The Rock Chamber Boys : The Complete Series

by Daisy Allen

  I’m not sure how to respond. Which seems wrong considering words are supposed to be my field. How do I tell him it was a life-changing experience, without telling him that I don’t really know how to go on from here? That’s how life-changing it was.

  “It…It was really great.” It sounds so lame to me, I almost laugh.

  “Oh, okay. Good,” he responds, a frown fluttering over his brow.

  Which, of course it should. There was nothing just “really great” about the concert at all. But it seemed safe to leave it at that.

  “Mommy?”

  I hear Ben’s voice at the bus door and see him and Carrie, his nurse and nanny, step inside.

  “I’m so sorry, Emily, he wouldn’t go back to bed once he saw the light on in this bus. He said he just wanted to come say good night.”

  “It’s fine, thank you. Would you like to stay for some pizza? We’ve got plenty,” I say, pointing to the pizza boxes laid out on every surface. I hope she accepts; she’s been wonderful to Ben and it might be nice for her to have some adult company.

  “If you don’t mind,” she replies and closes the bus door behind her.

  “Of course we don’t, the more the merrier,” Jez smiles at her as he points to a recliner inviting her to sit down. I see Hailey nudge Marius out of the corner of my eye.

  “Can I stay too?” Ben asks, holding his blankie, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “Well, I guess you have to now!” I say to his excitement.

  “Really?”

  “Why not? You don’t have school tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Mommy!”

  “Come here, Ben, I’ve got something you’d really like,” Sebastian calls over to Ben, who wanders over in his pajamas, leaving Brad and me alone again.

  “So…”

  “So.”

  “I’m really pleased that your column’s done so well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I told you it’d be a good move for you.”

  My tongue feels like it’s welded to the roof of my mouth. This is ridiculous. I’ve never had trouble talking to Brad before, even in the weirdest of moments since we met up again. I cringe at the prospect that I’m starstruck. What’s changed?

  You, you idiot, my brain tells me, and I take a sip of my wine to shut it up. I can’t control myself around Brad at the best of times, let alone when I’m apparently becoming weak at the knees at the sight of him. Time to run.

  “Actually, Ben, maybe you should come back with me. Mommy’s tired and she’s going to get some sleep.”

  “Aw, Mommy!”

  “Hey, he can stay here. Have a sleepover with Auntie Cadence and me, whaddya think? We can set him on the couch and he can watch TV ALLL night!”

  “YAY!” Ben jumps up and down.

  “Thanks. Thanks for making me the evil monster if I say no.” I roll my eyes at Sebastian. “Fine. But be a good boy and do whatever Cadence and Sebastian tell you, okay? If he’s too much trouble, just give me a yell and I’ll come over and get him.”

  “I’ll be here too,” Carrie says and I smile at her in thanks. Jez beams at me too, which is a little weird.

  I ignore Brad’s eyes that I can feel following me and I leave the bus after giving Ben a hug and a good night kiss.

  I can’t look at him, I won’t. I’m not strong enough.

  I’d used exhaustion as an excuse to get away from Brad, but once I’m in the quiet of my bus, I’m suddenly so fatigued I can barely walk to my room.

  Once there, my dress falls off my body into a shimmering pool on the floor and I’m too tired to pick it up. I slide into the made bed—thank you Carrie—and turn onto my side, pulling the sheet up under my arm.

  The noise from the other bus is loud but comforting. I can hear the guys talking over the music, and now and then even Ben pipes up, and laughter follows.

  I close my eyes. And dream of Brad.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brad

  I’m crazy.

  I’m crazy to be doing this.

  I could get sued for this.

  Fuck that. I could be thrown in jail.

  Trying to talk myself out of it doesn’t seem to be doing any good though, and before I can stop myself, I pull her sheets aside and slide into the bed behind her.

  She stirs, but not into wakefulness.

  Just enough to press back and curve her body against mine.

  The moonlight streams through the window and caresses her cheek and runs down her jawline. Like out of a fucking romance novel. Not helping, moonlight.

  Oh, Emily, sweet, beautiful, fucking sexy as hell, Emily.

  Nothing’s changed and we’re eighteen again and all I want to do is make love to her.

  But I won’t. Not until she’s ready.

  For now, I’ll just lie here, her in my arms, and yes, my cock as hard as a baseball bat.

  But for now, that’ll do.

  That’s how much I want her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Emily

  There’s someone in bed with me.

  I think.

  I don’t know; I’m not quite awake enough yet.

  I move my arm to my waist, and yes, there’s definitely an arm there that’s not mine. It’s hairy. My arms are not hairy.

  I scream.

  The arm’s moved and the hand is over my mouth now. I try to scream louder.

  “It’s just me! It’s Brad!” The voice says right into my ear.

  I stop the third scream rising up my throat and try to focus on the face in the dark.

  “Brad? Oh, thank God,” I say, muffled by his hand.

  He lets go of me and I realize what’s happening.

  “Wait, BRAD! What the fuck are you doing in my bed? Get out!”

  He immediately jumps off the bed. Just as the disappointment rears.

  “I’m sorry. I was just—no.” He stops and even in the dark I can see his eyes are frantic and he grabs handfuls of his own hair, shaking his head. “Ugh, fuck the excuses. I…I JUST WANT TO BE WITH YOU, you insufferable, incorrigible woman!” he blurts out, holding out his empty hands.

  I feel myself blink and then say something ridiculous.

  “Er, yeah, that’ll do it. Ooh take me now, you sweet talker,” I mock, as a way to stall to get my bearings. I place my hands under my chin and flutter my eyelids at him, before rolling my eyes.

  “Ugh don’t do that! Don’t try to ignore the issue with your…annoying cuteness!” he growls at me, his face scrunched up into a frown that stretches from the tip of his hairline to the pointed end of his chin.

  “I wasn’t.” Yes, I was.

  “Annoying woman! We need to sort this out once and for all.”

  “I thought you said that ball was in my court!”

  “That was before I knew you don’t know how to hold a racket!”

  “Clever.” It actually was, witty fucker.

  He kneels down on the bed next to me, and I almost fall into the dip he makes. Pushing myself away from him, I try to ignore the image of me falling face-first into his lap.

  “Emily,” he says, calling me by my name, sounding more serious than I’ve ever heard him. I sit up and look him in the eyes, ready to listen. I know I owe him that. Whatever it is he wants to say, he’s proven that he’s got my best interests at heart.

  “I love you.”

  Okay. I didn’t expect that. “What?”

  “What? Like that’s a surprise?”

  No. Of course it’s not, because I love him too. And he knows it. But I can’t.

  “And don’t say you can’t.”

  Insightful fucker.

  He reaches over and takes my hand and I ignore the spark that runs up my arm.

  “Tell me, once and for all, why you can’t. I’ll listen. But you have to tell me.”

  I gently pull my hand from his. Because he deserves to know. He deserves to know that it’s not him, that despite the cliché, it really is me. It is that I just can’t…ca
n’t share. Can’t share him with anyone else. I never have wanted to, and I couldn’t live a life doing that.

  “Because, I love you too much to share you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the women! The groupies! The talk show hosts! The ex-girlfriends texting you in the middle of the night and you disappearing off with them”

  “Whoa whoa whoa, what?”

  “You know.”

  “I fucking hell do not. What ex-girlfriends? As far as I know, the only close thing I’ve ever had to an ex-girlfriend was you.”

  His insistence on denying it grates at me and I jump out of bed, ignoring the fact that I’m dressed only in a nightie and panties.

  “Brad! Stop. It’s bad enough that it happened, the least you can do is admit to it.”

  “Oh my God. You are insufferable. Pretend I don’t know. Humor me, what did I do?”

  “That night…that night, after we …after we had sex. You fell asleep, and all through the night you kept getting text messages from girls, girls I know you’d hooked up with, ‘Oh, Braddy, come see me, I’m home alone, blah blah blah.’ Then I wake up, and you’re not there. No note, no text. And the next thing I know, it’s three months later and you’re on tour, all over the news, pictured with a different girl every night!”

  “Oh my God, you’ve got to be kidding me, right?” He actually has the balls to look surprised to be hearing all this.

  “No. So, just…just stop. You broke my heat once already. I can’t have you do it again, Brad.”

  “But Butter, I didn’t. Oh my God, I didn’t, I swear. I left to go get us some coffees and croissants. Our hangover cure, remember? And when I came back, Silas was there, with his fucking phone with your message telling him to come over and get back together.”

  I shake my head at him, amazed he could be so stupid. So, I ask him.

  “How could you be so stupid? I never wanted to get back together with him. I wanted to talk to make sure he knew it was a clean break. That it was done. I didn’t want him hanging around trying to get back together. Because…I was in love with you, asshole. Not that it mattered. Not a word, really Brad? After everything we’d been to each other, I understand if after you’d fucked me you didn’t want me anymore, but we were friends for four years. And not a word.”

  Talking about it was a mistake. I’m looking at his face now, and all the pain is coming flooding back.

  He’s staring at me like he can’t understand the words coming out of my mouth. So then he adds some that have the same effect on me. “I sent you a text. I sent you a text telling you I’d run into Silas. And telling you, for fuck’s sake…I told you, I practically begged you to come see me before we went on tour.”

  “I didn’t get it,” I tell him. He wouldn’t lie about this, would he? What would be the point, after all this time?

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I pull away from him. All this time, I had thought that I was the one betrayed by him, I can’t believe he thought I’d done the same. How could we ever move on from this? So, I tell him, tell him what he should’ve known eight years ago.

  “Believe me. If I had gotten your message, I would have been there. Rain, hail, shine, or fucking tornado I would’ve been there, Brad. Hell, I would’ve gone with you.”

  “You didn’t want that. You’d said no to Silas.”

  “Yes, because it was Silas. He wasn’t you.”

  “Or maybe I wouldn’t have left,” he says, as if wishing he’d had the choice.

  “Then where would you be today?” I ask him softly.

  “Maybe with you.”

  And the revelation seems to hit us both, that’d we’d both royally fucked it up.

  He reaches across the bed and takes my hand in his. His voice is broken, soft. Each word kills me.

  “I’ve been walking around with a broken heart for eight years, Butter. Shattered. It killed me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I can only say it was the same for me.”

  “I didn’t know either. I would never have left your side for anyone. I don’t even remember getting those messages from those girls. I probably just deleted them. They didn’t mean anything to me. How could you have not known that?”

  “How could you not have known after that night that I’d never ever leave you…for Silas?”

  Neither of us have words that can explain our younger selves.

  “So.”

  “So.”

  “Maybe it’s better that you stayed,” Brad starts.

  “And maybe it’s better that you left,” I finish.

  “What now?”

  “I think, I think the universe was trying to tell us something. That it knows better than we do.” A single hot tear slides down my cheek. As much as I’d been fighting Brad, I hadn’t thought I’d have to say goodbye to the thought of us together again so soon.

  “Fuck the universe!” he says, and my breath catches.

  He pulls me against him, and his lips are finally against mine again.

  “Fuck the universe,” I mumble, repeating his words, my hands reaching up to brush through his hair, his face, and down his neck. I couldn’t stop now if I tried. And I won’t.

  “God, I could kiss you forever and not get tired of it,” he murmurs, his lips grazing against my neck.

  “You’re going to have to, because I’m going to want your mouth elsewhere,” I whisper to him, the moisture between my legs building just thinking of him moving his mouth there.

  “Fuck, did I just come?” he growls, his teeth biting into my shoulder.

  “Doesn’t matter if you did. I’ll just have to work harder to get you ready to fuck again with my mouth.”

  “Okay, that almost made me come, too. Shut your mouth, nymph.”

  I giggle as he pushes me onto the bed. I scuttle to the headboard, my legs stretched out in front of me.

  Brad watches me as I move, one hand unbuttoning his shirt as the other pulls the belt from its loops. He crawls onto the bed and slides his hands up my legs, pulling them up to bend at the knee, enveloping him. Before I realize what he’s doing, his hand slides down my inner thigh, and pushes aside my panties to slide a finger deep inside me.

  And it’s my turn to almost come on the spot.

  “Fuck…Brad,” I moan, my hips lifting off the bed.

  “God, I’ve waited so long to hear you say my name like that.”

  I feel his finger pull out of me, completely out. And I can’t help but push myself down toward him.

  “Easy, girl…don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

  I barely have a moment to reply before his finger is inside me again, this time deep, so deep his palm presses against my clit, sending a spasm through my body.

  “Oh, God. Yes.” The words fall from my mouth without any help from me.

  “Not ‘God,’ ‘Brad.’”

  “No, God, this is heavenly.”

  “It’s a little too dirty for heaven, baby.”

  His fingers drag along the inside of me and out again.

  I feel him position himself higher up on my body, and in the dark I watch him as his finger, gleaming with my arousal, slides into his mouth. It’s the most erotic moment of my life…thus far.

  “Yes, just like I remember,” he teases, winking at me before moving his hand down between my legs again.

  The foreplay is almost too much for me to bear. “Shut up and fuck me, Brad!”.

  “Not just yet. I’ve been waiting eight years for this. I can wait just a little bit more.”

  “But I can’t,” I beg him

  I struggle but I manage to move from under him. I push against his chest and he rolls over, lying down, his back against my pillows. Throwing my leg over him, I straddle his hips, pressing down, needing to feel his body against me, against my aching groin.

  Bracing my hands against his stomach—God, his rock-hard stomach, rippling under my hands—I look down at his face. He smiles at me, tender even in t
his moment when all I want is to be ravaged by him in the fiercest way.

  I lean over, my hair falling down around us and I pause, our lips barely touching, breathing each other’s breath.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper.

  “I’ve missed you right back, my muse.” And those words ripple through me like ice down my spine.

  I press my lips hard against his, tasting blood, but I don’t care. My hands fumble between us at his zipper and he reaches down to help me, pushing his jeans and underwear down his legs.

  “Wait, in my pocket,” he reminds me.

  I reach over and take the foil packet out of his back pocket and tear it open.

  His hardness is suddenly in my hands, and I’m sliding my hands down over it, covering him. He arches, the tip of my thumb grazing over the tip of his cock.

  “Fuck me, Emily. God, just do it. I want to be inside you.”

  The way the words catch in his throat thrills me, the way he wants me, needs me.

  I slide my panties aside and lift my hips up, positioning him right where I want him.

  “One, two…” I tease him. “Three.” He catches his breath, but I don’t move. His hips arch up and I pull back. The glint in his eyes tells me I’m playing with fire.

  “You said not yet,” I tease him.

  “Bitch”

  “Fucker.”

  “I’m trying to be, but you’re being a prude,” he pouts, and the contrast between humor and desire in this moment makes me laugh.

  “I’m a what?” I ask him, knowing what’s coming up next.

  “You’re a pr—fuckkkkkk.” I slide my body down, taking his cock. All. The. Way.

  His hands lift up to support my legs as I start to rock against him.

  His cock, like an iron rod, drives deep into me without a breath of friction, like it belongs there.

  I try to focus on his face to stop from coming too fast when it’s all I want to do.

  “Fuck me, baby. God, just fuck me. Your pussy feels so good on my cock,” he murmurs, almost incoherent, his head thrown back, eyes closed.

  My nails dig into his skin, hot and sweaty under my palms. I want every inch of him, skin, breath, cock, come.

  My hips rock faster, rotating around in circles, feeling the tip of him reach places made only for him. God, it’s even better than I’ve imagined it could be.