Turn up the Tempo (Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 4)

by Charli B. Rose

  His palms spanned my bare back, drawing me closer to him. Our fronts met with delicious friction as his mouth captured mine again. If the kiss before was a hurricane wrapped in an explosion, this was a volcanic eruption in the midst of a supernova detonation. I wasn’t sure I’d survive the fire and passion of his mouth devouring mine. But I didn’t really care.

  Our tongues twisted and tangled while our hands pressed each other closer. The metal of his piercing awakened all sorts of tingles inside me. He nipped at my lips as he pulled back. Then he swiped his tongue along the column of my neck. The soft warmth of his tongue in contrast with the hard coolness of the metal barbell wreaked havoc on me.

  “Are you ready, angel?” he mumbled against my skin.

  My fingers dug into the curly strands of his hair, holding him against me. “Ready for what?” I panted.

  “For orgasm number one? Ready to let me lick your pussy until you’re coming on my face?” His lips closed around my nipple, making my body involuntarily arch into him.

  “Please,” I whimpered.

  He didn’t make me beg any more. Getting to his feet with me in his arms, he turned and lowered my body to the mattress. I sat up, reaching for my heels to unbuckle them.

  He grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Leave them on. I’ve always fantasized about a sexy angel digging her stilettos into my back as I rained pleasure on her.”

  I flopped back on the bed. Who was I to argue with a fantasy fulfilled?

  His fingers crept up my legs, making me shiver in anticipation. When they finally reached my hips, he gently eased my panties down, leaving me with my dress bunched up around my waist, but essentially bare to his gaze. For long moments, he stared at me. Finally, he dropped to his knees on the floor and settled my legs over his shoulders.

  “Get ready to soar back to heaven, angel. But remember, you can’t stay. You have to come back to me,” his words caressed my damp skin.

  With that, he swiped his tongue along my slit from bottom to top. When his piercing pressed against my most sensitive spot, flicking repeatedly, I shot off into the stratosphere like a rocket. We’d had too much build up all night long with the dancing, flirting, dirty promises and passionate kisses. As much as I would’ve loved to hold off and enjoy the pleasure of his tongue longer, I didn’t possess the willpower to fight him.

  Just remembering his filthy request whispered in my ear was enough to raise my blood pressure and cause my heart to flutter uncontrollably. Before I could take my dirty memories and go upstairs to put them to good use, my phone rang.

  The screen flashed “Dub”, sending my heartrate soaring for a whole different reason. My palms sweated as I swiped to answer.

  “Hello,” I croaked.

  “Brittany, hi. This is Dub,” his rich accent came over the line.

  “Hi.” I swallowed hard, unable to say more.

  “So, I was hoping I could schedule a time for you to come in and audition for that Latin dance video I mentioned. Some things have come up, making me need to move the timeline up for filming it.”

  My stomach flipped with excitement. “My schedule is pretty much wide open. When did you want me to come by?”

  “I know it’s short notice, but I was hoping you could come tomorrow.”

  “Absolutely. Just tell me when and where,” I said.

  “How about ten in the morning? I’ve reserved studio space at Gravity Dance Complex. I’ll text you the address. I was also hoping I could send you an unreleased track from another artist to get your take on possible choreography for it. It could be a huge opportunity for you if you’re interested.”

  “Oh, wow. Of course, I’m interested. I’d be honored to talk with you about choreography for a new song.” Inside, I was squealing in excitement.

  “Great. I look forward to seeing you in the morning,” he said and disconnected.

  A few minutes later a text came through with an address, followed by another message with a sound clip. I pressed play and then turned up the volume so I could listen as I went upstairs to change into something I could move in.

  The beat was fast but sultry. My hips were already moving to the bass filling my ears. Ideas swirled in my mind as the lyrics about a seductress began to paint a picture.

  Chapter 6

  Brooks

  I stared down at my phone, writing and deleting message after message. Screw it. Nothing felt right. I tossed my phone onto my mattress in frustration.

  Ugh. I needed to get out of my head for a while. Before I could devise a plan, my phone rang.

  I forced a cheerfulness into my voice when I answered. “Brielle, how are you?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Timothy Brooks. Anyway, I’m good. But Mom’s not. Her bouts of confusion are getting worse. It’s not just her being unable to find her keys because she put them away in the produce drawer in the fridge or losing her phone because she stuck it inside the VCR she insists on watching every night. Now, she’s forgetting fundamental things like that I’m allergic to peanuts. She made me peanut butter cookies, Brooks.”

  “What? No way. Mom was always diligent about making sure there were no peanut products anywhere in the house. She’d never forget something like that. Maybe the cookies weren’t for you. Did she know you were coming over?” I sought to sort out what my sister was saying. Reflexively, I grabbed a fire ball and popped it into my mouth.

  “I called her an hour before I showed up to remind her that I was coming to pick her up for her dentist appointment. When I walked in the door, the house smelled like fresh cookies. Mom was waiting on the couch, ready to go with a container of cookies. As we got in the car, she handed me the tub and said, ‘I made your favorite—peanut butter chocolate chip.’” My sister still sounded shaken by the encounter.

  “Oh my god, I can’t believe she forgot. Are you OK?” My heart raced as I considered the consequence of my sister eating one of the cookies.

  “I’m fine. Thankfully she told me what type of cookies she made before I opened the container. As soon as I reminded her about my allergy, she broke down crying and apologized profusely for forgetting. When we got back to the house after her appointment, she wouldn’t let me come in the house so she could decontaminate it from the peanut butter.”

  Helplessness filled me over the whole situation. “I’ll call her and make sure she remembered to clean up,” I offered.

  “Thanks. Brooksy, what are we going to do?” she whispered, her voice broken by despair.

  “I think we’re going to have to find a different doctor. It can’t just be her age. Mom isn’t that old. She isn’t even fifty yet. It’s not just normal forgetfulness due to age. It can’t be that.” I dragged my fingers through my hair in frustration.

  “I’ll start researching options for second opinions. If I find one, will you come with me to take Mom?”

  “Of course. I can do some research too. I know you’re dealing with the bulk of things on your own since you still live in town. And I hate that you’re carrying the burden alone—”

  “Stop it right now. You have a life. And it’s in California and all over the world sometimes. You can’t help that. Don’t worry about us. I was just scared earlier.” She sounded calmer now.

  “OK. Just let me know what you find out.” I flopped backwards on my bed.

  “I will. I’ve got to go to work now. I’ll talk to you later. I love you, big brother.”

  “I love you too, bratty sister,” I teased to make her laugh.

  It worked. Her laughter tinkled through the speaker as she hung up.

  I closed my eyes as I lay across my bed, worrying about my mom, needing to make music, longing to see Brittany. I was a mess. There was only one solution I could count on.

  Bolting upright, I snatched my keys back up and strode out of the apartment. On autopilot, I drove. I called Mom as I maneuvered through traffic.

  “Brooks, dear, how are you?”

  “Hey, Mom. I’m good. I just wanted to check in whil
e I had a second. How’s your day been?” I wanted to see how she’d spin the story.

  “It’s been pretty uneventful. I watched the Food Network this morning. A cookie competition. They were making these cookies that looked so delicious … peanut butter chocolate chip. I thought you and Bri would like them. So I went to the grocery store down the street to get the ingredients. Um … then I got back home and baked up a batch. When your sister came to get me for my appointment, I gave her some.” Mom’s voice cracked. “Brooks, I forgot that your sister was allergic to peanuts. I could’ve killed her. How on Earth could I forget she was allergic?” Her voice pitched upward on the last word. Then she started to sob.

  “Shh. It’s OK, Mom. You didn’t hurt her. Brielle is fine,” I soothed her.

  “This time. But what about next time? What’s wrong with m-me?” Mom wailed, her words barely discernable.

  I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to help her. A faint melody playing through the car’s speakers caught my attention. Timing was everything. Maybe the song was a sign.

  ♪ Warrior by Scandal

  “Hey, Mom, listen. Your anthem is on.” I turned up the volume, and Scandal’s “Warrior” blasted through the car. Mom began singing along. I joined her. Together we belted out the words to a song that had given her strength over the years, especially after everything happened with Dad.

  When it ended, she said, “Thanks, Son. I needed that.”

  “Anytime, Mom. I love you. Call me if you need me.”

  “I love you too.” The call ended after her whispered goodbye.

  I rolled down my window and punched in the code to open the gate. The contraption swung open long enough for me to pull through then reversed directions, closing with a clang behind me.

  After I parked, I opened the rear and pulled out my bass. I was lying to myself, pretending I was here to use the studio. But I was becoming an expert in lying to myself.

  Music thumped from inside the house. I couldn’t quite make out the song. It was catchy though, and my fingers itched to strum along.

  With my cover story slung over my shoulder, I made my way through the backyard to the kitchen door. Through a crack in the blinds on the door, I caught movement. Mesmerized, I stared as Britt flitted into my line of sight for a brief moment then disappeared again.

  I knocked on the door and waited, but she didn’t come back into my field of vision. The music continued to pump. Digging my key out of my pocket, I let myself in the back door. And there she was, dancing in time with the music. She was the stuff of wet dreams. My wildest fantasies.

  She was in the shortest, gray shorts, trimmed with white lace. Her white shirt was tied beneath her breasts, leaving her midriff bare. The look on her face was a mixture of freedom and concentration. Her bare feet made no sound as they slid and leaped across the open space between the kitchen and living room.

  When the song finally stopped, she leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees catching her breath. I cleared my throat, causing her to jump and spin around.

  “You scared me,” she shrieked, pressing her hand over her heart.

  “Sorry. I knocked, but I guess you couldn’t hear me over the music.” The song must have been on a loop because it started to pour through the speakers again. I tilted my head, listening more intently. “I don’t think I know this song. The voice is familiar though.”

  She strutted over to the counter to turn down the volume. “You’re not supposed to hear that. It’s an unreleased song I’m working on some choreography ideas for. What are you here for?” She leaned against the bar, taking a sip from her water bottle.

  I shrugged my bass from my shoulder and held it up. “Thought I’d come get in some studio time … Oh, who am I kidding?” I leaned my case in the corner. “I came to fulfill my promise.”

  Her brow quirked up. “Promise?”

  I stalked over to her. A few inches of air separated our bodies. Bracing my hands on the counter on either side of her, I caged her in.

  “This feels like déjà vu,” she whispered.

  “Only you’re facing me this time. I like it,” I said softly, matching her tone. I leaned forward, desperate to feel her soft lips beneath mine again. When my body pressed against hers ever so slightly, I ran my nose along her throat. “Tell me, can you take a break so I can take a taste of you, angel? Have you worked hard enough to earn a break? Cause I think I need a snack.” I inhaled deeply. She smelled of honeysuckle and spice.

  Air shuddered from her lungs. “I’ve only done the routine once. I haven’t even broken a sweat yet. That’s hardly deserving of a break.” She swallowed hard, causing her flesh to ripple beneath my kiss.

  I licked along her neck. “You’re right. No salty taste of sweat on your skin.” With my teeth, I gently nipped at her collarbone. My fingers clenched against the edge of the granite countertop. “But I know I can help you work up a sweat … get your blood pumping, your heartrate up. Just say the word, angel.”

  Her head tipped back, giving me greater access. I growled when her fingers gripped my shoulders and tugged me closer.

  “Please, Brooks. Please,” she panted.

  It was all the permission I needed. Without saying a word, I planted my hands on her waist, my fingers spanning that bare strip of flesh, and I lifted her onto the countertop. She leaned down from her new position and fused her mouth with mine. Her kiss was hot and hungry, and I was more than willing to surrender to the flames and let her devour me.

  ♪ Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me by Mel Carter

  My fingertips dug into her hips as she nipped at my lower lip. With a groan, I deepened our kiss, stroking my tongue against hers, loving the little tremble she gave as the metal of my piercing added more sensation. I’d never been big on kissing before—it had always just been a quick pitstop on the road to pleasure. But with Brittany, fusing our mouths together was almost like a destination, a place I’d be happy to loiter for a while.

  Brittany’s fingers scraped against the nape of my neck, tugging on the short strands of hair there. I stepped closer to her, wedging my body between her thighs. Unable to keep my hands from wandering any longer, I let them drift up her torso, skimming against her cotton-encased curves. I stopped when I got to the top. My hands dipped inside the collar, anxious to have her supple flesh filling my palms. Buttons kept me from my goal. Without lifting my mouth from hers, I forced my fingers to find the first of the offending little round discs.

  Somehow, I managed to slip the small, plastic button through the hole. Then I moved to the next one and the next. Finally, I had all the buttons unfastened down to the knotted fabric at her midsection. Having used up all my patience on buttons, I didn’t bother with figuring out how to remove her bra. Instead, I pushed the fabric down, causing her breasts to pop out over the top.

  Brittany must have decided that turnabout was fair play because her fingers had abandoned their grip on my hair and were yanking my shirt up. I lifted my mouth from hers so she could finish the job. With a wicked grin, she tossed my shirt over my head to the floor somewhere. Then she reached for my pants, but I stopped her.

  “Un-uh,” I said, shaking my head. “I have a text promise to fulfill first.”

  Her eyes lit up with need and heat as her teeth clamped down on her lower lip.

  “You cool with me keeping my word, angel?”

  She gave me an enthusiastic nod.

  “Good, because I’ve been dreaming about your taste for months. There wasn’t time for me to properly enjoy you at the wedding.” I bent my head and dragged my tongue piercing over her pebbled nipple. “I didn’t get to appreciate your beautiful tits or how responsive your nipples are. Or how when I do this—” I sucked her other nipple hard, alternating between pressing it against the roof of my mouth and swirling the tip of my tongue against the rigid peak, making her groan. “—you moan in a way that’s become part of the soundtrack to my shower masturbation sessions.”

  “Just in the shower?�
� she panted.

  “Other places too,” I confessed. Every time I’d touched myself since that night. Hell, every time I’d had sex since her. But she didn’t need to know that.

  “You think Dawson and Izzy have christened this counter?” she asked.

  “Does it matter?” I asked, kneading her flesh with my fingers.

  “No,” she squeaked.

  I tweaked her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp and arch up against me. My erection pressed hard against my zipper. Ignoring it, I slid my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, finding them incredibly stretchy.

  “Lift up,” I demanded.

  Her hips rose off the countertop. I wasted no time yanking the fabric from her body.

  When she lowered herself back down, she hissed, “That’s cold.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up in no time.” Placing my hand on her stomach, I eased her down to the granite. I dragged the barstool to the edge and sat down. Then I propped her feet up on the island. My blood raced as I stared at Britt spread before me. So beautiful. So vulnerable.

  So mine.

  I parted her folds. Unable to resist, I swiped my tongue up her slit. “Even better than I remember, angel.” I dragged my piercing along her most sensitive parts. She moaned my name when I hit the little knot at the top. Pride flooded me at being able to wring that kind of tone from her. It was the most beautiful music. But I wasn’t done yet. Stiffening my tongue, I increased the pressure my tongue and piercing applied to her clit. I moved it in random patterns. Her hips began to move, making it hard for me to keep my attention on one concentrated spot. I lay one arm across her hips to hold her still.

  When her flesh began to quiver against my mouth, I thrust two fingers from my other hand deep into her warmth. A few synchronized movements with my mouth and fingers sent her careening over the edge, singing my name as she fell. And I drank down every drop of her pleasure, still ravenous for more—more of her taste, her sound, her body, her everything.