Anything But Mine

by Taryn Elliott

  He staggered over to the guitar trunk for balance, setting her on the edge. She tightened her grip on his middle, angling her bare pussy against his slacks. He could feel the heat along his shaft. Just a flip of buttons and zipper and he could be inside her. Driving her against the nicked edges of his guitar trunk.

  Of all the things he’d done, banging a woman against his guitars was a new one. Hell, on stage was a new one. Backstage…well, that had been done a lifetime ago, but on stage?

  Where the heart of his music had come alive again with a spotlight above them. The need climbed higher, twisting his brain into a relentless fantasy. Her tan legs spread wide, his cock disappearing into her heat, her cries as he pounded into her.

  Fuck, he wanted that.

  He needed to feel her gripping walls around his cock instead of just his fingers. Her strap was falling down her shoulder as she pulled away. Her mouth was ripe from his stubble and rough mouth.

  He cupped her face and forced himself to slow down as he brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “You better stop me now.” He lowered his mouth to hers, sucking her tongue into his mouth, inhaling her breathy sigh. Breaking the kiss, touching his forehead to hers, he hissed, “Stop me.”

  She shook her head and wrenched his slacks open. She reached in, her fingers firm on his throbbing length.

  “Fuck.”

  She grinned up at him as she swiped her thumb under and around his head. “Oh, yeah.”

  He tipped his head back with a low groan as she stroked him with a little twist at the end. His hips jerked forward, instinctively wanting more. “Izzy.”

  She tightened her grip. “Is it wrong that I want you on this stage?”

  His jaw tightened as he met her gaze. Disappointment was a kerosene flare in his chest. “A fantasy rock star fuck?”

  Her topaz eyes flashed. “Not a rock star fuck. You. I want you to fuck me. I want you inside me.” She bit his lower lip. “Just you.”

  “Here?”

  She nodded. “No more teasing. You put me in this state, now you better finish me off.”

  “You? You’ve got at least two orgasms to my one.”

  She reached into his pants and cupped his balls. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  He groaned, flipping out his wallet. Fuck, he hoped he had a damn condom. He really wasn’t the guy that carried it around in his billfold anymore. Sex hadn’t been on his radar in too many months to count.

  She went at his neck, a slow flick of her tongue up and around his Adam’s apple before she moved up to his chin. She hovered over his mouth as he fumbled in his wallet.

  “Tell me you have something.”

  He dug his fingers behind his credit cards, pulling them out one by one. They ticked and clicked their way across the floor. And still, she was relentless with her long strokes of his dick.

  She sat up straighter, her nose bumping his. “C’mon, magic condom. You’re a dude, you have to have one in there.”

  He felt around the bills, finding a receipt and a paper clip. He groaned as she traced a figure eight along the underside of his shaft. “Jesus. You’re killing me here.”

  “Do you realize how far it is to my apartment? To your cabin?” She scraped her teeth over his chin, flicking her tongue over the dent in his chin to the ridge below his lip and finally inside.

  He flipped his wallet open wide and finally felt the crinkled edge of a packet. He fisted her hair with his free hand, dragging her mouth away. Her neck exposed, her heaving chest with the tips of her nipples showing above the neckline of her dress, her dusky skin—all his to touch and take.

  He brought her knee up higher on his hip. “Last warning.”

  She lowered her head and he quickly loosened his grip on her hair. “Enough with the warnings. I’m a big girl. I want this.” She traced his lips with her tongue. “I want this.”

  He did, too. More than anything he could remember wanting. Except this barn. He wanted this place, this woman in his newfound place. His woman for as long as she allowed it.

  “And I like a good hair pull,” she said with sleepy eyes.

  He brushed her hands away and jerked the condom wrapper open, rolling it down his length. He backed up a step, taking her with him until she was on the very edge of the trunk.

  He pushed up the skirt of her dress, scraping his nails over her legs, his thumbs grazing her inner thighs. He gripped his cock and dragged the tip through her swollen folds.

  She shuddered and he groaned.

  He slowly tucked his head inside, pushing down slowly as she accepted him inch by inch. Slick and open, she tensed for a moment before hissing out a breath. She curled her fingers around his hips and pulled him forward.

  “Logan.”

  Again, that voice. The voice that would live in this barn, in his head, in his chest. He tried to block it out. He’d be done in a flash, if he focused on that voice. He groaned as she finally took all of him. Her walls rippled around his cock and he caught her mouth.

  Swallowing each groan as he rolled his hips against her. Shallow thrusts to keep himself in check. Tight little circles as he flexed his hips and ass, her fingers digging into his flanks. He pushed her open wider. He needed more.

  Each counter twist of her hips urged him for more. His body demanded more. His spine burned with the need to drive deep. But he kept it slow, reaching down between them to circle her clit.

  She raked her nails up under his shirt, then back down to his ass.

  “Logan.”

  Her voice.

  That voice.

  That tone.

  The rumble of her frustration finally unleashed the last barrier he’d held onto. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward. Her head flew back as her cries spurned him on. Hard, relentless thrusts. The wet perfection of her pussy gripped him, urged him to return as soon as he left her.

  He dragged her dress down until it puddled around her middle, and his fingertips dug into her hips as he held her in place to take each thrust. She moved her hands behind her for leverage, pushing up against him. He leaned into her, taking first one nipple, then the other into his mouth.

  With her back bowed and the slap of their bodies echoing in the room, they both raced for that elusive something. He dragged one hand up the middle of her breasts to her shoulders. He gripped the back of her neck and drew her forward until they were flush.

  Him still clothed, her skin against his. He hadn’t even gotten his pants all the way unbuttoned. But the friction seemed to be just what she needed. Her knees came up to his waist and her ankles crossed at the small of his back.

  Face to face, he watched her eyes go opaque and the wordless O of her mouth just before her thighs quaked and her slick walls vised around him. She fell apart in front of him without a word, without a breath, just a tiny, cracking release with his name as her exclamation mark.

  He followed, his hips slamming into her thighs, his orgasm following hers. An echo, a bassline reverb, and finally a duet as he hijacked her shudders and buried his face into her hair. He came so hard his periphery fuzzed and her welcoming warmth was an oasis he’d never hoped to find.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Bella dragged in greedy gulps of air. Her skin felt like she’d just held onto a live wire for ten seconds too long. Like she didn’t know that she should have put it down because it would flay each and every nerve ending.

  Logan seemed to be in about the same state. A much more clothed one, but his chest was heaving like hers. And she was pretty sure she was wearing the edge of a trunk buckle on her left ass cheek. Which would match the finger imprints she would be sporting, as well.

  Logan loosened his grip on her hips. She winced as he flexed against her thighs and his semi-hard cock stroked against her swollen tissues.

  Live wire.

  So appropriate. Even if her actions were anything but. On the stage, propped on a guitar trunk. Jesus, she didn’t even know where she’d flung her underwear. Or had Logan tossed them away?
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br />   All she knew is that her panties were currently somewhere to her left. Logan was still inside of her, his dark blond hair practically a halo thanks to the spotlight over his shoulder. Surely there had to be devil horns hidden under the hair. No man could, or should, know her body so intimately on the first try.

  Or was it just the fact that they’d been building up to this for days?

  Would he finally be out of her system now? Maybe now she could breathe and concentrate again. And just maybe, each time she closed her eyes, she wouldn’t see a pair of bottle green ones ready to devour her. Maybe his scent wouldn’t live inside of her head anymore.

  He kissed up her neck and found her mouth. This time it was a soft and lingering touch. His fingertips coasted up her bare spine to her shoulder blades before slid his fingers into her hair.

  She couldn’t fight the smile at his serious face. She thought she’d been thinking too loud, but it was nothing compared to the conversation going on in his head. Finally, he caressed her shoulders again, then drew the straps of her dress up. He dipped his head and swirled his tongue around each nipple before he covered them. She shuddered, alternately dreading the loss of him inside of her and longing to put this behind her.

  Logan King was a lot for a woman to handle on a good day, let alone in the midst of the stresses of this festival.

  She moaned as he reached between them, his knuckle brushing her stunningly sensitive clit. God, she’d had no idea there were that many orgasms living inside her, let alone unleashed during one crazed moment with him.

  He slowly pulled his length from her and rubbed over her entrance one last time before he turned and took care of the condom. He walked behind the drum riser, and she heard the rustle of a tissue or napkin.

  Felling exposed, she hopped off the trunk and let her skirt fall back down to cover her. Wrong move. Such a wrong move. Her thighs screamed as her knees wobbled. Her body felt empty, as if all sense of rightness had left with Logan.

  She straightened her spine and walked it off. It was just good sex. She’d had good sex before.

  Not like that.

  She scowled at that thought. Okay, so she’d never had sex that good before. It was just chemistry and those guitarist fingers. He was trained to make a woman go cross eyed with lust that was all.

  Logan came out from the back, and she kept on walking. She needed to go and freshen up. She needed to find her underwear—there they were—and burn them. Because there was no way she could put them on after being on the stage. There hadn’t been a live show yet, but it was still dirty and scarred by wheels and boots and equipment.

  “Izzy.”

  She stopped. “I just need to go…freshen up.”

  He moved up behind her and pressed his cheek to hers. “You aren’t running away, are you?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He dragged her back, curling his arm across her belly. “You’re not the only one who wants to make it go away. But it’s not going to. It would be easier if we could just walk away with the itch scratched.”

  She stiffened. “You are not part of my five year plan, Logan.”

  “Plans change.” He turned her around to face him. “Five years is a long time. Let’s start with five days and see where things go.”

  She searched his face. Direct eyes—tired eyes. But there was an openness there that she hadn’t been expecting. He hauled her into his chest and laced his hands at the base of her spine.

  The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Five days, huh?”

  He nuzzled her nose. “At least give me until the end of the festival. Then we can see what’s what.”

  “Okay.” She sighed into him, melted against him, because it felt too good not to. The music was still playing around them even though she’d blanked out on any song after he’d kissed her, and especially after he’d touched her. Blake Shelton’s honeyed voice urged her to lay her head against his chest and let him hold her. “You surprise me.”

  “Why?”

  “Super pop rock star listening to so much country.”

  “Ouch. Pop?”

  She grinned up at him. “You know you’re pop. I miss your old stuff, to be honest.” She winced. “Probably not smart to say.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. ‘Tipping Point’ was the song that got me.”

  “God. A lifetime ago.” He laughed and the sound rumbled under her cheek.

  She settled against him again, easier now. Her body still felt deliciously abused, but her jumpy nerves had calmed. “All that angst-laden music in your twenties. And me in my teens.”

  He groaned. “Don’t remind me. I was an angry kid with no sense. All I cared about was getting away from that boyband image.”

  “Then why are you going back to it?” When he said nothing, she wanted to saw her tongue off with her own teeth. Like she knew anything about him. Cripes, Bella. Way to go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, you’re fine. You’re right. Probably why I’ve been playing every other song but my own for this festival.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Zeke and I keep getting invited to work with younger and younger people. And that’s where the sound is going.”

  “So, worry about your own sound.”

  He dragged his palm up her back then made a return trip with the tips of his fingers. “Easier said than done.”

  She pressed her nose into the center of his chest and dragged in his vanilla spice scent one last time before she took a step back. “You’re Logan fucking King. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

  He grinned down at her, the tip of his tongue bumping against the back of his teeth. “Damn right.”

  That image wasn’t going to leave her anytime soon. Easy and genuine, the man was nothing but smiles now. Good sex did that, obviously, because she was smiling right back at him. “You, my friend, need to bring me home. I have a long day tomorrow. Sharon will be knocking on my door first thing in the morning.”

  “Can I stay?”

  “Nope. I need to sleep. And if I bring you up to my room, there will be no sleeping.”

  His eyebrow rose, giving him a rakish look. “And the problem is?”

  She pushed him back another step. “The problem is, I need to be functioning and not stuck in Orgasmlandia for another six hours.”

  “Six hours? Try eight.”

  “Cocky bastard.”

  He slung his arm around her shoulders. “Why yes, yes I am.”

  “Yeah. You’re definitely going home alone, pal.”

  Logan laughed. “Mean.”

  “You have no idea.” She stopped and scooped up her bra and panties.

  He groaned. “You’re bare under that fucking dress. I was really trying to ignore that fact.”

  Her lips twitched into a smile up at him. “It’s rather freeing and terrifying.”

  “What would your mama say?”

  Bella’s smile slid away. Her mother wouldn’t say anything. Her mother would just sniff disapprovingly. If she noticed at all.

  Logan laced his fingers with hers and helped her stand. “I’m sorry, that was stupid to say.”

  She waved it away. “Don’t worry about it.” She walked ahead, and Logan caught her hand, spinning her around.

  “It was thoughtless.”

  She lifted her hand to his cheek. “You were a good son. Loved your mom, huh?”

  Logan’s lids dropped and his ridiculously long lashes shielded whatever emotions had flickered there. Then he stared right into her eyes. “I did. And I miss her every day.”

  “I remember reading that you lost your mom. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Not many secrets when the tabloids pick into every corner of your life.” He kissed her gently. “But thanks.”

  She couldn’t imagine people prying like that. Any sense of privacy was destroyed the more money, and fame a person had. Another reason why she wanted to walk away from him.

  Not because she couldn’t hold up u
nder the scrutiny, but because there would be the promise of it. How many women had been in his life for more than a moment? Five, ten? So many more than that? Had they reveled in his status, or had they longed for privacy like she did?

  He drew her down the stairs to the back of the barn. The heavy door locked behind them as they escaped to the parking lot. Logan caged her against the door of his pickup. “I want this more than I can remember wanting anything, Izzy. I just want you to know that. No matter what happens.”

  She dragged in a breath when he slid his thigh between her legs. She laid her hands on his chest, drawing in the heat and solid strength beneath her palms. Logan ticked off every box in the wrong-for-her column. No solid home base, bad boy written out in the bold, all caps handwriting he used in his setlist, and as far from steady as she could find a definition for.

  Then why did his every touch feel right?

  And why was this moment, in the dark, all she could think about?

  He lifted his hand to her cup her cheek, his long fingers slipping into her hair. He lowered his mouth to hers. None of the previous heat scorched her. In fact, he seemed to be taking special care with her. He lightly sipped from her lips. His touch butterfly light, fragile in a way she never would have expected from this man.

  That was why she wanted nothing more than to run down the path and escape him. This wasn’t the way to get him out of her system. This kind of kiss was an epoxy bond.

  But she didn’t run.

  And that scared her more than anything.

  ∞ ♦ ∞

  The heavy night air was full of her. With a helluva lot of reluctance, and no shortage of willpower, Logan stepped back. He opened the door and boosted her onto the seat.

  Her legs fell open, and he had to tell himself to walk away. He didn’t know if there were photographers hiding around there. He didn’t have the neck tingles he always seemed to get when they were around. With everyone having left the barn well over an hour ago, the chances were slim.