Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel)

by Amanada Lawless

  I grab onto him as I feel myself reaching the height of my pleasure. He knows that I’m close, that I’m just about to topple over the edge. Just before I come to the crest of that wave, he breaks off—lifting me up into his arms and into the back seat. I let out a groan of anticipation, of even more heightened need.

  “I want to be there with you,” he says, sitting back against the well-worn seat.

  He doesn’t have to say it twice.

  I reach for his belt with an urgency I’ve never known before, ripping open the buckle and sliding his jeans down his firm thighs. He’s already rock hard for me. I love that just touching me can do that to him.

  Trent slips my panties down over my ass, and I wiggle free from the flimsy garment as fast as I can. I’m straddling him on the backseat, on top and savoring every moment.

  He grabs onto my hips, looking up at me in the darkness. Even here, his eyes glow like two bright emerald orbs. Slowly, I lower myself down towards the hard length of his member. A groan rips from his throat as I let the tip of him rest against my wet slit. I hover there for a moment, letting him wait for it, just a little. I like taking control every once in a while, I’m coming to find. With my hands planted firmly on his shoulders, I lower myself just an inch, taking the bulging tip of him inside of me.

  We breathe out together, relishing the feel of him sliding slowly into me. Inch by inch, I take him—sliding down onto his rock hard shaft. Finally, I find I can’t wait anymore.

  "Get a condom," I say breathlessly.

  He doesn't waste time, and quickly wraps his manhood.

  I press down onto him, gasping as I feel him slip up, deep inside my body. His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips as the sensation overwhelms him.

  For a moment, we stay perfectly still, just basking in the feeling of meeting here, connecting in this most intimate of ways. But our desire can’t be held at bay by wonder for very long.

  As one, we move together, our bodies bucking wildly in the backseat of my car. I brace myself against the roof, bouncing up and down on the hard length of him. Further and further he drives up inside of me, spreading me open with each passing thrust.

  I lean into him, hungry for as much of him as I can take. I want to feel every single inch of Trent as he drives ever further into me.

  “Oh,” I gasp, as he looses a hand and brings it back down between my legs. He starts to play with me again, rubbing and flicking me toward bliss.

  The rest of my words get caught in my throat as I’m rendered speechless by thundering, unstoppable pleasure. I can feel him growing stiffer inside of me, even as I careen toward orgasm with every passing moment. I know that he’s right on the brink with me, that he’s about to lose it too.

  I lower my eyes to his, wanting to share this moment with him. His handsome features are screwed up into a blissful, earnest mask. I muster up all the concentration I can manage and utter one word, my gaze locked with his.

  “Come.”

  His pummeling member pulses within me, just as I’m transported with him into pure ecstasy. We come together, our eyes closing in bliss as the shockwaves of sensation pass through us. My fingers dig into Trent’s shoulders as I feel him filling me.

  He bucks his hips as my own orgasm rattles through me, sweeping like wildfire over every single nerve. I slump against him, unable to even sit up straight, and he wraps his strong arms around my waist, holding me there. Our chests heave in unison, our breaths hot and heavy.

  A choir of crickets serenades us from the forest as we slowly regain our senses. I peer at him in the darkened backseat, grinning from ear to ear.

  “See what happens when you start pawing me?” I say, poking my finger playfully into his chest.

  “Yeah,” he says, “I’d better start pawing you more often.”

  My laugh echoes in the enclosed car as I roll off him, retrieving my panties from the floor. “I hope no one’s worried about where we’ve gone off to,” I say.

  “They can deal with it,” he says, straightening up. “We can’t be held accountable for forces beyond our control.”

  “Beyond our control is right,” I agree, clamoring back up into the driver’s seat.

  I guide my little sedan back onto the beaten path as Trent pulls himself together. I have to admit, this inexhaustible lust thing is working out just fine for me. But left to our own devices, I’m not sure how we’d ever get anything done.

  Luckily, we’ll have a touring schedule to keep us on track for the rest of the summer.

  We sail back to my little Victorian home, all smiles. Night has fallen over Barton, and the fireflies are out in their full numbers.

  As we climb out of the car and make our way back out to the yard, I can already hear raucous voices blending together in song and conversation. I open the back gate for Trent, and we come upon a most remarkable and unexpected sight: my family and Trent’s band in the middle of what appears to be a modest bacchanal.

  “You guys started the party without us?” I exclaim, taking in the scene.

  There are plates piled high with all kinds of wholesome goodies—fat ears of corn, fluffy rolls, the works—spread out all over the picnic table. Our little fire pit is roaring heartily, illuminating the five faces gathering around it.

  Kate is sandwiched by Rodney and Rodger, and the trio appears to be passing a bottle of merlot merrily between them.

  Kenny and Mom sit across the way, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, in the middle of some drinking song or other. The assembled partiers look up as we approach, greeting us with happy cheers.

  “Hope you don’t mind that we got a move on!” Kate says, a little tipsy.

  “Not at all,” Trent grins, leading me toward the fire, “As long as there are some eats and half a bottle left, I’m a happy camper.”

  “Help yourself!” my Mom says, grinning happily, “It’s not often that I get to party like a rock star, you know!”

  “I’d say that the rock stars are partying like you tonight,” I tease her, sitting down before the blaze. “This is quite the gathering, isn’t it?”

  “You can’t tell anyone though,” Rodney says firmly, “It would ruin our image. We’re supposed to be out trashing hotels rooms every night, remember.”

  “Ah, screw your image,” Kate says, punching him playfully on the shoulders, “Haters to the left! Right? Right?”

  “That’s right, Kate,” I tell her, accepting the bottle of wine as it comes my way. Trent settles in next to me with a couple heaping plates of food, and we dig in, having worked up quite the appetite on the way over.

  The conversation is easy, the wine plentiful, and the company surprisingly perfect. The night wears on with song and laughter, and I’m sure that I’ve never been this happy in my life. I don’t feel as though I’ve come home again, exactly, because just about everything about my world has changed since I was here last. But sitting here, with my family, and Trent, and the band, I feel like I’m making some kind of tentative peace between my past and my future.

  I’m weaving together the two worlds I’ve been straddling, finding new ways to seize my unknown future while holding my history near to my heart. It’s a brand new sort of compromise, and maybe there will come a time where I have to choose between who I’ve been and who I want to be...but not tonight.

  As the hours wear on, and heads begin to nod, we make our way back inside.

  The boys collapse on couches and sleeping bags as Mom and Kate trudge upstairs. Trent practically carries me up to my old bedroom, chuckling a little as he takes in how very pink most of my childhood possessions are.

  Gently, he lays me down on my familiar bed, snuggling in beside me. We barely fit on my slim little mattress, but it will do for the night. We’ll see plenty of sprawling beds and king sized suites this summer, but for tonight we rest like regular people.

  In my final moments before sleep, I wonder at the strange, magical turn my life has taken.

  Most girls have posters of rock
stars in their bedrooms—and here I am with the real thing. I have no way of knowing what lies in store for Trent and me. We could be headed for years of happiness, or a disastrous falling out in some far flung concert venue later this summer.

  But whatever happens, I will always have these days to cherish. For the rest of my life, I’ll have the memories of our wild courtship, our festival nights, our early mornings, for myself.

  If this insane chance we’re taking doesn’t pan out, if it turns out that a hawk and dove just can’t find their happiness together, I’ll have no choice but to accept it.

  But for tonight, and tomorrow night, and as many nights as fate is willing to grant me, I get to stay here in the moment with this amazing person I’m falling in love with.

  And that’s the stuff that the best love songs are made of.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Amanda is a 24 year old graduate student studying computer science at a great Midwest University. Originally from Kansas, Amanda got her inspiration for the setting of Hawk & Dove from her own small hometown. She's a huge computer nerd, loves indie rock and bluegrass, and is a self-proclaimed bookworm. You can contact her at author@amandalawless.com