Clash

by Belle Aurora

  Blaire was a nice lady. “Do you think I’ll like it?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  That was fair. She didn’t really know me. “Do you like it?”

  She made a noise in her throat. “Yeah. I do.”

  I peered over at Connor and let out a little sigh. “Okay. Let’s do this.” Connor stepped forward and for a split second, he looked like he wanted to bounce on the spot in excitement. I shook my head. “Where do you want me?”

  Blaire adjusted the tattoo chair to lie straight, as if it were a bed, and she patted the top of it. “I just need you to remove your pants and we’re good.”

  My pants?

  My head snapped up to Connor’s laughing eyes. “It’s going on my butt, isn’t it?”

  He nodded and he did this smiling. “That way, if you don’t like it, no one ever has to know about it.”

  Despite my anxiety, I actually appreciated the thought. Without a word, I kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned my jeans, and pushed them down my legs before lying on the tattoo bed, face down.

  When Blaire put her hand to my thigh, she spoke softly. “Can I pull down your underwear?”

  At my nod, she did, and when I felt a light scraping on my right cheek, I frowned. “Are you shaving me?”

  Blaire chuckled low in her throat. “It’s just to remove any downy hairs that might make the stencil hard to stick down. It’s also a hygiene thing.” She then added, “I swear you don’t have a hairy ass.”

  My body shook with silent laughter. “Well, thank God for small favors.”

  Blaire wiped me down with something cold and wet, and then the stencil was applied. It wasn’t too big, so I didn’t freak out. When she removed the sticky paper and had Connor come look at it, he uttered a pleased sounding, “Exactly how I imagined it.”

  Before we started, Blaire spoke to me. “I don’t know what your pain threshold is like but if you move while I’m doing this, your tattoo is going to look like shit. You think you can be still for about half hour?”

  My chest ached. I didn’t like pain. “I can do that.”

  “Nice,” she said with a smile. “Okay. You got this, Emmy.”

  Connor watched me carefully as the needle first touched my skin. I frowned then lifted my head to him. “That’s it?”

  He laughed. “That’s it.”

  It was odd, the sensation. It didn’t feel like I thought it would. It was a scraping-slash-burning sensation but not all bad. I actually kind of liked it. I rested my head back on the bed and claimed, “I can live with this.”

  Half an hour passed, the buzzing of the needle stopped and Blaire stated, “And we’re done!” She wiped down my skin. “Wanna see?”

  What a dumb question. Of course I did.

  Connor held onto my pants, helped me stand and walked me over to the full-length floor mirror. His hands rested on my hips as his gaze met mine. “Ready?”

  I nodded but my mind was a mess.

  What if I hated it?

  I didn’t have a great poker face. I, unfortunately, wore my heart on my sleeve.

  Connor spun me around and when my eyes landed on the tattoo, my mouth parted and my head snapped up to his.

  “Like it?” Unable to speak, I threw my face into his stomach and he laughed, putting a gentle hand to the back of my head. “You like it.” He kissed the top of my head. “I knew you would.”

  Breathing deeply, I craned my neck once again to look at the solid black writing on my right ass cheek.

  Killer Queen.

  One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands.

  Killer was small and bold in block letters. Queen was directly underneath. It was larger, and far more delicate, written in cursive. In the center of the capital Q was a small crown.

  There were no words.

  Blaire came up behind us and from the uncertain look on her face, she wasn’t sure if I dug my first tattoo. I beamed at her. “It’s great. Really great.” I sighed happily before taking another look. “I love it. Thank you.”

  Blaire looked overjoyed. “You’re welcome.” She winked. “If you’re ever back in the area, come see me. We’ll see if we can decorate that pretty porcelain skin of yours. Splash some color on ya.”

  Blaire put what she called a second skin onto both our tattoos with the instructions to leave it on a few days before taking it off. She gave us both a tube of cream to keep the area moisturized but warned me not to overdo it. She explained that tattoo would peel eventually and no matter how much I wanted to, to not pick at it.

  Soon after, we were back at the hotel lying on my bed in comfortable silence with a lamp on. It was clear that Connor and I were both tired but not quite ready to go bed. Just when I started to fall asleep, Connor grasped my arm and yanked me. With a yelp of surprise, I was on my stomach and Connor was pulling down my underwear, examining my new tattoo.

  He moved to straddle my legs and I let him. His hands came up to run his thumbs along the curve of my ass. He growled low in his throat then caressed the globes before his grip turned harsh. I let out a squeak and clenched my cheeks when his mouth connected with skin.

  My surprise quickly turned to pleasure when he sucked the skin on the cheek opposite my tattoo. A throaty moan left me and I relaxed into his touch. His pulling became almost bruising and I blinked into the covers before lifting my head. “Are you giving me a hickey?”

  He lapped at my flesh. “Yep.”

  When he gently nipped my lower back, a small giggle bubbled up my throat. “You’re crazy.”

  I loved that about him.

  Suddenly, the room was awash with bright light and the sound of a camera shutter went off. My heart stopped. I craned my head back and watched Connor take another photo of my bare butt. “What are you doing?”

  He peered at me. “Just a couple for my spank bank.” At my strong uncertainty, he showed me the photo. On one cheek was my plastic-covered tattoo and on the other was a heart-shaped hickey. It looked weird but cute. “No one can tell it’s you,” he said then added sincerely, “but if you want me to delete it, I will.”

  I checked the image again.

  You couldn’t tell it was me. It could’ve been anyone with an ass, really.

  Shaking my head, I spoke quietly. “It’s okay. Keep it.”

  Connor lay on top of me and when he thrust his jean-covered crotch into my butt along with a harsh grunt, I laughed out loud. He rested his dead weight on me, pushing my hair to the side and pressed loud, smacking kisses to the side of my neck, causing my shoulders to jerk and my body to break out in goose bumps. My body shook with mirth. Every minute with Connor was pure enjoyment.

  Was every relationship this fun?

  Emily….

  Oh, right.

  Not that this was a relationship.

  Connor wasn’t mine. I was just borrowing him from the world.

  Sadly, eventually, I would have to return him to the place I found him.

  But I wasn’t ready.

  Not yet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll.

  Emmy

  “‘Walk This Way,’” said Noah from his place at the booth.

  We were on the bus, on our way to Jacksonville, and we were passing the time by playing Who sung it?

  Luckily, I knew this one.

  “Aerosmith,” I said, confident in my answer, stretching out on the three-seater.

  Noah twisted his head to look at me. “You’re getting better and better at this.”

  My smile was barely there. “Give me a hard one.”

  Lee was in the kitchenette, popping the top of an energy drink. “‘Smoke on the Water.’”

  My nose bunched as I scoffed. “Deep Purple. I said a hard one, Lee.”

  “‘Sweet Child o’ Mine,’” called out Connor. He was watching TV and strumming on his acoustic.

  “Oh,” I muttered. I knew this. “Ah.�
� I did. It was just taking a while to come to me. I clicked my fingers and clucked my tongue. “I know this. Give me a sec.” And then, finally, I grinned victoriously, and called back, “Guns N’ Roses!”

  I heard Connor’s smile. “Good girl.”

  “I got one for ya, Emmy,” Hell uttered, tapping a drumbeat on the small table and I could see Noah was starting to get annoyed with him. “‘I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll.’”

  This was on my playlist just the day before. Without hesitating, I stated, “Britney Spears,” and in the distance, Connor’s guitar twanged off key.

  Silence, and then he yelled, “Stop the bus!” before getting up and charging me.

  My body was already shaking in silent laughter and when he reached me, pulling me up and throwing me over his shoulder, a rumble of male chuckles followed.

  “It was a joke!” I gripped the bottom of his shirt and held on as he stomped down the length of the bus.

  He walked me to the driver’s door and slammed a fist on it. “Yo, Dean. Stop the bus.” Reaching up, he smacked my ass. Hard. “We got us a poser up in here and she needs to be let off.”

  “I was joking!” I tittered. “It was a joke!”

  From the driver’s door came, “Fuck off, Connor,” and my laughter turned into sheer hilarity.

  Connor let me slide off his shoulder and he glared at me. “I can’t believe you said the B-word on this bus.”

  The B-word? “Britney Spears?”

  Throwing a hand over my mouth, he looked around then whisper-hissed, “Shut up! The Rock gods will hear you and punish us.” He peered up at the ceiling of the bus and held my mouth clamped shut. “She didn’t mean that, sirs! She’s just a funny girl.”

  Struggling out of his hold, my cheeks hurt from smiling. “C’mon, it was a joke. I know the original was sung by Joan Jett.”

  Connor folded his arm across his chest and his eyes narrowed. “Joan Jett and who?”

  My smile increased. “The Blackhearts.”

  “Ooh.” Connor shook his head, sucking in a long breath between his teeth. “You’re lucky.” He looked stressed out and that make me chuckle. “Don’t ever say the B-word again, not on this bus. Pure fucking blasphemy.”

  When he walked away, waving a dismissing hand in my direction, my smile turned sad and I tried not to think about the fact that we only had twelve days left on tour.

  I internally sighed.

  What happened after that was anyone’s guess.

  The knock at my hotel room door had me jumping up out of bed. As soon as I opened it, Connor walked in and I shut the door behind him.

  With only the soft illumination from the bedside lamp, it took me a second to notice but when I did, I could see he didn’t look like himself. The stress on his face was evident. He looked anxious and restless, and I wondered where it had come from.

  He paced the room, his head down, chewing his thumbnail.

  “What’s wrong?”

  But he only shook his head. His jaw was tight, sharp enough to cut through diamond.

  He continued to pace and, after a moment, turned his frantic eyes on me. “Distract me?”

  I blinked at him. Okay. I could do that. Before I really thought about what I was saying, I uttered a quiet, “I-I watched porn last night.”

  Well.

  That got his attention.

  He stilled and a slow grin formed on his lips. “Do tell.”

  I was relieved to see the Connor I had grown to love return to me. “It’s not the first time I’ve watched it,” I revealed with a slight blush. I averted my eyes, and admitted, “It was okay.”

  Connor took a step toward me. “Baby. It was okay?” He chuckled. He took another step, then another. His eyes became hooded with desire and when he reached down between my legs to gently cup me, my breathing turned choppy, and he asked a soft, “Did it make you wet?”

  It was hard to keep my eyes open. My body had turned to jelly. So I simply nodded.

  Connor closed his eyes. His grip on me tightened, his sudden need causing my nipples to bead. He growled, “I need to make you come.”

  I wanted that. Really, I did. But my mouth opened and I said something Connor did not expect. “I want to have sex.” When his eyes snapped up, I swallowed hard and added a shaky, “T-tonight.” I ended on, “Please,” because it was only polite.

  Connor’s hand released my panty-covered sex and I almost cried at the loss.

  Hey! You put that back!

  “Are you sure?” I couldn’t read him. He had a good poker face.

  Wringing my fingers together, I spoke softly. “Yeah.”

  Connor moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked confused. “Why tonight?” His eyes met mine. “‘Cause if you’re doing this to distract me….”

  “Oh no,” I started. “It’s just a good date for it. One I’ll remember forever.” When his confusion didn’t clear, I explained on a smile, “It’s my birthday.”

  Understanding dawned. “Baby.” He reached out for me and I placed my hands in his. He pulled me toward him and sat me sideways on his lap. Reaching up, he pushed my loose hair behind my ear. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “This is your tour.” I shrugged lightly. “It’s not about me.”

  “No.” Connor looked exasperated. “Your birthday is definitely about you, baby.” He rubbed my arms, and tenderness lined his voice. “You think the guys wouldn’t have wanted to get you something, after all you do for us?” He made a face. “They’re gonna be pissed.”

  My face bunched. “I don’t want gifts, Connor.” My heart stuttered. “I want this.”

  He searched my face and held me fast. “You gotta be sure. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

  I was expecting him to jump me. I did not expect to be lectured. This unseen side of Connor cemented my decision. Pressing into him, I lowered my lips to his and kissed him softly. When I pulled back, I ran my fingertips over the small dagger under his eye. “I want to have sex with you, Connor.”

  Lifting his head, he groaned quietly before reaching under me to grip his erection tightly. He squeezed it, frowned then bit his lip. “Baby, you can’t say shit like that to me.” His fingers tightened around himself, looking mildly uncomfortable. “My cock’s already drooling.”

  Surprisingly, I actually knew what he meant by that. I knew, because the anticipation of things to come had me wetter than I cared to admit.

  I leaned in, pressing kisses to his jaw. “Do you have protection?”

  “I do,” he muttered, chasing my lips but I kept out of reach, smiling playfully. He held my chin firmly and grumbled, “Stop teasing, baby. I need you.”

  I need you.

  Every time he spoke those words, my brain fizzled and white noise sounded in my ears. How could three simple words slay me so?

  Connor kissed me deeply, making sweet yet desperate noises deep in his throat, and when he pulled back, he was smiling. He looked down at the very clear outline of my pebbled nipples. “You’re not wearing a bra.” I shook my head and he took in a shuddering breath. When he reached under my tee and ran a finger across the bare skin of my stomach, my arms broke out in gooseflesh. “Take it off. I wanna play.”

  I removed the plain white tee, and I did it slowly. When my chest was bared to him, Connor stared down at my full but perky breasts. His voice was little over a whisper. “Beautiful.” Without a word, he guided me to stand and pulled me into the vee of his legs. Once my breasts were exactly where he needed them, he ran light fingers over the taut buds and I visibly trembled.

  Connor lips tipped up at the corners and the anticipation had my head swimming. His hands landed on my waist and, slowly, flat palmed, he slid those hands around me. One at my lower back, the other coming to rest at the curve of my ass. Leaning into me, he pressed an open, wet kiss in the valley between my breasts before dragging his lips across my skin. But he played too long and I let out a tiny whine. Nobody was more
surprised than I was when I took his head between my hands and guided him to one heaving breast.

  He laughed low in his throat then flattened his tongue against the sensitive bud, laving it over and over again, and my head fell back with a harsh sigh. “Yes.”

  “That’s it, baby. Tell me what you need.”

  I couldn’t. It was too lewd.

  I couldn’t say the words out loud.

  Connor puckered his lips and gently kissed my nipple. “Is this what you need?”

  I shook my head.

  He gently nipped the skin under my breast. “You gotta tell me or I won’t know.”

  He damned well knew what I wanted. I wasn’t stupid. Connor just wanted to hear me say dirty things.

  Frustration shot through me. “Connor. Please.”

  I felt his smile against my skin. “Tell me.”

  Oh, God. My body was on fire. I needed relief. He was driving me crazy.

  Damn you, Connor Clash.

  The words stuck in my throat. They were barely audible but I said them. “Suck it.”

  Almost instantly, his lips circled the poor, needy peak and he gave exactly what I needed of him. My moan was long and drawn out, and before my legs gave way, I frantically grasped at Connor’s shoulders in support. He held me close and continued his glorious assault. Switching from one bud to the other, he drew one sensitive peak into his mouth and suckled until I felt I’d explode from the pleasure I felt.

  Without stopping, Connor gently slid a hand down the front of my panties and rubbed his fingertips against my cleft. He let my nipple free with a pop, then asked, “Is this okay?”

  Was it okay?

  Was he serious?

  I’d never felt anything like it. “Uh huh,” I panted out, and the friction increased. A small moan escaped me and then I was pressing into that hand, desperate for more.

  “Baby,” he breathed out. “I’m gonna try something, okay?”

  When a single digit slipped inside me, I gasped loudly and gripped his shoulders tight enough to mark.

  “You okay?”

  Yeah. I was fine. It felt a little strange but so good. I didn’t respond. All I could do was grind against that finger, that being my answer.