Dream Me Off My Feet (Sex, Love, And Rock & Roll)

by Kisner, Stevie

  ***

  Kori’s bladder awoke her with a start. But I don’t want to get up. Being here feels too good. She cuddled further into his arms and closed her eyes again. No good. Her bladder was too insistent.

  She slowly extricated herself, careful not to wake him up, and padded into the bathroom. As she started to sit, she realized she was sinking too low. He’d left the seat up. She’d passed the point of no return and grimaced, awaiting the cold bite of porcelain against her skin. She bit back a screech, but at least now she could get back up. Something new to get accustomed to, after her short time of not having to worry about the position of the toilet seat.

  Accustomed to? Was she actually thinking of repeating this night? She shook her head, not wanting to consider it right now. All she wanted was to return to the safety of his warm arms and go back to sleep.

  JT stirred when she slipped back into the bed, pulling her to him and flopping a sleep-heavy leg over her hips. She sighed, feeling his erection press into her, knowing nothing more could come of it. His warmth, and the sweet weight of him over her, lulled her back into slumber.

  Much like the night before, she awoke before him, pulled from a dream of JT’s mouth on hers, his lips exploring her skin; he was over her, under her, callused fingers caressing, teasing and pleasing. She felt his gentle thrust against the cushion of her bottom.

  Oh, no, not again. She’d made her decision, and planned to stick by it this time. She heard him gasp in his sleep, then moan softly. He tucked her even further underneath him, the taut muscles in his arm holding her firmly in place as his head slid down the pillow, his cheek coming to rest on her hair. His deep, slow breaths tickled over her ear. And his barely audible whimper tickled something even deeper. She scarcely breathed; the fear of inflaming his desire, and her own, held her immobile.

  He pressed against her harder. This was getting more difficult to resist, especially since she’d just awakened from such an erotic dream. Of him. Of this.

  Her mind grappled frantically for any reason to get up. What time was it? Was the sun up yet? Could she make an excuse to shower and start what promised to be a very busy concert day? The room was still dark, but the blackout liners on the curtains saw to that. No help there.

  Clock. Where was her ever-present alarm clock? Out of reach, and it was too dark to read the time from here. Damn! She squirmed against his arm, but he held her too tightly for her to slink away. Maybe slide out from under? She wriggled lower, but that only served to press her bottom harder into his erection. Shit and double-shit!

  Anything she did seemed to get her in deeper. She sighed loudly and resigned herself to staying where she was. Well, she thought, at least this time I’m not seeing what he’s dream—

  Clear, vivid images of passion slammed into her brain. The last vestiges of her determination dissolved as the walls of reality left for parts unknown. Rough fingertips… whispered words of desire and encouragement…gentle bites and soothing tongue and… oh God lips…everywhere those amazing lips and tongue….his probing erection seeking her heat…pressing forward then pounding into her again and again….oh God yes love….more….got to feel you….

  Instinctively, she pushed harder against his arousal. She had one last rational thought before losing herself entirely in his passionate dream: It’s okay, it’s not morning yet, it’s still yesterday….

  Her gasp roused him somewhat. The images dimmed slightly as his arm released its tight hold and his hand skimmed lightly over her body. Dimmed further as his hand found her breast, molding itself around the softness, his thumb brushing lightly over the tightened nipple. She gasped as a jolt shot straight down to the crux of her thighs.

  His mouth still rested above her ear; she could feel him breathing a little harder, a little faster. Desire crashed over her as he awakened further.

  “You’re still here, still real. Oh, love…” he murmured into her hair, his voice deep with sleep.

  Korina hadn’t realized precisely how his voice affected her until that moment. He could read the phone book out loud and make her quiver. He shifted to lay over her, holding her gaze with wondering eyes.

  –Still here….not all a dream at all….and still want my touch….want ME….oh Christ what that does to me…..

  As if frantic to prove that she was real flesh underneath him, he claimed her mouth, bruising her lip against her teeth. Plunged his tongue into her, plundering to taste every depth. She responded with equal passion, twining her tongue with his, her breath panting hard and fast over his skin.

  –I want you….now…need to bury myself deep inside….can I …are you ready for me, love?….

  She broke his kiss to whisper a soft yes and parted her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her dampness pressing against his throbbing skin nearly sent him over.

  –My sweet, so ready for me….so hot and wet….

  He buried himself to the hilt, then held steady for a long moment, trying to calm and regain enough control to make it last. After several shuddering breaths, he began to slowly move.

  –Holy shit sweetheart….so fucking tight….such sweet heat….you feel sooo damn good….oh yeah squeeze me tighter…. I want to make you scream….

  She clenched over him one final time before her release; her dream, then his, had her so close already. She trembled and shook with the power of her climax.

  –That’s it baby….give it to me….now look at me….open your eyes….please….I need to see me in your eyes….

  She thrashed her head on the bed. No, I can’t. Can’t bear to even think what I might see there. Or show him in mine. No. This has to be the last time. No.

  His thrusts grew more insistent. Deeper. More powerful. She moaned under his tender assault, her excitement escalating once again.

  –My God love….you’ve got me so…so close now….please….I need you to look at me…have to….see you….oh sweet fucking Christ…see you shatter…

  **No…can’t…don’t….those eyes…don’t dare get lost in those eyes again…..but that feels soooo good….what the hell did you just DO…….

  JT moved her feet to rest on his shoulders, and plunged even deeper. She felt a scream threatening. JT swallowed her sounds with his kiss, feeling his own release climbing fast and strong.

  –Holy shit I’m going to explode….just explode….oh FUCK never been this good in my life….just wanted to see those Caribbean blue eyes again….drown in them….

  He slowly sank down to her, then rolled over to crush her to his thumping chest. He felt warm moisture gently dropping onto his skin. Was she crying? Tenderly, he traced the tracks of her tears with one callused fingertip, then brushed them away with his thumb.

  –Oh, sweetheart….why…..

  Nine

  Russell was feeling better, and was going along for soundcheck that afternoon, allowing Korina the freedom to not attend if she didn’t want to. All this was still so new, and the opportunity to shoot with a master photographer like Russell Crader was something she didn’t want to pass up. Of course she was going.

  She pondered the morning while she packed her gear before heading out with the band. She wanted to ride over with the crew and get to know them as well; get there early and watch them work. She was truly interested in how everything was set up and rigged.

  JT, however, insisted she ride with them. She gave in without argument. This time. The morning had been strained as it was, and it just seemed easier not to press her point.

  She had fallen back to sleep without explaining her tears. She wasn’t sure she could have, anyway. She simply felt…overwhelmed. Anticipating never again experiencing that physical bliss; guilt at wanting it. Then there was the complete and utter loss of control.

  She didn’t do drugs, never had, and didn’t drink often, either, because she hated that powerlessness. She’d never freed herself to feel it with her husband, either. Yet she craved it whenever JT was nearby. She didn’t understand, and it shook her down to her very founda
tions.

  When they’d awakened again, daylight was leaking in around the edges of the curtains. JT was nuzzling into her hair, breathing in the musky scent of faded perfume, sweat and sex. Her first reaction was a contented smile and a sigh. Then reality smacked her upside the head. It was finally tomorrow. The deadline she set had come, been trampled one last time, and now demanded to be honored. They, as a ‘them,’ could no longer be.

  She stiffened in his arms, afraid to say stop, but terrified to let him continue. He noticed and brought his face closer to whisper, “What’s the matter, love? Timid in the daylight hours?” She felt him smile against the contours of her ear.

  What could she say without hurting his feelings? Or making him angry? ‘Gee, JT, we can’t do this anymore, because today is today and not yesterday?’ Although it made perfect sense to her, would he understand it? Would he feel used? Just the thought of hurting him, after learning of the lonely little boy buried deep inside his heart, made her feel lower than wormshit.

  Not that he was completely innocent. Teasing her with dinner. And oh, lord, that strawberry; as if she could have turned down that invitation. He’d made sure to wind her up good and tight before throwing out that little hook. And rather than take the bait, she’d swallowed the whole tackle box. No, he wasn’t blameless and neither was she.

  She took the coward’s way out and stretched the truth like spandex. “Today’s going to be busy, there’s so much to do and I want to see it all. Last time I missed watching the gaffers and the dry-run on the lights, and barely made it in time to see the soundcheck. If I’m supposed to be writing about all this and not sounding like a total idiot, I need to watch.” She shrugged her shoulder, blocking his lips from descending further.

  Not yet willing to be rebuffed, he smoothed his hand over the curve of her thigh, then drew it back with a touch that was barely there. She shivered and her skin pebbled into goose bumps. Dammit. This was going to be harder than she’d imagined.

  She brushed his hand away as he began sliding his lips over the smooth skin of the shoulder she brought so tantalizingly close. She whimpered, feeling her insides turn to quivering mush. Her soft sound of surrender drew an answering groan from deep in his chest. The sliding contact became tender nibbles.

  What are you doing? What are you doing? her mind screamed.

  The nibbles were now trailing down her bicep, bringing more goose bumps.

  “JT.”

  His hand skimmed up her thigh again.

  “JT, honey,” she repeated, this time more firmly.

  “Hmm?” His lips never left her skin.

  She drew in a steadying breath. “I want you to stop. Please.” No, I don’t. But I have to tell you that. No matter how hard it was to say.

  He raised his head to look down at her face. “You’re serious?” he asked, the inflection he gave to the second word saying that he didn’t believe she was.

  “I mean it. Please stop. We…we have a lot to do today, at least I do, and I really need to shower and get started.” She wouldn’t chance meeting his stare.

  He grinned and cocked a brow. “Now there’s a good idea. Get started in the shower. So wet and steamy…”

  “Knock it off, you randy man! I am serious. And I plan to shower alone, or I’ll never get out of here.”

  He lowered his head to rumble softly into her ear, “Would that be so bad?”

  She let out an exasperated sigh, shrugging her shoulder to her ear again. “Yes. It would.” If you only knew how bad that would be…. “I’m an employee, remember? With a job to do? You’re making me feel like a kept woman, paying me for nothing. Please, JT. I need to get clean, and I need some time to myself.”

  He finally seemed to understand that she was serious, and would stubbornly hold her ground. His gaze tarnished to a flat, distant look tinged with hurt. He pulled away from her and sat up. “Okay, luv,” he said.

  She noticed immediately that he said it differently. Luv, not love. She couldn’t really lay a finger on how it was pronounced so that it was one and not the other, but it was. Her heart clenched at the subtle rebuke. Dammit! Why had he tried so hard to press the point? Why couldn’t he just listen and stop?

  “I’m sorry, JT,” she said softly, hoping it would make a difference.

  “It’s alright, luv. I understand. There are things I should be attending to, as well.” God, now he sounded so stilted and polite. She watched him pick up his clothes and pull them on, never once looking at her.

  “The band leaves for soundcheck at eleven. That gives you about…” he looked at her clock, “two hours before we go, okay?”

  “I was hoping to go earlier, with the crew.”

  “You won’t miss much, except some creative swearing. No, I’d really prefer you rode with me.” This time he did meet her eyes and that look broached no argument.

  “Okay, then. Two hours.” She fought the sudden stab of tears. From what, she wasn’t sure. Just go, JT. Just go.

  He walked to the door, put his hand on the knob, then paused. “I’ll, uh, pick you up here?” he said with a crooked half-smile. He turned the knob and was gone.

  Korina flew to the bathroom, throat aching from fighting back a sob. She waited for the water to steam then stepped under the punishing spray, finally allowing the tears to fall. This was her preferred place to cry; there was something cathartic about crying in the shower, mingling her tears with the water. And the sound of the spray masked the noise. As the shower rained on, she slid down the wall to sit in the tub, the sobs now coming unchecked. She drew up her legs, burying her face into her knees and, she hoped, muffling the sound.

  Remorse. Guilt. Sorrow for hurting him, for hurting Mark, even though he knew nothing about what she’d done. What have I gotten myself into, and how do I get out of it? Where do I go from here? She bawled until the water ran cold.

  JT headed for the shower immediately after closing his door. He needed to wash her scent from his skin. She was in his clothes, his hair, his thoughts, driving him to distraction. Too long without a woman, Blackwood, he admonished. That’s all it is.

  He stripped before the mirror, the water not yet on. Through the thin walls and quiet morning air, he heard it. The keening cry of gut-wrenching sobs. Was that Korina?

  Their rooms were mirror images; his bathroom and hers shared a common wall. He crept into the tub (that’s dumb, JT, like she could hear you walking) and pressed his ear to the cold tile. The sound was clearer now, and it definitely came from her side of the wall.

  Again, he thought, ‘Why, sweetheart, why?’ His arms ached to pull her in. He braced his forehead on the porcelain wall and closed his eyes, whispering, “Oh, no, sweetheart, please don’t cry.” In his pursuit to have what he wanted, he was ripping out her heart. You selfish fool. There’s always a price to pay to grant your wish; haven’t you learned that by now?

  She was paying that price for both of them; her sobs were testament to the cost. Just back off, Blackwood, and let her be. The price is just too high.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled, turning on the water. He felt so dirty now, and no amount of scrubbing could wash it away.

  ****

  Kori emerged from the shower, cold and red-eyed. Her head was pounding and her throat felt raw. But oddly, she felt okay. The buildup of sorrow and remorse had been washed down the drain. Crying always made her feel both better and worse.

  She pulled the towel from her hair, letting it air-dry. Her head wasn’t up to the loud whine of the blow drier yet. She filled the coffee pot in her room with a packet of hazelnut grind and flipped the switch. And now for some nicotine…where was her lighter?

  What a stupid question. JT was here, so, gee, where could her lighter be? And that was her almost-empty backup. He’d stolen the new one days ago. Dammit! That man was going to cost her a small fortune in butane. What did he do, eat them? Grumbling, she searched her purse and bags for a match and failed to find one.

  She waited for the coffee to finish, poured
a cup, and heaved a sigh. If she wanted that cigarette, there was only one thing to do.

  She knocked on JT’s door.

  He answered wearing nothing but a short hotel towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp and unruly. “Hey, matching hair,” he said, reaching out to brush hers away from her face.

  She flinched away, concealing her red eyes and nose behind the damp blonde waves.

  He didn’t press her; he knew what she was hiding.

  “Yeah, but yours is prettier. And you’ve got more of it,” she croaked. God, her throat hurt. She kept her face down and stared at his bare feet, admonishing herself to not look at his bare chest, his eyes, the gap in the towel right at his hip… “I don’t want to be a bother, but can I have a light? I seem to be minus fire in every possible form.” She held up a cigarette hopefully.

  He glanced down at his towel-clad hips. “And I seem to be minus pockets at the moment. Come on in while I find you something. I’m sure I have a lighter to spare, since I’m also sure they’re all yours.” He leaned on the door, waiting for her to enter.

  She would rather wait in the hall than be alone with him wearing a towel barely larger than a washcloth. But her craving for nicotine won out and she moved past him into the room, careful to not get too close.

  He watched her as she walked by, fighting the urge to wrap her in a hug and tell her that he would make it all better. It would be a lie, he knew, since it was all his fault to begin with. He sighed as he closed the door, thinking of her hoarse voice. She could certainly howl, and it carried. He wished she was strained from screaming out his name instead.

  Just stop it, you ass, and find her a lighter. She obviously doesn’t want you to know she’s been crying. He rummaged through several discarded pairs of jeans, pulling lighters from almost every pocket. “Pick a color,” he smiled faintly, fanning them between his fingers like playing cards.