by Selena Kitt
“A little less cloudy.”
“How about this?” His hands slid around to grab my ass, his tongue searing across my abdomen, licking his way up to my left nipple.
“Definitely clearing up,” I murmured.
“Umm, how about this?” He grabbed me and tossed me, making me squeal and knocking my breath completely out of me. We wrestled on the bed until he pinned me, my wrists clasped in his hands above my head. His towel was gone, and his aim was impeccable. His cock slid into me and I cried out.
“Clear yet?”
Oh my God, that look. This man owned me. And he fucking knew it. Smug little bastard.
“Crystal.” I bit his shoulder as he started to move, giving him my own self-satisfied grin when he swore and pulled back to scowl at me.
“Brat.” He kept my wrists clasped in one of his big, calloused hands, in spite of my feeble attempts at escape, sliding the other one down my body to grip my ass. “I’ll teach you to bite me.”
“You will?” I snapped my teeth at him, teasing. “Where?”
“Wherever I want.” He nipped my earlobe, making me squeal and laugh, but by then he’d grabbed a condom, fisted it on, and he was fucking me.
By then, I wasn’t laughing anymore.
He fucked me so thoroughly I forgot how to think. His body was long, hard, and lean, his hips so expert and experienced in those damned, possessive little circles, I was kind of afraid of how they’d gotten that way. Like his guitar skills, his sexual prowess came from hours and hours of practice, I was sure. Not that it mattered. Six orgasms and one mind-blowing G-spot climax later—at least, I thought that was what that was, since no one had ever found my G-spot before—I was mentally thanking every woman on the planet who had done her part to make Tyler Cook the sex god he was.
It didn’t matter how many women he’d had before, because now he had me, and for now, I had him. If nothing else, I was good at living in the moment, and this one was perfection. Nothing was better than watching Tyler finally give in to his own pleasure, hearing the low growl of his surrender in my ear as I milked his cock with the final shuddering spasm of my own climax. It made me crave that moment like a drug, a hit I just couldn’t get enough of.
I sighed, already missing him when he slid out of me and slipped off the condom, expertly knotting it before tossing it toward the trash can next to the bed. I couldn’t keep my hands off him, running the flat of my palms over the hard planes of his back as he stretched out on his stomach on the big bed beside me. I told myself to memorize this man, his body, his lazy smile and sexy, half-lidded look. I would live on this moment for the rest of my life.
“Is there anything to do in this town?” Tyler complained, his face buried in a pillow. “I’m bored.”
“Sadly, I’m afraid you’ve done it all already,” I told him truthfully, my fingers moving through the thick mop of his hair.
After all, this was Detroit. We didn’t have an amusement park. We did have a zoo, but most of the exhibits were closed in the winter. Besides, I found the zoo depressing. I couldn’t think of one place to take him that would alleviate his boredom.
“I’ve got the entire day off.” He rolled to his back and found my hand under the covers, linking our fingers. “Do you know how rare that is? I feel like I should be doing something.”
“You just did me.” I grinned when he shot me a dark, lusty look.
“I could spend all day doing you and it wouldn’t be enough.” He reached over, grabbed my hip, and rolled me to face him. Now we were belly to belly and we both needed another shower. “I want to take you out somewhere nice. Show you off.”
“I’m no prize.”
“You underestimate yourself, Katie Monroe.” He rubbed my nose with his. My mother used to call those Eskimo kisses. “Where can we go?”
“Somewhere nice?” I bit my lip, thinking. “How nice?”
“You know, a go on a date sort of nice. A place Mr. Responsible couldn’t afford to take you.”
“Oh, that kind of nice.” I laughed. “Do you have a passport?”
“We don’t have time to go to Paris.” He actually looked disappointed by that.
“No, but Windsor is right across the river.”
“Let me find out.” He brightened, reaching back for his cell phone on the night table.
“You don’t know if you have a passport?” I asked as he sat, flipping through the numbers.
“I don’t know if I even have a driver’s license anymore.”
“Who are you calling?” I peeked over his shoulder and saw the name Celeste fill the screen.
“Our tour angel.” Tyler glanced back at me, smiling at my knitted, jealous brow.
“Tour angel?”
“Trouble’s assistant,” he explained. “Well, really, she’s Rob’s… Celeste? ... uh… last night… he left with some girl… Rob’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”
So, Sabrina and Rob were probably still together. That thought made me smile.
“Look, Celeste, stop with the interrogation. I just have a question. Do I have a passport?” Tyler asked. “Right. Well, can I get it? ... How long? ... Yeah, okay, if he calls me, I’ll call you.”
“Well?”
“She’s sending someone up with it.” He put his phone down and turned around to tickle me. I giggled and squirmed under him as he nuzzled and scratched at my neck with his beard stubble. “So where am I taking you?”
“Little steakhouse on the other side of the river called Nero’s.” I put my arms around his neck. “I bugged Mr. Responsible to take me, but he said it was overpriced, especially since the dollar is so weak these days. We might as well be spending monopoly money over there.”
“Mm!” He lifted his head, licking his lips. “Steak sounds good.”
“Ughhhh how can you think about food?” I pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. For being so lean, he was surprisingly solid. “I’m still queasy.”
“Well now that we’ve got my hangover cure in you, we can move on to the next course of treatment.” Tyler bounced up off the bed.
“What’s that?”
“Some more veg.” He grabbed the baggie of weed that had been delivered to the door last night.
I looked askance at him. I drank on the weekends with friends and smoked when someone had weed, but I didn’t go out of my way to find it, nor did I do it all the time. It was hard to be a bad girl, I discovered, when you were engaged to Mr. Responsible. Which had kind of been the point, I suppose, if I was admitting things to myself. But now he’d cut me loose and I was pretty much just dangling by a hair, waiting to fall, as usual, to my doom. I figured I might as well enjoy the ride down.
It was going to happen eventually, I realized, watching Tyler light the joint he’d rolled, so why not go out in style? I couldn’t think of a better way to ruin my life than spending it getting drunk, high, and blowing all my money with Tyler Cook. It would be a story I could tell my grandkids one day. I wouldn’t tell my kids of course—no sense in them knowing what a wild, wanton slut their mother was. But my grandkids? By then I’d be too old to care.
I was still in a towel, feeling nice and buzzed and not nauseous at all anymore, and Tyler and I were naming all the toys we could remember playing with from our childhood—Polly Pockets, Furbies and Bratz dolls for me and Gameboy, Tamagotchis and Beyblades for him—when someone knocked on the hotel room door.
“I got it.” Tyler grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on, walking barefoot into the living room area to answer it. I smoked the joint all by myself while I waited, feeling increasingly mellow, as I listened to another conversation about Rob and his whereabouts.
“He didn’t come back here last night at all?” the woman asked.
“Sorry, Celeste, I haven’t seen him since the meet and greet last night after the show.” Tyler didn’t sound concerned, but the woman, Celeste, did. She sounded downright panicked. “He went out to the bar with some girl. I’m sure he’s just somewher
e sleeping it off.”
“It’s not like him...” Celeste’s voice trailed off. “You, I expect to chase around town if we’ve got a break. But Rob?”
“Thanks.” Tyler laughed, and I heard the bitterness in it. I wondered if she did. Everyone expected Tyler to fuck up, apparently. Kind of like me, only on a grander scale. I supposed if I had more money, I’d get into far more trouble. Poverty was just helping me along, apparently.
“Oh, come on, Ty, don’t pretend I don’t have to babysit you on tour. Do I smell weed?”
“I got room service.”
“Ty, please don’t make me have a talk with the roadies again.” She sighed. “You know what Rob said. If anyone gets caught giving you anything like that...”
“I’m a big boy, Celeste.” Tyler laughed. “I’m wearing my big boy pants and everything.”
“You know I’m just looking out for you.”
“Right. I know. Thanks, Mom.”
“Tyler...”
He sighed.
“I’m fine, Celeste. I’m clean,” he insisted. “A little smoke isn’t gonna gateway me back into heroin, all right?”
Heroin? Jesus Christ.
“Is there someone here?” she asked, sniffing the air like she could scent me.
“A girl.”
“Oh Lord.” She groaned. “Did you use a condom?”
“Five of them,” he informed her smugly. I could hear the grin in his voice and I actually blushed, even though I was in the next room. “Would you like to inspect the garbage?”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” She sighed again. I had a feeling this woman had cause to sigh a lot. “Listen, Rob was supposed to meet with the Detroit Trouble fan club downstairs at one. Do you think you could fill in?”
“They’re going to be pissed when there’s no Rob Burns.”
“Why do you think I’m looking for him?” she snapped.
“Because he’s your meal ticket?”
“Tyler!” She actually gasped out loud.
“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” he replied, contrite. “Don’t give me that look. I said I was sorry. Come here. Hey… you’re really worried, aren’t you?”
“He just doesn’t do this, Ty.” Her voice sounded muffled and I knew he was hugging her. “Something’s different. Wrong. I don’t know.”
“Listen, I’ll call him on his cell,” Tyler soothed. “He’ll answer for me.”
“Would you? Please?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Now cheer the fuck up. Want to come smoke some weed with us?”
“As tempting as that offer is, I have to stay sober and run this little ship. I’m missing three roadies, on top of not being able to locate our lead singer. I swear I’m going to put a tracking device on him.”
“He’d probably let you.”
“But not you, eh, Tyler?” She said this with a tone in her voice I was quite familiar with—that “what the hell am I going to do with you” sort of tone.
“Not me, baby.” He laughed, and it was genuine this time. “I’m wild and free.”
“Just don’t get too wild, all right? Promise me?”
“I promise,” he agreed. “Hey, can you send me up a nice dress? Something really sexy… and expensive. Designer. Something you would wear, only showing more skin.”
“What size?”
“She’s… about a six?” Tyler guessed. Then he called, “Katie?”
“Six!” I answered back.
“Bra size?” Celeste asked.
“32B,” I called, wincing. Had I really just called out my bra size in front of Tyler Cook?
“How perky,” Celeste remarked.
“You have no idea.” Tyler’s words actually make me blush.
“So, I’m assuming you’re going out?” Celeste asked. “With the passport and the dress?”
“The dress is for her—but yeah. I’m taking her to dinner at a steakhouse in Windsor.”
“You taking the limo?”
“Well I can’t drive.” He snorted. “Shit, will they let me across the border?”
“It’s a sealed record, Ty. They won’t even see it.”
“I meant the possession charge.”
“Oh, I forgot about that.” Celeste sighed again. Poor lady. She was just Dorothy trying to lead her charges to see the wizard, and they kept getting in trouble—ha—along the way. Heroin and possession and sealed records, oh my. “Yeah, you did your community service, you’ll be fine. Just please, stay out of trouble.”
“Too late, I’m already in Trouble.” Tyler snickered.
“That never gets old for you, does it?”
“Nope.”
“Call Rob for me?” she reminded him.
“I will. Send up that dress, yeah?”
“Sure.”
I heard the door close and then Tyler was back.
“So that was the tour angel?” I asked, looking at him, the way those jeans liked to ride low on his hips, just like me.
“Rob’s assistant, yeah.” He flopped on the bed beside me. “Hey, give me some of that, greedy girl.”
“I feel a lot better.” I handed over the joint. “And I’m hungry now.”
“I bet.” He smiled, taking a long hit and holding it a while. Then, blowing out smoke, he said, “I’m getting you a dress.”
“I heard. Thanks.” I smiled and snuggled up to him, putting my head on his chest. “You didn’t have to.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” He offered the joint to me, but I shook my head. “I wanted to.”
“So, there’s some fan club thing?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He shrugged. “You can come though, if you want.”
“Sure, why not?” I couldn’t help thinking that, this time yesterday, that was me. A fan, on the outside, looking in.
“Hang on, I told Celeste I’d call Rob.”
This time I took the joint when he handed it to me, enjoying the sweet, heady feeling as I took a drag and watched him call the lead singer of his band.
“Nothing?” I asked when Tyler sighed.
“Voice mail,” he replied, talking into the phone. “Hey, bruh, it’s Ty. Celeste is about to have a coronary. You were supposed to meet with your fan club at one. You coming? Call me back.”
“What time is it?” I had no idea, but from the light streaming in the windows, I knew it wasn’t morning anymore.
“Eleven.”
“Time for elevensies!” I exclaimed, handing him what was left of the joint—we’d smoked almost all of it.
“Looking for your second breakfast, my little hobbit?” He licked his fingers and pinched off the lit end. He didn’t even wince, but with the callouses he had from playing guitar, he probably had no feeling left there anyway.
“I can just go raid the vending machine. It’s time for Cheetos!” I grabbed my jeans and pulled them on, leaving my very, very dirty panties on the floor. Tyler watched me pull a t-shirt over my head—no bra—and shake out my damp hair. I grabbed my purse. “Coming?”
“Sure.” We walked down to the end of the hall together.
“Crap, I don’t have any cash.”
“I’m buying.” I pulled several dollars out of my purse, feeding them into the machine. “Cheetos… Doritos, Cool Ranch, of course...”
“I like the original,” Tyler said and shrugged when I gave him a look. “I’m a purist, what can I say?”
I pushed A4 for nacho cheese Doritos.
“Oh! Oreos!” I pushed that button too, feeding more money into the machine.
“We’re gonna need milk.” He pointed to the beverage machine beside the snack one. There was actually milk in little plastic bottles in there, white and chocolate, along with the soda and Gatorade.
“You get milk.” I handed over two more dollars.
“Big spender.” He grinned.
We ran back to the room, our arms loaded with munchies, and dumped it all onto the sofa. Then we sat on the floor at the coffee table to eat it all. I was starving, althou
gh it was hard to believe, considering how hung over I’d been when I woke up. Tyler had actually cured me, the bastard.
“Where you going?” I asked as he got up and headed to the kitchen. There was a working kitchen with a full-size oven, refrigerator, even a dishwasher.
“Glasses.” He returned with two small ones, wide enough to dunk Oreos.
“You are a brilliant man,” I said, pouring milk into the two cups.
“I know,” he replied, dunking his Oreo in milk and then popping the whole thing in his mouth.
“What are you doing?” I cried. “That’s not how you eat it!”
“Yesh it ish.” He licked dark colored Oreo cookie crumbs off his lips.
“Nooo.” I grabbed an Oreo. “First, you twist off the cookie. Then, you lick all the cream off...”
I demonstrated, and he watched like I was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
“I like licking the cream.” His eyes glittered as he watched me lick the last of the creamy center of the cookie wafer.
“Then, you put them back together like this.” I showed him, pressing the two leftover circles, making one unit. “And then, and only then, do you dunk.”
I dunked it, counting out loud, “One, two, three...”
Then I popped it into my mouth and chewed happily.
“That is a proper way to eat an Oreo,” I informed him.
“Thank you, Miss Manners.” He grinned, opening a bag of Cheetos. “God, I missed junk food.”
“I would think that’s all you eat, on the road.” I couldn’t stop eating Oreos. Addictive little buggers. Especially when you were high.
“Are you kidding me?” Tyler groaned and rolled his eyes. “It’s all juicing and wheat germ and hummus. Not that I don’t like hummus, but my God, just once in a while, a man wants a steak. Or some Doritos.”
He’d polished off his little bag of Cheetos and reached for the nacho cheese Doritos.
“So, it’s vegetarian on the road?” I made a face. I grew up in the Midwest. We were the meat and potatoes types, and it usually showed around the hips and the abdomen. I’d been lucky so far, I was pretty active and my metabolism high. Sabrina complained constantly that I could eat anything and not gain weight.