Rhythm and Blu

by Jennings, S. L.

  “You’re soaking the towel.” He swallows, then his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I can taste you.”

  I can’t formulate much more than, “Sorry.”

  Riot shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I just…” He closes his eyes. “I’ve been chasing the ghost of your taste on my tongue for over ten years. It haunted me. I thought I’d never have it again. And fuck… I want it. I want it so bad it hurts, Rox. I want to suck your pussy until you cry. So that you never get wet for any other man.”

  “Then why don’t you?” I breathe, his words enticing another gush of wetness. My inner thighs are covered and I can feel droplets rolling down to my ass.

  “Because then I’d never be able to stop. You would have to be mine.”

  He stares at me, waiting for the words we both know I want to say. But I don’t. I can’t. His grip on my hands above my head eases. He’s letting me go. All I had to do was tell him how I felt, and I could have had him. I turn away just as a rush of emotion warms my face, but he grips my thighs.

  “Where are you going? I didn’t say I was done with you.” Riot sits up on his knees, his proud erection an arrow pointing straight at me as if it’s claiming me.

  “I… I thought you said no sex,” I stammer, unable to tear my eyes away from it.

  “And I meant it. That doesn’t mean I can’t make you come.”

  He hovers over me, elbows on either side of my head, and positions himself so the thick shaft of his cock aligns with my swollen, sensitive flesh. And then he rocks his hips into me, stroking softness with hardness, and I lose control. Eyes shut tight and head tipped back into the pillow, I gasp in shock, my breath stolen by pleasure. He then does it again, thrusting slowly so he slips over my slick folds from tip to root.

  “Look at me, Rox,” he grits out above me. I do as he requests and immediately wish I didn’t.

  Riot stares down at me, his expression strained, his cheeks pink, and his mouth parted. So vulnerable. So beautiful. And so not mine. But as he grinds into me over and over, conjuring an orgasm so devastating that I’m sure I’ll pass out, I can’t bear to turn away.

  “Kiss me,” I groan, a sob born of passion caught in my throat. “Just kiss me. Please.”

  This time is different than before. Different from any kiss we’ve ever shared. He kisses me deeply, passionately, desperately. As if he’s waited to kiss me his whole life. The intensity of his tongue coupled with the way his dick rubs my entrance, begging for access at the gates, pulls at something inside me. Not only at the dam between my thighs that’s so close to bursting that my knees shake and my hips lock up. But at the hollow in my chest…the space that’s been dedicated to him since the day he played me a song. I don’t know how or why, but as the first flame of orgasm singes my nerve endings, tears leak from my eyes.

  He doesn’t stop moving but slows his tempo as spasms roll through me in violent waves of prickling pressure. He swallows every one of my moans and cries, ingesting my pleasure as if he were drinking my release. I don’t even realize that I’m pulling his hair with one hand and gripping the back of his neck with the other until I come down enough to feel that my knuckles ache.

  Once the haze of climax starts to clear, Riot pulls his lips from mine. His gaze roams my face, the pinch of a frown between his brows when he notes the tears streaming from my eyes. But he doesn’t say a word. He just gently, lovingly kisses them away.

  With my body limp and languid, I let my arms and legs flop to the mattress with less grace than I intend. Riot laughs, pushing himself back up to his knees.

  “I’m surprised,” he smiles, looking down at me through hooded, tired eyed. “You didn’t beg.”

  “I didn’t have to,” I reply through a yawn.

  He pauses just for a beat, just gazing down at me with a look of satisfaction. It’s not out of pride for reducing me into a mewling mess without even really touching me. It’s contentment… peace.

  “Shit, it’s almost dawn,” he mumbles, looking over to the window. “I need to go.” He climbs off the bed and replaces the blanket over my body.

  I sit up, despite the protest of my sagging frame. That’s when I see it. “Oh no. Your pants.” I slap a hand over my mouth.

  Riot looks down at the distinct wet spot on his pants and shrugs. “All good.”

  “Wait… you didn’t…?” I also couldn’t help but notice that under his soaked pants is the very defined imprint of a hard dick.

  Riot shakes his head. “I didn’t, but I will. I wanted tonight to be about you.”

  I smile lazily and let my head fall back into the pillow, exhaustion going in for the inevitable KO. “Well, thanks for not having sex with me, I guess.”

  “No problem.” He leans over and kisses my lips once more. “Goodnight, Rox.”

  I yawn. “Goodnight, Riot.”

  After the door shuts behind him, I roll over and let sleep wash over me, too spent to even think about putting on pajamas. But before I can submit to my weary eyelids, something hits like a punch to the gut. Something that Riot said.

  “I didn’t, but I will.”

  He didn’t come, but he will.

  He just left me so he can go fuck Poppy.

  MY PHONE HAS BEEN BUZZING for ten minutes straight. I’m still half asleep and need at least three more hours or I’m as good as useless for the day, but I also know it’ll keep ringing until I pick up. And if it does happen to stop, Haze’s phone will start ringing. And if she doesn’t answer, the police will be called.

  Fuck.

  Butt ass naked and still tingling, I stagger like a newborn fawn to the desk where I left my phone last night.

  “Hello?” I try to croak but my voice is cracked with sleep.

  “Roxanne Lee, I know you are not still in bed at this hour. Shouldn’t you be working? Are you ill?” my mother’s accented voice bellows through the receiver.

  “Good morning, Mom,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. Good thing she can’t see me. Grown or not, my mother does not play.

  “We’ve been calling you for days! Haven’t you received any of our messages? Your father and I were getting ready to come to Seattle to check on you.”

  That’s a bucket of ice-cold water to wake me.

  “No, Mom, um. You don’t need to come here. I’m not home.”

  “What? Roxy, were you…” Her voice dips an octave. “Sleeping at a man’s house?”

  Shit. It is entirely too early for this conversation, and my brain is only operating on 50% power right now. She’s either going to be pissy and judgmental over me being a grown ass woman who owns her sexuality. Or she’s going to start picking out wedding invitations with the hopes that I’ve finally found a man who wants me more for just casual hook ups. Either way, I’m screwed.

  “No, mom, I just… I’m away for work. For a big story.”

  “Away where? I thought you only covered local talent for that little website.”

  Little. Ok, we’re starting with the digs early, I see.

  “I do, but I’m doing a piece about a big star from this area. It’s a huge opportunity for me.”

  I can feel the skepticism radiating off her through the phone. “Well… make sure you’re taking it seriously then. Kinda hard to write a big story when you’re sleeping in past nine.”

  I fashion my hands like claws and choke the life out of the air in front of me. “Yes, ma’am. Actually, I should go now. I need to get back to work.”

  “Ok. Make sure you’re eating well and taking vitamins. I don’t want you getting sick.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Love you. Gotta go.”

  I hit End before she can respond and flop back into the desk chair. I got three and a half hours of sleep, maybe less. But now that I’m up, all I can think about is what happened last night. Riot and I legit dry humped like horny teens and I came all over his pants. He, on the other hand, was saving himself for Poppy. I don’t know why I thought he came here because his feelings somewhat mirrored mine. Riot used me. Wel
l, I used him. But first he used me, so I could use him.

  As much as I hate to admit it, my mother is right. I shouldn’t be sleeping in when I have zero words on the biggest story of my life. And there’s no way I can even attempt to fashion a coherent sentence until I get some caffeine. So, I drag my tired butt to the bathroom to leave it all in the hands of a shower, concealer, and the promise of hot coffee.

  I’ve only just opened my door when I hear the indicator of a shitty day: Poppy’s shrill voice. And by the sound of it, she’s pissed.

  “I don’t even know what you’re waiting for. Wake her up!”

  “I’m not waking her up, P.” That’s Riot deep, velvety tone, although it sounds much more raspy than usual. Guess I’m not the only one dragging ass today.

  “Why not? She should know what’s being said about her.”

  “Because she’s tired. This can wait.”

  “She’s tired? SHE’S TIRED?” Holy shit, that’s a frequency only dogs can hear. “She wasn’t woken up first thing this morning by her publicist. You need to fix this, Riot.”

  True, but I was woken up by my mother. I win.

  “I will. I’ll talk to her when she wakes up.”

  I guess that’s as good a cue as any and I cross the threshold from the hall to the living room. “She’s awake now.” Four heads turn to pin me with varying looks of shock. Five if you count Chef Dani who’s pretending not to listen as she busies herself in the kitchen. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” Poppy screeches. She stalks over to me, oversized sunglasses on her face and her hair flat and sad. My fists tighten; the way she’s rolling up on me would be perceived as threatening if I didn’t know her any better. She’s much too vain to risk rupturing the filler in her lips. Instead, she’s shoves a phone in my face. “This is what’s up. Congrats. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

  I take the phone and back up a step so I can read the story. But the headline is all I need to know exactly why Poppy is irate.

  Riot Blu Cozies Up with New Bae

  Who’s the mystery woman who stole him away from model Poppy Brooks?

  There’s a full spread on TMZ with nothing but speculation about Riot and Poppy’s devastating break up, my gold-digging, home wrecking motives, and even full color pics of Riot and I sitting on the couch talking. Not pics of the end of the night when his hand brushed against mine, thank God. But when we first got there. We were literally just chatting, and these media vultures made it seem like we were 69ing it up in VIP. And of course, they cropped Poppy out of the pic, which would have shown her sitting on Riot’s other side.

  I have to admit; the pictures look bad. The paps caught just the right moment and angle to make it look like Riot was staring at me like I was the only person in the room. In another pic, it looks like Riot is whispering in my ear or kissing my neck when in reality, he just didn’t want to shout over the music. In another, we’re close enough to kiss, gazing at each other like two kids madly in love.

  I glance up at Riot who hasn’t said a word since I stepped into the room. His expression isn’t as guarded as I’ve come to expect. He looks remorseful.

  “I had nothing to do with this,” I announce to the room. Jonas sits on one couch, texting furiously. A svelte ice blonde wearing a chic, all-white pant suit sits on the other, balancing a small MacBook on her lap while also looking at her phone.

  “Of course, you didn’t,” Poppy spits. “We all know it’s a lie; there’s no way Riot would cheat on me. But why didn’t you know about it? Don’t you work for one of these gossip rags?”

  Any other day, I would put her in her place without mincing words. But in the eyes of social media, we’re dealing with a real crisis. Bari should have given me a heads up.

  I fish out my phone and sure enough, I’ve got eight missed calls, five voicemails, and a dozen text messages, all starting at around five this morning. I didn’t see the missed calls and messages because I woke up to my mom’s squawking and didn’t check my phone first thing like I usually do.

  “Shit,” I curse. “I’m sorry.”

  “This is fixable. Get with your editor and see about putting out a statement with the truth about the nature of your relationship. You can even frame it as an exclusive to your publication, so it’s a win-win for everyone,” the ice blonde in the suit says. When I look to Riot and then to her, she smiles, and it catches me off guard as if it doesn’t quite fit. She’s beautiful, but in a cold way. “Heidi DuCane. Publicist.”

  “My new publicist,” Riot explains. “After what happened a few months ago…”

  I nod, letting Riot know I get it. After his mom ended up in the hospital and people were calling him everything from a junkie to a waste of air, it makes sense that he’d want to go with someone new to help him reinvent himself.

  “Like that would help,” Poppy seethes. “It’s already trending on every social media platform and on the blogs. We need something bigger than that. A hugely publicized event so people can see us together and we can prove how solid we are.”

  “I can get you all into a charity event at the Seattle Museum of Art this week,” Heidi pipes up. She was already on it.

  “That’s perfect. But it’s probably best if Roxy sits this one out.” She turns to me and scowls. “Maybe it’s time you do a little more writing and a little less hanging out. It’s beyond unprofessional.”

  “If I go, Rox goes,” Riot announces without hesitation.

  “What?” Poppy looks like she’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  “You heard me. If you want me to go whore myself out for cameras, Rox will be there too. She’s writing about my life. So she needs to be in it.”

  “Riot… baby. Please be reasonable.”

  “No, he’s right,” Heidi points out. “The worst thing you could do is try to hide Rox like a dirty little secret. Show the press that you’re all good friends and it was a huge misunderstanding and some dishonest reporting. It’d be a great way to promote the piece she’s writing about Riot as well.”

  “I don’t know…” I begin, feeling uneasy about being the focus of a story versus writing one. Before I can go into all the reasons why this is a bad idea, the elevator doors slide open and Kaz strides towards us.

  “Crew will be here in an hour,” he informs us. He spares me a quick, indecipherable glance, but that’s it. I don’t know if it’s because he’s read the blogs or Riot’s threat. Either way, I don’t want things to get weird between us.

  “That’s just great. Now I need to get ready. Kaz, let me know when my glam squad arrives. Dani, I need my green juice now!” she orders before storming off to the back room. If I already didn’t know she was a bitch that would make me a believer.

  “I’ve got some calls to make,” Jonas announces. I’d forgotten he was even here. He’s less charismatic today and he looks a little pale. Even his suit isn’t as shiny. “Riot, a word?”

  Riot nods and they make their way towards the terrace. But before Riot steps through the glass door, he turns to me and we lock gazes. It begins and ends faster than anyone else can see, but it’s something. I didn’t imagine it all. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that he jumped right back into bed with Poppy right after our encounter. Maybe I was just something to occupy his time while his girlfriend was passed out.

  Kaz leaves shortly after Riot and Jonas go outside to talk, and it stings that he doesn’t even say a word to me. He definitely heard the news. But I thought he of all people would know it’s all bullshit… well, sorta bullshit.

  “That’s my cue. I’ve got my work cut out for me with this one.”

  Heidi closes her MacBook and slips it into her purse before standing. But instead of turning towards the elevator, she makes her way to me. I notice she has a slight limp but that doesn’t keep her from wearing a pair of winter white Manolos. When she stops in front of me, she stuns me once again by offering a kind smile.

  “These things blow over pretty quickly, you know t
hat.”

  I nod. “I do.”

  “Consider yourself lucky. You don’t want to be one constantly overcompensating and searching for validation. You can still be you without expectations. Which is probably why he’s so drawn to you.”

  “Excuse me?” I frown. What is this woman talking about? What does she know about me?

  “You represent the freedom he used to have and the life he still wants. You’re his hope that one day he can truly be happy. Just be a little more discreet if you want to keep it that way. You don’t the vultures to ruin what you two have. It’s the only peace he gets.”

  She doesn’t wait for a response, not that I even have one to offer. Instead, she walks away, head held high and graceful as a swan, even with the limp.

  Once I’m left alone and emotionally drained, Chef Dani comes over to where I stand and hands me a cup of hot coffee. A warm smile graces her lips as she rests her hand on my shoulder for just a moment before returning to the kitchen. Such a simple gesture yet I’m on the verge of tears.

  In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve been berated in the bathroom, witnessed exorcism-style puking in a restaurant, fooled around with someone else’s boyfriend, and woke up to find that I’m the new side chick of the week. I went from writing the story to being the story. I don’t need to look online to know I’m the most hated woman on Earth right now, but I take the much-needed cup of coffee back to my room to jump on my computer and call Bari back.

  The good new is it’s nothing like I expected.

  The bad news? It’s worse.

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME you and Riot were a thing?”

  I roll my eyes. Who answers the phone like that?

  “Good morning to you too, Bari. And I didn’t tell you because we’re not.”

  “So the photos are fake?” He can’t even pretend to not sound excited about it. If a competing site published fake pics, it could kill their credibility.

  “Not exactly,” I admit. “They’re real pics but taken out of context. Poppy was there. We were just talking.”