“You were right to be angry. I handled it poorly.” He laughed, and then muttered, “Like everything else concerning you.”
His expression suddenly sobered, and I asked, “What?”
“I would have eventually told you about Olivia, about my past, but first, I wanted time with you. I wanted you to get to know the real me without all of that muddying the waters.”
“Okay, but by keeping everything from me, you hurt me. I thought you didn’t trust me. It made me question us, our relationship, everything. I can’t live like that. I won’t live like that.”
“Shhh,” he whispered. I felt his hand in my hair. Warmth spread through me as he cupped the back of my head and pulled me down to his chest. We stayed like that for a long time before he spoke. “I went to a bar tonight.” I tried to jerk my head up, to look at him, but he wouldn’t let me. “My plan was to start with a beer and end up with a bottle. I wanted to forget, to wash it all away, but then I recognized where I was. I’d been there before and realized that I didn’t want to go back there again. I no longer need or want to forget.” His hand relaxed. I lifted my head and our eyes met. “I want to be here with you—for now, for always, for however long you’ll have me, and I want to feel every minute of it.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay?”
“Yes—” Before I could get another word out, his lips were on mine. The kiss was brief, and I wanted more. Words weren’t enough. I wanted him to touch me, to show me that we were going to be okay.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
“I know you said that tonight wasn’t about sex, but—” His brow rose. He was going to make me say it. Fine, I could say it. “I need you.” He got that look on his face, the one that told me he was about to do dirty things to me, and I shivered. The shiver turned to anticipation as he jackknifed up and whipped off his shirt. My core tightened as tattoos spilled across my vision. Sander’s body was a beautiful work of art, and it was all mine.
“Nice shirt,” he muttered as he reached for the hem and stripped it from my body.
Within seconds, we both were naked, and I was straddling his lap. The warmth of him soaked deep into my core, heating all of the places that had been left cold from his neglect. Slowly, he began to touch me. First, my face and then my neck, his gaze never leaving mine, as he continued his path to my chest and breasts. I tried to focus on his face, but his touch felt so good. I lost the battle when his hand slipped between my legs, and my head dropped to my shoulders. His lips touched my neck and a shiver rolled through me. While his fingers worked between my legs, he devoured me with his mouth. I felt as if I was burning from both ends. As if I was burning alive. The orgasm hit fast and hard. Thankfully, he was smart enough to swallow my scream, or we would have had Chaz beating down the door.
I’d barely had time to recover when he pierced me with that look again. In a sexy, guttural voice, he said, “I want to see your face while you ride me.”
He moved to get a condom and I blurted, “I’m on the pill. I mean, I haven’t been with anyone but you, and I get regular checkups and all.”
Clearly surprised by my outburst, he asked, “You want me ungloved?”
“Yes. Wait! Are you clean?”
“I get checked every six months. My last check was clean and I’ve only been with you since then.” I smiled and he pounced. His lips crashed against mine as he lifted me up and positioned himself underneath me. On my downward descent, I felt every last inch of him. Gasps and groans slipped from our mouths as I seated myself firmly on his cock.
“Jesus, you feel so good.” The words weren’t spoken, they were panted. I wasn’t sure I could talk, so I just nodded in agreement. Slowly, I began to ride him. He made good on his promise and watched me the entire time. I had to admit, it was sexy as hell. When my breaths turned choppy and he knew I was getting close, he grabbed me by the hips, jerked me forward, and began to grind against me. An earth-shattering orgasm exploded from my body, and I screamed his name.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
* * *
“NEXT TO ME”
Sander – Six months later . . .
Wynne moaned. It was a long and drawn out, “That feels sooooo gooood.”
I leaned forward, and tracing my tongue around the shell of her ear, whispered, “It would feel soooo much better if my cock was inside you.”
“I don’t care where it goes, just as long as you keep massaging.” Her sleepy tone told me how exhausted she was. We both were. Bubbles jetted around us as I continued to massage the knots from her neck and back. I’d been trying to get us back to Aspen for months now, but between the new job and Wynne’s schedule, there hadn’t been any time. As it was, I had to practically bend Heaven and Earth to get us these few days off.
“Hey, baby. Let’s get you to bed.” I didn’t feel her hand between my legs until it latched onto my cock. Her head turned and she speared me with a sexy look.
“The only way I’m going to bed right now is if this goes with me.”
“Oh, he’s going somewhere alright,” I teased. Her laughter filled the bathroom as I swept her up into my arms and stepped from the tub. I placed her down long enough to towel both of us off before lifting her back into my arms.
“I’ve always loved this house,” she declared as I lowered her onto the bed.
“I love you.” Her expression went all gooey. It was a look I’d come to love, mostly because I knew it was for me, but also because it told me that I was doing something right.
“Quit being sweet and use that thing,” she ordered, pointing at my cock. Sex never got old with Wynne. Then again, life never got old with Wynne, either. She was funny and smart and gorgeous, not to mention sexy. Fuck, but she was sexy. I slowly crawled up the bed and settled on my knees between her legs. She beckoned for me to come closer and I smiled. Blue eyes glittered with anticipation as I continued my upward ascent and melted into pools of desire when I reached my final destination. With my hands on either side of her head, I hovered over her, our bodies barely touching. I dipped my head and gently kissed her lips.
“More,” she whispered and I dropped to my elbows and kissed her again—this time harder and deeper. She opened up for me and I swept my tongue inside her mouth, swallowing down her moan. I wanted to take it easy, to go slow, but as usual, Wynne had other intentions. It didn’t take long before her hands were in my hair and her legs were wrapped around my waist. Exhaustion be damned, my girl wanted to play. I gave her leg a light tap and she loosened her pretzel-like grip. This earned her a gratifying kiss. This also allowed me some room to maneuver, and maneuver I did, starting with my lips on her tits. Wynne had perfect tits. Only when I had her writhing and begging for more did I move down between her legs. Gasps quickly switched to moans as I shoved my hands under her ass, lifted her pelvis off the bed, and buried my tongue inside her hot, wet, pussy. I worked her right to the breaking point, to where all it would take was a flick or a suck, before stopping. I wanted inside her. I wanted to feel her explode on my cock. She groaned when I pulled back.
“Hurry,” she panted as I lined myself up to her entrance and powered inside. Her orgasm hit hard and she screamed. I drew back, then thrust forward, burying myself deep inside her—all the way to the fucking hilt. I repeated this over and over. The sounds that she made and the feel of her sweet little pussy squeezing my cock got me there faster than I wanted. Any other time and I would prolong it, but I knew she was tired, so I gave in and let it take me.
By the time I cleaned us both up and made it back to the bed, Wynne was already out cold. I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Finally, I gave up and turned onto my side. As I watched her sleep, I found myself reflecting back over the past few months . . . .
The week after we got back together, I talked Wynne into accompanying Alex and me to New York.
Andy took one look at her and said, “We’re going to make this a story about both of you.” We spent t
wo, gruelingly long days stuck in a conference room, but in the end, it was worth it, because our story sold out in newsstands across the nation. It also forced XtBS to get their shit together and do the right thing. Not only did they cancel the show, but they were pursuing legal action against Ferris, Jayne, and Greg for breaching their employment contracts and fraud. After much consideration, I decided to drop my lawsuit against Ferris. As much as I hated the fucker, I knew that it was time to let it go. We’d won. The action by XtBS would take care of him and he would never work in the music industry again. I was totally cool with that.
With Jayne also getting what she deserved—courtesy of XtBS—I wanted to go after Gio, but Alex, with the help of Olivia and Wynne, convinced me that rehab was the better option. I agreed under one condition—that I never had to see or hear from him again. I wasn’t joking, either. If he so much as blinked in my direction, the deal was off.
My first big argument with Wynne came about a month after we’d gotten back together. She was going home for the weekend to pack, and I offered to go with her. I wanted to meet her parents, but she was adamant against it. When I asked her why, she refused to tell me, which then pissed me off. This led to a rehash of the past six months and how we weren’t supposed to be keeping secrets from each other. As usual, I backed her into a corner and she came out swinging. Her parents hated me. Her mom thought I was a narcissistic ass and her stepdad had taken to calling me “Swinging Sander.” Wynne thought that telling me would make me back down. Hell no, this was a challenge. If we were going to have any sort of a future together, I needed for her parents to like me. It took me every bit of two days to convince her to take me with her. I shouldn’t have. The weekend was a complete shit show. Her parents didn’t hate me, they despised me. Her best friend, Carrie, wasn’t much better. At least she didn’t act as if she smelled a heaping pile of shit every time I walked into the room. Her parents made me sleep downstairs in the guest room and pounced if I so much as even glanced at the stairs. By the end of the weekend, Wynne would barely look at me. Something had to give. It happened Sunday morning over breakfast when I finally decided I’d had enough. If not for Wynne, I would have told these people to go fuck themselves earlier, but she loved them and I loved her. So, after calmly apologizing, I explained that even though I’d made mistakes, I loved their daughter, and that with or without their approval, she was mine. We’d seen them a handful of times since then. With each visit, they’d loosened up a little more. Carrie was a much easier sell. All it took to win her over was several bottles of wine over dinner at her favorite restaurant and a promise to fly her to Aspen this summer.
In a bold move, Happenstance decided to test the waters by releasing a song from Wynne’s upcoming album as a single. It was a huge success and was currently charting at number fifteen. The nation loved Wynne. They’d rooted for her and loved to see her finally winning. The upcoming months would prove challenging, which was why we were taking this much-needed break. Wynne had three songs left to record on her debut album and its release date was scheduled five days before the start of the tour. She was quickly learning how to pace herself. It wasn’t easy, but she had me, and there was no way in hell that I would ever let her fall.
When I wasn’t with Wynne, I was watching videos, listening to demos, or scouting the local venues for new talent. So far, I’d picked up two new clients. Both were single artists, but only one had signed with Happenstance. The other had chosen a different label. Neither were as good as Wynne, but then again, no one was as good as Wynne. I can’t say that I missed performing. A few months back at Chaz and Olivia’s wedding, Wynne called me up on stage to sing with her. It felt different. I was happy to be on stage with her, yet equally as happy to leave it. That’s when I knew I’d made the right choice.
I rolled to my back and shifted my gaze to the nightstand by my head. Careful, so as not to wake her, I reached for the knob, slid open the drawer, and lifted out the little black box. I pulled it open and stared at the ring nestled inside. My eyes drifted to the woman lying next to me, to my future, and I smiled. Yes, I’d definitely made the right choice . . . .
MILLION DOLLAR MUSICIAN SOUNDTRACK
* * *
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived – Weezer
It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas – Bing Crosby
Fighter – Christina Aguilera
All I Want for Christmas Is You – My Chemical Romance
Song for a Winter’s Night – Sarah McLachlan
World Spins Madly On – The Weepies
Piece Of My Heart – Janis Joplin
Setting the World On Fire – Kenny Chesney, Pink
Mine – Bazzi
Say Something – Justin Timberlake, Chris Stapleton
Coming Home – The Record Company
Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked – Cage The Elephant
Hideaway – The Weepies
Sex on the Radio – KONGOS
The New Day – Greta Van Fleet
When I Come Around – Green Day
Let Me Go – Avril Lavigne, Chad Kroeger
Suck My Kiss – Red Hot Chile Peppers
Come Along – Vicci Martinez, CeeLo Green
Meadow – Stone Temple Pilots
You Say – Lauren Daigle
Freeze Me – Death From Above 1979
Straight On – Heart
I Will Survive – Cake
Every Breaking Wave – U2
Cities In Dust – Siouxsie and the Banshees
Gone Daddy Gone – Violent Femmes
Believe – Mumford & Sons
Next To Me – Imagine Dragons
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
RB Hilliard lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her husband, two teenagers, and crazy dog, Oscar. She loves music, a good book, red wine, chocolate, and to write twistedly suspenseful stories. Alpha men and rock stars are among her favorites, but don’t worry, if suspense isn’t your bag, she also writes funny tales about exceptionally hot men who are in desperate need of taming. In 2014, Hilliard published her first novel. She has since published twelve additional novels across several genres.
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JUST A TEASE
CRYSTAL KASWELL
PROLOGUE
* * *
Miles
The music journalist has a straight face.
If anything, he’s overly earnest.
He holds his pen to his notebook as if he’s about to record every word that flows from my lips.
As if we’re not on camera.
As if he works for the New York Times and not for some MTV knockoff video blog.
Fuck, I don’t care where the man works.
But I can’t take another bullshit question.
I barely manage a smile. “Lyrics come to me.”
He tilts his head to one side, not at all catching the double meaning.
It’s not my finest work, but I’ve had an ass full of this bullshit.
The guy clears his throat. “There are no love songs on the album. How do you think your fans feel about that?”
“Love isn’t my thing.”
“But you must have your fans’ interests in mind…”
I look to the camera with a smile and run my hand through my wavy hair. “I put what I feel on paper, then Drew, Pete, and Tom help me turn those words into sound. That’s what our fans want.”
“Would you write a love song?”
Damn, he’s green. It’s difficult keeping a straight face here. “I don’t plan out what I
’m going to write.”
“But on the first Sinful Serenade E.P.—”
“Those songs weren’t about love.”
Confusion spreads over his face. I don’t blame him. I’m a bad interviewee at the moment.
From his spot on the sidelines, Tom glares. Though our drummer isn’t really a sidelines kind of guy. Tom laps up fame. He’s as well known as I am, and I’m the face of the band.
All right, Tom, message received.
Attention offstage is the price I pay for attention onstage. It comes with doing vocals.
It didn’t used to bother me. Not when I…
Well, I don’t have time to get into that.
I shoot the camera a panty-melting look. “I write a song when there’s something stuck in my head that won’t get out.”
The guy finally gets it. He leans back with a smile. “How does it feel, your video hitting number one?”
“Feels like a lot of women are dying to see me naked.”
“And your song sticking in the Top 40 for weeks?”
“Feels like a lot of women want to hear me moan.”
The guy nods. “This album has been getting great reviews. How do you feel, everyone claiming that Sinful Serenade is the next big thing?”
Can this guy start a question with something other than how do you feel?
I didn’t sign up for therapy. I’ve been through enough of that for one lifetime. Not that I’m likely to get off the couch anytime soon.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volume 1 Page 85
