by Lilli Feisty
He stepped between her legs and yanked up her skirt, lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips. She held him between her thighs as he pushed his denim-clad erection against her panties, which were now moist and damp. “Mark. Please tell me you have a condom.”
“Yeah, I have one in my pocket.” He sounded so calm. How could he be so calm when she was so quickly becoming undone?
“Thank God.” She rubbed her pulsing sex against him, sliding against the buttons of his jeans, letting them grate at her swollen flesh through her underwear. The muscles in his shoulders bunched beneath her hands, thrilling her. She could come, just like this, with a stranger.
He continued to kiss her, stroke her, wrap her hair in his fist. Grind his cock between her legs until she was begging him. “Please, Mark. Condom.”
“Come, Ruby.”
“I will, I promise. As soon as you put on the condom and we… you know. Do it.” She whispered the last two words.
He shook his head, and—damn him—he seemed to be biting back a smile. Again. “No, I mean come to the show. You obviously like the way I kiss.”
She was panting as if she’d been running, and she had to fight to catch her breath. “Why do you care if I go later?”
By now her neat ponytail was practically nonexistent, and he wrapped a lock of hair around his finger. “Because then I can see you afterward.”
“But—”
He gave her hair a gentle tug, and fuck it, her sex clenched from the sharp pain. Like a puppet, she responded to his every touch.
“Listen, Ruby. I want you.”
“Here I am. Take me!” She wiggled a bit against his body as a prompt.
His eyes searched hers, darting back and forth. “I want more than a quickie against a wall. I want the night with you. And I have a feeling you want more, too.”
Everything in her froze. “Like what? What do you think I could possibly want?”
Leaning in, he kissed her earlobe. “I think you want to give yourself over to me. I think you want to feel my hand on your ass. I think you want to know what it would be like to be owned by me. Just for one night.”
Speechless, she stared over his shoulder at the jasmine growing in a pot in the corner. She bit the inside of her cheek. He was wrong, so wrong. She so did not want those things.
So why was she trembling? Why was her pussy throbbing just from those simple words? Why were her nipples tingling beneath her satin bra?
And, most important, why were her insides melting into a puddle of lust with each passing second he breathed against her ear?
This was such a bad idea.
But the alternative was going home to her vibrator, which sounded much less appealing.
“Fine. I’ll go,” she said.
Her reward was another kiss that blew away any reasonable thoughts left in her head.
He slid her down his body and put her on her feet. Then he straightened her skirt and fastened one button between her breasts. How could he look so controlled when she felt anything but?
And then, with his hand, he encircled her throat, his palm pressing against her clavicle, and something calmed inside her. His eyes were dark as they drilled into hers. “I’ll leave a pass at the door. There will be a spot reserved for you near the stage. Where I can see you.”
“Yes,” she breathed, loving the way his hand enclosed her neck. Loving everything.
“I’ll tell the bartender to have a drink waiting for you. If any men approach you tonight, I want you to ignore them. Do you understand?”
She nodded. She couldn’t help herself. She liked the feelings Mark had set off inside her too much to say anything at all, especially the word no.
Pinned to the wall, his large hand on her throat, she sank into him as he kissed her again. His mouth gently belied the rough grip he had on her body, and the juxtaposition of sensation nearly killed her.
How could she deny herself this? After all, it was just one night.
Chapter
Three
You scared her,” Mark said.
From across the limo, Yvette grinned. “Did not.”
“You did. I’m a big boy, you know. I can take care of myself.”
She shrugged and shook back her hair. “I just don’t trust all these girls coming out of the woodwork. It gets worse every day.”
Mark ignored the bite of irritation he felt at Yvette’s words. “Ruby isn’t like that. She’s an event planner. She was just doing her job.”
Yvette barked a laugh. “Fucking you is part of her job description? Nice work if you can get it.”
“You always get testy before a big show. Don’t take it out on me.”
Pulling a bottle of wine out of a built-in chiller, she poured herself a glass. “Isn’t she a bit old for you?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“At least she seems to be aging well.”
“Fuck off.”
If Ruby was older, it didn’t bother him at all. In fact, as he approached thirty, he was starting to look for more mature women, women who knew what they wanted and didn’t play games.
“I would if I could,” Yvette said. It was just the two of them in the limo. Their third band member, Jake, had to get to every show early to double-check that his drums hadn’t been fucked with. Jake got a bit OCD when it came to his drums, which was funny because the guy was so relaxed about pretty much everything else.
Yvette took a deep swallow of wine. After a minute she said in a softer tone, “You’re right. I’m sorry. This effing stage fright is killing me.”
“You know the more freaked out you are, the better you perform.”
She grunted and drained the rest of her wine.
Mark was the opposite. He got off on the crowd, and the bigger the better. The only other time he felt such a rush was when he was giving a woman pleasure through domination. Which was what he wanted to do to Ruby. Later. If she’d let him.
She would.
Adrenaline raced through his veins, releasing a rush that hit him like a drug. She’d done this to him, riled him up. He tapped his booted foot on the floor of the limo, unable to keep still. Between Ruby’s response to him and the upcoming gig, he was pumped. Ready.
Ruby. Her sweet body had felt so good under his hands, and the way she melted against him when he kissed her, the way she gave herself over to his control—it got him hot as hell. She was so beautiful in her delicate submission.
“When was the last time you got laid, anyway?” Yvette asked with a smile.
He had to think. “Um, Seattle? Maybe it was Vancouver. It was a blonde, that much I remember.” The Riders had just finished their first big tour, and everything was blending together: the gigs, the towns, the women. Just one giant blur of time, with nothing standing out except the exhilaration of performing in venues that seemed to get bigger in each city they played.
Mark had a hard time picturing Ruby becoming part of that blur. With her huge blue eyes, gorgeous black hair, and delicate frame, she had immediately caught his eye when he’d walked into the trendy bar. But it was so much more than her looks that had his cock as hard as granite. He smiled. Hell, she knew what a Bazantar was and probably knew more about jazz than he did. And it intrigued him that she seemed to have no idea who he, or his band, was. She seemed perfect.
An insane desire to discover her flaws overcame him. Maybe she snored or didn’t recycle. Maybe she was a horrible driver. Maybe she wore flannel pajamas instead of the silk lingerie he could so easily picture her in.
“So, you ready?”
He glanced back to Yvette. She was on her second glass, but the wine seemed to have calmed her a bit; her fingers weren’t their usual preshow fidgety selves, and she didn’t look quite as ready to crawl out of her skin.
“Yeah. Should be a good crowd.” Ruby had promised to come. He couldn’t wait to play for her, couldn’t wait to see her again.
Yvette grinned at him. “So. This Ruby is different.”
&nbs
p; Sometimes it seemed Yvette could read his mind, and it could be downright annoying. He decided to change the subject. “You’re just jealous because I get more girls than you do.”
She leaned back into the limo seat and gave him her sassiest smile. “You’re just looking for the perfect girl to replace me.”
“Maybe I was. Ten years ago, when I met you and I thought a pair of perky tits and angel’s voice equaled perfection.”
One of Yvette’s signature husky laughs burst from deep inside her throat. “And when I heard you play the first time in that dive bar? I did consider switching teams.”
He took off his glasses and polished them with the edge of his T-shirt. “Well, I think the fact that I don’t possess a vagina would have been a pretty large deterrent for you.”
She nodded sagely. “Indeed.”
“Anyway, I finally accepted the fact that I’d never get in your pants. I’m cool with it now. And you can have my leftovers.”
“Mark, even I don’t have the stamina to take up your leftovers.”
“Not many do.”
“So.” Yvette gave him a playful nudge. “You gonna get some later?”
Yvette loved to hear the details of Mark’s encounters. “I don’t know. She said she’d come to the show.”
Yvette raised a brow. “Huh.”
“What, huh?”
“I saw you come back from the patio with her. You definitely had her all a-twitter.”
Mark grunted.
“You keeping this one on the downlow or what?”
“No.” He slid his glasses back on. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Normally he shared everything with Yvette. But for some reason he wanted to keep this thing with Ruby between the two of them. He didn’t want to share her. In any way.
She grinned. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“Mark has a girlfriend,” she began chanting in a singsong voice. “Mark has a girlfriend.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Fuck off! I just met her, and we leave town in twelve hours. Not to mention the small fact that we live on opposite sides of the country. I’ll never see her again after tonight.” Oddly, that last sentence was hard to say, or think.
“Unless we decide to record here. Then we’d be here a couple of weeks. And I gotta say, I like Emmett’s setup. Very old-school. Hardly any digital.”
Mark had already been leaning toward recording here, but he had to admit the thought of seeing Ruby while he did so was helping cement the deal. “He said he could fit us in as soon as we want.”
“I’m game, and Jake’s down with whatever.”
“Yup.”
So that was it, then. They’d be here for a couple of weeks, and he could see Ruby again. Reaching for the stereo controls, he turned up the volume until a loud, steady thump from a White Stripes tune blasted through the speakers and filled the limo.
Had he only just met Ruby a few hours ago? Already, he felt like he knew her. He knew she loved his hand around her neck, and a bit of pain with her pleasure. But she fought it; he could feel her struggling with her desire to submit to him.
She also loved chocolate. When she swallowed a bit of chocolate from her cocktail she’d closed her eyes, savored it in her mouth. He’d had a sudden desire to feel her tongue on his cock, licking the tip just as she’d done that glass.
He could have. On the patio, she’d wanted him. Begged him to fuck her. It had taken every ounce of willpower to say no. But, from the moment he’d seen her, he’d wanted more. He’d wanted to see her bound, in real life. Not just in a photograph.
Subspace. When a person gave over so completely, it produced a trancelike state for the submissive, and Mark couldn’t stop thinking about taking Ruby there. Seeing her on her knees, ready for him. Building her up until she was begging him to spank her harder and harder and harder.
His balls went tight, his cock stirred. Anticipation coursed through him, and he couldn’t keep still.
Tapping his fingers on the edge of the window, he tried to turn his thoughts to the upcoming show. The idea of getting on stage further energized him. Yeah, he was a thrill junkie. Always had been. And meeting Ruby was the biggest thrill he’d had in ages.
Ruby had just said good-bye to the last guest when Meg yanked her by the arm and pushed her into the women’s restroom. Releasing her, Meg nailed her with a wide-eyed gaze. “Did you make out with Mark St. Crow on the patio?”
Clutching the countertop, Ruby dropped her head and breathed deeply. In and out, in and out. Finally she managed, “Oh my God. I think I did.”
Arms akimbo, Meg gasped. “You naughty little minx!” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “How was it?”
Ruby glanced up and realized she couldn’t see anything because her hair was a mess. Straightening, she gathered her hair and started redoing her ponytail. “It was…” She felt her cheeks heat. “Holy cow. I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“Come on, honey. You just made out with a gorgeous young musician. I want all the details, and the more sordid the better.”
Turning, Ruby rested her backside against the counter. Although she’d been trying to keep her feelings under control, now her entire chest felt like it was about to explode from excitement.
After breaking up with Ash, she’d immersed herself into her work, and despite the fact that she threw parties for a living, she rarely had any time for fun herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this young, this energized.
She gripped the counter beside her hips. “Oh my God, Meg. Have you ever been kissed like… like you thought your legs would buckle? When he kissed me my knees actually felt weak.”
“Oh, I remember that feeling,” Meg said to the mirror, smoothing down her cropped bangs. “It happened the first time Emmett kissed me. Still does, sometimes.”
“This isn’t like what you and Emmett have. This is just tonight.”
Meg tossed her bag onto the counter. Digging through the contents, she pulled out a shiny black tube of lipstick. “So, the night’s not over for you two lovebirds, then?”
“He wants me to go to his show.”
“You gonna go?”
Gazing in the mirror, Ruby lifted her chin, half expecting to see proof of where Mark had wrapped his hand around her neck. But her skin was pale and unmarked. Oddly, she was disappointed.
“If I went, I’d need to go home and change first. This suit doesn’t exactly scream sex or rock and roll or… sex.” She stole the lipstick from Meg’s fingers, twisting the tube until the shiny red cylinder pushed up. “Have you ever noticed lipstick is really phallic?” She applied the crimson makeup to her lips.
Meg ignored her question. “You’re not going home to change. I know you; if you go home you’ll stay there.”
“But I can’t go like this.” Through the mirror, Ruby scanned her ensemble: pencil skirt, blazer, and a blouse that still had the top three buttons undone. Boring. If she was going to do this, she wanted to feel sexy. Ergo, she needed a sexy dress. And shoes. Definitely shoes.
Meg took back her lipstick and leaned in close to the mirror. For some reason the woman refused to admit she needed glasses. “I have an entire collection of gorgeous dresses right next door. I can have you dressed and ready to go in ten minutes. Tops.”
It was true. In fact, it was their shared love of vintage clothing and costumes that had brought the two women together. Meg had owned one of the best vintage-costume shops on Haight Street, and Ruby had become addicted to shopping there. When Meg closed the shop, the women had gone into business together using Meg’s extensive collection of props and Ruby’s extensive experience in planning events. They currently housed all their supplies in a spare room next to Emmett’s recording studio.
Smiling slyly, Meg dropped the lipstick back into her purse. “You know. If the band does decide to record here, Mark will be in San Francisco for a few weeks. At least.”
Ruby stared at Meg. “I hadn’t exactly thought that
far ahead. But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to the show, and possibly seeing him afterward. If anything happens—”
“Which it will.”
“I’ll have had a one-night stand with a rock star.”
“You lucky bitch.” But Meg was smiling, and her eyes sparkled. “Just promise me one thing.”
“The last time I promised you something I ended up with food poisoning.”
“I really thought that taco stand was cleaner than it looked. Anyway, promise me you’ll tell me all the details tomorrow? Even if he, you know… spanks you. Or something.”
“Meg! Why would you think that?” And why did the thought of Mark spanking her make her insides go all quivery?
Meg shrugged. “I’ve just heard rumors he’s into that kind of stuff.”
Obviously, he was. But it was good to know Mark didn’t keep it a secret; it made him more trustworthy somehow.
Meg clasped her bag shut and strode to the door. “Now come on, I have the perfect dress in mind. Let’s go get you sexified.” She grabbed Ruby’s hand and tugged her out the door.
Chapter
Four
Emmett was busy talking to Mark’s “people,” so Ruby and Meg went to the show by themselves. True to his word, Mark had left passes at the door, so when the girls arrived at the venue they were able to bypass the long line snaking around the block.
“Oh my God!” Ruby said, eyeing the procession. “These kids all look like they’re in high school!” Ruby’s doubts about the night had been escalating, and feeling like she was old enough to be most of these kids’ mother wasn’t helping.
But Meg grabbed her arm and yanked her inside. “You’re the one Mark St. Crow wants. Plus, you look fucking hot.” Meg looked over Ruby’s figure with the appreciative eye of a clothing connoisseur.
Ruby ran a damp palm over the silky fabric. “Are you sure? This is so different from my normal style.” Meg had talked her into a red seventies-era disco dress. It was low cut and very, very clingy. “Are you sure I don’t look too slutty?”
“Slutty can be highly underrated.” Meg gave her a Cheshire cat grin. “And those shoes? They have CFM all over them.”