Can't Get Enough (A Rockstar Romance)

by Harley Wylde

  The checkered panties were cute, and from the little I knew of my new wife, they definitely suited her. I skimmed her belly with my fingertips, easing them under the waistband of the cotton panties. She sucked in a breath but held still as I explored her body. The panties hit the floor and I couldn’t wait another moment. I wanted to see my gorgeous fucking wife, but my cock ached too damn much to play around.

  Her pussy was shaved and the lips were slicked with moisture. She was every bit as turned on as I. I just hoped like hell she could handle all nine inches of my cock. I splayed my hand in the middle of her back and gently pushed her down so that her hands were braced on the foot of the bed. The lips of her sex parted, and I nearly groaned; she was so fucking beautiful.

  “I promise to fuck you all night long, in every way imaginable, and I will worship your body the way it deserves...but right now, if I don’t get inside you, I think I may go insane.”

  “I want you too,” she said in that breathy voice.

  I lined up my cock with her slit and watched as her body accepted me. All nine inches slid in, smooth as butter, until I was balls deep inside her. I thrust long, slow, and deep, watching as my cock disappeared inside her. It was a gorgeous sight, and one I would get to see for years to come. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. This woman was mine. I needed to make more decisions while drunk off my ass, because this was my best idea ever.

  Gripping her hips, I thrust harder, fucking her hard and fast, driving her up onto her tiptoes just with the power of my cock. She panted and moaned, twisted the covers in her hands. Her back arched as her sweet little pussy squeezed me. Sweat coated my chest and I doubled my efforts. I wanted to hear her scream my name; I wanted to make her come so hard she saw stars. I wanted to make her mine in every way possible.

  Honey cried out, her body gripping me tight. She chanted my name, softly then louder.

  “Jace! I’m going to come again. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

  As if I fucking could!

  I felt her tighten around me again as she screamed my name, her body milking every drop of cum from my cock. Fuck. We hadn’t used a condom. I’d never been careless before in my life. Were the woman not my wife, I’d have been worried about the effect she had on me. Right now, all I could think about was taking a shower, maybe getting a bite to eat, and then fucking her brains out all night long.

  I withdrew from her body and immediately wanted to slide back in. Honey stood on shaky legs, and I turned her to face me. Fuck! She had an incredible body. Her breasts were a handful and the tastiest looking things I’d ever seen. I just wanted to bite those nipples and make her come again.

  Kissing her lightly on the lips, I smoothed back the hair that had fallen from her pins.

  “You’re incredible,” I said. I’d said those words to women before, but I’d never meant them. I did now.

  “You’re pretty wonderful yourself.”

  “So, Mrs. Devayne. How about a shower and some food? Then I plan to worship your body the way I should have the first time.”

  She smiled, her eyes lighting up.

  “Go start the shower. I’ll just call room service.”

  Watching her sashay out of a room just might become my favorite thing in the world. Well, second to making her come.

  Chapter Two

  HONEY

  Even through my closed eyelids, the light pierced my eyes and made the pain in my head intensify. I remembered the fruity drinks from the night before, and some hunky guy flirting with me. I groaned and tried to roll over, but something was pinning me to the bed. Cracking an eye open, I noticed the tattoos first. The entire arm was covered in ink. My heart hammered in my chest. What the hell had I done last night? And why the hell couldn’t I remember it? I’d had one stupid drink. Okay, maybe two. Possibly three. Definitely no more than four of those fruity little bastards. I knew I was a lightweight, but this was ridiculous.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on what had happened last night. I remembered laughing and having a nice time, probably with the man attached to the arm at my waist. The details were a little fuzzy, but I definitely remembered him fucking me to within an inch of my life. My cheeks warmed as I thought of all the naughty things he did to me, all night long and well into daylight. There was a niggling at the back of my mind...something important, something I was supposed to remember.

  I stretched my arms and a flash of light caught my eye. There, on a very important finger, was a solid silver band. A wedding band? I shrieked and tried to bolt out of the bed, but the arm at my waist just tightened and held me closer. My back was flush against what had to be the best body I’d ever felt, even if I didn’t remember seeing it all, and even if my husband—what the fuck? Husband?—wasn’t awake, a certain part of him certainly was. Holy mother of...how did that thing fit inside of me?

  There was a sexy moan in my ear, and that monster cock rubbed against my ass. It seemed the hubby was feeling frisky, and damned if parts of me weren’t more than happy to respond. I squeezed my thighs together as my sex pulsed with need. How I could possibly need more sex? I didn’t know. I was a little sore, in all the best places, but that didn’t stop me from growing slick with desire as my husband did a little grind on my ass again.

  “Morning.”

  His voice was deep and rumbled against my ear a moment before his lips were there, licking, sucking. Oh God! My nipples were so hard I could probably cut glass with them. His hand slid up from my waist and cupped one of my breasts. It felt...right. Like his hand was supposed to be there, or anywhere else it wanted to land on my body. His fingertips were a little rough, and I remembered him claiming to be a musician. Not that I didn’t make enough money to support a struggling musician, but what the hell had I been thinking last night?

  Oh, right. Andrew. The slime. The jackass. The sleaze. The cheater to beat all cheaters. One week before our wedding and I’d found him in bed with my maid of honor. Our big day would have been...yesterday. Oh, for the love of... did I seriously get married on the day I was supposed to marry Andrew? I guess if I was going to have an excuse to be fucked up, that would be a good one. And yet, I hadn’t been thinking about Andrew when rocker boy had asked me to marry him. I’d been happy sitting at the bar, flying high on my latest book release. The details were slowly coming back to me, one piece at a time.

  His lips nibbled my neck and shoulder, sending goosebumps down my arms.

  “Mmm. I could get used to waking up with you in my bed, baby.”

  I cleared my throat. “That’s good. Since we’re married.”

  He bolted upright in bed. “What the fuck did you say?”

  “I said,” I rolled over to face him. Sweet Jesus! How the hell did a bookworm like me end up with a god like him? “I, uh. I said we’re married.”

  His brow furrowed, and I reached over and lifted his hand, showing him the matching band on his finger. He shook his head and stared at it a moment, then looked long and hard at me.

  “What the fuck did you put in my drink to get me to marry you?”

  I flinched. I may not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but I did have my pride, and he was walking all over it. Pulling the sheet with me, I got out of bed, wrapping it around me toga-style. I began hunting for my clothes, finding them scattered all over the room, and found my glasses on the table beside the bed. I slipped on my glasses, gave him one last look, and then locked myself in the bathroom.

  Asshole.

  Tears burned my eyes, but I willed them away. If the man I’d known for over a year hadn’t wanted to marry me, why would this guy? Besides, it was better that he didn’t want to stay married, right? We were complete strangers. No way this would ever work. It had been the alcohol last night and nothing else. We’d both been drunk and hadn’t realized what the hell we were doing.

  So why was my throat tight? And why were tears now streaking my cheeks? Because being rejected sucked big ass donkey balls. In a matter of seven days, I’d had two
men tell me I wasn’t good enough to marry. Maybe not those precise words, but their actions spoke loud and clear. And really, if I couldn’t hold Andrew’s attention, a sedate banker who was as boring as the day was long, how the hell would I hold the attention of super stud in there? He must have been falling down drunk to even think of marrying someone like me.

  I swiped the tears away and studied my reflection. My blonde hair was a complete mess, having been pulled rather frequently last night. My lips were still puffy from what had to have been countless kisses from Mr. Rock God. There was a twinge between my legs from being fucked thoroughly, probably better than I’d ever been fucked before. No, definitely better than I’d ever been fucked before. How was I going to get out of this mess?

  After splashing some cold water on my face, I managed to dress, mostly. I couldn’t quite reach the zipper on the back of my dress, and I was trying to remember how the hell I’d fastened it last night. No way I was asking my husband for help. He’d probably rather throw me out butt ass naked than help me get dressed anyway. I had no doubt he was on the other side of the door counting the minutes until he could toss me outside of his suite and carry on with his life.

  Just one little problem. We were married. I’d never thought I’d get married one day and divorced the next, but it seemed that’s what would happen. No way he’d ever want to stay married to me, and why would I want to stay married to him? He seemed like an asshole, even if my splotchy memory said otherwise.

  Oh, right. Multiple orgasms and I’d get to look at that killer body every day. I think I would definitely get the better end of the deal; although, I would be happy to support his musical endeavors, and maybe one day he’d make it big. Something told me I shouldn’t bring that up though. No, it was better to make a quick exit and get back to my room. I hopped and twisted until I finally zipped the dress. Now I just needed to find the little purse I’d been carrying last night. It only had my ID, a little cash, and my room key in it, but I wasn’t leaving without it.

  I cracked the bathroom door open and peered outside. He sat on the bed, his jeans hastily pulled on and not fastened, his head cradled in his hands. That spiky hair of his was making my fingers itch; I wanted to touch it so bad. Had I run my fingers through it last night? More pieces were coming back to me, but hell if I could put the whole thing together.

  He looked up and scanned my body from head to toe.

  “I’m just going to find my purse, and I’ll leave.”

  I bent down to look under the bed and his long, strong fingers wrapped around my wrist. “We need to talk.”

  “I’m registered under the name Honeysuckle Thorn. Just leave the divorce papers with the front desk and I’ll sign them.”

  “Stop. Please.”

  I focus on those amazing green eyes of his as he released me.

  “I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I remember last night. Most of it. I’m sorry I accused you of drugging me. I was drunker than I’d like to admit, but I knew what I was doing last night. It just took me a few minutes to remember everything this morning.”

  “I meant what I said. Get the divorce papers and I’ll sign them.”

  He reached and tugged me onto the bed beside him, his fingers toying with mine. Those callused fingertips wreaked havoc on my body, and I wished I could remember more details of last night. He had to have rocked my world, but I was still only getting flashes of what happened. It was like a strobe light flashing in my brain with images here and there. Like a puzzle, I needed to put together.

  “Honey, I’m just going to come right out and say this, okay?”

  I nodded, preparing myself for the worst.

  “I don’t want a divorce.”

  I think I just hallucinated. “What?”

  “I want to stay married. To you. Before you run the other direction as fast as you can, which I totally wouldn’t blame you considering my reputation, I’d like to propose a trial marriage for a period of one year. If you don’t want to remain married to me after that, I’ll help you get settled wherever you want to go.”

  “Help me get settled?” My brow furrowed. What was he talking about?

  He gave me a funny look. “Do you remember who I am?”

  “No.”

  “Jace Devayne.”

  He stared at me expectantly, but the name meant nothing to me. I vaguely remembered him telling me his name last night and seeing it when we signed the marriage certificate. Unfortunately, the scenes of the wedding were becoming all too clear, and it was a horror I’d rather forget. I went from a gorgeous wedding I’d planned for four months, to an Elvis impersonator in Vegas. How far the mighty have fallen.

  “You have no fucking clue who I am, do you?” he asked incredulously.

  “Am I supposed to?”

  “Ever heard of Fierce Seduction?”

  “The rock band? I think I’ve heard a few of their songs on the radio. What does that have to do with anything?”

  He shook his head, a bemused smile curving his lips.

  “Honey, you’re now Mrs. Devayne. As in, you’re married to the guitarist of Fierce Seduction.”

  My eyes widened, and my heart gave a kick. When he’d said he was a musician, I’d just assumed he meant he was playing local bars or whatnot. It never occurred to me that he would be even more famous than me. Not that I had a swelled head and thought I was hot shit, but I had landed on the number one spot on the New York Times bestseller list four times, the USA Today bestseller list over a dozen times, and my books were carried in bookstores across the country and had been translated into three languages. My bank account was very well padded.

  “So, what do we do now?” I asked softly. “I’ve never been married to a rock star before. Or married to anyone for that matter.”

  “Do you live here in Vegas?” he asked.

  “No, I rent an apartment in San Diego. I was here for a conference that ended yesterday. I wasn’t going to come, but my previous plans fell through. What does that matter? You can’t be serious about staying married for a year. We don’t know anything about one another, except that we were incredibly drunk last night.”

  The look in his eyes said he was dead serious.

  “Do you have a job you’d be leaving behind?” he asked.

  “I work from home.”

  It smarted that he thought I should know his name, but he hadn’t recognized mine. Of course, rock gods probably didn’t read erotic romance novels. Hell, I wasn’t sure if he read at all, unless it was a piece of music, although he seemed intelligent. I must have seen something in him last night to agree to such a crazy idea. Unless I’d gotten a glimpse of his cock before we tied the knot, because it had been impressive enough that would have made any woman marry him. I’d heard horror stories of women waking up married in Vegas after a night of too much drinking, but I’d never thought I’d be one of them.

  “So, here’s what I propose. You come live with me in Malibu, for the period of one year, and if you don’t fall in love with me during that time, or if we just can’t make it work for whatever reason, then we’ll go our separate ways. I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”

  I couldn’t stifle the bubble of hysterical laughter. He’d compensate me? My bank account had six figures in it, nearly seven. I might not be rock star rich, but I was holding my own.

  “I can’t just walk away from my apartment. Do you know how hard it is to find a place in San Diego? Two minutes after you call about an apartment, it’s gone because someone beat you there.”

  “I’ll pay for your lease, and you can keep the apartment. But if we’re still married in a year, if you don’t want to leave me, then we’ll let the apartment go. Deal?”

  This was crazy. Completely insane.

  “Did you do drugs while I was in the bathroom?” I asked. His eyes didn’t seem dilated.

  “Honey, I’m not on drugs. I think we can seriously make this work. Look, I thought you were hot as fuck last night when I saw you sitting at the bar
, and it’s obvious we have off the charts chemistry. I’ve never fucked a woman so thoroughly my dick was sore the next day.”

  My cheeks warmed.

  “I know it’s scary, waking up married to a stranger. If you aren’t ready for sex right now, I can wait. But I want to try to make this marriage work.”

  I could see why a woman would want to stay with him, but I didn’t understand what he was getting out of it. I remembered the multiple orgasms from last night, and that alone made his offer tempting. It had been a really long time since a man had ever made me come like that.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I’m a major fuck up. I’ve fucked every woman who ever threw herself at me since we made it big last year, and even the ones before that. My reputation is not the best, and I’d like to change that. I think being married to a classy woman like you could be just what my image needs.” He grinned. “And again, off the charts smoking hot sex. You’re the best I’ve ever had, baby.”

  All the reasons I should grab my stuff and run for the door ran through my head. But what if I didn’t? What if I stayed? I’d been prepared to spend the rest of my life with a guy I’d known a year, and it had been a dismal failure. Maybe I needed to shake things up a bit and see how things went with the rock star. If all else failed, the incredible sex would be excellent inspiration for my work. Maybe he’d even be willing to try a few things I’d been curious about.

  “What kind of marriage are we talking about? The kind where you still fuck around when you’re on tour?” I asked.

  “No. It would just be you and me, baby. I’d be one hundred percent faithful to you, and I’d expect the same. I want a real marriage. The kind where we fight and have hot makeup sex; the kind where we take care of each other when one of us sick; the kind where I bring you coffee when you’re working, and you fuck my brains out after a concert.”

  “Anything else?”

  His expression darkened for a moment. “No kids. Don’t fuck around and get pregnant on purpose. That shit is the fastest way to get your ass booted out of my house and a quick visit from my lawyer.”