by Virna DePaul
We’re like wild animals, clawing at each other, biting, panting, trying to erase any distance between us. I can feel my balls draw up; my cock swells. I bite down on her nipple. As her body quivers, her back bowing, I pick up my pace. In the back of my mind I wonder if I’m going too hard, too fast, but Kara doesn’t protest.
She loves it.
“Faster, faster, Declan! Oh God, harder, yes, just like that. Don’t you dare stop. Don’t you fucking stop.” Eloquence be damned. This girl likes dirty talk.
Kara’s relentless in the pursuit of her own pleasure, and I have to admit, it’s fucking sexy. She’s uninhibited, just like I thought she would be.
“You gonna come for me again?” I lick her from sternum to collarbone. “I can feel you getting tighter around my cock.”
She whimpers. I only have a second of warning before she starts to come again. Her pussy clenches around my cock with a vice-like grip, and it’s all I need to start coming, too. Heaving a breath, I feel my cock jerking inside her, the sensation so intense my mind floats away. I’m only aware of the intense tidal wave of pleasure.
Kara lets her arms drop to her sides, too exhausted to even cling to me. I ease down next to her as best I can, the two of us squished between a guitar case and a crap-ton of other shit. Her head lolls against my chest. We’re both breathing hard, and after a few moments, I realize that we’ve completely fogged up the windows. I let out a breathless laugh.
She glances up and sees what I’m looking at. “Oh!” Now she’s laughing too as she makes a handprint on the window. “How Titanic of us.”
“Thank God we’re not about to hit some iceberg. I’m too fucking tired to move, let alone leap off a boat.”
She sits up enough to crack the side window so we can get some air, then snuggles against me. I put an arm around her and she yawns widely. “Same. Although I’d be nice enough to let you onto my door so you don’t freeze and sink to the bottom of the Atlantic.”
For some reason, this makes me feel…something. Something tightens in my chest.
Obsession.
The warning echoes through my head again, but I swat it away. What we’d just done was amazing. Kara was amazing. But I don’t even know her. Hell, I don’t even know her last name.
Exactly how you want it, Declan Kiss, I tell myself as Kara’s eyes drift shut. One night, and one night only. In the morning I’ll fuck her again, then head back to my vacation place, alone. That’s how it has to be.
The sound of waves rushing up the shore comes through the cracked window. I breathe in the sea air, and slowly stroke little circles on Kara’s shoulder, even as I admit the truth. This forced vacation was probably going to be the best thing to ever happen to me, as well as the worst. Because even if I manage to walk away from Kara tomorrow, some part of me knows I’ll never be the same again.
4
KARA
Just before dawn, I slowly wake to the delicious knowledge that I’m not alone and that the person next to me, Declan Kiss, had earlier promised me Round Two of sexy deliciousness. I’m definitely holding him to that promise. I sit and stretch, wondering if my movements will wake him. Scratch that—I’m hoping to wake him. I’m ready and eager for what he can again give me.
I look down and see that he’s still fast asleep, breathing slowly, and he looks just as handsome as he did last night. Jerk. Why don’t men ever look like a total troll an hour or two before sunrise? I smile, though, because Declan looks more than handsome, he looks peaceful, and the lines around his eyes and mouth have faded. Sleep—and maybe the fantastic sex—have released tension that maybe he wasn’t even aware he was carrying.
I don’t know him at all, of course. But last night it was easy to sense he’s carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders. I can understand that too well.
I can’t stop myself from tracing a line on his forehead and down his nose. When his face twitches, I smile again.
There’s just enough light from the bit of dawn peeking through the clouds that I can see we made a total mess of my van’s interior. Did I really sleep with some random guy in my van last night?
Hell yes, I did. It thrills me and makes me want to giggle. Despite having been one of the top country western performers in the nation, and thus exposed to plenty opportunities to live a wild celebrity lifestyle, this isn’t me at all. I can count the number of guys I’ve slept with on one hand, and it was always within the bounds of a relationship. I got close to having a one-night stand just once. Carter found out about it before anything could progress beyond third base. My ex-manager had hauled the guy out of my hotel room before lecturing me for an hour on image and how women in this business can’t fuck around like that.
Carter would blow a fucking gasket if he knew I’d had a one-night stand—and in my car, at that. Screw you, Carter. And it was the best sex ever, too!
My body tingles from the memory. Yeah, I don’t have a single regret about sleeping with Declan. He knows his way around a woman’s body, that’s for sure. I had a lot of fun.
He must have heard me move because he rolls over onto his side and smiles up at me.
“Good morning.” His voice is husky. He sits up and yawns. “Or good night? What time is it?”
I look at my phone. “5 AM. I don’t even know why I’m awake. I’m never up this early.”
“I am. You must have known that I’d wake up and you wanted to tell me good morning.”
I laugh. “That’s so romantically cheesy.”
He responds by grinning back at me, then suddenly he cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him. I only have time to gasp and thrill in the frisson of excitement running up my spine before his mouth is on mine.
He kisses me, and I melt. There’s no other way to describe it. I’m putty in his hands, and when he pulls me into his lap, I clamber aboard eagerly. Kissing Declan is like eating chocolate cake, cherry pie, and blueberry muffins all in one. Even better than all of that. He kisses like he has all the time in the world: leisurely yet seductively, his mouth thorough. I’ve never been kissed like this. My last boyfriend, a country-western studio exec, preferred a few pecks, a boob grab, maybe a little tongue-in-mouth action, and that was the extent of his interest in foreplay. And yeah, he’d been pre-approved by Carter, who’d touted him as “an excellent partner on your climb to success.”
Declan’s stubble scrapes against my chin, and the rough tingle makes me shiver. The contrast of his soft lips and scruffy beard only intensifies the moment. When he sifts his fingers through my hair, my scalp prickles. Heat warms me from the inside and I want him, now, even though I totally need a shower and my stomach rumbles for food. Those things can wait. My hunger for Declan cannot.
This time, though, I want to see more of him. Correction—I want to see all of him. Last night he focused on me, but this morning? I want to return the favor. And more.
I break the kiss and give him a slow smile. When I crawl down his legs and stroke the length of his already-hard cock, his eyes gleam.
“You find something you like?” he rumbles.
I nod. “Yes, I sure did.” Holding his gaze, I grasp him tight in my fist. He’s packing, definitely, and it makes my mouth water. I can’t see him in detail with the little light we have, but I don’t need to. I can feel him, taste him, smell him. Just like he’d said he could with me last night. I tighten my grip as I pump my hand, not going too fast or too slow, but enough to hear him start to breathe faster.
Declan swears under his breath.
My heartbeat intensifies. Time to take this even further. Make him wish time would stop. I lick the head of his cock as I stroke him, and he touches my hair but doesn’t try to direct me, or take control. No, he lets me play.
When I take him into my mouth, my hand squeezing him at the base of his cock, he lets out a guttural moan that goes straight to my pussy. I stroke him with my mouth, guiding him in deep, then pulling back again, sucking and laving the underside of his cock with my tongue as I stroke him
with my mouth. His groan repeats, intensified, and his hips thrust upward, just slightly, enough to tell me he’s overwhelmed by what I’m doing but he still lets me drive the action.
I pull back and run my tongue around his head. He tastes divine, and I lick up the pre-cum pooling at the tip like a cat laps up cream.
“Goddammit, Kara. You’re going to make me lose it.”
I gasp when he yanks me back into his lap, and we kiss like wild animals. Sloppy, wet kisses, and I feel his cock press against my pussy. I need him so badly that I’m shaking with it. Still, though, we need protection before things get too wild.
“Is this the start of Round Two you promised me?”
“Find my pants,” he growls. When I pull back, frowning, he grins, all lopsided and goofy, before explaining. “Condom.”
“One condom, coming right up.” I swivel around and search for his pants on the floor of the van. Too late, I realize that with me in this position, my ass is up in the air in front of him.
He palms my ass before spanking it lightly. “Your ass is so pretty. Do you like being taken from behind?”
My heart pounds. “How many condoms do you carry?”
He chuckles as I scramble back up next to him, handing him a condom. He shakes it and ruefully says, “This is the last one.”
“Lucky for the both of us we haven’t gotten into my secret stash yet.”
“Oh…baby,” he moans. “You sure know how to make a man come undone.” He gets the condom out and onto his cock at record speed.
He positions me over him, slipping his fingers inside my pussy first to make sure I’m wet and slick and ready for him, and then he thrusts upward, hard and sure. There’s no slow preliminary, no teasing, and I love it. He fucks me—that’s the only word to describe it—and I bounce on his lap as I chase my orgasm. I’ve never felt this desperate for release, but I can’t stop from scratching his chest, saying his name, talking dirty. It’s like he’s transformed me into another person entirely.
“It’s so good, so good. God, I love how you fill me up.” I mutter the words, sweat beading on my forehead. I can feel my orgasm coiling in my belly, and I know it’ll be mind-blowing.
Declan nips at my mouth as he grabs my ass, then pumps his hips hard. We chase our release together, and as I gaze into his eyes, I know this is something I will never, ever forget. I bite his collarbone, wanting to mark him, and he grunts.
I undulate and bounce and the feeling of his cock stroking inside me is so good that I can feel it all the way down to my fingertips. When my orgasm hits, I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming, the bite so hard that I taste blood. Declan has to dig his fingers into my hips to keep me from falling over. When I can’t maintain my core strength any longer, I collapse against his chest. He keeps pumping until he comes, too, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside me makes the world go fuzzy.
“God fucking dammit.” He keeps repeating that phrase in my ear, and I can only nod. God fucking dammit, indeed.
I feel heavy and exhausted as I lie on top of him, so cognizant of his heartbeat joining mine. At the realization he’s still inside me, half-hard, aftershocks shimmer through my body.
I’d laugh in delight if I wasn’t so completely incapable of movement, or words, or basic human function.
Declan finally shifts, gently rolling me next to him as he pulls out. He carefully removes the condom and then comes to lay next to me. We’re both on our sides, facing each other. His eyes are shadowy with emotion. My heart does a flip-flop in my chest and flips harder when he kisses me. It’s a slow kiss, with no sign of ending.
I’m definitely not going to pull away and stop the kiss. But as dawn breaks through the clouds, spilling light into the van, I know we can’t stay in this beach parking lot forever, no matter how badly I’d like to right at this moment.
Yet when the kiss ends and our eyes flutter shut, sleep calling to us, I don’t try to fight it, and neither does Declan.
5
DECLAN
I wake up when bright sun shines into my eyes. I know instantly where I am, and who is in my arms, and can’t help but grin as I take in Kara, asleep on my chest, her soft and sweet mouth in a gentle smile. I’ve never been the type of guy to sleep in past six AM, and yet here I am, sleeping in a girl’s van after having sex with her twice. Usually I’m raring to go—take a quick shower, grab a bagel and piece of fruit before I race off to work, ready to make my own fortune as I make others famous. But today? This was the first time since I’d been forced on this lousy vacation that I’d woken up without that buzzing pressure inside me. Instead, I’m feeling…
It dawns on me—hell, what I’m feeling is lazy. No—languid. Like I have no fucks to give about my job and could stay here in Kara’s van with her wrapped in my arms all day, watching her sleep.
Or maybe waking her up and enjoying that ripe, luscious body of hers once more.
My cock stirs, and I have to stifle a groan. It doesn’t help that Kara is a warm bundle of curves practically glued to my chest. Her lashes flutter when she sleeps, and I watch her for a few moments, then take in her naked body. I really love her tats.
My stomach growls, and with my one free hand, I find my phone and glance at the time. I need to eat, and should probably head back to my vacation home and shower. Change into fresh clothes. Not be a beach slob. I haven’t done anything this spontaneous since college. I pull a face. Now that I think about it, it’s kind of pathetic. I’ve been so obsessed with work that I haven’t had time to let my hair down in years. Never thought I’d see the day when I woke up feeling fucking awesome that I don’t have to make any calls or send out any emails or video conference with anyone. Nothing. I have to do nothing.
It’s just me and Kara and the soft, repeated swoosh of the ocean in the distance.
I don’t want to move Kara, though, and I let her sleep for a while longer. I take in the view of her van, all of the stuff she has back here. I couldn’t see a lot of what it was in the dark last night, but in the morning light, I see that she not only has musical instruments like a guitar, but also tons of arts supplies on two small shelves above the bed. Looks to me like acrylic paints of all colors, art books, brushes, and other tools that I have to admit I have no idea how to use.
I know music, but art? Well, let’s just say I haven’t done any art since those awful collages for group projects in junior high. I find it sweet that this wild child, this nomad I’d found on the beach, is an artist.
For some reason, the art everywhere reminds me of something. Or someone. I can feel the memory way in the back of my brain, but I’m too sleepy and sated to capture it right at this moment.
Yet, as Kara sleeps, I can’t stop the niggling in my brain. I also know that the more you try to remember something, you won’t be able to nail down the memory. But that doesn’t stop me from wracking my brain. Art, guitar, Kara...
My heart pounds and my palms go damp.
Shit. Shit shit shit SHIT!
The girl in my arms can’t be her. This Kara can’t be…Kara.
I fumble for my phone and with one thumb, awkwardly do a quick Google search. And when I look at the photos online and at the woman curled up next to me, I know that my brain figured out the mystery.
Even with her hair color changed and clothing totally different from the perfectly styled country western wear in all the media-approved photos online, even with the abundance of tattoos, the girl in my arms is clearly Kara Hester.
As in, Kara Fucking Hester! Country music star who disappeared almost as soon as she reached success. The girl who’d hit the highest charts, who’d painted her own album covers, who’d created music beautiful enough to make the angels sing, the girl who made America fall in love with her, and then bam—was gone. Vanished. No one knew where she was. No one had seen her in years. And I’d found her. I’d found Kara Hester. Hell, I’d slept with Kara Hester. Twice.
Jesus Christ, I know all about Kara. Anyone in the business knows ab
out her. How she got signed right out of high school to a huge record label, immediately hit the big times, and then decided she didn’t want any of it and bailed—on everything.
I’d hated that she’d run off. Her music had helped me through a difficult time in my life. Although I didn’t understand her motives for leaving the business, I’ve always been a fan. Her walking away and no longer making music was in my eyes, a true tragedy. Music lost a real artist when Kara disappeared.
I blow out a puff of air and set the phone down, still shocked. Kara had gone AWOL about five years ago. At the time, I thought she was insane. Who would give up money and fame like that just because being a music god wasn’t fun one hundred percent of the time? I figured she was just too young to realize what she was giving up, and thanked my lucky stars she wasn’t one of my musicians. I couldn’t imagine how pissed her agent—Carter McCall, if I remembered correctly—was when she told him she was done. He probably had a stroke. I know I would have.
But at some point after her disappearance, I’d learned how unhappy Kara was, how she’d left for her own mental and emotional health. Word in the tabloids was she’d felt trapped, unable to be the artist she wanted to be. A surprisingly candid interview had surfaced; one she’d done before she disappeared. In the interview, she’d talked about how agents were the people ruining music for artists like her. The way she said it, agents were molding and shaping and transforming their artists until they were shadows of their real selves. The agents were Pygmalions who didn’t care that their now living statues had feelings and needs that were being trampled on in the process. She said she could no longer even paint, she’d been so sucked dry of her creative juices by her agent.
