I started grinding my hips against him, meeting the strokes of his tongue. I kept watching him down there, and it was the most filthy/beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Or felt…
He rubbed me up and down with the flat of his tongue and pretty much rode me with his face, and I kept grinding my hips into it so hard that we somehow worked ourselves right across the bed… I didn’t even notice until my head and shoulders were hanging off and I couldn’t hold my head up anymore to watch him.
Blood rushed to my head. My mouth was open and I was crying out. His hands moved to grip my thighs with a bruising intensity as he spread me open and held me there, so I wouldn’t just slide right off the bed.
“Oh God… Oh yeah… that.” I just kept moaning and gasping and begging for more.
He groaned and growled as he ate me alive. “Yeah, baby…” he murmured, and the rumble of his voice shot ripples of pleasure through me. “You gonna come on my face?” Holy Christ. It was like a vibrator. With a warm, wet, demonic tongue. And a beard. And a voice like pure, dripping sex.
“Oohhhh… aaahhhh…”
My clit was humming with pleasure, and yeah… I was totally gonna come.
I kept my hands buried in his hair, holding onto him with a death grip. Hanging off the bed, upside-down… I sounded like a porn star, and I didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing. All the sounds were just falling out of my mouth.
Nothing had ever, ever felt this good.
And then… it got better. He sucked on my clit, growling a little as he did it, so the feeling vibrated right through me. My pussy squeezed, aching to be filled.
I’d never wanted to be fucked so badly.
“Yeah, Courteney…” he groaned, like he knew exactly what I was feeling. What he was doing to me.
He licked my clit again in that forceful, aggressive rhythm, and every last nerve in my core came alive with the electricity of his touch. The pleasure and the heat spiraled into a tight knot of tension… right under his tongue.
I cried out, whimpering. Tears were forming at the corners of my eyes. The intensity of this… the bittersweet agony. I wanted him so fucking bad… and now, I could finally feel his hunger for me—all over my pussy. It felt like he was feasting on me, like he was starving for me.
And yet, he wasn’t taking me. He was giving me all the pleasure I’d ever dreamed of… and then some.
The pressure got tighter and tighter… and I knew I was gonna come. On his tongue. I cried his name and begged and couldn’t even understand what I was saying. I couldn’t think anymore.
He lashed his tongue over my clit, again and again… and everything burst apart.
“Do it…” he growled as I came. “Come in my mouth.” My hips jumped and my body shook as I screamed. He scooped his hands under my thighs, squeezing them around his head as he buried his face in my pussy. He groaned, smothering himself in me as I cried out, again and again, and my body pulsed. My core spasmed… I felt sensations, twinges of pleasure… deep, pulsing tremors I didn’t even know I could feel, way down inside.
Everywhere.
Then his tongue was on my clit again, lapping. His lips closed over me and sucked, and warmth crashed through me again. It rippled through me in waves, softer and softer, as the spasms faded in intensity.
Then it suddenly got too intense, too raw, too much, and I tightened my fingers in his hair.
“Please…” I begged, and he finally released my thighs.
My legs fell open as I went limp, gasping for air. He grabbed my hips and pulled, sliding me back up onto the bed before I passed out or something.
I lay there, panting and sweaty, tingling… the blood slowly dispersing through my body. My head was throbbing, my whole body was a quivering mess… and I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open.
Holy. Hell.
Xander stood up, slowly. He was breathing hard and heavy as he stared at me.
“Holy shit,” I panted. “Oh my God.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. His eyes were wide and dark. He look stunned. Like… maybe he couldn’t believe he’d just done that? Or that I’d just done that?
Or that I fell apart like that?
“Um, what should we do…?” I reached for him, wanting more. More of him. I was naked, and I wanted his clothes off, too.
But he backed away a bit, where I had no hope of reaching him. I could barely sit up. “You should get some sleep,” he said. He voice was all low and sexy-rough. But I tried to focus on what he’d said.
I gaped at him, confused. Disoriented.
Stunned.
“You still won’t fuck me?”
He ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, in the world’s sexiest move, ever—like he was tasting me—and said, “You don’t want that.”
“But—”
I didn’t get more than one word out before he disappeared out the door, closing it behind himself.
And not like I could run after him.
My limbs felt like soggy spaghetti. I was naked, and I was dripping with my arousal, with his saliva. I couldn’t think, and I definitely couldn’t walk.
I fell back on the bed, trying to catch my breath.
Then a strange, twisted smile spread across my face.
Xander just made me come.
I had my first orgasm with a man—right on his gorgeous face.
But then he walked out right afterward.
My smile faded.
I got cold and pulled the blanket over my naked, sweat-damp body, hugging myself.
Fuck.
I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and sent him a text.
Me: That was amazing. Why did you leave?
He didn’t text me back.
* * *
The next day, Xander was gone. As usual. I looked all over for him, but he was nowhere to be found.
And I didn’t know how to take that.
I didn’t exactly have any experience with the morning after.
It wasn’t like I expected him to suddenly be my boyfriend or anything, just because of what he did to me last night. But shit, couldn’t he even look me in the eye afterward?
I tried to tell myself he just went to work out or hang out with friends or something. Not a big deal.
He’d be back later.
But he didn’t come back.
And I kept replaying last night in my head. In vivid, moment-by-moment detail.
Because it was fucking awesome.
Until he walked out.
It wasn’t exactly like I thought it would be… like I fantasized it would be…
It was more.
He didn’t hurt me, at all… but he wasn’t gentle. It was wild and aggressive and kinky… and I totally got off on it.
But it bugged me that he wasn’t around now.
By the time evening rolled around, I was feeling strange about the whole thing. Unsettled.
Was this what it felt like to have a one-night stand?
If so, I definitely wasn’t cut out for it.
I just wanted him to come back. I wanted more… but mostly, I just wanted to see him and know that everything was okay between us.
But really, over the past few years, when had things ever been okay between us?
I ate dinner in the living room, alone in front of the TV. And after I ate, I put on a movie. The Ring. Because this movie creeped the shit out of me. I cuddled under a blanket and let it do its thing.
When the faceless girl with all the black hair started crawling out of the TV screen (in the movie), I snuggled deeper under the blanket. I glanced in the direction of my brother’s studio…
And it occurred to me suddenly—why I liked watching scary movies so much. Because it was a controlled sort of fear; safe. Because I could turn it off and walk away when it was over. It couldn’t actually hurt me.
That, and because my big brother used to watch them with me. I’d snuggle up next to him, and he’d make me fe
el safe.
After that realization, no matter how creepy the movie was, it couldn’t seem to hold my attention.
I kept thinking about my brother, alone in his studio.
Did he ever get scared in there?
Shit, what a stupid question. If he wasn’t scared… he wouldn’t be in there all the time, right?
I reached for the remote and turned the movie down. Then I picked up my phone and texted him.
Me: Are you mad that Shay went in the studio?
I kept watching the movie, and after a while, he got back to me.
Cary: It’s okay CC.
Me: How long was she in there?
Cary: For a while. We talked.
I stared at his words, my heart beating a little too hard. I always felt uncomfortable butting into Cary’s personal stuff. Maybe because he’d made it so uncomfortable by being so private about everything.
I never asked him about girls.
I knew he liked them. I used to see him with lots of them. He had female friends. He had girlfriends.
But it had been years since he’d mentioned a girlfriend, and I’d definitely never seen him with one in the last few years.
Me: Did you screw around with her?
I typed that and hesitated, chickening out. But then I sent it quickly.
Cary: ?
Cary: No.
Me: Why not?
Cary: Because she’s your friend.
Well, great. Didn’t that just make me feel wonderful.
And totally guilty about what I’d done with his friend.
I messaged Shayla, because I suddenly wasn’t so sure why I was mad at her at all. Just because she had the guts to let herself into my brother’s studio… when he never came out of it?
Maybe that was exactly what he needed? For people to stop accepting his terms, and push back a little?
He didn’t seem mad about it, either way.
Me: What happened last night with my brother?
I wasn’t really sure if what she’d done was a good thing or not… but last night, I’d seriously considered revoking her Lil Brat Society membership. Macking on my brother was totally against the rules.
Though I’d maybe give her a pass, what with all the blueberry port… and the vodka lemonade.
If she didn’t actually touch him.
A few minutes later, she texted me back.
Shayla: Nothing. We talked music
Me: Really?
Shayla: Yeah. Spent like half an hour trying to explain to him the queen that is Cardi B.
Me: Oh. Cool.
Shayla: Are you pissed at me?
Me: No. Just don’t do that again, ok?
Me: If you want to talk to him, you can just ask him first.
Shayla: Ok. I don’t think he’s into me tho. You don’t have to worry
Me: K.
Shayla: LIL BRATS 4EVER
Me: Better be.
Shayla: You know me. Chicks before dicks. Always
Me: Except when you’re chasing dick.
Shayla: lolol… I get distracted. Sorry. Love you 4ALWAYS
Me: Love you too.
And just like that, the Lil Brat Society was okay again.
Cary seemed okay, too.
Xander, though…?
Who the hell knew.
I pulled up the text I’d sent him last night… after he ate me out and gave me that mind-melting orgasm. He never replied.
Were orgasms with men always that good?
I’d never known orgasms could be so different. Or that one (from my hand) could be so inferior to another one (from his face).
But why should this surprise me?
Xander Rush had always made me feel things I’d never felt anywhere else but around him.
So why would sex with him be anything other than exceptional?
Shit.
What the fuck was I gonna have to do? Chase him down to get him to talk to me?
Again?
Beg him to fuck me?
Go with the breasts. Guys can’t resist them. No matter what his brain is telling him…
Yeah. Right.
Apparently, Shay was wrong about that.
Chapter Sixteen
Xander
Courteney was avoiding me. I was sure of it.
It was Monday night and she’d gone out with her girlfriends. I’d heard them cackling in the driveway while I was out by the pool, when Johnny O’s little sister picked her up. Always knew it was Shayla because of the chick rap blazing from her car stereo.
It made me feel mildly trigger happy to think of Courteney cruising around with her girlfriends—her older girlfriends—sneaking into bars, flirting with dudes and maybe drinking… I almost went out there and got into it with her.
But I didn’t.
She’d just be mega pissed at me and probably go out anyway.
I could practically hear her response if I tried to get between her and her night out with the girls.
What are you gonna do about it? Eat me out again?
I went out after she did, went over to the studio and banged around on the drums for a while like a distracted zombie. Then I came back. I showered, poured myself a gin and juice and went to lay out by the pool and numb out under the stars.
A few people called, but I just let them go to voicemail. Jordan was trying to reach me about something; that charity event of Trey’s she’d signed me up for. It was happening in two weeks.
Lucas was hitting the Back Door to see some band.
Trey asked me to come to some party.
I didn’t answer anyone.
I’d texted Cary, though. Asked if he wanted to hang, take a break from work.
He didn’t answer.
And who knew when Courteney would be back.
If she’d be back.
Maybe she’d vanish to one of her girlfriends’ houses again for a few days.
Sure, I avoided her right after what happened. Because I needed to cool the fuck off and get some distance before I lost my shit and fucked her.
Eating her out was one thing. I was showing her what a guy should do for her if he was worthy of her—before she even thought about fucking him.
Call it sex education for the twisted.
But I wasn’t going farther than that.
Not one fucking filthy inch farther. I’d promised myself that when I tossed her down on the bed and went at her.
And if I stayed in that room with her… I wasn’t gonna like what I did next. Even if she did.
I wasn’t exactly made of steel. It wasn’t easy for me to walk away from that whole scene. Her pussy was in my face. She was naked on her bed, spread wide for me… and no matter how I came at her while I feasted on her pussy… she just ate it all up.
She fucking loved it.
I felt that orgasm shuddering through her like a goddamn earthquake as she gushed all over me.
So obviously, I freaked out. I got the fuck out of that room as fast as I could after she’d erupted like a volcano. Twice.
I wasn’t about to stick around and see what happened next.
I did what I had to do.
But now she was straight-up avoiding me, and I didn’t like it.
I’d tried to focus on other things. I’d met up with Brody today, discussed my contract with the Players. I would’ve loved to bury myself in work, but unfortunately I was gonna have to wait around for things to get going with my new band. Dirty was heading back out on the road this week; Matt left this morning. We wouldn’t actually be a band, as in making music together, until next June when Matt came off the road with Dirty.
Ten months away.
That seemed like a good thing a few days ago. Gave me some time to lay low, regroup—and keep an eye on Cary for a while.
But now it also gave me time to fuck around with Courteney.
And I knew I couldn’t do that.
What happened the other night, though… She was so fucking into all my kinky, aggressive shit.<
br />
It totally fucked with my head.
I figured she’d be scared off by my less-than-delicate approach. She’d get what she wanted, more or less… but in the aftermath, she’d realize I wasn’t the one for her. I was a beast in bed—a man. Too much for her to handle. And she’d start looking elsewhere for her first time.
Yeah, right.
That was a bunch of bullshit I told myself so I could go through with it in the moment.
And I’d made sure it was good for her.
I didn’t need to make it good for her, but I’d made sure she came like a fucking meteor shower. Because I was selfish like that.
I wanted her to fucking love it.
And now… I couldn’t stop fantasizing about plunging into that sweet pussy of hers and popping her cherry.
It was everything I wasn’t supposed to think about… and now I had a visual of it writhing on a bed in front of me. I had the feel of her, the taste of her, the smell of her all over me. I had the feel of her silky-wet insides on my tongue, and I couldn’t shake it.
And she was avoiding me.
I should’ve been relieved, right? It was the right thing.
If I couldn’t put the brakes on, she should.
But no, she shouldn’t have to. I should’ve been the grownup in the situation and stopped it before it started.
No matter how many times she tried.
Because this was all wrong.
I should’ve avoided her at all costs, right from the beginning.
It wasn’t like I was incapable of avoiding her. I’d done it before.
Filthy Beautiful: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #2) Page 22
