Lockhart

by A. E. Murphy

  “You’re a machine,” I whisper and finally turn to the bathroom as his eyes peruse me as though seeing me for the first time. “Are you coming or not?”

  “And you called me a machine?” He chuckles and I hear his footsteps follow close behind.

  “Is this what you had planned for me?” I ask after switching on the water.

  He leans against the sink, naked and glorious and still pointing directly at me with something other than his hands. “Not quite.”

  I test the heat of the water with my fingers and, when satisfied that it won’t scald or freeze me, I step in.

  “I thought you’d be shy,” he admits as I lather my body with sweet vanilla and honey scented body wash.

  “Huh?” I keep my eyes closed but they don’t need to be open for me to know he’s perusing me.

  “I thought I’d have to work at making you comfortable in your nudity.”

  “Is it a problem that I’m not shy?” I now look at him over my shoulder, still rubbing my sensitive breasts with soapy hands.

  He grins and moves towards the shower. “Most definitely not. It’s quite refreshing to be in the presence of a woman who understands her worth.”

  “I love my body. It’s the only one I have.”

  “And it’s a glorious one at that.” He finally steps into the shower and immediately wets his hair so he can brush it from his face.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss his jaw, then his neck, then his sternum and I keep going until I’m on my knees before him. This time it’s my choice and not because he demanded me to.

  Pressing his palms against the wall, he leans forward to protect me from the spray of water as I attempt to fit his throbbing dick into my mouth. It’s like one of those toys where you have to put the right shape in the right hole. I was always the kid that tried to fit the square into the triangle until I broke it. This might be a repeat of said shape frustrations.

  “I feel as though this might kill me,” I tell him, taking it into my hand gently and running my thumb over the tip. He catches my eyes and quirks a brow. “I mean… look at it. I feel like it deserves its own name. Like a new star or something.” I’ve never heard him laugh and it’s attractive and genuine. He doesn’t have a dorky laugh like I expected. Is everything about this man perfect? “Maybe if I tip my head this way?”

  He jerks when I finally touch the tip of him with the point of my tongue. My hand rolls up and down his silky skin, like satin over a steel bat.

  I ache to taste him but seeing as this will be the only chance I get, I want to do it right. I want to blow his mind and make him feel better than anyone else. Maybe I’ll make him confirm my awesomeness at fellatio after the deed. For now I pull him closer and take him into my waiting mouth.

  One hand goes to my head and a long, impatient growl escapes him. He’s fighting the urge to fuck my mouth like he fucked my pussy. I smile around his member and slowly guide him further into my mouth. My fingers explore his thighs and play with his sensitive balls.

  “You’re teasing me,” he hisses then groans wildly when I take him deeper, massaging the underside of him with my tongue. “Release me so I can fuck you again.”

  “Uh-uh,” I deny him his request with a muffled no can do and a shake of my head. He jerks when I shake my head so I give his balls a warning tug. My rhythm picks up and becomes more apparent. I remove him from my mouth and play with him in my tight hand as my tongue and lips seek and taste the soft skin around his length and underneath. He loves it; I can tell because he hasn’t stopped me yet. When I go back to his dick, he grips my head with one hand and teaches me the speed and rhythm that he enjoys the most. Soon I feel him swelling, his balls begin to tighten, and I know I have him right where I want him.

  “Make your choice on how you want me now,” he demands.

  I’ve already made it.

  “Shit, Cerise!” He holds my head in place and roars, sounding feral and desperate as his seed spills onto my tongue. It’s not the first time I’ve been in this position but it’s certainly my favourite. He tastes nicer than my ex arsehole. “You are certainly unique.” He smiles down at me and helps me to my feet as I lick my swollen, aching lips. I rest back against the wall, feeling sober and tired.

  “You should go soon,” I say and yawn into my forearm.

  “Go?”

  “Yeah, I’m tired.” I quickly shampoo and condition my hair. He helps a little but mostly just plays with my breasts.

  “Are you asking me to leave?”

  I shrug. “I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

  “You have a bed,” he points out as if I don’t know this already.

  “Really?” I gasp sarcastically. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  His hand connects with my rear as I step out of the shower and reach for my towel. I bend forward and dry my hair, feeling an ache in my stomach from our activities tonight.

  “You’re not going to invite me to stay?”

  Oh. I didn’t even think he’d be the type.

  “Speak.”

  “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you’d want to stay.”

  He looks perplexed for a moment and then laughs a little when he replies, “Normally I wouldn’t, but I’m not yet finished with you.”

  “Not a chance am I going near that thing again. I’m not going to be able to sit down properly for a week.”

  He only seems proud of this admission. “You can handle one more time.”

  I ignore him and hang the towel up on the back of the door before scooping up my tattered shirt and tossing it into the bin.

  “I’m staying,” he insists.

  “I fidget,” I admit. “You owe me a new sleep shirt.”

  “It was awful. It buried you. Besides, you look much better naked.”

  He hangs his towel beside mine and finds his boxers. I watch as he pulls them on and secretly hope that he’ll pull the rest of his clothing on too.

  When he doesn’t, I find myself beginning to get irritated. “You really can’t stay here. Not unless you want to sleep on that tiny sofa?”

  “I’m staying.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?” He pushes.

  Sighing, I walk to the fridge and retrieve a bottle of water.

  “I don’t do this.” I motion to us and the couch.

  “Do what?”

  “No strings sex.”

  He stares at me for the longest moment, his face carefully blank, then he finally asks, “What does that even mean?”

  Why can’t he just go already? “It means I know what this is between us and I don’t want it.”

  His eyes and tone darken menacingly. “You don’t want it?”

  “No.” I swig my drink and offer him some, but he doesn’t acknowledge it at all. “I don’t want a nostrings friendship with anybody. Especially not my boss.”

  “You want me to date you?” He seems appalled and I can’t help but feel a little bit hurt and offended by that reaction, though I don’t show it.

  “No, I…” Fuck. How do I explain this? “I don’t want to be my boss’ bootie call, harem, whatever. I can’t be that girl. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want anything that could possibly be a relationship either.”

  “You don’t know how to separate sex from romance,” he says as if finally understanding.

  “I guess so.”

  “I can teach you.”

  That was not what I was expecting, “No thanks. Look…” I click my fingers and pull a T-shirt from the top drawer by my bed. His eyes don’t leave me as I move around my flat. “We’ve been working together for two weeks. I hardly know you. Yes, I am so fucking attracted to you I can’t think straight, but I can’t make this a regular thing and I certainly don’t want this to be an intimate thing.”

  “I can teach you to…”

  “I don’t want to learn.”

  His lips press together and I know I’
m testing his patience.

  I continue. “You’re my boss. Right now I’m worried you’re going to drop me simply because I’ve been a slut.”

  “I’m a man of my word. We both signed the contract.”

  “Exactly, so now we’ve fucked each other out of our systems as best we can, let’s just go back to how things were two weeks ago where you were the unattainable, extremely sexy rich guy with an impossible harem to compete with and I’m just the band freak girl with the childish clothes and bad attitude.”

  “You’re not kidding.” He laughs humourlessly. “I don’t think anybody has ever asked me to leave before.”

  “Lucky you.” I kick his trousers towards him. “I really do need to sleep though.”

  He glares at me, his anger coming from him in waves. If anger were a light, it’d be glowing from him as brightly as the sun right now. Every movement he makes as he dresses is aggressive.

  Shit.

  When he finishes buttoning his shirt to his chest, he hooks his jacket over his arm and moves to the door. I follow him so I can latch it afterwards.

  “I had an amazing time,” I say, reaching for his arm. He tugs free and pulls the door open. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.”

  “You will be,” he spits, his tone low, quiet and scary.

  I will be?

  He slams the door shut behind him and I wonder if I should have just let him stay.

  No, I can’t. That’s not who I am. Sleeping with somebody is an intimacy I won’t share with anybody, not even my female friends. Sleeping with somebody, in my opinion, is such a vulnerable, loving, and romantic gesture. You’re trusting someone with your life, with your real self. I can’t do that with someone who will fuck me, draw me in and then throw me away faster than I can say ‘arsehole’.

  My heart can’t take that kind of damage again.

  I really hope this all blows over by the next time I see him. I’ll text him in the morning to apologise again. By the end of the week he’ll have replaced me easily enough anyway. God, he’s so perfect and I just screwed him. Or more, he screwed me!

  Dreamy sigh.

  Please don’t let him hold this against me. I feel so bad but my rules are rules for a reason. He’s got to understand that. He owes me one after I let him spank me.

  He was right about being bruised. It’s the first thing I feel when I wake up. Before I even open my eyes I just know I’m not going to be able to walk properly for a while.

  Kai and Dane notice too when we meet up at lunch because both of them ask me what I’ve done to get a limp, though I’d say it was more of a waddle. I don’t regret it at all though.

  We head to work, not because we have to be in, but because of the free food that tastes better than most of the joints around here. Lockhart didn’t call us in for the meeting he said he would and I wonder if that has anything to do with me but don’t dwell on it. I’m still feeling the after-sex glow, despite the delicious pain that reminds me of him with every step.

  “How were G and E last night?” I ask when we finally get seated at a table that is a little space away from the rest, giving us some semblance of privacy. The break room is busy today and because Lockhart is the best and gives him employees tickets to the local shows, most of them saw our gig and a couple of them even want us to sign shit for them.

  “C and T,” Kai responds as Dane wags his eyebrows happily at us, “were very pleasant company last night.”

  “You could have waited until after I’d gone before getting frisky on the couch, Dane. I saw your willy for crying out loud.”

  He shrugs, giving absolutely no fucks at all. Kai and I snigger and roll our eyes.

  “Speaking of wild nights…” I give Kai a pointed look. “I saw the powder before you got on stage, Kai. Don’t let that shit happen again.”

  His face falls. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Course not. But I’m serious. I love you guys, but I’m not getting mixed up in that shit.”

  “I was nervous.” He looks at his plate, ashamed, and he should be.

  “That’s why I didn’t say anything last night, but I’m serious. Don’t you dare do it again. It’s not worth it. The stage gives you the best high you need, not that artificial death crap. Got it?”

  Dane shakes his head, his smile gone. “Dude, for real? Why didn’t you say you were nervous?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Kai stands, abandoning his food, and exits the canteen. We let him go. Kai’s anxiety can get pretty bad and we’ve probably just triggered it. He needs time to cool off. Following him will only set him on the defensive and end up in an argument all of us are too tired and hungover to deal with.

  “I’m going to get more cake and custard,” Dane tells me. “You want some?”

  I shake my head, pushing fried mushrooms around my plate with my fork. “No thanks. I’m going to the gym instead. I need to tone up a bit.”

  “You’re already toned; a bit of cake won’t kill you.”

  “Stop enabling my bad eating habits,” I laugh and stand, then stretch as high as possible. “I’m going to work my arms and abs.” Since I can’t exactly work my legs right now.

  “Have fun.” He takes his tray back up to the food area as I take mine and dump it on the side with the rest of the used trays.

  My weak and feeble legs almost carry me past the gym and home but my willpower is better than usual this morning. As I push the door open with my back, I pull my hair onto my head and into a messy bun. Unfortunately, as I try to multitask without looking where I’m going, somebody pulls the door open and with a squeal I fall backwards and hit a warm, hard body. Arms come around to capture me and we both fall, me onto the poor unsuspecting guy’s lap.

  “Oops,” I squeak, my cheeks heating with embarrassment as I pull the tattooed arms from around me and scramble upright. Enri follows, laughing at me like he usually does when I’m in the vicinity. “Sorry.”

  “You’re a disaster.”

  I slap his chest. “You so did that on purpose.”

  “I opened the door on purpose, but I didn’t anticipate getting a brief spat of guilt which would make me try to catch your chunky arse.”

  “Fuck you,” I laugh, flipping him off as I strut to the weights. “Did I hurt you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m a bit sore on my rear.”

  “Good,” I respond and choose two eight-kilogram dumbbells.

  “Working those biceps?”

  “Yep.” I sit cross legged on the ground and breathe in deeply. “Working that ego?”

  “Always.” As if to further prove this, he winks at the female personal trainer who is used to his cheekiness and flips him off like the rest of us. He means well. He’s not one of those creepy guys that thinks they can treat women how they want. He has fun with us without making us feel uncomfortable. Enri has four sisters, though, so it’s only natural that he’d be respectful of women and extremely irritating too.

  “Need me to spot you?” I ask when he takes his position on the bench nearby.

  “Nah, you can just watch me. I know you love to.”

  “My eyes are going to spin out of my head one of these days.” I sigh, making him laugh even harder than before. “Thank you for letting us open for you last night, by the way.” He rests the weight on the rack and sits up to look at me, his face serious and his eyes on mine. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

  “I’ve spoken to Lockhart. I want you guys opening up for me for the rest of my tour.” He watches me for a reaction and I deliver him a smile so bright I can feel my face splitting in half. “I know you have to discuss it with Dane and Kai but…”

  “This is the best news ever,” I respond and my lower lip trembles.

  “Fuck,” he whispers and stands, looking panicked. “Are you going to cry? I hate it when people cry.”

  “No,” I whimper and look away. “I have something in my eye.”

  “Stop,”
he demands, laughing nervously. “Stop it. You’re making me freak out.” The first happy tear falls. “Seriously… do you need a hug or something?”

  I instantly sober. “Eww.”

  “You’re such a bitch,” he laughs loudly but sobers as quickly as I did a minute ago when he looks over my shoulder at the doorway.

  “What?” I ask him, placing my weights down and rubbing my biceps with my hands. “Who’s there?”

  “Tobias, my man!” Enri grins and moves past me to shake hands with Lockhart. Tobias really suits him. It’s such a strong name. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “You were supposed to meet me fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Shoot.” Enri looks at the watch on his wrist. “I got distracted.” He nods to me and winks.

  I glance at Lockhart, who has yet to look at me or acknowledge me. His jaw seems tense. I begin to wonder if last night even happened when he and Enri carry on a conversation without Lockhart even acknowledging my presence. Shrugging, I leave them to it and go back to working on my arms and abs.

  When Lockhart leaves, Enri follows, leaving me alone in the room with only Cassandra for company. She helps me perfect my exercises too, which I’m grateful for and ungrateful for at the same time; grateful because I feel it burn a lot quicker and ungrateful for that exact same reason.

  Before I know it, two hours have passed and I’m lying on a mat in a half full room, sweat lingering in beads all over my body, my breath coming out in pants. That’s one of my favourite things about the gym. Of course you get the occasional dickhead, but the majority of people who attend are good, private people who respect you and your space, so they all step around me, no judgement, no laughter, as I slowly die.

  “Are you still in here?” Enri laughs and steps into my peripheral vision before leaning forward to take up ninety percent of it.

  “My body is; my soul left the building about an hour ago. I think death has it. Why he left my body alert I have no idea.”

  “You’re crackers.”

  I cover my eyes with my arm. “Somebody should call and make a complaint.”

  “What are you talking about?” He laughs and I’m suddenly being yanked up by my poor, bruised and aching arms.