Hello?”

  “Hi. Rick from Casablanca Towing. I’m outside.”

  “Great, be right out.” She switched back to Jack. “Gotta go, truck’s here. I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “Okay, baby.”

  Emily grabbed her stuff. “Truck’s here.”

  Her bosses waited while the tow truck driver gave her a jump start. The battery was completely dead, so he switched it out with a new one. As soon as the engine turned over, her headlights came on, which was weird because it’d been sunny all day. Rick figured she’d put them on by accident. She paid him, and when she pulled out of the parking lot, Ben and Jerry were right behind her.

  By the time she got home, it was after eight, and she was starving. Emily changed into her pajamas and then called Jack. “Hi.”

  “Everything okay? What was wrong?” He sounded nervous and pissed.

  “Yeah, battery died, the guy replaced it, no big deal.”

  “Any signs of tampering?”

  Emily heaved a sigh. She hadn’t pegged Jack as a worrier. “No, I left the lights on.”

  “Oh.”

  “What time do you go on?”

  “Fifteen minutes. How’d your meeting go?”

  She put Jack on speaker and opened a can of soup. “Great. Our client loved the copy, only needed a few tweaks, which I finished before I left. Ben and Jerry were happy with the revisions, so they’re all set for Monday.”

  “Ben and Jerry?”

  “My bosses.”

  Jack chuckled. “Your bosses are named Ben and Jerry?”

  “Yes, but not that Ben and Jerry, so no free samples.”

  “They waited with you?”

  “Yes. They worry about us like they would any member of their families. We had a nice chat.”

  “Did you tell them about me?”

  “No.”

  Jack grunted. “Why not?”

  “Because we agreed to keep this quiet.” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice but failed.

  “You’re not gonna tell any of your friends?” His voice lowered in volume, the way it did when he was pissed and trying to restrain himself.

  Since she didn’t want him to connect the dots to Vince the way he had to Jack, she’d decided he didn’t need to know that one of her best friends knew. Emily wouldn’t betray Vince’s trust for anyone, not even Jack. “The more people that know, the more likely it’ll get out. I thought you understood that.” She wouldn’t back down, and her body tensed.

  chapter

  THIRTEEN

  Jack ground his teeth together. He couldn’t help how he felt. “I thought we agreed to keep our relationship quiet from the press, not the people we care about. I feel like I’m your dirty little secret.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have been seen in public with you at all.”

  “I don’t want to fight. I miss you.”

  “I don’t want to fight either.”

  He was pushing again. Fuck. “I had a great time this week.”

  “Me too.”

  And I’m head over heels in love with you. And being apart sucks, but you can’t even say you miss me.

  “Jack—”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I said I’d give you all the time you needed. I’m not being fair. Gotta go. Love you.”

  After the gig, Jack went back to the hotel to sulk. He knew he was being unreasonable�
�expecting Em to fall in love with him so quickly after all she’d been through—but he couldn’t help it. The entire day, he had trouble concentrating on anything but her. He’d begun her first book, In A Heartbeat, on the drive to Hartford, but he’d had to stop when he got to the first sex scene and imagined him and Em. It wouldn’t do to be stuck in a vehicle with a hard-on and an audience.

  He figured he had another two weeks before the fucker returned. He was having fun with little Miss Fake Tits now, but that was all it was. Jack had been there. There were girls you fucked and girls you married. Any girl who would do what she did was the former. Em was definitely the latter. As soon as the fucker realized his mistake, he’d try to win her back. He believed Em when she said she didn’t want him back, but that wouldn’t stop the fucker from trying.

  What Em couldn’t realize yet was that the longer they saw each other the harder their relationship would get. Being apart that much was bad for an established relationship, but for a new one, it almost always crashed and burned. She was so set on having a normal life. There was only so much normal he could guarantee her, and it wasn’t much.

  He stripped out of his clothes and opened his suitcase to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. Inside the zippered compartment at the top, a piece of burgundy satin ribbon stuck out. That hadn’t been there when he’d finished packing. He opened the zipper and pulled out a package of paper wrapped up in the ribbon.

  His heart pounded in his chest. He placed the packet on the bed and slowly untied the ribbon.

  Jack,

  Something to help occupy your lonely nights.

  Em

  He flipped to the next page, and the title elicited a moan.

  “Fuck”

  There were six more. Each title made his dick harder until it moved with every thump of his heart. “My Slutty Professor,” “Truth or Dare,” “Skin,” “Sex Therapy,” “24 Hours: Dick Tock,” and “Blown.”

  He lay back, fisted his cock, and jerked it like a teenaged boy. He closed his eyes, and naked pictures of Em flooded his brain. Her on her knees sucking his cock, the way she fondled her tits when she fucked him. Her bent over the arm of the couch as he fucked her from behind. The last image brought the release he desperately needed.

  Fuck. That was just from the titles. Jack used some tissues to clean up and rested his head back on the pillow. It took several minutes for his pounding heart rate to return to normal. He grabbed the top story, entitled “Fuck,” and turned the page.

  Warning. Contains graphic sexual content and language. These are stories of pure lust. For your eyes only. Check reality at the door; it doesn’t live here.

  Em ;)

  He turned the page, and even though he’d just come, his dick stirred in anticipation.

  I walked into Cornell’s on Fifth Avenue late. I’d been stuck in a three-hour meeting that would’ve lasted only thirty minutes if the CEO of Luthier Industries, John McCartney, didn’t love the sound of his own voice so much.

  I was supposed to meet my prospective client EV White an hour ago. I texted him I’d be late, but he never responded. I didn’t know what he looked like. Fuck. The bar was packed with people dressed in business attire. It was New York City, for fuck’s sake. People here still knew how to dress for work.

  Then my heart stopped. I saw her standing there: long dark hair, short burgundy dress, killer heels. Stunning. My pulse quickened, sending blood to my dick at an alarming rate. A round, high table near the bar opened up, and I raced to it for two reasons: to be closer to her, and I was afraid I’d pass out. I cast a surreptitious glance at my groin. My boner wasn’t as noticeable as it could’ve been since my jet-black trousers offered some camouflage.

  I should go to the men’s room and rub one off, but I was afraid she’d be gone when I got back or, worse yet, with another guy. I couldn’t say why I was so certain she’d leave with me, but I was. It was worth risking the embarrassment to keep looking at her. She was blowing off some asshole at the bar. Every guy in the place was checking her out. She was tall, big tits, full hips, and what I suspected was a spectacular ass. The minidress she wore ended mid-thigh, and her five-inch, black, fuck-me heels would allow us to have a conversation at eye level. And I can fuck her standing up.

  I needed a drink, so I flagged down the nearest server and ordered a Hennigan’s neat with a splash of water. My view of the burgundy goddess’s profile was less than perfect. Her unrestrained laughter at something the bartender said captured the attention of everyone in the bar. Even the women were checking her out.

  She turned, and our eyes locked. My pulse hammered through my veins. She was checking me out, so I turned to give her the full effect. My six-two body was in peak shape. She slowly scanned me head to toe, and when her eyes returned to mine, I knew she wanted me, too.

  It wasn’t the first time, and wouldn’t be the last time, I got laid in the men’s room of a bar, but somehow, I knew this would be memorable. I smiled my most charming smile—the one my college girlfriend told me made all her friends wet. Since I fucked most of the them, I knew that firsthand.

  She smiled back, her eyes glittered, and her nipples were knotted. That was all the encouragement I needed. The server put my drink on the table. I pulled out my wallet, but she stopped me.

  “Compliments of the lady at the bar.”

  It wasn’t the first time a woman had bought me a drink, but I was stoked that this chick made the first move. I was definitely going to fuck her. And soon. I tipped the server a twenty. The goddess sauntered over. If you’d asked me ten seconds ago if my dick could get any harder, I’d have said no. I’d have been wrong. I moved closer to the table, because no amount of jet-black fabric could hide my enormous erection.

  “Hi,” she purred.

  “Hi. I’m—”

  “Please, no names.”

  Holy fuck. Not only was she a walking wet dream, but every guy in this place had jerked it to the fantasy of a hot fuck with a nameless woman. If my dick got any harder, it might explode.

  Normally, I took the lead, but she came to me, so I let her. I sipped my drink, almost wishing I’d ordered it on the rocks. I was picturing her ample “C” cups naked and in my hands. A bead of cum emerged from my dick. I pictured her full burgundy lips licking it off. I needed to abort this line of thinking, or I’d come standing here.

  She smiled knowingly and licked her lips as she leaned in. “Let’s go.”

  I threw back the rest of my drink and took her hand. She led me to the back of the bar, pulling me along with a strength I wouldn’t have assigned her. She paused at the door to the ladies’ room before pushing it open and peering in. She winked and tugged me in, locking the door behind us.

  Our hands wasted no time. I cupped her tits, and she thrust her hand down my pants and grabbed my cock. Her lips tasted like gin and tonic.

  She pulled back from the kiss. “I wanted to fuck you the minute I saw you.”

  Normally, I said that, but whatever. I knew we were on the same wavelength the second our eyes met. “I want to see your tits.”

  She pulled her hand out of my trousers, turned, and lifted her hair out of the way. I unzipped her, the dress fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. I expected her to let it pool at her waist, but this was better. Her bra and thong were the same burgundy as her dress. Her ass was beyond spectacular. I couldn’t wait to see the front, but I couldn’t let an ass like that go unworshiped, so I dropped to my knees and cupped her ass cheeks in my hands, kneading the flesh. I kissed the top of her crack, and she moaned. The scent of her pussy filled my nostrils. My lips brushed her right cheek as my hand slipped between her parted legs; her cream coated her inner thighs. Foreplay was officially over.

  I licked my fingers as I stood. She faced me, her hands deftly undoing my belt, the button, and zipper. Her dainty hand rubbed my dick through my underwear. It wasn’t enough. Hooking my thumbs inside my pants, I shoved everything down. My dick burst out,
and she knelt and devoured me. Still not enough, so I cupped her head as I fucked her mouth hard. If I kept this up, I was going to come, so I pulled out.

  She sat back on her heels and looked up at me, licking her lips. “Your cock is huge. I was afraid it wouldn’t fit.” My cock responded with a jerk. Her nipples peeked out the top of the lace push-up bra. She knew I was staring, so she cupped her tits and pinched her nipples. Fuck, I loved a woman who touched herself. I stroked my cock. My nuts tightened. I’d like to come on her, but I really need to fuck her pussy. Unless… “There’s a hotel a few blocks from here.” I could definitely fuck her at least five times.

  She stood. “Sorry. I have a flight out of JFK. I have to leave for the airport in thirty minutes.”

  Son of a bitch. My brain had conjured the five ways I’d fuck her. Standing, of course, wouldn’t let those heels go to waste. She’d blow me. Bend her over and fuck her in the ass. She’d ride me, I love the view of a woman as she fucked me. Last, but certainly not least, I’d fuck that sweet, wet pussy from behind so I could bury my huge cock in her. I wasn’t selfish, so I’d eat her pussy in between.

  “Clock’s ticking,” she said, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

  I snapped back to reality, and she was naked except for the sky-high heels. “Your tits are fucking spectacular.”

  Her full lips formed a pout. “They’re lonely.” One of her manicured hands covered her tit, tweaking the nipple, while the other trailed down her flat stomach and between her lips. Her head dropped back as she pleasured herself. Fuck, I’d love to let her finish, but time was passing.

  I kicked off my pants and underwear while unbuttoning my dress shirt. I would’ve ripped it off, but she was still playing with herself, so I thought she’d enjoy the show.

  I’d like to get a picture, but as I stared, she looked at her wrist. She wasn’t wearing a watch, but I got the idea.

  I pushed her up against the wall and lifted her right leg, which she curved around my ass. My dick was in position, so I thrust. Her cream provided all the lubrication needed for my cock to slide deep. Her head was back against the wall, eyes closed, face locked in ecstasy. I stayed like that, enjoying her tight pussy around me. One hand scratched her long nails up and down my back while the other cupped my balls.