The Rockstar's Virgin

by M. S. Parker

  The first time I was in Sean's house, he practically chased me out of it. Or I suppose I should say I fled. The next time I stepped into Sean's house, it would be as his wife. These two memories, when placed side by side, hardly made any sense. How could a man as pervy as Sean end up with someone as prudish as me? And how could the two of us be so wildly happy? This was further proof that the universe was a strange and terrifying and wonderful place.

  Sean's kiss was warm and brief. No need to make our wedding attendees as uncomfortable as we undoubtedly made everyone at Jasmine's concert all those months ago.

  “I can’t wait to finally have sex with you,” he murmured against my lips. “Being with a girl who’s waiting for marriage is tough.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I pushed him upright. “You’re such a dog.”

  He winked. “Woof.”

  Next, we would leave the stage, and the caterers would rearrange the backyard ceremony space into an idyllic reception area. But instead of grabbing my hand and walking me back down the aisle, Sean turned to the side of the stage. Dave was waiting there with his guitar, and he passed it over to his brother without sparing me a glance.

  “Uh, what are you doing?” I asked.

  Sean smirked and struck the first chord. Before I even knew what was happening, he was cozied up to the priest's microphone stand, serenading me with The Beatles' “Oh, Darling” – one of my favorite songs.

  I laughed and tried to hold back tears of joy, not wanting a stern reprimand from Grace later on.

  Sean had never looked or sounded sexier than he did singing “Oh Darling” with his gravelly baritone. For a moment, the Rock Star shone through, offering me a wedding gift in the form of the man I loved in his element. Sean owned that stage like he owned my heart. The moment he sang the last words, I ran over to him and pulled his mouth to mine for a fierce kiss.

  Later, I stood at the edge of the garden with Cora and watched the guests swirl around the dance floor, admiring the way the string lights seemed to add a touch of fantasy to the evening. Sean and Dave were chatting by the bar, laughing about something. They were always laughing. It warmed my damn heart.

  “It ended up being a beautiful evening,” Cora said, sighing dreamily. “And there is a lot of hot man flesh walking around.”

  “There’s those priorities again,” I said with a teasing smile.

  She winked. “Hey, you’ve got a husband now. Leave us poor singletons alone.”

  A light flashed out of the corner of my eye. I looked around Cora, a wistful smile passing over my lips as I watched the young photographer at work. She was standing near the stage, snapping photos of people slow-dancing to the gentle crooning of the band. This was clearly the photographer’s first big job. Her face was screwed up in nervous concentration, a face I’d made many times when I was just getting started.

  “What’s up?” Cora asked, following my gaze. “She not doing her job properly? Want me to go put the fear of God in her?”

  I chuckled. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I was just thinking about how that used to be my life. Isn’t that crazy? It feels like just yesterday that I was taking wedding photos and waiting for my life to begin.” I let out a quiet, contented sigh. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

  “Uh, okay.” Cora gave me a short wave. “I’m going to do another walkthrough and see who checks me out.”

  I was already walking toward the small brunette, whose face was hidden behind the big black Nikon in her hands.

  “Hey,” I greeted.

  She lowered the camera and smiled at me. “Hello, Mrs. Morris! Did you want me to take some more photos of you?”

  “Actually, I just wanted to pass on a bit of advice that really changed my work.”

  She nodded. “I’m always open to advice, especially from someone with your success.”

  I smiled and gestured toward the crowd. “To get the best photos, you have to get in there. Get involved. Not stand on the sidelines waiting for the best shot.” I caught her gaze, and for a moment I was staring into a mirror. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get the perfect picture.”

  We looked out into the crowd, the audience. One moment they were guests, another they were fans.

  “You’ll capture the likeness of someone’s heart.”

  Turn the page to read the free bonus book from M.S. Parker: Resisting Temptation.

  One

  Maya

  It was freezing in the house, but now, as we all huddled by the electric fire pit, I breathed in a little deeper and sighed. Next to me, Maverick Jorgen, all six feet of him in his bronze glory, accepted a bottle of whiskey from some guy I didn’t know, sipped it, then passed it my way.

  They were so busy talking that they didn’t notice when I passed it on without drinking anything.

  I didn’t mind a drink—actually, would have liked one—but I did mind sharing a bottle with people I didn’t know. It was kind of gross.

  Still, it wasn’t enough to ruin my mood.

  Summer was here, but the real heat hadn’t quite descended on us yet, and I was enjoying the thought of a couple of months of no school—no stress from my parents—sleeping in and doing whatever the hell I wanted.

  “Hey.” My best friend Caitlyn sat down next to me and bumped me with her shoulder. “You still look so stressed, Maya. You need to chill out…relax.”

  She held out a little box and I eyed it, then shrugged. “I’m good. I’m going to get a drink in a bit.”

  “You just said no to some of the best damn scotch in the world.” She laughed, a sound that was bawdy and rich and lush, the kind of laugh that turned heads everywhere she went—and tonight was no exception.

  Everybody looked our way.

  Including Maverick.

  But his eyes caught mine and it was me he smiled at. Me, not Caitlyn.

  I loved her, really.

  She was my best, and had been for the past two years, ever since the summer before we’d started our senior year in high school. But she was also the one who tended to catch more attention. I was vain enough to admit that a guy glancing my way every now and then would be nice.

  And Maverick had.

  His eyes lingered on my face, dipped down to my mouth, and I blushed.

  “Oh…he’s so into you.” Caitlyn pressed her lips to my ear as she said it, keeping her voice low enough that only I could hear it—but still, I blushed even more.

  I was probably bright red now, even though my skin—naturally a soft gold—didn’t betray a blush that easily.

  “Come on. Take some. Loosen up. Then…see where things go.”

  I looked down at the box she held out and almost pushed it away; then decided what the hell.

  I’d had a solid year, only having trouble with a couple of classes. Despite what my folks thought, I was not wasting my time partying. I deserved to lighten up and relax a little, didn’t I?

  Maverick leaned over, and the warm scent of him washed over me, making me feel a little giddy.

  “You gonna share?”

  I grinned at him. “Should I?”

  “This shit is messed up. This is my best friend’s house and I can’t find a damn room?” Maverick muttered.

  We’d slid deeper into the house, looking for some privacy, but so far, every room we’d come across had been…occupied.

  He caught my hand and tugged me toward another door, but I dug my heels when I saw what was on the other side.

  “No. No way.” It was a closet. I wasn’t having sex in a closet…was I?

  No, I told myself. Then I sounded the word out…it sounded funny. “En—oh. That spells no, Mav. We’re not doing it in a closet!”

  He slid a hand up my skirt, cupped my butt in his big hand. He had nice hands, nice and warm and I wanted to feel them all over me.

  “Then where can we do it, beautiful?” He ran his lips down the line of my neck, already walking me backward, toward the closet.

  “No, no, no…” Catching his hand, I started
to walk myself in a different direction, glad when he followed.

  We ended up outside again, on the broad, curving pathway that led to the house, and I stared at all the cars in front of us. An idea hit me, and I spun around to face him.

  “Where’s your car?”

  He blinked, looking confused, although it might have been from the coke we’d been snorting. I was still buzzing from it, my skin tingling and hot, every part of me aching and hungry for just…more.

  More of everything.

  More of life.

  “My car?”

  “Yes.” Biting my lip, I moved toward him and caught the front of his shirt in my hands. “We can do it in your car. On your car. Whichever.”

  He laughed as he cupped my face in his hands. “Pretty little college school girl…you look so nice and sweet, and you want me to fuck you on the hood of my car?”

  “I am nice.” Miffed, I sniffed up at him, not sure what sex and not being nice—or being nice—had to do with each other.

  “Then why do you want to do it out here instead of inside?”

  Pressing myself against him, I smiled. “Because it makes sense. Too many people inside, no rooms. No people out here…plenty of cars.” I kissed him then, felt the heat of his penis against me as he picked me up. Wrapping my legs around him, I added, “And now we’re both out here. Can you think of a better reason?”

  “Hell no.”

  It wasn’t his car that we ended up in, but I wasn’t going to complain.

  The bed of the truck next to his car was bigger—and apparently, he knew who owned it, because he unearthed a blanket from inside the cab. Now, with the cool, late spring air on my skin, I trailed my lips down the hard muscle of his chest, smiling up at him all the while.

  “If you’re going to keep teasing me…” He tangled his hand in my hair and guided my head lower. “You better follow through.”

  I laughed, thought about teasing him some more, but decided against it. He was fun. Sweet, even, compared to a lot of the guys I’d met over the past year.

  We’d already been eying each other off and on for the past few weeks.

  Why tease either of us anymore at this point?

  His belly was warm and his hands urgent as he guided me down. I opened my mouth and took his cock inside, slowly. After all, I was done with the teasing, but that didn’t mean we had to rush. Of course, Maverick wasn’t in the mood for slow and easy.

  He groaned and arched up. I eased back, eyes watering, and he grimaced. “Sorry, baby… I just…”

  “It’s okay.” I went down on him again, easing deeper and he rocked up, more careful this time.

  His cock was hot and smooth, and I felt the pulsation against my tongue.

  Pulling away, I evaded his hands and threw my leg over his hips.

  “You don’t get to have all the fun.”

  “I’ll show you fun,” he said in a mock growl.

  I whooped as he flipped me over and spread my thighs. The entry was rough, more than I wanted really, but I was wet and he was, too, thanks to my mouth, and after a few awkward twists, it felt better. I smiled up at him. “In a hurry?”

  “Only because you’re trying to drive me nuts.”

  He kissed me, and it was nice. Sweet, almost.

  Curling my arms around his neck, I pressed my face to his skin, breathing in the warm scent again, shivering a little. “More, Mav…”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice, and he thrust into me, breaths coming hard and fast.

  “Are you going to come?”

  The words, like it was something I could do on command, startled me out of the fog of pleasure that had been slowly washing in.

  “Ah…”

  “Here.”

  Here…?

  Then I blinked, surprised, then heat flooded through me when he slid a hand down between us, circling my clit. That was…nice. Better than nice. If he’d just… Biting my lip, I covered his hand with mine. “Like this…”

  “You got it, baby.”

  Moments later, I was breathing just as hard as he was, my skin feeling too tight, the pleasure too big, and it exploded out of me just as he jerked out and came all over my belly.

  I cried out, frustrated, and he slid two fingers inside me to finish me off. “Sorry, Maya. No rubber…I…”

  I was blind and deaf to the rest. Coming like this wasn’t as good, but it was better than nothing.

  Besides, if I thought about the words rubber too hard I wouldn’t float down from my high.

  I’d crash, and hard.

  It was nice, at least. Not as nice as it had been, but nice enough…still.

  With the way my hands were shaking and my head spinning, it took a lot longer than I’d expected to get myself back to together. We’d fumbled most of our clothes out of the way, so at least I didn’t have to explain awkward stains on my blouse.

  I’d used my panties to clean myself up the best I could.

  Maverick had taken them with a sly smile and tucked them into his pocket. I was blushing, just thinking about it.

  Blushing…and shivering.

  I knew why I had the shakes. I didn’t do coke that much, but coming down off a high sucked. Maybe that was why I didn’t do it all that much. I loved the buzz, but coming down was awful.

  Teeth chattering, I wrapped my arms around myself and turned to find Maverick waiting at the foot of the truck, the tailgate down so I could slide out.

  I smiled at him.

  He really was a sweet guy.

  “You ready to go back inside?” I asked hopefully. I wanted to warm up. And maybe Caitlyn would have something to smooth the edges of the crash. She usually did.

  Frowning at the thought, I ignored my gut telling me I was taking the easy way out. In the morning, I knew I’d still have to pay the piper, but in that moment, I just didn’t care.

  I was cold and shaking and needed something.

  “Nah,” Maverick said, stretching his arms over his head before giving me a huge smile. “This place…it’s about played out. I got a friend, though. Someplace we can go. There’s always a party there. You wanna?”

  I glanced back at the house. Thought about Caitlyn.

  A shiver raced through me, and Maverick came up to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around me. “Poor baby. You’re cold. Come on. We can sit in the car and talk about it. You wanna maybe call your friend? See if she wants to come?”

  “You’re so sweet.” Nodding, I let him guide me around the car, and I climbed in. It wasn’t much warmer in there, but I was out of the wind. Maybe it wasn’t that cold. Maybe it was me.

  Maybe it was the drugs.

  But Maverick let me curl up against him, and he played with my hair and talked about his friend and nothing and everything all at once.

  “So you wanna go?”

  Looking up at him, I smiled.

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Slow down!” I shouted at Maverick even as a giggle escaped me. His car clung to the roads like a spider, moving fast and certain, and I had an image that it was a spider—we were a part of it and were all but flying down the dark streets.

  A pair of headlights appeared in the black ahead of us.

  I sucked in a breath. “Okay, now you really need to slow down.”

  He swerved to the right, one hand coming to rest on my thigh. “I got this, baby. My reflexes are—”

  The car veered over into our lane.

  I tensed.

  “Maverick!”

  He slammed on the brakes and it threw me forward, my weight driving me against the seat belt I’d put on out of instinct—all because my mother’s voice had nagged me time after time after time: Always wear your seat beat, Maya. I don’t care how pretty your dress is or how badly you don’t want to wrinkle that skirt. Wear the seat belt.

  I heard thunder and screaming—the metal.

  It was the metal.

  And Maverick.

  He was screaming, too.

  Then he
wasn’t.

  When the door opened and my parents rushed in, I started to cry.

  I couldn’t help it.

  The doctors wouldn’t tell me anything about Maverick or the other car. The nurses wouldn’t tell me anything.

  And then with my mother and father there, everything exploded out of me and I held up my arms for Mom.

  She sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around me, rocking me in her warm embrace.

  “Baby. You’re okay.”

  I shook my head, sniffling.

  “What…are you…honey, what’s wrong? The doctors said you were just bruised and banged up,” she said, pulling back and studying me.

  “They…they…” I had to gulp to get the words out. “They won’t tell me about the others. Maverick. The other driver. I want to know what’s going on.”

  She sighed, the faintest lines on her pretty face deepening ever so slightly. “Your father and I will find out. We needed to see you first.”

  She eased up and my father took her place, hugging me, and I pressed my face to his side, breathing in the scent of peppermint and his shaving cream. It reminded me of home, of curling up in his lap while he told me a story. I wanted to go back there. Just for a minute. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry…”

  “It was an accident,” he murmured.

  But then the door opened. There was a short, perfunctory knock, but no chance to respond, and my dad stiffened at the rudeness of it. My dad was old-school gentleman propriety. People knock and then they wait for an invitation to enter.

  But maybe nobody told the cops that.

  I swallowed, fear beating inside me at the sight of them.

  They caught sight of my dad, then my mother and nodded.

  “We need to speak to your daughter, sir.”

  “I already said I’m sorry!” I shouted.

  My head was spinning.

  Maverick had been thrown from the car. His leg was crushed. They were talking about possible amputation—I swallowed in horror because I knew what that meant. He was a football player, already had pro scouts talking to him.