Strike a Chord

by Salsbury, JB

  “How do you know you don’t have a giant pussy drawn on your forehead right now?”

  I burst out laughing. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I should go check.”

  “No need. I left you alone.” He shrugs. “I figured you’d done enough damage on your own. I’m not the type to kick a person when they’re down.”

  “Isn’t that sweet of you.” I turn my head slightly. “A little to the left?”

  He moves his hand, hitting a sore spot where my jaw hinges.

  “So I get why we ended up in the same bed, but why were we spooning?”

  “Best guess? Nature.” He palms my head like a basketball and keeps rubbing. “I’m a single man. You’re a hot, single woman. It’s elemental.”

  I hum at the pleasure of his skilled hands and wonder if he really believes what he says. Does he not feel the emotional tether growing between us? Are we only male and female, or is there something more?

  His hand slips behind my neck, rubbing the sore muscles at my nape. I close my eyes and feel the tension slip away. His lips brush mine. Rather than tense up, flinch, or shriek in surprise, I grin. He kisses me again, closed mouth and tender. Eventually his hand moves from my nape and he pulls open the robe to expose my shoulder. He kisses down my jaw, trails his tongue along my throat, and kisses along my collarbone. His warm lips and hot breath against my skin raise goose bumps on my arm. Dropping lower, he pushes aside the robe, exposing my breast to his hungry gaze.

  “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He kisses the underside of my breast, the top, then licks along the outer swell, driving me to madness.

  I run my fingers through his thick, wavy hair in an attempt to get him closer so he can slake the burning need he’s stoked inside me. His kisses grow softer. A frustrated moan rips from my chest and I feel him smile against my skin.

  What do I need to do? Ask? Beg? Cry out for him to give me whatever it is my body—I gasp as he closes his lips around my nipple. My back arches off the bed in a feeble attempt to be taken deeper into his mouth. But Ethan is well-practiced in the art of seduction and holds off, flicking the tip with his tongue.

  My muscles ache with want, but I’m not experienced enough to understand what exactly I need. Pulse racing. Arms shaking. A knot low in my belly forms, grows, and tightens with an aching emptiness.

  He exposes my other breast, treating it with the same barely there touch. My legs move restlessly beneath the bed sheets, scissoring and bending until I’ve kicked them free to be kissed by the cool air in the room. I dig my heels into the bed, trying to stay grounded when his mouth makes me feel as though I might float away.

  He lifts his mouth from me, and his fingers trace over the wet spots he left behind. He leans back enough to shift his gaze down my bare torso to the open robe at my waist.

  “So this is what you’ve been hiding,” he says softly before returning his eyes to mine. “Your body is like a song.” With a feather-light touch, he skates his fingertips from the dip in my throat down between my breasts. “Intro, verse…” His touch travels south through the center of my rib cage. “Bridge.” He swirls his fingertip around my belly button. “Chorus.” He stops just above the trimmed triangle between my legs. “Hook.”

  My heart’s beating so fast, I fear it’ll burst.

  His pale brown eyes come to mine and shine with a mix of awe and appreciation. “Can I touch you?”

  I don’t trust my voice, so I nod.

  His hand slides lower, but he keeps his eyes on mine. He cups me between my legs. His big palm and long fingers cover me completely.

  “Fuck, you’re perfect.” He drops his forehead to my chest, his breath hot against my nipple where he mumbles, “You’re a virgin?”

  My breath catches. “Yes,” I say with a shaky voice. I try to relax, open my legs farther, and his fingers move in gentle exploration.

  He kisses me softly, slowly, as if coaxing me to relax as he learns the sensitive landscape between my legs. The knot in my belly warms, liquefies, and like our kiss in the hallway backstage, I wrestle to control the chaos of sensation.

  “Don’t fight it,” he says against my lips. He dips one finger inside, deep and deeper still. “You can let go. I’ve got you.”

  I fist the bed sheets, toss my head to the side, and close my eyes against the tsunami building within me. “It’s too much. I can’t—”

  “You can. Look at me.”

  I have no option but to obey. With one hand between my legs, he manages to control my entire body, my thoughts, and my desires. He holds me captive by controlling the single thing I want most in the world. Relief.

  “Please…” The word is a plea carried on a whisper.

  He kisses me hard. His tongue lashes against mine. He steals my breath and sends me soaring. The dam bursts in a billion flashes of light. My heels dig into the bed, my head digs into the pillow, and he swallows my silent cry of release. I’m floating, gasping for air, and dizzy as he tenderly brings me back to earth. He holds me between my legs with a firm pressure.

  A soft, rumbling growl vibrates against my lips as he says, “You’re mine, Taylor.”

  I run his words through my mind and confirm that he’s right. I am falling hard for Ethan Crow, and I fear nothing can save me.

  Ethan

  Taylor’s body belongs in an art museum. Natural breasts that sit high on her chest with rosy pink nipples, soft skin on her flat stomach that flares into womanly hips. And between those hips, the softest, sweetest pussy I’ve ever had the honor of touching.

  I once accused Taylor of looking like a boy.

  A blasphemous insult.

  Under the baggy clothes and baseball caps, she’s the picture of femininity and purity.

  A virgin.

  I’m equal parts terrified and consumed. If Taylor were any other woman, I would’ve seduced her before breakfast, had my fill, and left her boneless and breathless.

  But I can’t do that with Taylor. She deserves so much more than for her first time to be in some random city, on a hotel bed with a guy like me. Seeing her body for the first time, touching her in places no man has touched her before did more than simply harden my dick. She was emotionally exposed and let her guard down. Knowing she trusted me enough to get vulnerable gave me a hard-on of a different kind. She awakens me in a way that goes beyond my craving for sexual pleasure. I want more than her body. I want her mind, her smiles, her stupid pranks, and her dirty mouth. I want to hold back her hair when she pukes. Rub away her headaches. Fight with her when she needs a fight and then spend hours making up.

  My experience with women to this point has been the equivalent of a child with a new toy.

  Taylor isn’t a toy. She’s the prize.

  Rodger knocks on the hotel room door right on time to deliver Taylor’s things from her hotel room.

  “Come on in,” I say, and he follows me inside, where he places her black duffle on the couch.

  “Where is she?” Rodger looks around the living room.

  “Shower.” I point at the table filled with every breakfast item the menu had to offer. “Hungry?”

  He blinks away from the closed bedroom door and stares at me. “Please tell me you did not fuck Prophet’s daughter.”

  I grind my molars together. “Of course not. And her name is Taylor.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Taylor. Really?”

  I pop a raspberry in my mouth.

  “She was drunk, spent the night with you, and now she’s in your shower. You expect me to believe nothing happened between you two?”

  “I didn’t say that.” I don’t blame him for the incredulous tone. He knows my reputation when it comes to the fairer sex. I never minded the distinction of my character before, but I don’t like that my reputation rubs off on Taylor just because she’s in my shower.

  His eyes narrow. I wonder if he had to pick sides, Taylor’s dad or me, who would he choose? I need Rodger on my side if this thing between Taylor and me is going to work
, so I’ll have to let him in. But I need to be sensitive about my delivery. I can’t have the man assuming Taylor’s just another plaything.

  “What does it feel like to be in love?” I ask the big man.

  There’s a flicker of panic in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  I tilt my head, studying him. “Haven’t you been married for, like, twenty years?”

  “Yeah, but in love? I don’t know. It changes. In the beginning, I just remember wanting to spend every waking and sleeping second with Kira. For me? Everyone else, friends, families, coworkers, they all took a backseat to her.”

  I point at him. “That. Yes.”

  “Whoa… slow down.” He leans in and whispers, “You’re saying you’re in love with Prophet’s daughter?”

  “Taylor.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t fucking care. Are you saying you love her?”

  “Hmm…” I scratch my jaw and check my heart. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to sort it all out.”

  “Have you lost your fucking mind? She’s a kid!”

  I glare at the fucker. “She’s eighteen.”

  “You’re ten years older than her.”

  My jaw turns to granite. “Nine.” So what? Age is just a number, right?

  He runs his hands through his hair. “Out of all the women you have to choose from, you go and pick the one that’s off-limits.”

  “Off-limits to who? Everyone or just me? Because no one batted a fucking eye while that peckerface Peter spiked her drink with enough booze to put a horse in a coma.”

  He scowls. “Who the hell is Peter?”

  “Forget it.” I swipe her bag and make my way to the bedroom so she’ll have her things when she gets out of the shower.

  “You don’t love her. She’s a roadie. She’s a convenient fuck, that’s all.”

  I stop and pivot to face him. “Don’t forget who you work for.”

  So much for having Rodger on our side.

  The shower is still running when I drop Taylor’s bag on the bed. I clean up the last of my things, shoving them into my small duffle, and drop it by the door for my assistant to pick up later.

  Crewmembers leave at noon to go straight to the venue in Orlando to set up the stage for tomorrow night’s show, while once we pull into town, the band goes straight to a radio station for an interview. I won’t be able to see Taylor until after the stage is set. That means twelve-plus hours without her.

  How is it possible to have gone weeks without talking to her and now the thought of a half-day apart makes me nauseated?

  The bathroom door opens and she emerges with a wall of steam. She eyes her bag.

  “I had Rodger bring it up.”

  Her eyes widen. “You don’t think he thinks we had sex, do you?”

  The words “we had sex” from her lips yanks me from my thoughts. I study her cheeks—pink from the warm shower and sprinkled with freckles. “Would that be the worst thing?”

  “As much as I like you, I really don’t want people to think I’m one of your fuck buddies.”

  Ouch, but okay. “What if we tell them the truth?”

  She pulls her signature jeans and baggy sweatshirt from her duffle, still smiling until she meets my gaze. Her smile falls. “You’re serious.”

  “Dead.”

  With her clothes gathered to her chest as if she’s trying to protect herself, she asks, “What’s the truth?”

  I slip my hands under her wet hair and cup her jaw, using my thumbs to tilt her face toward mine. “How quickly you forget.” With a soft brush of my lips to hers, I remind her, “You’re mine.” When I pull back, I catch her eyes, little slits of skepticism.

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “You’re my girl.” I nip at her bottom lip. “My only girl.”

  She closes her eyes, and her chin drops despite my hold. “Ethan, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  Her words are a nut punch to the chest. “Why not? Is it my reputation? My sexual history? Because there’s nothing I can do about that.”

  She licks her lips. “It’s not that. Not entirely.”

  “Then what?”

  Her shoulders slump. “My dad, this job, the crew, your band, the girls who throw themselves at you. You’re not just a guy I met and fell for. You’re Ethan Crow.”

  I have never hated the sound of my name more. “You admit that you’ve fallen for me though.”

  She blinks at me, her cheeks turning even pinker. “My dad always warned me about men like you. Made me promise I’d never fall for a rock star, and here I am, admitting it.”

  I pull her into my arms and hold her to my chest. I hate to agree with her father, but everything she’s saying is true. My lifestyle works better without any emotional, romantic commitments. And yet, I can’t let her go. “So we’ll hide it.”

  She tilts her head to look up at me. “Hide… what we do?”

  “Yeah. We’ll sneak around. It’s no one else’s business anyway. I get that you have trust issues when it comes to me. I’ve earned that. So we’ll take our relationship on a trial run, see how it works between the two of us first.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sneaking around isn’t my first choice.” I kiss her forehead. “But if the alternative is not having you at all, then yes, absolutely.”

  She chews her bottom lip as if thinking it over. I pop the reddened flesh from between her teeth with my thumb. “Ethan, you know I’m new to all this. I can’t guarantee you that I’ll, that we’ll…”

  “Have sex?”

  She wiggles free from my arms and goes back to sorting through her clothes. “Yes. It’s not that I’m saving myself or anything—”

  “Nothing wrong if you were.”

  “But you’re you and I’m… me. The pressure and expectation is…” She blows out a long breath.

  “You’re nervous, I get that. Believe it or not, I’m nervous too. Not about sex. I’d strip you ten ways to Sunday and lose myself inside you every hour of every day until I die if given the chance.” I brush my thumbs across her soft skin. “I’ve never been exclusive before. We’ll just have to take things slow.”

  Her expression softens and she smiles shyly at me. “Do you even know how to do that?”

  “No. But you’ll teach me.” I drop my hands and shove them into my pockets, feeling strangely exposed. “You should know, I’m most likely going to fuck up.”

  She zips up her bag and smirks. “Well, you’re one up on me. I will absolutely fuck up.” She pushes up on her tiptoes and drops a kiss on my lips.

  Before she can walk away, I snag her around the waist and pull her flush to me. “The blind leading the blind.” I nuzzle her neck, breathing her in and cursing the hotel soap for masking her natural woodsy scent.

  She taps me on the bicep. “I need to get dressed.”

  “Great.” I fall back on the bed, prop my elbows behind me, and wait for the show.

  “You want to watch me get dressed?”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. We already agreed we’re not having sex and I’ve seen you naked, so…” I twirl my finger in the air, signaling her to get moving.

  She tenses and smiles nervously.

  I watch in rapt attention as she drops her robe to the floor. Her perky tits, round ass, and toned arms and legs are a feminine masterpiece. She bends over to slip a pair of black cotton panties up her legs. Blood rushes from my head, blurring my vision as my jeans tighten with each passing second. A matching black sports bra is next, the thin cotton giving her gorgeous breasts no shape or support. I wonder what she’d look like in silk and lace.

  She eyes my quickly hardening dick as it tests the strength of my zipper. I make no attempt to hide my body’s response to her.

  “See something you like?”

  “You, uh…” She’s buttoning the front of her jeans. “Have a little issue there.”

  I grip my hard-on and hiss at its sensitivity. “Little?”


  Even her chest flushes red as she stands there in jeans and a sports bra. “Again, not something I have a lot of experience with.” She reaches to the bed for her sweatshirt.

  “Here’s your first lesson.” I snag her hand and pull her to me to straddle my hips.

  She stays up on her knees, a good six inches of air between us.

  I rub her thighs gently, coaxing her to relax. “Sit. You can’t hurt it.” My voice sounds as if I’ve been smoking for the last ten years.

  She lowers, seating herself on the length of my dick. I grip her hip, hold her still, and roll my hips once, twice… she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.

  “Put your hands on my chest. There ya go.” I continue to move beneath her, getting myself off while watching her breath quicken. “Talk to me. Tell me how it feels.”

  “It’s like…” Her eyelids fall to half-mast, her lips parting to accommodate her breathing. “When we were backstage and you put your knee between my legs.”

  “Yeah, it’s like that.”

  “But not as good as this morning.” She wiggles a little on top of me, grinding against me with bolder and bolder strokes. A low hum crawls up her throat.

  “More fabric between us this time. You’ll have to work harder to get yourself there.” I suck air through my teeth as she grinds down on the sensitive tip. “Don’t be afraid you’ll hurt me. The harder, the better.”

  She really gets into it now, her arms straight and pressing into my pecs as she works herself against me.

  I stop moving, sit back, and it’s like seeing the sun come up for the first time as Taylor uses me to get herself off. The last time I came with my jeans on, I was in high school. But there’s no doubt, a few more minutes of this and I’m going to blow the zipper off my jeans.

  I cup the back of her neck and bring her lips to mine. “You’re so fucking hot.”

  My words dissolve in a kiss that’s all tongue and eager lips, sucking and biting, and I freeze when I feel her thighs tremble. I pull back, stare into her eyes, and watch as her breath hitches and she falls apart in my arms for the third time. Lips parted, hips thrusting, she tosses her head back and grinds down hard.