Rocked

by Taryn Elliott

  “Who says I’m a nice girl?” Harper asked with a grin and let Jazz lead her out into the main living space.

  Jazz bumped her arm. “Yeah, I like you. We’ll keep you.”

  Not entirely sure what to say after the Simon comment, Harper just smiled. She didn’t get an orgy vibe coming off them, so she relaxed. Simon was probably just being his typical mouthy self. The guy didn’t know when to shut up. She’d seen it in the food tent on more than one occasion.

  Jazz bounced onto the couch. “I’m too keyed up to sleep. Want to watch a movie?”

  “Jazz!”

  Jazz’s blue eyes widened. “Yes?” she called back at Deacon’s raised voice.

  “Can you come back here, please?”

  “Crap,” Jazz muttered then stomped to the back of the bus. “What did I do now?”

  Harper curled into the corner of the couch, flipping one of the throw blankets over her legs. They were discussing something with an attempt at whispering, but she kept hearing snatches of information. Something about the cage in Jazz’s bunk made her listen a little closer.

  “He was so cute, though. I couldn’t leave him.”

  “It ate through my socks.”

  “I’ll buy you more socks. Jeez.”

  She heard his exasperated sigh, and just as Harper was about to go back and see what they were going on about, he came out with an orange puffball on his shoulder, burrowing into his hair. Jazz followed with a white and brown bundle overflowing from her tiny hands.

  “Deacon found Ratt.”

  Harper blinked and took a better look at the animal in Jazz’s hands. God, was it a rat? If it was, it was a damn fat one and its tail was missing.

  “Really? Ratt?” Deacon asked.

  “I heard Round and Round in the car when we were coming back with it.”

  “And who let you buy a guinea pig?”

  “Same person who rescued George.”

  Harper leaned forward. “I’m confused.”

  Deacon sat down next to her, draping his arm over her knees. He tipped his head until the blond-striped kitten peeked from his hair. “Lawless, meet George.”

  “Lawless?” Jazz dropped onto the couch across from them.

  Harper gave Deacon a side-eyed look. “Inside joke.”

  Jazz’s eyes sparkled as she brought the furry bundle to her face and rubbed noses with it. “Honey, that inside joke sailed across Twitter days ago.”

  Harper lifted the kitten off Deacon’s shoulder. It instantly climbed her arm and headed for her hair. “Likes hair, huh?”

  “Yeah. Better than socks,” Deacon said and nodded to Jazz. “Evidently, we’re turning into Doctor Dolittle here.”

  Harper pulled the kitten out of her hair and raised it over her head. “George?”

  “I didn’t name her.”

  “So, you are a her.” She nuzzled the kitten, but let her crawl back into her hair when needle-like nails punctured the back of her hand. “So who talks to them?”

  Deacon leaned in and brushed his nose along the back of the kitten’s neck, and in turn, he bussed his lips along Harper’s ear. “Cute.”

  Harper shrugged with a grin. “You were the one that said Dolittle.”

  Ratt—the guinea pig—curled into the crook of Jazz’s elbow. Jazz lifted the remote and flicked on the TV. Evidently, they were going to watch a movie with animal accompaniment.

  Deacon settled back, stretching his arm behind Harper, hauling her in until she and George curled in against his chest.

  “I wanna cuddle, too.”

  Deacon held out his other arm, and Jazz crossed to their couch and settled on the other side of Deacon. Her head fit perfectly into his armpit as if she spent a lot of time there.

  Fifteen minutes into “Old School,” Harper wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, she’d never been familiar enough with people to cuddle. On the other, well, she didn’t quite know what to do with a man that could ruin her with orgasms just a few hours ago and now seemed completely content to play the role of big brother.

  When his fingers slid into her hair and lightly massaged the back of her skull, she closed her eyes. Okay, so not exactly big brother-like. George purred against her belly, and if Deacon didn’t stop with the stroking, she would be doing the same in a second. Being all burrowed into his chest felt good. Heck, it felt perfect.

  She opened her eyes and saw that there were no little lingering touches toward Jazz. She lay against the side of Deacon’s chest, and his arm cradled her tiny body, but it was more like he was a warm couch for Jazz instead of someone she got naked with. Ratt was nestled into the valley of Jazz’s cleavage, and Miss Wide-Awake was already fast asleep.

  The movie drifted into the background. The slow, steady rise of Deacon’s chest and reassuring beat of his heart mesmerized and then lulled. And for the second time, she drifted to sleep in his arms.

  * * *

  Deacon rolled his shoulders then rubbed his cheek over the top of Harper’s head. She was a near silent sleeper, so he hadn’t been sure she was all the way out until halfway through the movie. His first clue had been the wake-up call of her hand in his lap. Instead of teasing him, she’d simply run out of real estate. The kitten was sprawled across her lap, taking up far more room than anything less than three pounds should.

  But then again, she was Simon’s kitten.

  Harper had slid her leg between his and the smooth line of her hip had come free from the paper towel-sized throw that Jazz always had on hand. He trailed his fingers along the smooth expanse of skin up to her waist, where his shirt flirted with his boxers.

  She was unreasonably sexy in his underwear. What should have looked bunched and uncomfortable instead clung to her curves, giving tiny flashes of skin when she turned just right.

  Jazz shifted at his right, bringing him back to the moment. It was far too easy to crawl into Harper fantasies. He’d gorged himself on her all evening and yet he could only focus on getting more of her.

  Her taste was as familiar as his favorite beer and just as intoxicating. Losing himself inside of her was a sweet pain that he’d never experienced before. He’d felt alive for the first time in his life. And he wasn’t entirely sure he could live without her.

  Anxious to have Harper to himself again if only for a few more hours, he tapped Jazz’s arm. She woke easily, but she didn’t stay awake long. She gave him a soft smile and bundled up Ratt. “Night night, Deak.”

  “Night, Pix.”

  Jazz padded her way to the back of the bus. “C’mon, Mr. Ratt, it’s time for bed.”

  He clicked off the television before cracking his neck. Having two women use him as a cushion was awesome in theory, but man, he was sore. Instead of waking Harper, he slid his arm under her knees and gently tipped both woman and kitten against his chest and stood.

  Harper nuzzled against his chest, but didn’t wake. Getting her into his bunk was a little trickier. He crouched low, his thighs protesting the movement. He’d pushed it a little too hard on his run earlier in the day. Too many inane interviews and too few moments to himself had prompted him to escape for an hour.

  And now he was paying for it. Double time. Add in a few hours with Harper and his body was well and truly done in. As he lifted her away from him, she gripped his shoulder and her blue eyes opened wide.

  He smiled down at her and rolled her into his bunk. The kitten protested with a pathetic mewl and scampered up to the pillow, kneading it until she found just the right combination of cute curled up perfection.

  Harper slipped under his sheet and settled against him with a sigh. “I should be going back to my bus.”

  “You should stay.”

  “Okay.” She brushed her cheek against his chest and pushed at his shirt. “Skin, just your skin,” she said sleepily. “I like your skin.”

  “I like your skin, too.”

  She wiggled until his Toad shirt drifted up above her perfect breasts and off. How the hell was he supposed to sleep with her
unconsciously sexy stretch of arms and arching back? She pushed at his shirt until he could flip the well-worn cotton over his head. When the petal-soft skin of her breasts rubbed against his skin, he groaned.

  “Sleep now,” she whispered.

  He bowed his head to see if she was truly falling back to sleep and groaned as her fingers slid up and tangled in the hair on his chest.

  “So pretty.” She sighed against his skin. “So warm and tan, and the muscles... Oh, yeah, the muscles.”

  His lips curved. Was she awake? He hissed when her fingers slid down his abs and into his jersey shorts. Yep. Definitely awake.

  She turned sleepy eyes up to him, her fingers curling around his lengthening cock. “Especially the muscles.”

  “Harper,” he said with a low growl. They weren’t alone now. Nowhere near alone.

  She slid down his body, open mouthed kisses along his ribs, his belly, and finally his straining cock. She pulled his shorts all the way down and closed her mouth around his head.

  He slammed his jaws tight, swallowing the moan trapped in his chest. Watching and enjoying a woman’s pleasure was his drug, especially when it came to this woman. But dammit, she punted him off a cliff every time she got her hands on him.

  The entire bus would know just what they were doing if—”Fuck, yes,” he hissed between his teeth. Sleepy blue eyes gleamed up at him in the low overhead light.

  She let him go with a lazy lick. “I’ve had friends tell me they love to give head.” She lifted his shaft and followed the sensitive underside with the pad of her thumb. “I never believed them until now.” She took him inside her mouth, and he arched up to get even deeper.

  The sweet warmth of her mouth and wildness in her eyes threatened more than his sanity. Part of him didn’t give two shits that the entire bus would know what they were doing in his bunk, but he didn’t want Harper to be embarrassed when she figured out just how non-whisper her whisper was in the light of day.

  He sat up as much as he could and thanked God for his long arms. She gave a muffled cry when he flipped her around. At least he could keep his mouth too busy to shout out something stupid.

  “I’m too heavy.”

  He laid her across his chest until her knees pressed into his pillow. “All’s fair,” he said as he palmed her truly spectacular ass and dragged her down to his mouth.

  Her nails bit into his thighs, but she caught on quickly. Every rasp of her tongue, he followed with one of his own. He slammed his fist into the overhead light and concentrated on her taste. In the darkness they were brought down to basic instinct.

  Skin and sighs, pleasure soaked in the dark slide of madness. He could feel it in her rough touch. Usually gentle, she palmed his sac until he had to pull away from her to breathe.

  She pressed her cheek to his thigh. “I like you crazy,” she said on barely more than a whisper. When his grip tightened on her ass, she rotated her hips. “More.”

  So not the place. He tried to dial it back, but then she grazed her teeth over the head of his cock and then down his shaft. Without thought, he drove two fingers into her and felt her fist around him.

  The race started and it was no sprint. They were evenly paced and he forgot about where they were, who was around them.

  He dialed into her body and her heat and stroked every single inch of her inside and out. The moment he thought she’d broken apart for him was snatched away when she took him so deep that he froze.

  Her throat muscles, tongue and suction submerged him. There was no way for him to come back up until she was finished with him. Until she owned him. He gripped her thighs and she took him just that much deeper.

  And then he was lost. Pleasure edged into pain as he came inside her. His hips had a mind of their own, but she held on and rose over him, milking him with her strong hands and soft mouth.

  When he could reason again, and the world stopped being a kaleidoscope of firing synapses, he brushed his lips over her thigh. She was drenched, and he felt her flinch away from his touch.

  Harper crawled down his body then came back up. “Too much,” she said against his throat when he reached for her again. She laced her fingers with his. “I feel like a live wire.”

  He stroked his way up her back, slick and silky with sweat. His bunk smelled of them, and there was no way to hide that. But he didn’t give two fucks. They’d pushed each other beyond the brink. And it was so much more than enough.

  Deacon brushed his lips across her brow, then her damp temple. She relaxed by degrees until her fluid body was draped over him and sleep finally became bearable.

  Deacon lifted his hand over his face to peer at his watch with one eye, surprised to see it was well past eleven in the morning. Simon’s incessant strumming prodded him into consciousness.

  His back was crowded into the carpet padding in his bunk and Harper was curled into his front, their feet tangled. Her tumble of sunny hair was tucked into his shoulder and neck, and they were both in sore need of a shower.

  The bus didn’t have good circulation in the best of times. Add in his penchant for being a few degrees above normal body temperature, and that equaled sauna.

  She pushed at him and rolled over. “Holy crap, you’re a furnace.”

  “Morning to you too, Lawless.”

  She opened one eye. “Is this going to be a thing?”

  “Us sleeping together? Hell yes.”

  She sighed. “I was talking about the Lawless thing.”

  “Oh.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and rolled them both over until he could stretch out on his back. He twisted on the little air vent. “Probably.”

  She lifted her face to the breeze. “What the hell is he singing out there?”

  Deacon tuned in. “It sounds like a cover of Bryan Adams.” He reached out and opened his cupboard, snagging the first two t-shirts on top. “Not that I want to cover up that delicious body of yours, but I gotta open this curtain before I die.”

  She pulled the shirt over her head. She looked down at her chest and laughed. “Good taste.”

  He grinned at the vintage Def Leppard t-shirt with the Hysteria cover molded to her chest. “You do have the very best breasts for concert shirts.” Snapping the curtain open, he reached for his shorts on the floor and stepped into them.

  Without the muffle of the heavy curtain, the lyrics came out full strength.

  “Back when we were doing sixty-nine in the bunk,” Simon sang out loud and clear.

  “Son of a bitch.” Deacon handed Harper her skirt and mangled panties.

  “What, I like Bry—” Harper poked his back. “Those are not the words.”

  “No, they aren’t.”

  Deacon tripped over a pile of clothes and slapped his hand on the wall as he reached the kitchenette. Simon sat on the couch with his acoustic on his lap, strumming with an unrepentant smile on his face as he repeated the lyrics once more now that he had an attentive audience.

  Deacon stared at the ceiling of the bus, automatically opening his stance to balance himself against the high speeds that Joe kept them at. “Simon.”

  Simon kept on strumming the cords to the often-covered song. “What? I’m just practicing the cover song for tonight.”

  Deacon simply stared. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I’ll sing the right lyrics tonight. Probably.”

  Harper came out, her hand sliding along his back before she tucked herself along his side. “Creative use of lyrics, Simon.”

  Simon grinned at her, his black hair wild around his too-pretty face, and blue eyes twinkling. “Man, I really like this chick. You can keep her around.”

  Deacon looked down at her. “You’re not pissed?”

  “Like I can lie about the fact that we had truly spectacular sex last night?”

  Deacon barked out a laugh. “You heard the lyrics, right?”

  “I dare you to sing them tonight,” she said with a bright smile at Simon.

  Simon fell back against the cushion, a shou
t of laughter filling the bus. “Lock her up, McCoy. I’m stealing her if you don’t.”

  Deacon curled his arm around her neck and kissed her soundly.

  That night, they played “Summer of ’69” with slightly bastardized lyrics that ended up on YouTube the very next morning.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  September 7, 6:23 AM - Four Weeks, Five Days

  Harper dug her knuckles into the dough. Most of the crew were still in their beds, or just heading there. They’d been wheels up by three AM. The trip to the next town had been a mere two hours, so it was just easier to drive it and get some rest at the new venue.

  Except she was too keyed up to rest. She shared a bunk wall with five other women on the crew, all of them stacked like the trays of food she served every day. She was used to this environment. She’d learned to live on a few hours of sleep a long time ago. Life on the road wasn’t exactly restful—you found sleep when you could, and no one had a regular schedule.

  Well, the food did. Regardless of the amount of sleep she got, food was the one constant in her life. Her newbie status gave her the breakfast rush along with the lunch. Heck, most of the time, she was helping with the dinner, as well. Danny and Meg got to sleep off their partying from the night before, now that the tour was well on its way to finished.

  Harper couldn’t complain. She was lucky enough to have this position to start with. Meg’s reputation for playing as hard as she worked was definitely true. And even if Meg didn’t take her on permanently, this was a great company to have on her resume.

  The last two weeks with Deacon had been amazing. Heck, the entire tour had been pretty awesome. She and Deacon stole time whenever they could, which was a lot more than she was used to. Between school and the road, she’d never been around one guy long enough to get interested beyond a week. The few times she’d actually tried to let it be more had fallen apart faster than a soufflé on a speeding bus.

  And yet, it worked with Deacon. She couldn’t even pretend it didn’t. For God’s sake, she couldn’t shake him if she wanted to. He was too sweet to scream at, for the most part. And the few times she’d let loose on him, he’d grinned at her with that damn dimple and asked her if she was done.