by Amy Marie
She sucks in sharp, gasping breaths as I devour her pussy. Her sweet taste coats my tongue, and I can’t get enough. She grinds against my mouth, and I moan, the vibration pushing her over the edge as she comes hard, her body folding over me, but I’m nowhere near finished. I wedge my shoulders between her thighs, draping her knees over my forearms and pressing my hands firmly against her stomach, pinning her in place so I can wring every last ounce of pleasure from her tight little cunt. She cries and bucks against my mouth as I flatten my tongue against her, adding more pressure as I lap at her clit.
She falls to her back, arms flailing as her orgasm continues. A loud crash sounds as a canister of flour crashes to the floor, enveloping us both in a cloud of dust, but I don’t stop. I tighten my grip, and continue my assault, adding more pressure with every long lick of her.
She rocks her hips against me, riding my face until another devastating wave of pleasure hits her, leaving her thighs trembling and body tight. Her screams of pleasure echo off the marble countertop. I loosen my hold, licking her clean before pulling away and rising to my feet.
She’s boneless and sated, lying naked on the counter. Flour clings to her hair and settles in around her languid body.
I lean over her, kissing her deeply so she can taste herself on my tongue. She doesn’t shy away and kisses me back with slow, blissful strokes of her tongue.
I pull her up to a sitting position, supporting her weight and holding her tightly against my chest.
She breaks the kiss with a sigh. “That was…”
“Just the beginning,” I whisper.
I slide one arm around her back and the other beneath her legs, savoring her lips in soft, slow kisses as I carry her up to my bed.
In my room, I lay her gently in the center of the mattress and stand, unbuttoning my jeans. She rakes her eyes over my body as I push the denim to the floor and kick my feet free. My dick stands long and thick between us. She sits up, crawling toward me on her hands and knees, licking her lips and reaching for my aching cock.
Her hand wraps around my shaft in a tight grip, and it feels so goddamned perfect I could blow any second. She pumps me once, twice, and my balls draw up tight, my orgasm threatening to break free. I breathe deep, fighting for control when her tongue flicks out, lapping up the drop of precum that beads on the head of my dick.
She leans forward, wrapping her lips around the head and sucking hard. Her cheeks hollow with the force. “Jesus,” I breathe, swaying forward as she takes me deeper into that sinful mouth. Hot, wet, heat swallows my length as she takes me down her throat, her tongue massaging the thick vein beneath.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, threading my fingers through her hair. The sight of her lips spread wide around my girth has me nearly shooting into her mouth. I’d give anything to see her swallowing my cock as I cum hard down her throat, but we will have to save that for another time. Right now, I want to feel her tight pussy milking me as we come together.
“Orelia,” I say, pulling my cock free from her lips. “I need to be inside you, baby.”
She smiles and nods, laying back on the bed as I reach into the drawer of the nightstand. Pulling out a strip of condoms, I tear one off and toss the rest onto the mattress. She toys with her nipples as she watches me tear open the foil packet and slide the latex down my shaft.
She spreads her thighs, baring that pretty pink pussy for me. I crawl up her body, sucking a taut nipple into my mouth on the way, then take her mouth in a hungry kiss. She’s everything my wildest fantasies and dirtiest dreams are made of. The intensity in her touch, her kiss, the way her body opens for me is intoxicating. I could bury myself inside her and never leave.
I kiss her deeply, my tongue stroking and sucking on hers as I rock my hips forward. The head of my cock, now coated in her arousal, hits the swollen bud of her clit and she cries out. I swallow the sound with my kiss and pull my hips back until I meet the heat of her opening.
With one swift thrust, I’m buried to the hilt, and her back bows off the mattress, breaking our kiss as she screams into the darkened room. My forehead falls to her chest, and I hold her to me, unable to move as I’m enveloped by the perfection wrapped around me.
Testing my resolve, I roll my hips, and her body ripples around me, going impossibly tighter. I pull out until just the tip of my cock remains, then thrust in, grinding my pelvis against her clit, and she digs her nails into my forearms. I begin to quicken my pace, pushing into her body in long deep strokes. Her moans grow louder as she bucks her hips and buries her face in my shoulder. She sucks on my neck, then my shoulder, biting down hard when I hit that magical spot deep within her body. I growl and pound into her, dropping to my elbows and capturing her lips again.
My orgasm barrels down on me, and I growl, “Gonna come, baby.”
Shifting my weight to one arm, I move my fingers to her clit and press down in quick, savage circles as my hips slap against her thighs soaked with our mutual arousal.
I’m nearing the point of no return when she tilts her hips, allowing me to slide deeper inside her. Her orgasm is a tidal wave, and I release, emptying into the condom as her body goes impossibly tight.
I collapse over her, our bodies sweaty and sated as we take deep gasping breaths. I circle my shaft with my fingers, holding the condom in place as I pull from her body. I slide it from my dick, tying off the end and tossing it in the trash beside the bed. Then I collapse beside her, pulling her to my chest.
We lay there, silent as our breathing slows. Her head rests on my chest, and she traces lazy circles on my skin. “Ezra?” she asks. I pull her closer, turning her face so that her eyes meet mine. “Where do we go from here?”
“We’ll figure it out,” I whisper. “Together.”
“Together,” she repeats.
I lean in and kiss her until we fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Chapter 20
Orelia
Over the next few days, the beach house feels like our own little world. This bubble where only Ezra, me, and the music exists. We eat, sleep, and breathe each other, and what’s more, it fuels the music we make together.
Lyrics pour from my fingertips, and before I know it, the album is nearly finished. It’s electric, and listening to the playback is surreal. It’s my voice, my words, but they seem to be coming from somewhere else, someone else.
We make love and music day in and day out. I never want it to end, but as it always does, the real world begins to creep back in.
I wake up warm and content with the sun shining on my face. Warm lips find my shoulder, and I can’t fight the smile as Ezra pulls me back against his chest and wraps me tightly in his arms. His lips travel to my neck, then my ear, and I melt into him as he whispers, “Morning, beautiful.”
I smile and roll over to face him. “Morning.”
He smiles and pushes me to my back, sealing his lips to mine in a sinful kiss. Morning breath be damned because this kiss, dear God, the way he kisses me lights my whole body on fire with lust, with passion, and fuck, I’m just going to say it…with love. I, Orelia Carlisle, have fallen hopelessly and madly in love with this man.
Just the idea of it sounds completely insane. I’ve known him for only a couple of weeks, but in that time, we’ve been through so much and shared so much that it feels like we’ve spent years falling into each other.
I never considered myself a believer in love at first sight, and if I’m being honest, that’s not really what this is. I didn’t see him and fall instantly into his arms. The connection is deeper than that, slow to catch, but when it did, it roared to life, hot and all-consuming.
My stomach rumbles, and we laugh into each other. Pulling from his arms, I move to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to get a shower and then breakfast.”
He reaches for my waist, pulling me back into his arms. His fingers toy with my nipples as he devours my neck and shoulder. “How about I eat you for breakfast?”
I giggle and squirm away, vaulting
from the bed before he can drag me back. He watches me as I gather my clothes and toiletries from my bag, which has migrated into his room. I blow him a kiss over my shoulder and head toward the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize my own reflection. My eyes are brighter, my skin tinted pink. My smile is wide, and my heart feels so full, I think it will burst from my chest. I’ve never seen myself like this, glowing, radiant, joyful even.
As I wash my hair, a melody pops into my brain. I hum a few notes, rinsing the suds from my skin as lyrics weave through the music.
I can live without you. I could make it work.
I could keep on breathing without you even though it hurts.
I sway my hips, losing myself to the beat inside my head, and it clicks. This song is the missing piece we’ve been looking for. A powerful rock anthem, the kind you belt in your car while you’re stuck in traffic. The sort of song you sing into your hairbrush, pretending you are center stage at the Superbowl.
Shutting off the water, I wrap myself in a towel, my hair still dripping wet and dart for the bedroom, pausing in the doorway when I see Ezra sitting up with his phone in his hand. His hair sticks up at the edges like he’s been running his fingers through it, and his eyes are sad and confused, his elbows propped on his knees.
The floor creaks beneath my feet, announcing my presence, and he looks up, his face melting into a practiced smile.
“Hey,” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows.
“Everything okay?” I ask, taking a tentative step forward.
“Yeah.” He smiles and drops his phone. “Come here.” He opens his arms to me, and I warily move into them, studying his face.
His big hands slide into my wet hair, framing my face as he pulls me into a slow, languid kiss. I melt into his embrace, kissing him deeply, hoping to chase the demons away with every slide of my tongue against his.
When the kiss breaks, he rests his forehead against mine, and we stay that way, breathing each other in.
“I have an idea for the last song,” I tell him, breaking the silence.
His smile is warm but pained. “Yeah?”
I nod, watching him and trying not to read into his tense shoulders and pained expression.
“Well then, let me feed you, and we can head into the studio.”
He kisses the tip of my nose and moves off the bed. I watch as he pulls on a pair of basketball shorts and heads from the room without another word.
What could’ve soured his mood? Had I upset him somehow? I lean back on the bed, my fingers grazing something hard and cold behind me. His phone. I lifted it, my finger brushing over the home button and the lock screen lights up. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and set the phone down on the nightstand.
He is withdrawn and quiet all through breakfast, but I don’t push. We head into the studio where I play him the verse I worked out in the shower.
“Sounds great,” he says.
“You sure?”
“Of course. It’s just what we were missing.” He turns away toward the soundboard, and I can feel the distance between us even though we are barely a foot apart.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Why?” he replies without looking at me.
“You just seem distracted.”
His smile is genuine as he takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “The only thing distracting me is you.”
I giggle at the cheesy line as he hands me my guitar.
Together, we work through another verse and the hook. I take his place at the board and watch him while he strums out the baseline to layer beneath my electric guitar. He’s lost in his own head, strumming absently, effortlessly adding depth to the track while his mind is somewhere else. With someone else maybe. No, I refuse to play that game. If this is going to work, we need to be honest with each other. No secrets and no hiding.
He sets the base in the guitar stand, and I lean against the door frame, offering him a slow clap. His lips curl up on one side, but the sadness in his eyes nearly breaks me in two. Pushing off the frame, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair. His hand immediately finds my hips, and he buries his face in my chest.
I lift his head, so I can see his eyes. “Hey,” I croon, “talk to me.”
“I’m fine, babe. I—”
“Ezra,” I cut him off before he can deliver another bullshit excuse, “you’re not. Something is bothering you. It’s written all over your face.”
He exhales and meets my eyes, pulling me closer and wrapping his arms around my back. “I got an email this morning.” I frown. “From Hannah.”
My breath catches in my throat at the sound of her name. I knew it was coming. She hasn’t been gone more than a week. I knew it was possible she’d reach out, but I hoped we’d get to live inside our little bubble for just a little while longer.
“What did she say?” I ask.
“She wants me to come to see her, something about making amends as part of her treatment. I don’t know.”
“Are you going?” I nibble my lip.
He looks up with determination in his eyes. “I have to, Orelia. I can’t just abandon her.”
I hold him closer and rest my forehead against his. “I know. I just can’t help but worry she is going to drag you down. She needs help. You did the right thing by admitting her for treatment. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”
He chuckles. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
“And that’s why I think you do.”
His lips twitch in a sweet smile, and his eyes fall to my lips before he takes them. I kiss him back, hoping he can feel everything I can’t say. His arms tighten around me, and the kiss deepens, his fingers digging into my hips and mine tangling in his hair. I fall deeper and more in love with him with every moment, every second, and I know without a doubt, I will fight tooth and nail if I have to, to keep him.
A throat clearing sounds through the speakers, and we break apart, looking toward the booth to find a Cole raising his brow behind the glass. “A word,” he says, “if you please.” He releases the talkback, and Ezra reaches for my hand as we head into the sound booth.
“So, this is an interesting development,” he says, gesturing between Ezra and me. I swallow nervously and tighten my grip on Ezra’s hand.
Cole holds out his palm and flicks his fingers. “Cough it up,” he says. Ezra groans and digs into his pocket then slaps his hand against Cole’s.
“Thank you,” he says, holding Ezra’s guitar pick between his fingers. My eyes widen, and I yank on his arm.
“Your grandfather’s guitar pick?” I gasp. “What are you doing?”
Ezra shrugs. “A bet’s a bet, and I lost fair and square.”
“A bet? What did you bet on?”
“On you, love. I bet lover boy over here that you two would end up in the sack before the album was finished.”
I turn back to Ezra, jaw nearly hitting the ground. He brings our joined hands to his lips, holding my gaze as he says, “I couldn’t wait.”
Part of me wants to be mad. It was childish and vaguely insulting, but at the same time, it completely melts my heart that he’d give up something that means so much to him, for me. If this was just about sex, he could have easily waited until the album is finished to give in, but he didn’t, and now he stands here, smiling like the one thing he’s carried with him for nearly his entire life means nothing if he has me.
I move forward, gripping his shirt in my fist, and kiss him hard on the mouth. “So stupid,” I whisper against his lips.
Cole clears his throat again, but I hold my grip on Ezra’s shirt, unwilling to break the kiss. Ezra chuckles against my mouth and grips my arms to pull away. I laugh into his chest as we both turn our attention back to Cole.
“Right, now that’s settled, the reason I came was to deliver the news in person. You, my love, have been selected as one
of Rolling Stone’s artists to watch.”
I suck in a breath as Ezra squeezes my hand.
“We’ve been fielding offers all morning from SNL, The Today Show, Jimmy Fallon. We’ve got you booked on GMA tomorrow morning. So, we need to get you on a plane to New York as soon as possible.”
“New York?” I choke out, “But I thought you wanted me to lay low, finish the album?”
“Circumstances have changed,” he says, but we all know what he means. Hannah’s overdose eclipsed my stupid little video. “Besides, we’ve arranged for you to play a live acoustic set. That will squash any remaining naysayers.”
“You want me to play live on national television?”
Sweat begins to bead on the back of my neck, and my fingers are squeezing Ezra’s so hard, I have to be cutting off his circulation.
“Hey,” Ezra’s voice cuts through. “You can do this. It’s just like playing in the bar. Don’t think about the cameras, just do your thing. Let the world see what I see when I look at you.”
My heartbeat slows as he holds my gaze. I take a deep breath and nod my head. “Okay,” I tell him, “let’s go to New York.”
I smile and lean into him, letting him ease some of my fear, but there is still this lingering dread that the moment we leave this house, the spell will break, and I’ll turn back into a pumpkin, but this isn’t that fairy tale after all.
Chapter 21
Ezra
I thread my fingers through Orelia’s as we head toward the terminal at LAX. “What’s going on behind those beautiful eyes?”
She’s quiet, and my eyes dart back and forth from her to the road, trying in vain to read her mind. “Orelia?”
“What happens when we get back?” She turns my hand over, palm up, and rests it on her thigh as she traces the callouses on my fingertips.