Basically, he’s doing everything but looking at me.
It’s painfully obvious what’s happening.
I just wish he’d get it over and done with.
I bind my hands together in front of me.
Finally, he turns to look at me, and part of me wishes he hadn’t because it hurts to look at him.
All the unsaid words are in his clear blue eyes.
My heart starts to ache.
Unlinking my fingers, I wrap my arms around my stomach. I wet my dry lips with my tongue and knowingly nod my head. “You’re leaving.”
He’s staring at me. Time seems to stretch out, dragging on, before he finally confirms what I already know. “Yes.”
That one simple word.
Yes.
I’ve never been hit before. But I’m pretty sure this is how it would feel if someone punched me in the stomach.
I actually wince at the ache I feel in my abdomen.
And it’s stupid. I’m stupid. This isn’t a surprise. It was always coming. He was always going back to LA.
Why the hell are my eyes watering?
I blink back the tears, ignoring the burn in my throat.
“Stevie—” He steps toward me, but I lift a hand, stopping him.
“It’s fine. I mean, we both knew this wasn’t forever, right?” I grab hold of my ponytail. Wrapping it around my hand, I tug on it to direct the pain away from my heart to my head. “So, when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
That I’m not prepared for. I thought I’d have a couple of days to come to terms with it.
But … tomorrow.
God … it hurts.
No. It’s fine.
This is good. Rip the Band-Aid off.
I’m fine.
“Stevie—fuck. This isn’t—”
“It’s fine! Tomorrow is good.” My voice sounds abnormally bright and high-pitched. It must be clear as day to him that I’m close to the breaking point.
I mean, there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. And we had a good run, right? It’s been … fun.
Fun? What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s been the best time of my life, being with him. And I currently feel like someone just uppercut me in the heart. And that’s all I’ve got.
He’s staring at me. I can see the indecision in his eyes. In a way, it’s good to know I’m not completely alone in this. That it is hard for him too.
But he’s the one leaving you.
My sneaky subconscious rears her ugly head.
I hate that my mind does that.
Puts doubt into what I know.
Because he does have a life in LA. Just like I have a life here.
I can’t expect him to give that up for me. Just like he couldn’t expect me to give my life up here for him.
“That’s what the phone call was about?”
His eyes sweep the floor before coming back to meet mine. They are the brightest I’ve ever seen them. They remind me of the blue fire you see on a Bunsen burner.
“Zane … the VP at the label. That’s who called. I’m expected back. The album … we’ve a month before recording. The songs aren’t written. The boys write some … but predominantly, I write them. I have to …” He sighs, a sad sound. “I have to go home.”
“I know.” I nod, still fighting back those fucking tears.
God, I need to get the hell out of here. I can’t cope with the way I’m feeling right now. It hurts too much to be around him. I need some space to clear my head, and then I’ll be fine.
“Okay … so …” I’m blindly reaching back, trying to find the door handle. “I … have … some stuff to do.” Got it. Thank you, Jesus. I need to get out of here before I break down and do something stupid, like beg him to stay. “I guess … I’ll catch up with you later. Before you leave.”
I’m out of that door and closing it behind me and running back down the stairs. I’m out of the house and in my car. I back out of the driveway and hit Call on my phone.
Pen’s voice fills my car, “What’s up, chica?”
At the sound of her voice, I burst out crying.
“Stevie?” She sounds worried.
“God. Sorry, Pen. I’m just …” I sniffle, wiping my face with my sleeve. “Storm’s leaving. He’s going home. I’m being stupid. I know I am. I knew this was coming. I just … it hurts, Pen. More than I expected.”
“Where are you?”
“In my car.”
“I’m at home. I’ll be waiting with alcohol. What level of alcohol are we talking here—beer, wine, or vodka?”
“Tequila.”
“Tequila.” Pause. “Okay. But I’m out of lemons. I’ll go to the store. It’ll take me two minutes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go. I’ve got a couple of stops to make first before I come over.”
There are some cigarette butts that need picking up from the roadside. Tossed there by a rock star in a Maserati.
Sounds like there’s a joke in there somewhere. Something about my heart getting tossed out of his car too.
Or maybe that isn’t a joke.
Maybe it’s just the truth.
It’s close to two hours ago since Stevie practically ran out of here. I’ve been kicking around the room, unsure of what to do.
I wanted to go after her, but what would I have said? Don’t leave. I know I’m leaving soon. But don’t leave.
Basically, there was fuck all I could say, so I had to let her go.
So, I’m here, sitting, listening to music, like I always do when I feel like this …
Sad. Upset. Hurt. Confused.
All of the above and more.
I’m trying to figure out what to do.
But there aren’t many options …
I stay here. But that means, I leave the band, leave the guys. And I just can’t do that.
I leave and ask Stevie to do long-distance. Which is shit and I’d hate it.
I ask her to come to LA with me … which doesn’t feel fair. She has a life and family here, and I’d be asking her to leave that for me.
Basically, whichever way I go, I’m screwed.
Guns N’ Roses have just started singing “Don’t Cry” when a knock comes on the door. It’s not a quiet knock. It’s determined.
Stevie.
I’m off that bed and pulling open the door a second later.
“Stevie, I—”
My words are cut off when her body and mouth collide with mine.
She literally jumps me.
And it takes me zero seconds to respond back.
My arms go around her. Grabbing her thighs, I pick her up. Kick the door shut and press her back against it.
And I kiss her. I kiss her desperately. I kiss her with every-fucking-thing I feel for her. Which is a lot.
But an alarm is also going off in the back of my head.
Then, I register the taste of alcohol on her tongue.
I pull back, looking into her gorgeous eyes. They’re dilated but from lust, not liquor.
I don’t think she’s drunk, but still, I ask, “Have you been drinking?”
She gives me a look. “A shot of tequila and a beer over an hour ago.”
“Please tell me you’re not drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Thank fuck.” I slam my mouth back down on hers. I really didn’t feel like being the good guy right now.
My hand drags up her body, taking her shirt with it.
She lifts her arms, and I pull it off, tossing it aside.
Reaching back, I grab hold of my own shirt and pull it off over my head.
Stevie’s already removed her bra.
We’re naked from the waist up, and I’m as hard as stone.
Kissing her again, I carry her over to the bed and gently lay her down on the mattress, supporting my weight with my hand.
I lick a path around her nipple before taking it into my mouth, knowing how sensitive she is there.
Her hips lift, pressing against me, seeking contact.
I kiss my way down her stomach, stopping when I reach her jean shorts.
I pop the button on them, drag down the zipper, and remove them along with her panties in one go.
And then she’s here, naked, on my bed, and I have no fucking clue how I’m going to walk away from her tomorrow.
Wasting no time, I drop to my knees and bury my head between her legs.
I run my nose up the small landing strip of hair on her pussy, and I inhale deeply.
I fucking love the way she smells, the way she tastes.
Like she’s mine.
Parting her lips with my fingers, opening her up to me, I run my tongue up her center.
She cries out, hips jerking, but I hold her still with a hand on her hip and suck her clit into my mouth.
She grabs hold of my hair, tugging on it, and I fucking love it.
I push a finger into her and then another. I slowly fuck her with them, paying special attention to her clit.
She’s panting and writhing and so fucking tight around my fingers.
She’s always responsive to me, but her orgasm comes even quicker this time, surprising both of us. Her muscles clamping down on my fingers, I feel her orgasm against my tongue. She cries out my name, and I promise myself that it won’t be the only time I hear it tonight.
I might have to leave in the morning.
But tonight, she’s mine.
I rock back on my heels, wiping my mouth on my hand, as she sits up, resting on her elbows.
Her hair is tousled, mouth swollen from my kisses.
She looks beautiful. And it fucking hurts.
Sitting up further, she comes to me.
There are no words spoken.
It’s not like us.
Usually, we have a lot to say to each other.
Reaching for me, she slips her hand around the back of my neck and kisses me, and I’m all about that.
I suck on her tongue, and she moans. The sound vibrates through me.
My hands go to her tits, but she stops me.
“Stand up,” is all she says.
My legs are fucking shaking as I stand.
Stevie unfastens my jeans and pulls them down, taking my boxers with them. I kick them aside.
And we’re both naked.
We’ve been naked together before, but something about this time just feels different. Knowing this is the last time I’ll be with her makes everything seem…more.
More important. More pronounced.
She takes my cock in her hand. She’s looking up at me when she leans forward and slides my dick between her lips.
I almost come out of my skin.
I’ve watched her suck me before. Of course I have. I’m a guy.
But she’s never looked up at me in this way before.
Stevie’s shy. And it’s like, in this moment, all her shyness has gone away.
Her hand is wrapped around the base of my dick, her mouth covering the rest, eyes on mine, as she jacks me and sucks me. And I feel like I’m going to fucking die.
I can feel my orgasm building already. My balls tightening up, the tingle at the base of my spine.
I grip her head with my hand.
And she pulls away.
Her hand and mouth gone.
I watch as she climbs back onto the bed, sitting on her knees, her hair down and loose around her shoulders.
She’s like every single wet dream I’ve ever had.
“Do you have a condom?” she says the words so softly that I wouldn’t have heard if I hadn’t been paying close attention to her, like I always do.
Honestly, I almost come right then on the spot.
I knew this time was different. I just didn’t know it was going in this direction.
We haven’t had sex yet. We’ve done everything but. And I just figured, with me leaving tomorrow, that it wouldn’t happen.
But it seems Stevie has other plans.
“You want to have sex?”
She looks me in the eye. “No. I want you to fuck me.”
My heart sinks. I know what she’s doing, and I’m not down for it.
She’s trying to detach herself from the situation, so she won’t feel. I’ve done it a hundred times before.
“No. I won’t fuck you.” I step up to the bed and take her face in my hands. I stare down at her. “I’ll have sex with you. Make fucking love to you. But I won’t fuck you, babe.”
Her eyes close. She’s hiding her feelings from me, and I hate it.
I hate this whole fucking situation, but I don’t know how to make it better.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes open. I can see the glisten of pain in them.
It makes my chest feel like it’s cracking wide open.
I lean down and press my lips to hers. “I’m sorry,” I say against them.
“Don’t, Storm … please.”
I hear the tremble in her voice, so I do as she asked, and I don’t say the words I want to say—I’m sorry I have to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to when the time comes. I wish things were different.
“Just be with me tonight,” she whispers. “I want to feel you inside me.”
God, I want that too.
But, honestly, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
It feels hard now, knowing I’m leaving her.
What the hell will it feel like once I know what it’s like to be inside her?
But I also know I’ll regret it forever if I don’t.
I press my forehead to hers, and looking into her eyes, I say, “Okay.”
I get a condom from my wallet, and when I turn back, Stevie is still waiting on her knees on the bed, where I left her.
Her eyes on mine.
I climb onto the bed on my knees, facing her. I put the condom on the mattress beside us. Then, I cup her head in my hands. And I kiss her. Deep and wet and wanting.
There’s no finesse or thought here. I’ve handed myself over to my feelings.
Our bodies are molded together. My dick pressed up against her stomach. Her tits crushed against my chest. My hands holding her head, angling it, so I kiss her deeper. But still, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I release a hand from her head and run it down her back, over her ass. I slip two fingers inside her pussy from behind.
She’s soaking wet for me. My dick pulses between us.
I fuck her with my fingers the way I’m going to with my cock.
She’s moaning and bearing down on my hand. She’s ready for me.
I guide her down to her back.
Grabbing the condom, I rip it open and make quick work of putting it on.
I don’t take my eyes off her the whole time, and she doesn’t take her eyes off what I’m doing.
When the condom is on, her eyes finally lift to mine.
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.
This is it.
I’m going to make love to her.
I’ve never made love to anyone in my life before.
I’ve fucked plenty of women.
But no feelings have ever come into sex for me.
All I have for Stevie is feelings.
Too many to handle.
I move over her as she parts her legs. I fit myself between them.
Then, I take her face in my hands, and I kiss her. Because I can. Because I won’t be able to soon.
I swallow back the ache that thought brings, and I focus on the now.
The feel of her beneath me. The apple scent in her hair. The way she tastes. The little moans she makes when we kiss.
I move my hand to her tit, cupping it. I drag my thumb over her nipple.
Her hips lift. Her pussy pressing against my cock, seeking it.
“Please, Storm. I need you,” she whispers.
I run my hand down her side. Taking hold of her thigh, I lift her leg, opening her up for me.
Her eyes are closed. I want them on
mine when I slide inside her. I want to remember the way she looks in this moment. “Look at me,” I say, my voice commanding.
She blinks open her eyes, staring into mine.
I pull my hips back. Then, I plunge my dick partway inside of her.
She cries out at the feel of me.
She’s small, and I’m big. If I went all the way in one thrust, I’d hurt her. I might not be able to stop this situation from hurting either one of us. But I will never hurt her intentionally.
God, I’m not even all the way in, and she feels so fucking good.
With each retreat I make, I inch more of my cock inside her. Until I’m fully in. And it’s everything. She’s everything.
We’re both gasping and panting.
And she’s so fucking tight. Squeezing me like a fist.
“Fuck, Stevie. You’re so tight.”
Closing my eyes, I press my forehead to hers, trying not to come. But she’s not making it easy for me. She hooks her legs around my back, increasing the pressure on my dick.
I groan.
It’s pleasure-pain.
“Just give me a minute, babe. You feel so fucking good. I don’t want to come like a preteen.”
She laughs, and it’s the best fucking sound I’ve heard all night.
My eyes flash open to hers. And finally. Fucking finally, I see her in there.
My Stevie.
Not the Stevie who’s hurting because I have to leave.
But my Stevie. The happy, beautiful, laughing Stevie.
And fuck it if I come in three seconds. I don’t care. I’m going to do this to her all over again tonight. Multiple times if possible.
My control snaps, and I start moving, pumping into her.
“Yes! God, Storm!” she cries out.
I lower my head, capturing a nipple between my teeth and give it a gentle tug.
She cries out again, “Harder! More!”
So, I give her more. I rear back onto my heels. Grab her hips and start pumping my dick in and out of her.
And the view from up here is like nothing I’ve seen before.
Her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. Her face and body flushed.
My dick sliding in and out of her.
I press my thumb to her clit, circling it.
Her eyes are on mine, glazed with lust. She’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now.
“Storm … please … yes … I’m going to … come!” The last word screams out of her.
Finding Storm Page 19