Break On Through

by Ridgway, Christie

  “That would be you, remember?” When he spanked her other cheek she bit him right above the nipple at the second soft strike.

  They both shuddered.

  Then she moved her mouth over his chest, laying on kisses and tiny bites. When she found his nipple she sucked it into her mouth and he clutched her ass, then rubbed his leather-covered palms over her back and shoulders. She undulated against him, and he pushed her onto the bed then followed her down.

  Her hands fisted in his hair to bring his mouth to hers. He held back from the deep kiss she demanded, instead playing with her, fluttering his tongue against her lower lip and nipping at the upper. Beneath him, her body was restless, and he settled his weight more firmly upon her, then drove his tongue into her mouth.

  She went boneless, her hands drifting from his head to the pillow on either side of hers. He drew his mouth across her cheek to toy with her earlobe, and then he chased the goose bumps he’d provoked until he found her breasts.

  He plumped one in his gloved hand and gave it all his attention. She moaned as he lashed the tip with his tongue, tilting her hips as he sucked on it in a strong rhythm. Her breath was in rough pants as he moved to the other, and he strummed his thumb over the damp nipple.

  Sliding to the side of her, he kissed her again, rubbing his leather-encased palm over her skin from throat to belly. When he moved his fingertips closer to her mons, her legs fell farther apart. Wrapping his hand around her upper thigh, he opened her more and he went up on one elbow to look at her folds, deep pink, wet, and swollen.

  His cock jerked in his pants and he reached inside them to adjust himself. The sensation of buttery leather against his shaft made him groan.

  Glancing up, he caught Cleo’s avid gaze.

  “Let me,” she said, reaching down.

  He caught her fingers, placed them once again beside her head. “Not yet.”

  At her pout, he leaned close and bit her bottom lip. At the same time he slid his hand over her spread pussy.

  Her body arched. He drew her lip slowly through his teeth and when he released it her eyes were closed and her breathing was more ragged.

  “Beautiful Cleo,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her temple, her cheek, her chin. As he dropped the gentle kisses on her face, he played below with his leather-clad hand, rubbing his thumb against her clit, circling the entrance to her channel with his forefinger, using the heel to massage the engorged lips and the pad of her mons.

  The leather was damp with her fluids and the fragrance of leather and female arousal mingled in the air, joining with the flowery scent of Cleo’s skin. Reed breathed it in, committing it to olfactory memory.

  Then he kissed her, deeply, romantically, while one hand kneaded her breast. Two fingers of the other, still in leather, he pushed steadily inside her, the wet tissues giving way. She gasped and lifted into the invasion, impaling herself. He began teasing more then, circling those fingers within her tight channel, pulling them nearly free only to push them inside once again. Her breath was moving faster, and she was moaning, urgent sounds that drove him onward.

  She speared her fingers into his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp and at that unspoken urging he nudged her clit with his leather-clad thumb, then rubbed there, his fingers shoved deep inside her. Her whole body shuddered, once, twice, and then she was coming, her muscles gripping his fingers with a milking rhythm.

  As the climax gentled its hold on her, he eased off his kiss, until she tore her mouth away and turned her head on the pillow to breathe.

  Reed brushed her damp temple with his lips and then her hot ear as he slowly, carefully withdrew from her body. Her swollen tissues had difficulty releasing his leather-covered digits. “Relax, baby,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me go.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said, then stiffened as if she heard herself and worried she’d crossed a line.

  He teased the whorls of her ear with his tongue. “It’s okay, darlin’. I’m glad I made you feel good.”

  When his hand was finally free, he laid his palm on her belly. “Kiss me.”

  She rolled her head, and when their lips met, what started sweet almost immediately turned heated. Cleo shifted, pushing him against the mattress to hover above him. He allowed the takeover, sucking her tongue into his mouth and rubbing the wet glove against her hip.

  Shuddering, she looked up at him. “I can’t wait,” she said.

  He tightened his grip on her flesh. “Oh, yeah.” Then he winced. “Hell, I forgot to bring a condom.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she murmured, then kneeled up to press kisses to his jaw, his throat, his chest. She had an obvious destination and he groaned as she made her way to his jeans. But then…oh, God, then, instead of going to work on the fastening, she picked up one of his hands—the one that hadn’t been in her body. Taking each leather fingertip between her teeth, she yanked upward until she finally worked the glove free.

  With a toss, she sent it over the mattress and then bent over him again, this time to place a line of sucking kisses just above his waistband. His bare hand slid into that bright cap of her hair. But again, she sat up, this time bringing his other glove to her mouth. She appeared to examine it a moment, and he saw what she did, the saddle-colored leather darkened by her juices. The forefinger and middle fingers were completely soaked.

  And when she sucked those two digits into her mouth, he thought he’d lose it in his jeans. Peeking at him through her lashes, she continued to tongue the wet leather. Her throat moved, and at the thought of her swallowing saliva and the taste of herself, Reed dug his free hand into the bedspread. He knew sex, had seen it, participated in it from the straightforward to the raunchy, from simple to Kama Sutra-style—yet watching Cleo burned every memory from his mind.

  When she finally worked the leather off his hand, he was breathing like a racehorse. On a smile, she licked him from the tip of his bare middle finger to his wrist, then set his hand onto the mattress. “Stay,” she whispered.

  Then, oh, God, then, she began to unfasten his jeans. She made fast work of it, and finally he was in her palms, his cock pulsing, the swollen head red and eager. A drop of liquid had already seeped from it and she sucked it delicately onto her tongue.

  He gritted his teeth and scrambled for control.

  But Cleo wouldn’t allow him any. She ruled him with the flat of her tongue, the curved cove of her fingers, her curious exploration of his balls. There was no longer a way or a will for him to fight the intimacy. When she took him into her mouth, he was lost to her.

  There was no going back.

  There was only going to be the wait until she realized he could never be all that she needed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cleo hadn’t been on a date in a million years. And since who knew when she’d ever get another chance—especially a date that involved a music club on L.A.’s Sunset Boulevard—she was determined to have the best time ever.

  According to their many check-ins, Eli and Obie were thoroughly enjoying themselves with their grandparents. She missed them, but she couldn’t deny her own excitement over dressing up in a little black dress and high heels. When was the last time she’d attempted smoky eye makeup? That would be never.

  But she’d perused videos on her laptop and she was satisfied with the effect, if she did say so herself. Dabbing some berry colored lip gloss on her mouth, she decided that Reed’s reaction would be the true arbiter.

  Her stomach jittered as she walked out of the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on a pair of black boots. She stared, struck by how masculine he looked in dark jeans and a silky black shirt, open at the throat.

  He glanced up, and his blue eyes turned hot.

  So did she.

  With his forefinger, he made a little circle.

  Biting back a smile, she spun, the hem of her dress lifting. “Oops,” she said, clamping the fabric against her thighs. “I’m not used to such a short skirt.”

&n
bsp; He was on his feet, his hand sliding up her leg. “Are those thigh-high stockings?”

  Blushing, she batted him away. “They were supposed to be a surprise for later.”

  His mouth went to her throat. “There’s no time like the present.”

  Gulping, she forced herself to step back. “We told everybody we’d meet them at 8:30.”

  Reed grimaced. “Yeah. Kiss me as consolation.”

  She shook her head. “Sticky lip gloss. You wouldn’t like it.”

  Of course that wasn’t true in the least. They both ended up liking it, even though she had to reapply and he had to wipe the color off his mouth with a tissue.

  They were only a few minutes late to the club where Ren and Payne’s sister, Cami Colson, was headlining. The show had yet to start and a DJ played music while a few couples danced. The other members of the Rock Royalty tribe were already gathered around two large tables close to the stage. Reed pushed her toward them. “Find us seats, I’ll bring drinks.”

  She was greeted by Ren, Cilla, Bing, Alexa, Payne, and Walsh. She slipped into a seat next to a man she hadn’t met, leaving an empty chair for Reed beside Payne. The new man turned to her and she smiled, realizing immediately who he had to be. “I’m Cleo,” she said, holding out her hand. “You must be Brody.”

  He looked just like Bing.

  His answering smile, warm and charming, turned his dark looks angelic. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Bing called from across the table. “Watch out, Cleo. He’s the good twin, but that doesn’t mean he’s sinless.”

  “Or without a healthy dose of curiosity,” Brody said, shifting to angle toward her. “How did you meet our resident vampire? You look as if you’d be asleep during his restless hours, dreaming about kittens and lambs.”

  “I’m a mom. Two little boys.”

  “Ah,” Brody said. “That could keep anyone awake.”

  “They’re wonderful, but—”

  “Boys,” he finished for her, flashing a grin. “I’ve been one and I’ve seen all the trouble my twin can get into.”

  She laughed, then felt a warm male hand close over the nape of her neck. It didn’t require a glance to confirm Reed had arrived. Her body knew his touch. He slid into the empty space beside her and put a glass of white wine on the table.

  “Bro,” he said pleasantly, addressing the man on her left. “Are you hitting on my neighbor?”

  “Oh, is that what we call her?” Brody asked, amusement sparking in his eyes. “I was just about to warn her to avoid your bite. But if that’s not the way it’s blowing—”

  “She’s going to be your employee, for fuck’s sake,” Reed said with a scowl. “Flirting is harassment.”

  “Not my employee now,” Brody said mildly, though he was clearly enjoying poking at Reed.

  “Beware of flapping wings in the night,” Reed advised. “Because I might be sending my brethren for a little visit come some midnight.”

  Cleo shook her head and leaned toward him. “Stop.”

  “Your fault,” he whispered against her ear. His hand landed on her knee and slid up the sleek nylon in the direction of danger. “Hot mama.”

  Okay, she wanted to preen. Instead, she directed her attention across the table and asked Cilla about her upcoming wedding plans. The other woman happily launched into a description of menu options while Reed looked on, his gaze indulgent, his hand possessive as it stroked through her hair.

  Cilla shot him a quick smile, turned back to Cleo. Her mouth opened, then it dropped, her eyes widening at something she stared at over Cleo’s shoulder. After a moment she seemed to gather herself. “Rose,” she said.

  At the name, Reed glanced around, then stood up. His movement gave Cleo a clear shot of Payne. He’d frozen, his beer halfway to his mouth.

  “Hey, you made it,” Reed said. Then he turned to the others. “Everybody, you remember Rose Dailey.”

  The brunette had hair in a shaggy style to her shoulders. Her eyes were a pale gray and she’d gone with smoky make-up too. The pale pink dress she wore was knit and the wide neckline had slid to expose one bare shoulder. Her half-smile had a charming curve to it, rising higher on one side than the other. Cleo couldn’t decide if it was knowing or shy.

  Reed reached to another table and snagged a free chair that he squeezed between his and Payne’s. “Rose and I keep running into each other. When I saw her at the Canyon Country Store—can’t go there without meeting somebody you know, right?—I invited her to join us tonight.”

  The rest of the Rock Royalty was gaping at him, same as Cleo. Reed, who claimed to be socially averse, had issued an invitation? She might have wondered if he was interested in the other woman if he wasn’t watching the big blond man at the table so very carefully.

  “Move your ass over, Payne,” he said. “Give the lady some room.”

  Rose took her seat, sliding an uncertain look at Payne.

  “Let me get you a drink,” Reed began. “Wine?”

  Payne leaped out of his chair. “I’ll get it. Refills anyone?”

  As he stalked off, Alexa introduced herself to Rose and they began chatting, giving Cleo the opportunity to whisper in Reed’s ear. “What are you doing?”

  “Payne’s hung up on her,” he said, for her ears only. “I only found out recently.”

  “So you decided to dangle her in his face?” She didn’t know what to think about that.

  He shrugged. “I owe Payne.”

  “In a good way or a bad way?”

  Before he could answer, Ren cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the table. “Don’t forget. Keep your eyes peeled, everyone.”

  Cilla rolled hers. “Honest to goodness—”

  Growling, Ren cut her off by grabbing the back of her hair and tilting her face for his kiss.

  Cleo turned to Reed. “What’s that about?”

  “Ren thinks Cami has a man and it makes him nuts that she’s mum about it.”

  “Uh, she’s a grown woman, right?”

  “Doesn’t make a dif to her big brother, I guess. Ren thinks the guy comes to hear her sing and he wants us to sniff him out.”

  At that moment, Payne returned, his hands full of glasses. Cleo noted he placed one in front of Rose without looking at her. Just then, the lights dimmed, and the crowd hushed, adjusting their chairs to better face the stage. Cleo leaned against Reed’s back and whispered in his ear. “Your tribe is so involved in one another’s lives.”

  He turned his head, so their lips nearly met. “I know. I keep telling them they’re weird. They should mind their own business.”

  Cleo almost laughed. But before she had a chance to point out that Reed was as bad as any of them—offering her a safe place to live, getting her a job, the whole Rose-Payne thing—a spotlight illuminated a woman perched on a stool set on the stage, a guitar cradled in her arms.

  She’d met Cami Colson before, during the barbecue at the compound, but she looked different tonight. Then she’d had her hair—a combination of brown, gold, and auburn—in a high ponytail. It hung around her shoulders now, the color even more striking. Her eyes were green, like Ren’s, but instead of being built on he-man proportions like her brothers, she was fairy-sized. The comparison seemed apt when she wore a white blouse embroidered with bright flowers. It was tucked into battered jeans that were shoved into a pair of mannish motorcycle boots. By contrast, a delicate vine tattoo trailed up her inner arm as revealed by the folded-back shirtsleeve.

  She shot a quick smile in the direction of the Rock Royalty, then instantly started in a fast-driving rendition of “Somethin’ Bad” made famous by Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood. Instantly, the crowd was with her, stomping their feet with the beat. Cleo shared an appreciative grin with Cilla, while noting that Ren kept rhythm with his fingers on the table even as his gaze roamed the room.

  The set included other songs with a country/bluegrass vibe that suited her throaty voice. Cleo relaxed in her chair, sipping wine.
When Cilla moved on to Paul McCartney’s “Blackbird,” her thoughts went to Reed’s buried pain and his hidden tattoo. Without thinking, she reached out to caress his back, half-turned from her. He glanced at her over his shoulder and whatever he saw made his face soften. He reached behind him to find her hand and hold it in his.

  Just as any man might touch a lover.

  Her heart quaked. She’d had that moment of imagining herself in love with him and then had managed to tiptoe around it in her head. Instead, she’d focused on their play in bed, the way he drew the most delicious, lustful responses out of her. But now, with their fingers entwined, it was hard to avoid the truth.

  As if Cami Colson could read her mind, she segued into Demi Lovato’s “Give Your Heart a Break,” the lyrics telling the story of someone begging their lover not to let fear of pain or fear of making a mistake come between them. Cleo closed her eyes as she listened, and found herself leaning forward to rest her cheek between Reed’s shoulder blades.

  He didn’t draw away until the song ended. As the applause died away, he turned to her. “Okay?”

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  From the stage, Cami spoke into the mic, her eyes on the audience. “For the final song of the first set, here’s one you might have heard me play before. If you’re new, this is an old spiritual.” Then her gaze dropped to her fingers on the strings. They plucked a bright melody that was in contrast to the words she began to sing.

  Motherless children have a hard time

  When the mother is gone

  Motherless children have a hard time

  When the mother is gone

  Motherless children have a very hard time

  All the weepin’, all that cryin’

  Motherless children have a hard time

  When their mother is gone

  Cleo’s chest ached. The sting of tears burned behind her eyes as the heartbreak of the words floated through the air. Motherless children. The Rock Royalty had never had a real mother in their lives. Reed had never known the tender touch of the woman who had carried him in her body and then gladly suffered the pain to bring him into the world.