Let it Burn: Sons of Sinners Part 2 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  He was so hard and big that the blunt head of his cock was poking out of the top of his waistband, pre-cum glistening on the tip.

  I bit my lip as I looked up at his face. He was watching me like I was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

  I trailed my fingers lightly over the dark fabric of his boxers, feeling his arousal twitch under my touch. I heard his sharp intake of breath, and it encouraged me. I kept caressing him like that. Gently. Teasingly. I skimmed my nails lightly over the heat of his straining cock – always over his boxers – but I kept my eyes on the swelling head of his shaft.

  I watched as a bead of pre-cum welled from the tip and started to trickle slowly downwards. Then I moved my head forwards and licked up across the slit of his crown; the taste of the salty moisture zinged across my tongue.

  Blake hissed above me. He left one hand braced against the wall and slid the other into my hair. I looked up at him, wanting to see, as well as hear, his reaction. He was frowning down at me, his jaw set, his teeth clenched.

  I swirled my tongue around his tip as I scored my fingernails lightly down the rest of his shaft, still encased in fabric, to his balls, which I cupped and teased.

  “Fuck,” he bit out. “Take more.”

  I ignited at his demand, loving his masculine dominance, loving the raw need I heard in his voice.

  But I wanted to take my time.

  I trailed my fingertips slowly back up his shaft to the waistband of his boxer briefs. All the while, I teased the head of his cock with my tongue and lips, licking him, kissing him, but not sucking him – yet.

  When my hands reached the edge of the thick elastic waistband, I just kept going, pushing my fingers up to skim up over the solid ‘V’ of muscle between his hips, to his stone hard abs – then I dug my nails in, just a little, and dragged them back down.

  He grunted. His hand fisted a little tighter in my hair.

  I got wetter in response.

  That time, when my fingers reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, I tugged them down until I could slip a hand under his balls and feel the weight of them in my palm as I caressed them. At the same time, I curled a hand around his thick heat and started to pump him slowly, deliberately.

  As I touched him like that, I looked back up at him through my eyelashes. I could see the shadows of his jaw muscles clamping. The effort it was taking for him to hold back and not push me was obvious. This was a guy who was always in control, but right then he was giving it up to me.

  Finally, I held his gaze as I leant forward and took him into my mouth, closing my lips around him and drawing him in as far as I could, until the head of his cock bumped against the back of my throat. There was still plenty of him that I couldn’t fit inside, so I kept my hand curled around him, using it like an extension of my mouth. I started to suck and pump him simultaneously, my lips and hand travelling up and down his gorgeous cock as one, while my other hand gently kneaded his balls.

  He let out a ragged groan and his hips bucked forwards. I knew his control was weakening so I sucked harder, pulled him deeper. I wanted to make him as desperate as I felt whenever he touched me.

  “Fuck, yes,” he muttered. “Take it.”

  Using his hold on my hair, he held my head still and started to pump his hips, controlling the pace, speeding things up a little, pushing me a little further than I would have gone alone, driving his cock a little deeper than I would have taken it. I had to let go of his balls and brace my hand against his thigh to keep some kind of control.

  Up until that point, I had always felt that the ‘giver’ should be completely in charge of a blow job. But with Blake all of that went out of the window. I knew he couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to – and the knowledge that I was the reason he was going to pieces made me feel sexy and confident. Somehow, being with him always made me feel that way.

  I was dripping wet and I wanted him to know it; I let out a long moan around his cock.

  His eyes were feverish as he groaned and cursed, “Fuck – fuck! I’m gonna come –”

  I gripped the front of his jeans, digging my fingers into the material to pull him forward, making it clear that I didn’t want him to pull out.

  His hand tightened in my hair to the point of pain when he froze, yelling, his whole body turning to oak as his warmth hit the back of my throat.

  I swallowed and kept sucking, pulling every last drop from him before I finally gave him one last, lingering lick.

  Blake’s hand had gone limp in my hair and he was resting his forehead against the wall, panting, as he looked down at me.

  As soon as I sat back on my haunches, he reached down and pulled me up so that he could kiss me. He dropped a hand between my thighs and cupped my wetness, sounding drunk when he drawled, “All this from sucking me?”

  “…yes…”

  He let go of me and tucked himself back into his boxers; then he had his arms around me, lifting me. He set me on the kitchen counter and immediately grabbed my thighs, opening them wide and burying his face between my legs.

  I was so swollen and turned on that a few strokes of his tongue was all it took to bring me to the brink. I gripped the cool counter tightly with my hands as waves of pleasure rippled through me. Covering my clit and lips with his mouth, he sucked while his tongue flicked over my sensitive nub, making me cry out as my orgasm rolled through me.

  Blake lapped his tongue against me, like he was licking me clean, drinking up every bit of my arousal.

  “This ‘Fucking Time Out’ is actually pretty great,” I whispered, when I floated back down from my high.

  He straightened up and gathered me to him. “One night – that’s all it is. Tomorrow I want back inside you again.”

  I rolled my eyes but I was completely unable to hide the lazy smile that spread across my face. “Okay. If you insist.”

  “I do. Now, let’s eat.”

  He pulled me off the counter and carried me to my bed, plopping me down before going back to the kitchen and putting the now cool omelet onto two plates. We ate on my bed. We talked some more; we laughed; we fed each other just for the hell of it.

  Being with him like that, it felt like we had never been apart, like everything that happened after that amazing weekend we spent together in the cabin had all just been a bad dream.

  But, just like three years ago, all we had really done was press pause.

  The rest of the world was still waiting, just outside the door.

  And eventually we’d have to face it.

  41

  A week later, I stared into the mirror in the large, luxurious bathroom at Hayley and Derren’s place, studying my reflection. I reached for my eyeliner, thinking I’d touch up the smoky corners of my eyes just a little, but then I put it down again unused. Then I picked up my blusher and dusted on a tiny bit more, only to immediately blend it away with my fingertips when it looked too much.

  “This is ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, shoving everything back into my cosmetic bag. I turned my focus to my hair, which I’d left lose to hang in lazy waves half way down my back. I ran my fingers through it, fluffing it up a little, and then I smoothed down my form-fitting black dress.

  God, I was nervous.

  Because that night Blake and I would hang out with our friends for the first time ever as something resembling a real couple. For all our history, we had never done that. All our past trysts had been behind closed doors.

  That night was going to be different. It came with expectations. It came with pressure. Or at least I felt like it did.

  I was going with Hayley to meet the guys – Blake, Derren, Kane, Danny and Nick, the sound engineer who was going to record their album – for dinner at Le Cirque in the Bellagio.

  Danny and Nick had landed in Vegas that afternoon and, from what I could tell from Blake’s messages since then, they were all having fun catching up after their little hiatus. The last message he’d sent was just a picture of a bottle of bourbon sitting on a
polished wooden table. I didn’t need to Google the name on the label to know that it was the good stuff.

  “Are you ready yet?” Hayley asked from the doorway, startling me from my thoughts.

  I turned to her, taking in her shiny, metallic dress that fit like a glove and her gigantic hair. We’d been to yet another wedding-hair trial a couple of hours before and, although the style definitely wasn’t what Hayley was going for, the sheer crazy volume of it was too good to waste. “Your hair still looks Amy-Winehouse-style awesome,” I told her, grinning.

  She grinned back. “I know, just don’t let me near an open flame. I’d go off like the fourth of July.” She gestured to my face and said, “I like your eyes like that.”

  I turned back to the mirror. “It’s not too much?”

  She came to stand next to me and spoke to my reflection. “Look at me. I’m dressed like a freaking Oscar. Everything looks understated in comparison.”

  “That’s true. You make a hot Oscar though.”

  “I do, right?” She turned to perch on the counter under the mirror as I put my things into the overnight bag I’d brought with me. Blake had asked me to stay with him that night – it turned out he had been staying in a suite at the Bellagio since he’d gotten back to town. “What’s this going to be?” Hayley questioned as she watched me. “Night seven of the Blamy Sexathon?”

  I paused in what I was doing. “What the hell is 'Blamy'?”

  “It’s your names mashed together. Magazines and stuff do it all the time. Remember Brangelina? Blake and Amy makes Blamy.”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “I think it’s cute.”

  “You would.” I finished stowing my stuff in my bag and smoothed my dress down again…then checked my hair in the mirror again…then checked my make up again…

  “What’s up with you?” Hayley asked. “You’re acting like me.”

  I forced myself to turn away from the mirror and pick up my purse. “Nothing. Shall we go?”

  She narrowed her eyes on me. “Okay, Care Bear, what’s up?”

  “Hayley, can we please stop with that name? Why does everyone have to give me nicknames, anyway?”

  “Because ‘Amy’ doesn’t suit you,” she said without missing a beat. “I don’t know what your parents were thinking.” I laughed and she grinned at me. “Now, come on, what’s up?”

  “Ugh, okay…do you think tonight’s going to be weird? I mean, me and Blake together?”

  Hayley looked thoroughly confused. “Haven’t you been pretty much inseparable for the last week? Was it weird then?”

  “No, I don’t mean weird for us.” I gripped my purse tighter. “I mean will it be weird for you guys?”

  Hayley got it. I could tell by her face. All of her former teasing stopped. “None of us will think either of you are being disloyal to Connor, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said gently. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “I don’t know, really,” I admitted. “I guess I just want everyone to be okay with this.”

  “We are.”

  “You’re sure? What about Derren and Kane?”

  I remembered Kane’s warning at his house party: I just wanted to say – I wanted to ask you – not to fuck with him, you know? Did me dating Blake class as ‘fucking with him’ in Kane’s book? I didn’t think it did…but who knew? It had been playing on my mind.

  “Trust me, they’re good with it,” Hayley assured me.

  “What makes you so positive?”

  “Because we all want you guys to be happy. And – completely selfishly – it’s amazing that Derren’s gonna be able to stay in Vegas for longer than about two weeks at a time. If it weren’t for you and Blake hooking up, they’d probably all be heading back to LA tomorrow to record the album instead of sticking around and doing it here.” She pushed herself off of the counter and stood next to me in front of the mirror, nudging me with her hip. “So don’t screw it up, okay?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the advice.”

  She ignored my sarcasm. “You’re welcome.”

  “Hey,” I said, suddenly remembering something that I’d been meaning to ask her about. “Did you know Blake almost came back to Vegas before this? But he found out I was with Finn and –”

  “Ohhh yeah,” she interrupted. “I knew alright. Derren and I bailed him out the next day.”

  “…uhh…what?”

  A slow grin spread across her face. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you the whole story?”

  “Do you mean you bailed him out of jail?!” I asked, horrified.

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice a little too gleeful, like she was finally getting to impart some huge gossip that she’d had to keep to herself for years – in fact, it wasn’t like that, it was exactly that. “After he found out about you and Finn he got shit faced. He got into a brawl in a club over something stupid and ended up knocking some guy out and breaking his nose.”

  I put my hand over my mouth. “Shit.”

  “I know. He managed to settle out of court with the guy, thank God, but he had to pay him a disgusting amount of money not to take it further.” I gaped at her as she continued with, “So, you see what I mean when I say that we all just want you guys to be happy?”

  “Uh, yeah…yeah, I really do.”

  42

  As soon as we got to the restaurant, I felt underdressed, especially walking next to Hayley. While my dress was nice, it was more ‘club’ or ‘rock bar’ than elegant.

  The maître d’ greeted us politely enough, but when Hayley told him who we were meeting he treated us like we were long lost relatives coming home from war.

  As we followed him through the crowded restaurant, I found myself gazing around the room like a tourist – which I technically was in this part of Vegas. It was colorful, with a kind of multicolored canopy overhead that worked with the dark walls and opulent lighting.

  When I caught sight of the guys on a large table across the room, I instantly felt better about my clothing choice. All five of them were wearing jeans. That definitely wasn’t the dress code there, but apparently, the rules don’t apply when you’re a rock star. Or filthy rich.

  Derren saw us approach first and called out raucously to Hayley, “Babe! You look like Beyonce in Goldmember!”

  Blake’s back was to me and he turned when Derren shouted; as soon as his eyes met mine, he broke into a huge grin and immediately got up and came over to meet me.

  He was wearing a charcoal gray button down with a couple of buttons open at the top and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. His worn jeans hung low on his hips as usual. Only his black military style boots looked reaaally expensive – but he managed to pull it back and make it look effortless because, like his old work boots from years ago, the laces were left undone and hung almost to the floor.

  God, he was so effortlessly hot it should be illegal.

  “Here, give me that,” he said, taking my overnight bag from me and handing it off to the maître d’. “Can you have someone take that up to my suite?”

  “Of course, Mr. Maxwell,” he answered as he took the bag and scurried away.

  Blake reached for me and pulled me against him a little roughly. I picked up on the strong smell of bourbon right before he kissed me, hard and heavy, in the middle of the freaking restaurant. My self-consciousness only lasted for about half a second though – kissing him was just too damn good. It was like a feather sweeping down my spine; my body responded immediately.

  The sound of shrill whistles and clapping snapped me from my Blake-haze and dumped me back in the room with a thud.

  Blake turned, and I looked around him, to see Derren and Danny laughing as they cheered us on. Kane was chuckling a little and shaking his head – more at them than us, I think. If it were up to him, he probably would have ignored the whole PDA completely. Hayley was nudging Derren and telling him to quit embarrassing me. He was either drunk enough or stupid enough to ignore her becaus
e he chose that moment to put his fingers to his mouth and blast out another piercing whistle.

  I felt my ears tingle and knew I was blushing up a storm.

  I glanced away from our friends, and it was only then that I realized that they weren’t the only audience we had.

  People all over the restaurant were staring at us and there were cell phones pointed our way, too. As I glanced around, flashes went off. “Oh, God,” I murmured as the reality of the situation started to sink in. I had just been making out with the lead singer of one of the most famous bands in the country in a crowded restaurant on the Las Vegas Strip.

  Of course that would attract attention.

  Blake’s hand curled around mine, bringing my attention back to him. “Just ignore it.”

  I nodded, but I still found myself gripping his hand tighter. Even though I knew that everyone who was looking our way was probably much more focused on him than me, I still felt like I was under a microscope. It was like that dream that everyone’s probably had at some point in their lives where you suddenly realize that people are staring at you because you’re walking around naked.

  Only I wasn’t naked.

  Believe me, I checked.

  Blake pulled me over to the table and Danny stood as we approached. I had seen plenty of pictures of him, but he looked older in person – maybe thirty. Tall and lean with tousled brown hair, he looked like a skater boy that had grown into a man without ever changing his style – skinny jeans, DCs, and a skin tight Rocky Horror Picture Show t-shirt. “Nice to officially meet you, Amy,” he said, offering me his hand. “Now I get why Sing Star’s whipped.”

  Blake’s hand flexed almost imperceptibly in mine when I reached out my other hand and shook with Danny. “Nice to meet you, too,” I told him. “I like your shirt. I had the exact same one when I was thirteen.”

  Danny blinked at me. “Was that a dig?” He looked at Blake and said, “It was, wasn’t it?”

  Blake chuckled. “Yeah, man. It’s a talent she has.”

  Danny’s eyes slid back to me as his lips twitched into a grin. “You’re not exactly what you say on the tin, are you?”