The Rockstar and the Pussycat (Dark Fire Book 1)

by Ivy M. Jones

  I never wanted to let her go.

  She was pulling me down over her, busy hands freeing me from my underwear, handling me until I nearly came in her soft palm. It was too much. And yet I needed more.

  "I need you inside me," she whimpered.

  "I need to be inside you," I agreed, my open mouth on hers before thrusting deep, simultaneously into her mouth and deep between her legs.

  We both cried out at the feeling, the sound lost in our kiss.

  "Andy," I panted as I moved. "I fucking love you so much."

  Her words were unintelligible, which had me grinning stupidly in pride before taking it up another notch. I slid my hands under her ass, lifting her hips a few inches off the bed. Then I moved as hard and as fast as I could. Andy moaned words and sounds that made me crazy until she came, breaking apart over the bed below me, calling out my name and "Justin! I love you!"

  My eyes rolled back and I came, my whole body locking up, holding me in place as I tingled and pulsed, as though every part of me had experienced the orgasm.

  "Fuck, pussycat. I love you, too," I whispered, finally able to lift my head enough to watch her face. I managed to move my hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  "What?" she whispered as I continued to stare.

  I'll never figure out why, except that perhaps the pregnancy hormones kicked in, but for whatever reason, when I repeated the words I love you, she burst into tears.

  For the next six and a half months, whenever I told pussycat "I love you," she would say it back, then burst into tears, and sometimes in the opposite order. Some of the guys joked about making it into a drinking game, but I threatened to pull out lip rings and knock people to the floor, which, while they weren't great threats, at least moved the topic of conversation to mocking me, instead of fucking with Andy.

  Not that they didn't have enough going on in their own lives to keep them plenty busy.

  Besides that, Andy didn't need any more bullshit in her life. Her father was charged with kidnapping, her mother with conspiracy. Ironically, it was Ian who was key in the prosecution. Lawrence James' apprentice, the man who Andy had been promised to, also an accomplice to her abduction, flipped on his former mentor so fast, it made heads spin. His testimony led to the drop of charges against her mother. Found guilty of kidnapping, the board of Dynamic Enterprises cut Lawrence James loose without a golden parachute to speak of. Within a month, the fancy house where they'd held Andy captive was for sale and her father took up residence in prison. Her mother disappeared for all intents and purposes after the trial, though the tabloids theorized that she’d either gone into rehab or been abducted by aliens.

  Doctor Hodgins convinced the jury that he honestly had no idea that his patient was not willing, and that he never would have gone ahead with the abortion once he'd known it was not consensual. He looked right into Andy's eyes in the courtroom and told her, "I would not have taken your baby, Mrs. Moreland."

  Of course, Andy burst into tears. But later, she openly told the press that she believed him.

  The media circus died down after a few months. They were fat and happy, still dining on the buffet we'd given them when we allowed them to photograph our reception, the one pussycat and my mom set up to follow our wedding at the Justice of the Peace. In fact, we rarely heard a peep from the outside world until one particularly warm day in March when security buzzed up from the lobby to tell us that Andy's mother wanted to talk. I told pussycat she didn't have to go but, after she cried for twenty minutes, she consented to meet with her mother in the lobby.

  She never let go of my hand.

  "What do you want?" she croaked. I could tell how hard it was for her to hold in her tears, and I squeezed her hand to give her courage.

  In answer, the platinum-haired woman held up her left hand.

  "Why now?" pussycat asked.

  "It's hard to get free when you don't know that your being held captive, Andrea," she said softly. Then I realized her mother's hand had been naked. No wedding ring. The deep mark of decades of wear was still there, but the symbol of her loyalty to the man who had hurt Andy so badly was gone.

  "Can I see yours?" she said timidly, reaching for Andy's hand.

  Tenuously, Andy held it out. My Gramma Jane's ring was understated, which was a big no-no in the celebrity world, but I didn't care and neither did Andy.

  "It fits you," her mom whispered.

  "We had it sized," pussycat explained, her eyebrows scrunched.

  "No, I mean... personality. It's strong and understated, but the history is what makes it so important- what it's been through, where it's been." She let Andy's hand fall. "Like you."

  "Mom?" Andy's chin trembled.

  "Hello kitty-cat," she whispered.

  I felt a proprietary jolt- That was my name for Andy. But it had obviously been her mother’s nickname first, so I tried to be nice.

  As hard as it was to move her giant belly, Andy latched onto her mom in a hug that I thought might break the poor woman. And of course, Andy sobbed as we all went upstairs to the apartment. She sobbed while she showed her mom all the stuff we'd gotten ready for the baby. She sobbed when her mom offered to make her some cocoa, and she sobbed salty tears into her drink as she sipped it down with a giant smile on her face.

  Annabelle James's divorce and legal return to her maiden name had gone through the day before her visit. A week later, Andy asked her mom to move in with us. We converted the office I never used into a mother-in-law's suite and soon, Annabelle Whitney was acting like the mom Andy deserved. I have to admit though that a part of me was constantly on alert, waiting for her to drop the act and knock Andy out with a chloroform cloth. The logical side of me argued that there was no point. The woman had been brainwashed throughout her years of marriage to Lawrence James, but she'd finally broken free.

  It never hurt to take precautions. Norm followed pussycat every time she left the building, driving her wherever she needed to go, including, on one warm April morning, to the hospital.

  Justin and Andrea Moreland

  invite you to welcome into the world

  their daughter,

  Tyler Jane Moreland

  Born on the Twelfth of April, 2014

  at 9:43 a.m.

  10 lbs, 2 oz. 10.5 inches long.

  Goddaughter to Griffin and Nicolette Rupert.

  Griffin

  "Getting married was a mistake," I heard Nicki whisper into the dark.

  "You asked me to prove it," I pointed out. "Put your money where your mouth is, you said."

  "Oh my god, Griffin. If it's that easy to dare you into something, what's stopping me from just daring you to get this crazy marriage annulled?"

  I rolled over the vast distance of the bed until I was hovering over her. "Don't you dare."

  "I'm serious, Griff. What's the point? I just don't understand why you did this." Her dark eyes flashed up at me in the mellow light of the bedside lamp and I noticed the strain at the corners, the skin there tight.

  "I told you. If I have to do this to prove myself to you, then that's what I'll do. I'll do anything you ask. But I will prove myself to you."

  She shifted below me, trying to get more comfortable, and my resolve was quickly drained. This was so much more difficult than I had thought.

  Justin was right. Sometimes I did get a big head, thinking I was master of the world. When people gave you anything you wanted practically before I asked, it was a hard reality to deal with that there were things out there I couldn't just have, things that wouldn't come easily. But with Nicki, how could I not feel like the king of the world all the time? She was my wife, so I had everything I could want...

  Well, almost.

  "You're not proving anything except how frustrating and stubborn you can be. It's just annoying." Her body shifted again and I sucked in a breath. Her breathing was becoming shallower, harder, and I could tell exactly where her thoughts were headed.

  "None of that, Mrs. Rupert," I
chided, rolling away from her.

  "Damn it, Griffin! If we're not even going to have sex, we might as well not even be married!"

  I ran a hand along the side of her body, down the length of her torso and around to the inside of her thigh before sweeping a finger along the ridge of her sex.

  "Griffi-iiiin," she moaned. "Not fair. I don't want this to be one-sided."

  "I am a man of my word, Nicki. One year. I promised to prove it for one year. I want you and no one else. And not just to get you into bed." I gripped her hip in my palm and licked my way down her neck. "No sex for one year. But that doesn't mean I can't make you feel good in the meantime. I mean, you're obviously suffering here. I can help."

  I slid desperate fingers through the slick wetness that proved she wanted me to stay right where I was. "I want to help, Nicki. Let me do this," I begged.

  "I know I'm going to regret this..."

  ~ About the Author ~

  Ivy M. Jones is a thirty-something vintage book dealer and coffee snob. She lives in the Midwest and enjoys a good book with a delicious cup of coffee, the great outdoors, and her amazing family and friends.

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