by Cari Quinn
He caught her gaze as he let her nipple pop from his mouth. The blue of her eyes were a mere sliver. Her pupils were wide open, drowning in lust. A siren’s call couldn’t have lured him more. But he didn’t want that today. He wanted the playful Harper full of laughter.
He slowed his kisses, cupped her breasts gently as he blew lightly on the tight tips. She closed her eyes, his name a long, slow groan. She rested her forearms next to his head until her breasts pressed into his chest. She sighed as he cupped her hips, his hands sliding lower to her ass.
“I’ll tell you one thing.” She wiggled lower until she straddled his straining cock. “This increased libido thing. Awesome,” she said with a purr.
He ground his molars together. “You’re killing me.”
“I think you can handle it.”
Oh, he’d handle it. Morning, noon, and night if he needed to. When she pushed at her panties, fumbling to get out of them, he lifted his hips to get rid of his shorts. Without warning, she guided him inside her. He slammed his head back against the pillows, watching as she took all of him in one sure stroke. She levered herself up, her hips undulating as she rode him slowly.
He bracketed her hips, but let her set the pace. Sunshine sex was officially his new favorite kind of sex. His grip tightened as her tempo increased. She arched her back, tipping her head back in abandon. He glided one hand up to cup her breast, plucking at the tip until he heard the revved growl that told him she was close. He could have easily let her go right then. She was so damn close that it would only have taken a light stroke against her clit and she’d have shattered above him.
But he didn’t want it to end quite yet. He rolled them both, never missing a thrust. He wanted her mouth, wanted her taste inside of him and around him in the blast of sunshine with her laughter. He rolled his hips, laughing when her eyes went wide and she hooked an arm around his neck. She dragged him down as he went deeper then shallow.
“You freaking tease,” she said on a shaky breath.
“You got it. I missed you, Harper. I don’t want this to end yet.”
“Are you kidding? We’ve got two more days of this.” Her voice broke as he slipped his fingers in between them.
“Two more days,” he panted. “We’ll kill each other.”
“Honeymoon reboot. I’m all for it.”
“Christ, yes.” He hooked her knee over his hip and drove down into her. “God, you feel too good.”
Her nails bit into his back. “If you stop again, I’ll never make those strawberries again.”
“Now that’s just mean.” He smiled down at her and circled her clit with his thumb until she shook, until she screamed, until his name was a hoarse cry. When he couldn’t hold back any longer, he rode out her last orgasm and let go. When her legs slid limply to the bed and he managed to catch his breath, he couldn’t hold back a wheezing laugh.
“I should ask why you’re laughing, but my thigh is still shaking from that last whopper of an orgasm. So, I gotta say, I just don’t care.”
He dropped to the bed beside her, his fingers sliding over her, unable to stay away from her.
She moaned and tried to curl into herself. “Ever heard of the term open nerve?”
He gentled his touch. She was slick with him and her combined. He lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking lightly as he teased her to the brink again. Her release was long and sweet. The kind that had started on a bus with two people fumbling into love. And now the love had created something new and exciting. He took a mental snapshot of the day. Sunshine and Harper. Love and forever. Wife and the future mother of his child.
He didn’t know exactly how they’d get to the end of this new road, but it was the start of something amazing—that much he knew.
Fourteen
Ch-Ch-Changes
“I miss the beach already.” Harper rubbed her hands together as they walked up the stairs to the house in the Hollywood Hills. More Christmas lights had been added to the railings since they’d been gone, as well as a fat wreath with a huge purple bow. It was also at least twenty degrees colder than Galveston. The last two days of their honeymoon had been unseasonably warm and perfect. So perfect she’d contemplated staying right there through the New Year.
Damn responsible nature had killed that idea.
Deacon opened the front door, dumping their duffel bag into the mudroom. The thing was filled to the brim with sand no matter how many times she’d shaken out their clothes. Music blared from the living room then went silent.
Harper grinned up at Deacon when she heard Jazz’s loud whisper for everyone to be quiet. She took his hand, dragging him into the living room.
“Surprise!” Jazz held up a sign that said, “Welcome home” with precisely seven exclamation points after it. One for every color of the rainbow.
Nick had a party horn sticking out of the side of his mouth. His face was deadpan as he blew into it, making the stupid party favor shriek. “Congratulations on fucking for a week straight.”
“God, you’re such an ass.” Simon rose off the couch, two party hats on his head like horns. “It’s congratulations on making love for a week straight.” He waggled his eyebrows. “As dirty as possible.” He crossed the room and shook Deacon’s hand, then pressed a smacking kiss on Harper’s cheek. “Way to go, blondie. You look sassy and happy.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Gee thanks, Simon.” But she was happy. Still freaking out every other hour or so, but definitely happy.
Gray gave them a halfhearted salute from the couch. “Welcome home, guys.”
Jazz bounded over to them, hugging them both before taking Harper’s hands and dragging her to the couch. “Tell me everything.”
Nick reached next to the sofa and pulled out his acoustic, settling it into his lap. “Are we going to get a blow by blow about the whole week? Because if we are I’m going upstairs. I’d rather watch Guitar Center.”
“Then go, Mr. Rude,” Jazz said.
Nick huffed, but kept his mouth shut and strummed his guitar. Harper didn’t recognize the song. Maybe they’d actually gotten some writing done while she and Deacon had been away.
Deacon popped his knuckles. “Actually, this is really well-timed. I didn’t think I’d get all of you together at once before tomorrow. And I don’t really want to talk about this in the studio.”
Jazz tucked her feet under her legs and couldn’t stop bouncing.
Simon quirked an eyebrow. “Care to share what’s turning you into the human vibrator?”
Jazz stuck out her tongue. “Not my news to tell.”
Nick stopped strumming. “Should I put my guitar down for this?” He pulled the cigarette out from behind his ear and stuck it in his mouth before taking it out again to flip it around at the filter.
Harper moved next to Deacon, linking their fingers. “We’re doing this now?” she asked him out of the side of her mouth.
Simon climbed onto the couch and perched on the back support. “This better be good. I have a very dirty woman waiting for me who’s been sexting me for the last hour.”
They’d gone over how to tell the band at least fifteen times since they’d woken up that morning. She opened her mouth to ease them into it like they discussed.
“We’re having a baby,” Deacon blurted.
Or they could just spit it out. “That is not how we rehearsed.”
Deacon’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry.”
Jazz popped off the couch and jumped into Deacon’s arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and levered herself up to kiss his cheek. “This is so great.” She jumped back down and tacklehugged Harper. “So, so awesome.”
Nick looked from Deacon to Harper, then swung his gaze to Jazz. “Are you high? We’re a band. What the hell you so amped about the idea of a baby on a bus for?”
“Hey, watch it.” Harper’s voice rose.
Nick turned on her. “What, it’s not enough that you guys are married? You gotta bring a kid into this? Now?”
&
nbsp; All strong and valid points that she’d lived with for days now. Except everything was different now.
Deacon stepped in front of her. “Look, man, I know it’s not ideal.”
“Ideal? Holy shit, D. What the fuck?”
Harper pushed past Deacon and stalked to Nick. “This wasn’t planned, but you know what? We’re dealing with it. We’re having it. There is no discussion here. I realize this will make things difficult scheduling wise—”
“Difficult?” Nick paced the room. “Difficult is adding a sixth person to the bus. Catastrophic is a fucking…what do you call it? A goddamn playpen.”
She felt Deacon seething at her back, but she held up a hand to him. “You don’t think we’ve thought of that? That I’ve thought of that? The baby wasn’t planned, but it’s a reality. Our reality.”
Nick collapsed back onto the couch. “What the hell happened to my band, man?”
Jazz plopped down next to Nick. “It became our band. Now more than ever.”
Simon crossed his arms and walked over to Harper. “So, a baby?”
“A baby,” she confirmed.
He nodded. “Can I borrow it sometimes? Chicks really dig babies. Makes them think I’m all sensitive and shit.”
Harper laughed. “No way in hell.”
Simon gave her a pouty face. “I’ll wear you down.”
Deacon looked at Gray. “What do you think, Vapor?”
Gray crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s going to be an interesting tour.”
Deacon gently gripped Harper’s shoulders. “Never liked boring anyway.”
Gray gave a rare smile. “But I’m happy for you guys. This is good news.”
Jazz hopped off the couch and went to the side drawer. She waved a book at them. “I’ve been doing some reading.”
Nick flipped open his Zippo and slammed out the back door, a puff of smoke in his wake.
Harper gripped Deacon’s hand on her shoulder, leaning into him. “Not quite as bad as I thought.”
Deacon wrapped an arm around her waist. “Impressive mama bear growl there at Nick,” he said low into her ear. “That was hella hot.”
She laughed. “You’re a sick man.”
“What? I like when you get all territorial about our kid. It’s pretty awesome.”
“Nick brings it out in me.”
Deacon snorted. “He brings it out in most people.”
“So it says here that your boobs get sensitive. Like, you can have an orgasm just from sucking on the nipples sensitive.” Simon looked up from the baby book Jazz had apparently handed him. “Is that true?”
“That’s the first question you ask me?”
Simon shrugged. “Sounds like a perk to me.”
Gray gave a soft snuff of a laugh before standing up. “I’ll be back later.”
Jazz looked up from the book, elbowing Simon out of the way. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” Gray grabbed his coat from the closet. “Don’t wait up.”
“What was that about?” Deacon asked as the door closed.
Jazz brought the book to her chest, arms wrapping tight. “He never stays home anymore.”
Harper frowned. Definite undercurrents there. “You okay?”
“Sure.” Jazz sighed, opening the book. “I am now.”
Harper linked her arm through Jazz’s and peeked over her shoulder. “So, tell me what you’ve learned.” She listened with half an ear as she watched Deacon go out the back door. She hoped he could talk Nick down. A lot of changes were going to happen. She didn’t want to cause another rift within the band. This baby was happy news no matter how Nick reacted. Jazz’s cheerful chatter helped support that.
A few minutes later, Deacon returned with a tiny shake of his head.
Nope, Nick wasn’t ready to talk evidently.
Deacon sat next to her, both he and Jazz spouting off information about babies and pregnancy like they were in a trivia contest.
When Simon sat on the other side of Jazz, a purring George in his lap, Harper finally relaxed a little. This family she’d married into wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned for herself. But like the baby that was now a part of her, so were they. And she wouldn’t change a thing.
Twisted
Lost in Oblivion Book 3
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Twisted
© 2014 Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott
Rainbow Rage Publishing
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“Sugar Kiss”
G. Duffy, N. Crandall, S. Kagan
Up against the wall
Or on the floor
I’ll take what I need
Anytime at all
Watch me lick my lips
Because you already want my kiss
Up and down and side to side
One long taste brings you bliss
Don’t act so shy
I taste the flavor on your thighs
You know you want my
Sugar kiss, baby
I’ll dive between those lips
Oh so sweet
Lick my plate clean
And all the places in between
Feel my fingers
Take my hard drive in your dock
Beg me, beg me to stop
I’ll keep on giving you my
Sugar kiss
One
Then
“Gray, your new sister is here.”
Gray rolled over on his stomach and dragged the pillow over his head. He was still hungover from the party last night and wasn’t in the mood to play nice. Not while there were cymbals crashing in his skull. “Can I talk to her later?”
“No. You can talk to her now.”
He groaned. “Brent’s home for the weekend. Let him play welcome wagon. I’ll take the night shift.”
“Brent already went back to campus.”
Figured. His older brother swung in for a night then swung back out again before the fawning stopped. Leaving everything to Gray as usual.
“Besides, I think you’re more suited in this case.” The mattress sank as his mom sat down at his side. “This one’s not had an easy time of it. I think a friend would do her good.”
Instantly guilt twisted in Gray’s already knotted stomach. Damn Mad Dog. He was never drinking that crap again, no matter how often Jimmy tried to tell him getting loaded would help their band. Bullshit. All it had done was given him a fucking headache and put him in a pisser of a mood. He rolled over and tossed his arm over his eyes. “How bad?” he asked tiredly.
“Pretty bad. Her mom kept her sister but turned Jasmine over to the state. Said she’d gone wild and she couldn’t handle her anymore. Since then, she’s bounced from place to place.”
“So she’s trouble.” He didn’t have time for that. He could stir up enough of his own.
“I think she’s just lonely. You have to meet her.”
The foster kids his mom and dad took in had usually come from rough environments. Some of the children were friendlier than others, which was understandable. It had been six months since the last one, and he’d begun to think that the Duffys had taken in their last kid. Brent was off at co
llege now, and he would be too in a couple of years. Maybe his parents were looking forward to their empty nest.
But now they’d taken in Jasmine.
“Jasmine, huh? Like the flower?”
“Yes. Jasmine Edwards. You two actually have a lot in common.”
He snorted. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“You’ll see.” She stood up. “I’m going to give you two some time alone. I’ll be in the den, okay?”
He grunted and waited until she left to haul his ass out of bed. He checked his appearance in the half bath off his bedroom. Lovely. Bloodshot eyes, check. Way too long hair that looked like someone had gone at it with shears, check. Dragon breath from puking in the bushes before he’d crashed that morning, triple check.
He brushed his teeth a couple of times, pushed a hand through his hair and sniffed his Dokken T-shirt before taking another run at his pits with his deodorant. Good enough. He headed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. It wasn’t like he was meeting anyone he needed to impress.
Five minutes with this chick and he could consider his duty done. Then maybe he could get some practice in on Krystal Sword’s new material. He’d been writing this new song—
Halfway into the living room, he came to a halt.
Everything stopped. His feet, his breath, his heart.
Curled up in one corner of the couch sat a tiny brunette, a guitar stretched across her lap. It dwarfed her, making her seem even smaller. Her fingers moved like a blur, coaxing out the most beautiful music from the antiquated acoustic. Scratches and welts covered the cherry wood, but it didn’t matter. She might as well have been playing the finest instrument that ever existed.
