by Amber Burns
“I didn’t resort to violence.” I did indirectly threaten Harry to keep a watch on Holly’s kid.
“Not that that would have solved anything,” Astra says, polishing through her hot chocolate and reaching out to replace the mug on the tray. “All it would have done is land you in more trouble.”
“Spare me the ‘violence solves nothing’ speech, please. I love you, but I’m willing to trust a little arm-twisting would have greased up that old bastard.”
“And what did you have in mind?”
“We’re past that now, right?” Holly blinks innocently. Astra sighs and mid-shake of her head, catches my eyes. Her smiling is infectious. It’s the last thing I should be doing, sitting here and enjoying a cup of chocolatey sweetness and their company, but I am.
And I can’t deny I’m happy. Probably the happiest I’ve been in a while when it isn’t me and my music.
We talk mostly about Orange Compass. The ladies don’t ask about my background, but it comes to light that I attended St. B&J. That gets them talking about the school and some the changes that could be made, all of which I agree with.
Astra and I take our leave of Holly what feels like hours later. We head into a snow-free evening.
“It’s finally stopped,” I hear Astra humming her approval which changes when I note that the car is stuck. The wheels protest the more I try, and I keep trying until Astra says, “My house isn’t that far.”
I look up as she tags on, “Until the snow clears up and my shovel is in my car, and that’s a further distance.”
“Could we ask Holly?”
“Yes, but the roads,” she trails off and I’m on her wavelength.
“I’d love to rest at yours, if you’re all right with it.”
Astra flushes and shakes her head. “It’s fine on my end, only I have a couch. The guest room is more of a storage room right now.”
I’m tripping on the high of going to her place that I don’t care if I have to risk my back on the couch. Composing my expression at odds with the freaking out I’m doing inside I lead us out.
“I live close to Holly. I usually pass her place to head to mine.”
“That’s why you stop in to check on her with soup bowls,” I say.
“Yes. And I like the companionship.” Her smile is bright enough to break up the dreary aftermath of the snowstorm.
“Is it okay for me to leave the car?” I ask, glancing back.
“I’ll call Holly when we get home and let her know in case she decides to report you to the law.”
We’re walking past Holly’s garage when a red-orange light enters my peripherals. Astra’s being closer to the garage and the small ball of fire brings my hand to her back.
Already on top of it, Astra squints in the direction of the glow. “Liam?” she engages the shadowy figure.
The figure pushes off the side of the fence, the cigarette glow sailing to the snow at the mention of his name. Holly’s kid is tall and lanky and dark-haired, everything unlike his mother. I figure his genes coming from the missing father in the scene.
I frown as I remember the smoking, my fists clenching to rein in the urge to give him a piece of my mind especially after hearing his mom worrying over him in that warm cocoon of a home of theirs.
Dumbass kid.
“Liam.” Astra repeats, her frown in her voice. “Aren’t you grounded?”
“Yes, but I needed some fresh air.”
Guess that explains all the noise. Kid breaking out.
The teen holds up a hand as way of greeting, the grin revealing his metal. The braces make his face younger. Liam flips his dark flop out of his eyes as his gaze swivels to me. I see it before it comes out of his mouth.
“Holy shit!”
“Liam,” Astra is quick on scolding him. Turning to look between us, wondering what provoked Liam to widening his eyes and popping his jaw open to catch a whole lot more snowflakes swirling about than normal.
“Ryker McBride – you’re him, aren’t you?”
I can’t exactly say I’m not. I shrug, but the movement is unnatural even to me. Astra’s curiosity leashes her censure.
“Holy sh—crap,” Liam censors his language, but the awe has intensified. “Dude,” he drawls, running a hand down the leg of his baggy, dark denims and holding out a fist. I return the gesture out of good faith, that and it wouldn’t earn me points with Astra if I shoved my hand over her friend’s son’s mouth.
“Huge fan. Loved your latest single. When are you planning to bring out your new music?” He crows then, breaking off to cup his fist over his mouth. “Man, I can’t believe this is happening even: A freaking rock star in my front yard!”
Astra’s squeak gains my notice more than the star-struck teen.
She’s looking at me like she’s meeting me for the first time. That soft mouth of hers opens slightly, her expression matching Liam’s thrall.
“A rock star?” she repeats Liam’s cringing term.
“Musician sounds better, doesn’t it?” I smile; she doesn’t.
“But what Liam said is true?”
Liam whistles. “Still here.”
“We should go,” Astra clears her throat and marches ahead, giving me a respite from being mauled with questioning from Liam. I’m half-worrying he’s going to open his mouth, but one look at Astra’s swaying hips and I’m kicking myself for maybe ruining whatever we are.
The walk to hers is quiet. She lets me in and closes up behind me.
Her house, unlike Holly’s, is darker, quieter…emptier. The necessities are there, but it’s the bare minimum. The couch, thankfully, is a three-seater large enough for a guy standing six feet some. My legs will dangle off the armrest but what the heck, I’m not complaining.
Actually I’m not saying much.
When Astra talks it’s after she’s flicked on the switch to the old chandelier in the den. I take the couch facing the old TV in the corner. My arm brushes the dusty plant in the corner and I wonder how at odds the room is compared to how Astra presents herself.
I expected traditional rugs, warm accents and colors, a den that could have been closer to a family room with only touches of modernism’s influence. Sort of like her pencil skirts and blouses clashing with that funky, cheetah print purse and the loud colors.
And she did mention that the guest room was doubling as storage.
As if sensing where my thoughts have led, or maybe it’s just the thing to say to a stranger checking out your digs, Astra apologizes, smoothing her hands over her skirt and crossing her ankles; she’s coming across self-defensive.
Curiouser and curiouser.
I’m finding that humorous as I sit up to hear what she has to say in her defense.
Why can’t I shake the vibe she’s passing through?
“I haven’t gotten around to decorating much. I’ve been busy settling in, and that stage is taking longer than I anticipated.” She locks her hands together, brows knitting. “So, what do you do? If you don’t mind me asking…”
“I don’t mind you asking.” I drum my hands over her armrest, bringing one leg over my knee. “I make music for a living.”
“Rock music. That’s why Liam called you a rock star,” she fills in.
I bob my head once, solemnly. “Like I said, I prefer musician but yeah, my – Tense Finger is rock, alternative, metal, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Tense Finger?”
“Our band,” I extrapolate, wondering how she could have gone without hearing about us and then I realize that does fit her image. Astra and metal, I smile at the thought.
She asks a couple more questions, focusing on the business aspect of the music, although I give her a bit more history behind the band.
“You all must be close,” she says after I tell her how the first Tense Finger concert, in a college dive bar, happened seventeen years ago. Standing, she meanders out of the den, mentioning fetching accoutrements for my sleepover.
Astra is bearing
two blankets, one lighter, one thicker, and a pillow on her return, the stack towering over her head. I’m up and helping her as soon as she rounds the corner from the stairs and into view.
“Easy,” I warn. One of my hands falls over hers under the blankets and we stand still. I find her face to the side of the blankets, her deep brown eyes centering wide pupils, her lips wind-chapped red from our upwards twenty-minute walk to hers.
“I’ve got it.” My voice is raspy even to my ears.
I don’t get a response. It seems I won’t until we move, and that’s looking like it isn’t going to happen on either end. There’s a link, a deep-rooted lust binding, connecting us.
It’s the kind of connection that keeps us mesmerized until one of us blinks. Astra does the blinking and she slips free, not forcibly. There’s a lingering quality to her freedom.
She’s wishing me a good night when I call her from the doorway.
I move in her direction. Glad she’s standing her ground, making it easier for me to get my hands around her. Her waist is slim compared to her wide hips as I follow the curve in and then out, out, splaying my palms over her hipbones, my fingers grasping the stretchy polyester of her skirt.
The snapping of her skirt over her thighs provoke a gasp from Astra, that and the resounding slap reverberates through the room, surrounds my dick and squeezes it through an invisible cuff.
“Ryker,” she runs a hand over my head as I duck into her shoulder, kissing her through her blouse. I shift my head and lock my lips to the side of her throat, working up to her pulse where I amble to trace circle with my tongue.
Tilting back on a long, breathy moan, I give into the temptation to nibble on her, latch my mouth over the sensitized area and feel her knees give out on me. I hold her up, hands cupping her ass and pushing her against the evidence of my desire and delight.
“Oh,” she’s gasping on a succession of hitched breaths. I want more of that wonderful friction. Her skirt is making it impossible to get traction to draw her leg up and get ultimate access to her core.
I’ll just have to change that.
I don’t move my mouth, or change the pressure of my sucking, but my hands reluctantly slide up to locate what I want. I find her zipper easily, pulling it down and separating from the embrace to nudge the fabric down her voluptuous legs.
Astra wearing my love bite and black underwear is a good look for her…and for my hard-on.
“May I?” she accepts my hand to help her step clear of the skirt pooling around her heels. She pauses to step out of the shoes and particularly launching into my arms as I drop down onto the couch beside the forgotten blankets and pillow.
Her legs on either side of me, I slip my hands under her blouse and cup her breasts. Covered though they were, I feel her warmth, the heaviness of her globes, and imagine her nipples tightening under the soft, cushiony fabric.
Astra forces my hands away as she leans back, fingers struggling with buttons until I chuckle and help her free the top. We meet in the middle and I let her do the honors of the last button. The parted blouse is too much for me to restrain myself. I pull it off her shoulders, losing the slippery silk to the floor.
The matching black bra has to go next.
Her breasts bounce free above me, my hands barely retracting from flinging her bra to the ground before trapping her red-brown nipples between my pointers and thumbs.
“So fucking beautiful,” I roll my thumbs over the sensitive, hard nubs. Back and forth, waiting for her to come undone and beg for release from the foreplay. That doesn’t take long.
I laugh at the realization of being clothed.
“What’s missing from this picture?” I meet her surprise kiss, groaning at her hands curling over my hem. “I’d ask you to help me,” I murmur, chuckling as I lean back and draw my arms up for her moving the shirt off.
The jeans require pushing her to the side. I’m barely out of the jeans when Astra crawls onto my lap, towering over me, naked save for her panties. She bends, curtaining us under her russet waves, bruising our lips until we have to come up for air.
She lets me know she’s ready at her rubbing against my shaft, our underwear keeping us apart. I tug my shorts down and free myself, erection sitting in front of her still clothed mound.
Astra breathes hard, my name falling off of her tongue. “Ryker,” her fingers dancing over my shaft, trailing veins I can hardly see past her glossy mouth and distracting digits.
“Enough,” I shift up the couch, knocking her hands off and get to the end of the beginning of our fun.
Ready to be rocked, baby – hard.
Too far gone by this point, I don’t bother to get her underwear off.
I move the fabric of her panties to the side, revealing her sex and angle to settle her over my erection. Down she goes, taking me inside of her, stopping shy of bearing balls deep, I wait for her to adjust.
“Relax,” I soothe. My fingers enjoying the downy-like touch to her hair, my lips brushing her and sussing out a game of tongue tag in her mouth, and it reminds me of how she comforted me outside.
Different scenario, same emotion, the thought fades when Astra claws her nails down my chest, locking onto my shoulders at the first thrust. Soaring up on a moan, Astra’s sweet vagina clenches around me, demanding more.
“Like this, babe,” I thrust and she wails. The next lurch upward has her arching back further, seeking more of me despite our thigh-to-thigh connection. Her tits are in my face though, and I can’t complain.
I suck one nipple, slurping and nipping her to the tune of her squeezing cunt. Switching nipples, I lavish the same cruel pleasure on the other, until I sense the impending wave.
“Ahh, mo-ore,” she pants, meeting my hips, thrust for thrust.
She holds out on my name, arching further, dragging me with her physically and mentally into the fuzzy whooshing motion pouring out of every orifice. Astra milks me dry, leaving me dragging out heavy breaths yet feeling like there isn’t enough air entering in my lungs.
“Astra?” I search for her in the haze. Navigating her head to my chest, her own heavy breaths wash over my chest, warming my blood all over again. Hugging her to me, I settle in for…well, for however long she wants me to hold her like that.
“Astra, babe?”
“I’m okay,” she says, like she’s reading my mind. My cock still twitching inside of her reminds me –
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yeah,” she yawns. I relax, ignoring the odd pricking sensation and the angle of my thoughts had she said she wasn’t on any contraceptive. Would I have helped her find an emergency pill?
A small part of me toys with the idea of babies with my dark eyes, her reddish brown soft hair, and chubby cheeks as rosy as their mother’s.
Shrugging that image away, it’s all I need to relinquish the weight of wakefulness. I hear Astra’s good night, but I’m unsure if I return the favor. My last waking thought is how the couch has become both of our beds tonight.
I do know she has a heck of a way to wake up a man.
“Good morning, sexy,” I grunt.
“Still night,” she corrects, lightly scratches her nails over my chest, her hips are moving, her panties rubbing against my growing shaft; the sweet pressure paired with her husky voice are reviving me and fast.
“We slept though?”
She nods, kissing me quiet. I’m quick to turn the caress of her mouth into something rough, wet and messy.
“Rock star moves,” I grin against her mouth, another bruising kiss an order. “Mhm, Astra,” I wait for her fluttering eyes to stay open and falling into those liquid browns I whisper, “Rock me, would you?”
And she does.
Chapter 4
St. B&J is looking lively for once.
Since my arrival I haven’t seen much of anyone around – which is kind of how I wanted it. Lola’s in the middle of her invitations and no one has a clue Tense Finger is in town.
I’m fresh from
meeting up with the guys at the Lopezes. Custodio’s offer to stay at the ginormous family home was an easy enough choice for them.
They aren’t being threatened with marriage.
I drum my hands on the steering wheel, keeping an eye out for an emptying spot, pushing thoughts of smashing Custodio’s face out of my mind as a solution to my strange problem.
Finding a parking space takes longer. The upside being by the time I’m out of the car, I’m significantly cooled from the tension riding my shoulders coming from the Lopez residence, seeing to it that the other two-thirds of Tense Finger settle in for the two-week countdown to Lola’s party.