Deep down, I wonder if we’ll ever be the same again. With nothing more to offer, they believe me and leave me alone with Georgie.
I convince myself that an affair between us will remain hushed and will work. I swear I’ll demand she walk away from me and not look back. I promise that I’ll return to the rocker lifestyle that I’ve loved, endured, and detested in equal measures.
Soon, I’ll discover I’m one of the most delusional motherfuckers in the history of delusional motherfuckers.
Chapter Eighteen
Georgie
Someone is showering. Through the fog of sleep, the sound reaches my ears. I sigh, turning over onto my belly, sniffing the pillow next to me because it smells just like Sloane.
I snap my eyes open at the thought and sit up, blinking. It’s four o’clock in the morning. We’ll be leaving soon for the airport.
Memories of my behavior swirl in my head, and I groan, flopping back and covering my face with the pillow. Too late for regrets now, although my only regret is my display with Kiln.
Breathing in deep, the scent of Sloane increases, taunting my behavior, so I push the pillow to the side of me and sit up again. That’s when I realize I’m in Sloane’s bed.
The thought conjures him up because, suddenly, he’s standing there. His dark hair is damp but he’s wearing pajama bottoms, which disappoints me.
I frown. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”
He knows what I mean. “Takeoff is rescheduled for one.”
I nod and change the subject. The past few hours have to be addressed. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved with Kiln,” I say softly.
Shaking his head, he laughs. “But not for anything else? Fighting with a woman? Kneeing me in the dick?”
“No,” I mutter, lowering my lashes.
The heat of his gaze burns through me. Even though I’m not looking at him, I feel his eyes on me. He’s waiting for my next move, but I have none. His silence is unnerving because his presence is so overwhelming. I bunch the comforter in my hands.
“Did you really mean what you said about Denver?”
“Yes.”
“A-and afterwards, too?”
He takes a moment longer to respond, but he still does.
“Yes.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and leans over, elbows on knees. The muscles in his arms flex. The Phoenix and flames on his back are irresistible. Leaning over, I skim my fingers over them.
“Undress,” he orders me softly.
His words startle me, but when my surprise is fully penetrated, I scramble to do as I’m told. I’ve learned over the past days, if Sloane orders me to do something, I have to get it done.
I remove my two pieces of clothing in record time, like I’ve blinked them away. One moment they are on, and the next moment they are gone. He wastes no time, discarding his PJs, then sliding into bed and gathering me into his arms. His mouth moves over mine and his minty taste explodes against my tongue. As he ravages my mouth, his fingers roam over my nipples, down my belly and to the center of me, where he parts my legs and rubs my seam.
I’m already dripping wet. He grunts, putting two fingers inside of me and stretching my opening. As he slides over me, he kisses my throat and I fling my head back to allow him easy access. He plays my clit and continues to widen my entrance with his fingers.
The core of me begins to pulse and tighten. I shake, arching my back. My head grows light and my vision blurs. I moan and cry out against his mouth, pushing on his fingers, until I shatter into a thousand little pieces and scream in ecstasy.
Not giving me time to recover, he pushes my thighs open and settles himself between my legs. He massages my sensitive clit with the head of his penis, so I lift my hips to meet him, determined to never let go of the pleasure thrumming through me.
“Keep still,” he tells me and slides his tip into my slippery heat.
Even if I want to move, I can’t. He’s holding my hips in place, as he breaches me a little more. My inner walls grip him. His face is strained and his hair is hanging over his eyes. He’s so sexy.
He keeps inching into me until he reaches the barrier of my virginity. This is where he goes still and hangs his head. He’s almost inside of me, and still he’s grappling with what we’re doing.
“Please, Sloane,” I whisper, gripping his arms.
With a curse, he surges into me and I bite my lip to hold back my cry of pain. I’m stretched to capacity around him and he jerks inside of me. He’s fully seated in me and his invasion sends a stinging burn through me. Weight braced on his hands, he’s breathing hard above me. Each time I pull in air, I feel him deeper.
He gives me a moment to adjust to our bodies being joined before he starts to move. I don’t like the way he’s holding himself so far away from me, so I lift on my elbows and kiss the sweat from his neck.
“Lay back and widen your legs.”
The moment I do, he works into me harder. At some point, the initial pain has evaporated. I’m left with adjusting to having another human being inside of me. We’re connected but he’s holding back. Even now.
As if he knows I’m looking at him, waiting for more, he relaxes against me. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his back.
He doesn’t push me away but takes me slow and gentle.
Sloane
Her entire body cloaks me—her legs, her arms, her hands, and her feet. Our upper bodies are skin-to-skin, her breasts pressed against me, the hard points of her nipples singeing me. But it’s her internal heat that’s engulfing me, throwing me into my self-made inferno that I may never rise from.
She’s wet and hot and satiny. That I’m her first awakens a beast inside of me and I know I’m doomed. The flames consume me more.
I meant to get her out of my system in the time it takes for her to heal. But I’m fucking insane. And it isn’t because she’s so well-versed in fucking. Dick-sucking? Yes. She’s a pro. But this. Allowing a man inside of her? No. She doesn’t know and she’s struggling to adjust. She moves with instinct and that affects me as much as anything. She’s not coordinated, not orchestrating her body to give me pleasure. She’s just following her body’s commands, not driving me fucking insane on purpose. Just doing it, anyway.
Her pussy is tight, the snugness of her a haven for my cock. I have to make her come, so I can come and consider what the fuck I’ve done to both of us.
I’ve had a virgin before, but, then I was a virgin, too, and we were both shit at fucking. My dick hurt as bad as her cunt. It’s a memory best forgotten. Like so many of my goddamn memories.
Georgie sucks my nipple into her mouth and I groan, moving inside of her in a steady in-out motion, a stroke away from pulling out and eating her pussy to get her off.
I don’t need to fucking teach her how to come with my dick inside of her. When I force myself to walk away from her, I’ll have enough memories to contend with. Although I’ll finally have good and sweet thoughts. That’ll be enough. It should be.
But I’m her first and I want her to be my last.
I crave. I thirst. I hunger. I live for Georgie.
Is it right? Is it real? I wish I knew. From the moment I met her, she’s been in my head. I’ve been unable to concentrate without knowing she’s safe. The only way to guarantee her safety is to kill Crowell and Cassandra, or keep her with me.
Crowell is already facing serious recovery time, after I fucking beat him to within an inch of his miserable fucking life. Jaeger is cleaning up the winds of scandal. Let him do what he does. I couldn’t give less of a fuck. Crowell deserved it for keeping her fucking strung out.
Georgie’s thighs and legs tremble. I stare down out her, brushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes are gleaming. Purple. Blue. Violet. One day, I will define their color.
They draw me. They slay me. They captivate me.
In her eyes, I see so much. But I know, even if I use my fingers on her while I fuck her, she’s not going to come. S
o I kiss her and thrust into her until my cum spurts into her.
Only this one time will I have her without protection. Here and there, I’ve fucked without condoms and it’s never come back to haunt me. It seemed so impersonal to stick my covered dick in Georgie for her first time as much as it hit me as wrong to come outside of her. How many fucking girls—women—have I pulled out of to come on their tits, thighs, or stomachs? How many have I made swallow to finish me off?
My thoughts are as jaded and sordid as I am.
I separate from her and turn onto my back, compelled to raise my head and study my dick. It’s bloody, as are her thighs.
She nuzzles her head against my arm like a kitten and I pull her to me.
“No one can know. Ever, Georgie.”
“I promise this will be our secret.”
The words even if we’re together when you turn eighteen burn in the back of my throat. If I say them, I’ll have to make it happen. Only thinking that sentiment seems easier to ignore.
“Stay here.” I go to the bathroom and wash my dick, fascinated by the pink water swirling down the sink. Georgie’s virginal blood. She’s finally mine in every sense.
Instead of remorse and shame, nothing but relief, satisfaction, and possession slices me. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call Helen and tell her the changed plans. As far as I know, Cassandra is still hospitalized, so squiring Georgie to my house in Denver shouldn’t be much of a problem.
I grab a washcloth and wet it with warm water before going back to her.
She’s covered herself and I scowl at her. I don’t have to open my mouth. She knows the look and shoves the covers away from her body. Some of the blood and cum is gone from her thighs and I know it rubbed against the top sheet.
Sitting between her legs, I clean up her thighs and stare at her pussy.
“Do you like the way it looks? I can change the style of my hair on it,” she offers quietly, chewing on her lip, already swollen from my kissing.
I work not to show my flash of anger and smile thinly, running my finger along her sliver of hair and teasing her clit. Her outer pussy lips are devoid of hair. “How did you decide on the landing strip?”
Her brows draw together and her flush deepens before she drops her gaze.
“Answer me,” I demand softly, although I already know who instigated the landing strip on her pussy.
“Cro-crowell told me to do it like that.”
I stare at her cunt again and she’s unflinching beneath my gaze. Asshole’s doing again. Maybe, he needs a knife buried into his throat after all.
“You don’t mind me studying your pussy?”
She shrugs, but doesn’t answer.
“Do you want to come?”
My words seem to lift a burden from her and she relaxes. “Yes.”
I want her to come, too, but I have to deny her. I’ll never help her if I don’t. “I’ll make your pussy feel good, sweetheart, if you behave.” I lean forward and lick her until she’s close. Her smell is my paradise. I tongue my lips, reveling in her sweet taste.
A hand covers her pussy and she fingers her clit.
“You want my dick again?” I ask harshly, knocking her fingers away.
She’s trembling and she’s frustrated, but she needs discipline, so that means I have to summon my own hard-won restraint.
Her fingers sneak a small rub, and a little moan escapes her mouth. Desire flashes through me, so I stroke my dick, crooning to her.
“Control, Georgie. It’s one of the most important lessons in life. Delayed gratification can be the best. So decide. Do you want to come now and never have me again? Or can your pussy wait and come when I’m ready to allow it?”
She turns to her side and squeezes her legs together, her breath coming in short, little pants. I fist my cock, squeeze and pull. She slides closer to me and swallows the head of my dick.
“You,” she whispers, moving her mouth away from my dick long enough to impart that.
At her words, I shoot off a glob of cum, her sucking motion, as she swallows, making me growl.
Chapter Nineteen
Cassandra
Parnell hates me. He knows everything about me and Sloane, about my confrontation with Georgie. The way I treated her. He knows it all. And it’s Georgie whom he despises me over.
Somehow, my mother convinced him not to leave. He stayed, but, they took me away. They chose to have me locked away instead of Georgie. Throwing both of us into the hospital for treatment would have been fairer, and made more sense. But, no. It was decided the family couldn’t endure the scandal of having me and Georgie in here. So they chose Georgie for freedom, and left me here to rot.
I want out because I’m going insane in this small, sterile room with dim lighting and white walls. It stays cold in here and I’m wearing thin, facility-issued gowns. Mother and Parnell won’t even allow me the luxury of my silk pajamas.
While I haven’t had sex in days, my imagination runs wild thinking of what Parnell is doing with Abby, and I’m wallowing in envy and disgust wondering what Georgie is doing and with whom?
The only satisfaction I derive is the fact that Sloane Mason has not only left me behind, but Georgie, too.
The door opens and I glance over my shoulder, pursing my lips when my doctor walks in. He’s so taciturn, but I know he isn’t older than forty. He’s not particularly handsome, but his face is…striking.
“Cassandra,” he greets. He thinks familiarity will breed divergence. Silly man.
I grunt a response and he walks around to the side I’m facing. Unless I lift my eyes, my gaze is directly on his crotch. Instead of allowing me to enjoy the view, he backs away and sits. I wish I could zap his chair away, so he can fall on his ass.
I smile.
He studies me. “What are you smiling about?”
“Magically obliterating your chair and watching you fall on your ass.”
He nods. “Do you often have these violent tendencies?”
“Get the stick out of your ass. Who doesn’t at one time or another?”
“Many people.” He shifts in his seat. “I’ve researched you. I couldn’t help myself, once your mother and husband finished explaining your behavior to me. The Cassandra McCall they describe—the one from the Society pages—is…” He grimaces. “Not you.”
My heart is suddenly heavy and I touch my hair. When I brush my teeth, I refuse to look in the mirror. I won’t be able to bear seeing gray hair. I don’t answer, for fear I’ll dissolve into sobs. He doesn’t understand. No one does. I can’t express how fractured I feel with each passing year, grasping for the remnants of my youth, when it keeps slipping away.
I can’t get it back.
Sometimes, I think killing myself is the answer. Then…then…eventually, my soul will be recycled and I’ll be reborn. I’ll be new again.
I scratch my nose, not even sure if I believe in reincarnation. But I don’t know how to be happy. I’ve been miserable for so long. The closest I’ve come to peace and joy was when Georgie was locked away.
If I trusted the doctor, and if my mother and husband loved me, I’d tell one of them, or all of them. But I suffer neither trust nor love, so I stay silent.
“If you had one wish, what would it be?” he asks.
“Youth, beauty, adoration,” I croak out. It’s the truth. Want of those things have driven me half mad.
“Did your mother feel the same way at your age?”
I scowl at him. “My mother was too busy aging with grace and enjoying her life to concern herself with something so mundane.”
“So she ignored you.”
“If only.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, she once always praised my beauty and interfered in every aspect of my life.”
“She stopped?”
“When my daughter was born, I became invisible to them.” I laugh bitterly. “Of course, Georgie is just as unseen to her father.” Or so I thought. He was beside himself when sh
e slit her wrists enough to have hit me.
“Do you love your mother and your daughter?”
I roll my eyes. “Do they love me?”
“You tell me, Cassandra.”
“My mother has her own life and so does Georgie,” I say with an impatient wave of my hand, although I know my mother loves me. She’s always found a method to give me my way.
“She’s sixteen. Your daughter,” he adds, testing me when he structures sentences like my mother.
“And?”
“Shouldn’t you know what her life consists of?”
“She needs to learn to handle her own problems. I won’t be around forever.”
“From what I understand, you aren’t around at all.”
I stretch and blink at the ceiling. “It’s best.”
“Do you want to see her?”
“Does she want to see me?” I counter and peek at him through my lashes, cheering internally when he grits his teeth. I enjoy frustrating him.
He scowls at me and I smile brightly. “Even if you did, she isn’t in town.”
Figures. “Where in the world did Mother take her, when Georgie got back from…wherever she’d been?” I can’t bring myself to add with Sloane. It’s too infuriating.
“Wherever Georgie is, your mother sent her there days ago.”
That catches my attention and I tense, my pulse soaring immediately. Those few words strip my façade of nonchalance away. He’s staring at me, waiting for my reaction.
“Where is she?” I demand. “According to Mother’s timeline, Georgie should’ve gotten back days ago.”
“She’s still with a friend,” he answers without hesitation.
Whether he knows she’s with a man nine years older than she is doesn’t matter to me. The important thing is that I know.
I begin to scream, not stopping until the nurses have control of me and jab me with a needle to calm down.
Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series Page 25
