Blur (Changing Colors Book 2)

by Alcorn, N. A.

  Two long fingers slip inside my panties, running along my sex, feeling my arousal. “Bloody hell, you're so ready, Brooke. So fucking ready.” He growls into my neck. His hand grips my thigh again, hitching it above his hip. My dress is bunched around my waist, exposing me.

  “I want you,” I whisper.

  He rips, yes rips, my panties off my body and thrusts inside of me. Large hands cup my ass as he pounds into me at a furious rhythm. My head falls back against the mirror, eyes heavy lidded. I grab a handful of his t-shirt, pulling him to me.

  Deeper, I think. I want you so deep that I won't know where you end and I begin.

  A soft chuckle escapes his throat. I flush from the idea that whatever is running through my mind is also running straight past my lips.

  His mouth covers mine, kissing me deeply. His tongue moves against mine, mimicking the way our bodies are desperately connecting.

  “Don’t get shy now, love,” he says against my lips. “Give me all of that wildness I love so much.” He lifts me off the sink, moving us.

  My back is pressed against the door, legs still wrapped around his waist. I can see our reflection in the mirror. His jeans hang loosely from his hips. His ass moves with each thrust as he slides in and out of me. His neck strains tighter with each moan that spills from my lips.

  I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

  “Are you watching us?” His eyes are on mine again, pulling my gaze to his. “See how much I need you? How much I want you? The way my body is desperate for yours?”

  The sounds of people milling about in the band’s backstage room echo against the door. I think I can make out Jesse and Alex talking with Jamie.

  They are a mere fifteen feet from us, but might as well be living on another planet in another galaxy. I’m too lost to care. I know I should care, I should pull myself away from Dylan and make a getaway, but I can’t. My world is reduced to the place where he fills me, where the hot skin of his hips presses against my thighs, where he rubs firmly against my clit with each hard stroke.

  “Don’t even think about asking me to stop, Brooke.” His warm breath washes over my ear.

  Voices move closer to the door, and panic starts to pull me from my trance.

  Dylan’s hips swivel against my thighs, pushing him deep, so deliciously deep.

  And just like that I’m back in the trance. Our mouths fall open, lips pressing against each other’s, but not actively kissing. The feel of him consuming me so intensely pulls desperation into my voice. “Don’t stop. Don’t. Ever Stop.”

  “Yes. Fuck yes. I’m never stopping. You’re mine, Brooke. Mine. Only I get you like this.” The ferocity of his words fuels my burning need. What started out as a small fire has now ignited into something too uncontrollable to slow down.

  The room grows quiet again. A door shuts in the distance.

  I should be happy, relieved, that no one found us in here like this, but I still don’t care. I only care about Dylan staying inside of me for eternity. I only want him—his body moving against mine, his lips on my neck, his hands touching me everywhere.

  Neither of us has the power to form words.

  My back scrapes against the door. Sharp nails scrape down his t-shirt, catching on the cotton fabric. The space between us fills with quiet sounds of urging and praise.

  The only words filling my brain are yes and fuck and harder and Dylan.

  My teeth bite at his neck as shaking hands grip his shoulders. I’m afraid I’m going to fall over some proverbial edge that I won’t come back from. A place where no one else but Dylan can satisfy my needs and make me feel this good.

  “God, Brooke, you’re beautiful.” He leans back, staring down. “I can’t stop watching myself sliding inside of you. Fuck. I can’t stop staring at your perfect skin…I can see how wet you are. My cock is soaked with your come.”

  The light of the bathroom filters between us, and I follow his eyes. Slick and hard and so big, pressing into me with each pass. He starts to move faster, more urgent, and the most delicious grunts pass his lips.

  If someone were on the other side of the door, there would be no question what was going on in this bathroom. My skin flushes hotter at the thought, my eyes latching onto our reflection in the mirror. The throbbing sensation at my core grows stronger at the idea of someone hearing us, watching us. It’s a fucked up thing to be turned on about, but I want everyone to know that this man belongs to me. I’m tired of sitting back and watching women like Chrissy throw themselves at him, thinking they have a shot at making him theirs. You belong to me. You’re mine.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” he says. I don’t know if it’s in response to the feeling of this, or if I actually said my thoughts out loud again.

  My head falls back against the door, and I start to feel it. Really feel it. Starting in my belly, it builds with each deep thrust. It peaks, reaching a climax, until I’m pushed over the edge, crying out. My voice echoes loudly inside the small bathroom, and probably carries out into the adjoining room. If anyone is in there, they can definitely hear me.

  “Bloody hell.” He’s watching my face, watching me fall apart at the seams. Dylan’s hips pound into me harder. Their movement is erratic, jagged, and rough. There is no perfect rhythm; he is merely racing towards his own release, just as desperate as I am to feel this good.

  His lips latch onto the skin of my neck, sucking hard. I have no doubt he’s left a mark. I want him to bruise me in other places. Bruise me, I scream inside of my head. I want him to leave his mark outside and inside of my body. I want to wake up tomorrow with a reminder of him.

  He grunts into my skin, releasing himself inside of me.

  Dylan stills, his body pressing heavily into mine. His lips are still against my neck, now softly kissing at my skin. “I love you, Brooke,” he whispers.

  I love you. Simple as that. He loves me. Even after everything I’ve put him through, he still loves me. My heart clogs my throat as I stare at our reflection in the mirror. Dylan’s head nuzzled into my neck, the muscles of his shoulders bulging as he holds me tight to his chest.

  We stay locked together until our breaths slow. His heart becomes a steady, easy rhythm against my skin.

  Panic and overwhelming guilt urge me to disentangle my body from his. I busy myself with fixing my dress. I can feel Dylan’s eyes watching me as I pick up my shredded panties from the ground. They’re destroyed. I’m going to have to go commando for the rest of the evening.

  “Brooke?” His question is tentative, proving he’s unsure of my emotional state.

  “We need to get out there before anyone walks back here.” I sound like such a careless bitch. I hate myself. I doubt I’ve ever loathed myself as much as I do in this moment.

  “Brooke.” He says my name again. It’s not a question. It’s a demand.

  I avoid his eyes. Coward. I don’t want to look at him, refusing to face the mess I’ve made.

  His hands grip my shoulders, holding me in place. “Look at me.” His fingers move my chin upwards; unsure eyes meet his steady gaze. “We need to talk…we need to talk about this.”

  “I can’t—I have to go.”

  Dylan rubs his thumb across my cheek. I lose myself to his touch again, closing my eyes and savoring the feel of his skin against mine.

  “You don’t have to. We’ll leave here together, and no one needs to know. We’ll go wherever you want. You don’t have to face anything right now. Just be with me, Brooke. We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.” His voice is soft and low, threatening to break my heart. I’m not sure how many times a heart can actually break, but mine feels like it’s going to reach the world record. The damn thing is a pathetic shred inside my chest.

  I flick my eyes open. “It’s not that easy, Dylan.”

  His brow creases, green eyes crinkling in confusion. “It is that easy. You don’t want to be with him. You want to be with me. You said it yourself, Brooke. Remember? Remember what you said while your legs were wrap
ped around my waist and my cock was deep inside of you?”

  My head turns away from his scrutinizing expression.

  “Well, I fucking remember. You said, ‘You belong to me. You’re mine.’”

  “Dylan…” I’m not sure what to say.

  His fingers grip the base of my neck, forcing my eyes back to his. “So it’s all just lies and bullshit again? That’s how this is going to be? I tell you I love you, and you’re just going to bugger off with him?” This is a tone of voice I’ve never heard before. It’s bitter and angry. “You’re going to walk away from me, and what? Go fuck him, knowing I just came inside of you?”

  My eyes go wide. “W—what? Have you lost your goddamn mind? I’m not going to leave here and go fuck Jamie!” I blurt out. The idea of having sex with Jamie has a harsh laugh escaping my lungs.

  His expression turns to confusion at my ridiculous reaction.

  I scrub a hand down my face, hiding my true emotions.

  He’s too damn intuitive, gripping my chin again and pulling my eyes to his. “What the fuck is going on Brooke? I need to know. You need to tell me what I’m missing here, because obviously, I’m missing something.”

  I back away from his touch. I need to pull myself together, and for some unknown reason, whenever Dylan is touching me, I can’t seem to think about anything else but that.

  “Do you regret me?” His eyes fill with hurt.

  It’s horrible witnessing this pain showcased behind the green of his eyes.

  I shake my head, more than frustrated. “Of course I don’t regret you!” My lungs inhale a deep breath. “I could never regret you. I just…It’s just more complicated…I don’t know, Dylan. I just don’t know what to tell you.”

  He lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, since you don’t know what to tell me, I’ll make this easy on you.” Dylan turns for the door.

  I grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait! I’m sorry. I just…I’m just so confused.”

  He stares down at my fingers wrapped around his wrist for a few beats, before shrugging my hand off him. “I’m not confused. I know what I want. I want you. I want you to walk out there with me. You and me together. That’s all I fucking want.”

  “Are you sure about that? I mean, Chrissy seemed to be keeping you entertained before the show.” I want to take the words back the minute they leave my stupid mouth. I don’t know why I said it. He wasn’t even showing interest in her. He was merely tolerating her flirtatious advances.

  But no matter what, I have no right to lay claim to him or act jealous.

  Even though Jamie and I have been faking our romantic relationship for years now, I’m still engaged to him. I’m still living the lie we want everyone to believe.

  Yes, faking. I admit the lie to myself for the first time in years. It’s the only way I’ve been able to continue this charade for so long. I’d say I’ve done a damn fine job of keeping the secrets buried deep and acting like Jamie and I are actually together. But Dylan seems to have a knack for breaking down my walls.

  If the secrets, the lies, were mine to tell, I’d spill every single detail to Dylan right now, but it’s not my place. I love Dylan. Of course I love him. But Jamie is someone who’s been in my life since I was ten-years-old. He’s family. I’ll do anything to protect him.

  “Chrissy? What? Are you jealous?” He’s not smiling, but his eyes might as well be smirking in my direction.

  This pisses me off even more. “Just get the fuck out of here, and let Chrissy soothe your pain away. I’m sure I’ll be a mere memory by the time she’s done with you.”

  “I don’t want her!” he shouts. “I want you!”

  “You just want to fuck me.”

  His jaw hits the floor. “Yeah, I just want to fuck you. That’s why I sang that song in front of all those people, baring my soul. For. You. That’s why I told you I love you. And it’s exactly why I feel like you just ripped my heart out of my fucking chest, again. All because I want to fuck you.” He grabs the door handle, and then stops.

  He marches towards me until we’re mere centimeters apart. His pained eyes bore into mine. “I refuse to stand here and let you tear us apart with your thoughtless words. You know what you mean to me. You know that I love you. And you know that I would do anything for you. But I’m tired of feeling like this. If you’re going to stand there and refuse to be honest with me then…” He doesn’t finish. Dylan turns and walks back towards the door.

  “Then what?” I question, lip trembling and eyes filling with tears again. I blink them back, knowing I don’t deserve to cry, but I can’t deny the panic that prickles my nerves. This might be the final straw for him. He might be done with me for good.

  He stops, hand on the door handle, shoulder barely turned in my direction. “Then maybe I’ll be the guy you’re acting like you want me to be. The one who doesn’t give a shite about you. The one who just wants to fuck you.”

  Dylan doesn’t look back at me. He strides out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  And I’m left to stare at myself in the mirror. Red-lipstick is smeared across my tear-stained cheek.

  Tonight my pain is colored red.

  I’ve never felt this kind of agony before. Not when my mother left me at the beach under the blistering sun for hours, too stoned and too preoccupied with fucking some random hippie she just met to take care of her five-year-old daughter. Not when Ivan did unspeakable things to me. Not when I found Jamie unconscious with a half-empty bottle of pills. And not when Millie died. All of those tragic moments hurt in the deepest way, but they never felt this excruciating.

  This is a pain I’ve never felt.

  And it’s because I’ve never loved anyone like I love him.

  I stayed in that bathroom for a good thirty minutes before I found enough strength to pull myself together and make an appearance for drinks with the band and crew. Jamie looked concerned when I finally showed my face, but I just told him the sushi we had for lunch must’ve made me a little queasy.

  Lies. Lies. And more lies.

  It’s becoming a theme.

  Jamie and I hop out of the cab and head towards the door of the Monkey Lounge. Nigel sent me a text letting me know everyone is here and currently hanging out on the rooftop bar. Just the idea of standing around outside has me shivering.

  “Cold?” Jamie asks, taking his suit jacket off and wrapping it around my shoulders.

  I melt into the warmth. “Thanks. You’re a life saver.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, baby girl?” He searches my face, grinning once his eyes meet my shivering lips. “We can call it an early night if you want. I won’t mind a bit. It’s been ages since I’ve had you all to myself.” He wraps an arm around my waist, tucking me into his side.

  “I’m okay, but I might take you up on that offer after a drink or two.”

  I can hear the music pumping inside the building from the sidewalk. Goodness, this place is packed. There’s literally a line running along the outside of the building.

  Jamie leads me past the line and behind the velvet rope near the entrance. “We’re with Mario and Luigi,” he tells the bouncer watching over the door. Ever since the first episode of Mad Sounds aired, we’ve had to use secret code names when making reservations.

  “Rooftop,” he says, unclipping the rope and letting us through.

  Monkey Loft is an interesting bar filled with chill, laidback people. Black leather couches and eclectic chairs sit against the walls, creating dark corners for people to chat. Wood and red-cushioned accents add a spark of flare to the main bar. A DJ is rotating through cool music that has the dance floor jam-packed.

  We bypass the downstairs bar and packed dance floor, making our way to the second floor. The rooftop terrace is accented by stringed lights, heated lamps, and amazing views of Seattle, particularly SoDo. If I weren’t in such a black mood, I’d find this scene enchanting.

  Nigel sits beside Jesse and Zach at a table across from th
e bar. We order a few drinks and join them. Jamie falls into an easy conversation with the guys, discussing their incredible show tonight.

  I search the crowd for Dylan. My eyes are trained on the door. It feels like a hundred people have walked through the rooftop entrance. And person after person, I’m met with disappointment.

  This is so unlike him. I want to text him, just to make sure everything’s okay, but I restrain myself. What if he’s avoiding me? What if I’ve finally pushed him past the point of no return?

  I’m on my second drink when I check my phone for the umpteenth time, praying he’s at least sent me a message, but the blank screen mocks me. I even unlock my phone, checking my inbox just in case my notifications got messed up. Still, nothing. Not a text or call from him.

  Where is he? Is he doing this on purpose?

  I turn my attention to the guys’ chatter, trying to find a distraction from feeling like a crazy person. They’re currently discussing the age-old classic rock debate, The Rolling Stones versus The Beatles.

  Jesse scoffs, dismissing Zach’s view with his hand. “Sure, Ringo could hit the drums, but Richards played the drums. The Stones. Hands down. No comparison.”

  “Oh c’mon, mate. That’s a terrible argument. The Beatles were innovative. They were trailblazers. The Stones merely practiced what the Beatles had already preached.” Zach looks to Nigel. “A little help, mate?”

  He chuckles, setting his beer on the table. “That’s a tough one. Obviously, you can’t discard the amazing songwriting of the Beatles. If the debate is a question of songwriting, no doubt it’s the Beatles. But, if we’re talking greatest rock band, and these two are my only choices, then I’d have to go Stones. Between Jagger’s electric presence and Richards’ flare, the Stones always brought the house down.”

  “What?” Jesse questions. “That’s a sodding cop-out.”

  Nigel chuckles. “Brooke? Would you like to offer your take on this?”

  Jamie takes a sip of his brew, flashing me a wry grin. “Oh, God. Here we go…”

  I nudge him with my elbow. “Are you mocking my opinions?”