Rocker Series

by Gina Whitney

  Finally, Beauty leaned back, cupping her hands around my face, holding my jaw and staring intently into my eyes. “Where did my broody Dom go? I don’t want this gentle man.”

  “What if I hurt you…or the baby?” My voice was soft—so unlike me. But it showed my weakness, my soft spot, my Achilles heel. I would never survive if something happened to my beauty, or my baby…especially if it were by my hands.

  “I trust you, Abel. You know me. You know me better than anyone ever has. I trust that you’ll know when it’s too much.” She paused, still searching my eyes. Then she leaned away from me and tilted her chin down, looking at me through the veil of her lashes. “This is consensual, Abel. I want this. I need this. And I can tell that you do, too. Don’t hold back…”

  Consent.

  Trust.

  My arm reached around her back, fisting her curls to expose her neck. My eyes followed the column of her neck clear down her naked body to her shaved pussy. I tightened my grip causing her to release a throaty groan. My lips nipped and sucked each spot of her neck before moving on to her swollen tits. My thumb met my index finger and rolled her nipples until she screamed “Please!” Need was thick on her tongue. She wasn’t begging for me to stop, but for more. More of the sensations her body came to rely on to get to her sweet spot. Her response was no match for the briefs that supported my hard-on. It sprung forward against her belly angrily. I ground as hard as I could into her. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. I wouldn’t make it easy for her today. The darkness in my soul needed the control she’d given me. One I have forsaken for too long. I wasn’t one for blood-play. However, I couldn’t deny the pleasure it brought when her nails gouged my skin until I bled. The marks she left were battle scars and I wore them proudly.

  I sucked her lips again, because I couldn’t resist the taste. That was part of the problem—resisting. “You want me to suck on those gorgeous tits?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

  Her body answered by pushing them forward. An offer I’d never refuse.

  Still holding a fistful of hair, I grabbed her full swell, meeting her nipple with my tongue. I knew a few good swipes of my ring over her nipples would have her quivering, but I wouldn’t allow her to come. I needed to keep touching her, prolonging her pleasure to get what I sought. I sucked harder, squeezed tighter, and she fought to shake free. Tried to get away from the pleasure. Run.

  I knew her game. Her duplicity. She wanted relief, but on her terms…me buried deep within her, grinding every orgasm out of her greedy cunt. My greedy, greedy girl. So, I bit her nipple, teasing it with my teeth, and followed with a quick slap of my hand. Her body stilled in shock, allowing me to turn my attention to the other. Her groans goaded me deeper into the abyss.

  Bite. Slap.

  It took a few minute before I decided to move my focus elsewhere. She pushed the heat of her pussy into my stomach and that almost undid me—almost. Her heady fragrance, more intoxicating than any whiskey, and more addictive than any drug. I couldn’t help but groan and tighten my resolve. Fuck, I wanted to bury myself in her. Come in the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had. My god, she was magnificent and deserved to be worshiped. I pulled away from her, leaving her warmth, and then searched her face. She was gloriously flushed and marked from neck to chest. In a perfect vanilla world, foreplay would be over already and I would have shot my load five minutes ago. However, foreplay for me was also after-play.

  And turnabout was fair play.

  I turned, walked to my favorite chair, and sat. “Come.” I extended my hand. She stood, statue still, and I continued to fill my eyes and mind with her image. Her face held uncertainty and vulnerability—everything I sought. Her eyes immediately fell downward, and I noticed a bead of sweat trailing from her head down her face to her neck, disappearing in the valley between her cleavage. A crawling sensation came over me, causing me to shiver. My briefs were long gone. I widened my legs, grabbed my cock with powerful, vise-like strokes, and thrust into my hand.

  To the edge of desire…the edge of control and emotional release. This is what I sought.

  She padded across the cold marbled floor and stopped short, about a foot away. And waited. Her lips were swollen and hair a perfect mess. “Sir.” Her voice held none of the boldness it usually did, but instead, soft and meek—compliant.

  I patted my thigh with my free hand. “Ass up…face down, Beauty.”

  Her eyes raised to meet mine and a tiny grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. Ever playful, my greedy girl, I mused. I’d be remiss to say I haven’t held her to a perfect sub-standard. Her sassy mouth had been tolerated, but never forgotten. Now, I’ll remind her of who owns whom.

  I watched carefully as she weighed her options…offsetting her weight from one foot to the other. She sought another way to appease me. Again, I’ve spoiled her by allowing her to have her way during our holiday. She had been through a horrific event and nearly lost our baby. As her lover, fiancé, and Dom…I felt it was prudent to allow some leverage. Some healing to occur. Her mental state, health, and well-being were paramount to me, and always would be.

  “Up and over you go.”

  She grabbed the hand I offered and lowed her stomach across my legs. Her arms fell to the floor, back arched beautifully, and her rounded bottom up high. Her ass in the perfect position for a nice spanking. However, it wasn’t my hand she’d be getting. It was my digits. My finger skimmed from the base of her neck, along her spine, and finally settled at her core. I watched her flesh pucker across her body.

  “Have I ever told you how much I love the ring you bought me?” It wasn’t a question I sought an answer to. It was to make my point. I slid the ring on my middle finger between the lips of her pussy. She started to pant, so I stroked her bare ass gently until her breaths slowed. “Well, I’m going to show you how much pleasure wearing this ring has brought me.”

  I leaned forward, swirling my tongue on her lips and down her thigh before pushing the ring into her hot, wet core. I was proud to wear the ring. Not because it was something that suited me fashionably, but because she chose it for me. It was a skull ring with sapphire eyes. I held my finger still, allowing her to adjust to the intrusion. Ever so gently, I started to finger fuck her, curling my finger and twisting as I went. In. Out. Twist. Curl in rapt succession. Over and over I repeated the erotic dance until the tell-tale shake of her thighs and curl of her pointed toes. Then I pulled out. You’re one wicked sadistic fuck, I thought.

  Holding the ring to my nose, I drew in her fragrance. She had two distinct scents. The one she held along her lips and the other one deep inside her core. While I loved both, my preference was the one her outer lips held. It was my kink, and I’ve been around enough pussy in my life to know what got me off. It would be a hard limit for some. Women simply weren’t confident enough to embrace their femininity. Most viewed it as unhygienic not to wash so frequently and allow their natural aroma to resonate. To me, there was nothing more intoxicating than a woman’s natural smell.

  Her hair fell forward so that I couldn’t see her face. But I knew it would be flushed, and her eyes would be squeezed shut. And most definitely, she’d be silently cursing me. She was totally helpless, just the way I wanted her. But I didn’t take her trust in me lightly. I would protect it at all costs.

  I pulled her hair back and threw it over her one shoulder. I wanted to see her answer my next question. “Are you with me, Beauty?”

  “Yes,” she finally answered. Her deep breaths told me she was steeling herself before she answered. Again, it was part of her personality. Her history. She needed to hold on to tiny pieces of herself. Otherwise, she’d feel lost.

  I understood it perfectly, but I didn’t like it one bit. I wanted to be the only thing she clung to. My arms the only thing she sought for safety, and my cock the one thing that gave her pleasure. And finally, I wanted my will to be what would bend but never break her. Sure, there were times I thought to break her. However, with Gia’s past, it would b
e too damaging. Besides, I truly didn’t want a broken Beauty. I loved her fire. I could prolong her torment, but it was already burdening my own. I stuck my finger where I really wanted to bury myself…her other hole. But I didn’t have time to prepare her for that now.

  “I want you on your hands and knees on the bed.”

  I helped her shaken body off me and watched as she moved to the bed. The back of her hair soaked to her back, and her arousal dripped between her legs. She perched herself near the edge of the bed and grabbed a fistful of sheets. That’s right, you better hold on. I slowly made my way past where she waited, poured myself some water, and drank in her beauty. Anticipation, for both, in this lifestyle was everything. So I took my time sipping and admiring what was fucking mine. Her nipples painfully erect, her legs trembled slightly, and her pussy exposed.

  My senses were heightened, and I knew she desperately waited for my touch. I returned the glass to the table and moved behind her. I was past pretense and with no preamble, my fingers separated her lips wide, exposing her swollen nub. Just one taste, I thought. If I had more time, I’d spend an hour there, driving my tongue into her. But that wasn’t today. I stuck my tongue deep into her wet hole and sucked in one slow, agonizing motion. Stimulation for her, and a reminder of what I’d be coming home to later.

  She moaned, lost in pleasure, and I stroked myself before sliding into her. Fuck. I bucked and she clenched at the sensations of me being inside her. Gripped, locked, and loaded, I rode us both to a mind-numbing orgasm. She cried out for more, and I slapped her ass for being a greedy bitch.

  My greedy bitch…

  I stared around the castle he called ours and my eyes burned. Tears became the norm these days. Yes, the pregnancy being the biggest instigator. But, it was far deeper than that. I realized we never should have met, and that made my heart grieve. However, destiny and I made it possible for our paths to cross. I’ve come to regard my scheming as instrumental to the bigger picture. A true family to call my own. It was utterly amazing and left me breathless just thinking about it. We’d been through thick and thin. And we still stand united more than ever. Somehow, in spite of unbelievable odds, I found the man of my dreams in a world that wasn’t even mine. I was just an ordinary girl from another world. A world that held turmoil, abuse, hate, and our two lives collided in a phantasm of erotic, kinky love. Sure we still had a battle ahead of us, but I knew we’d weather whatever storms came our way—together.

  When we drove up the gated entrance, and I saw the castle in the distance. He called it the “castle” because it looked exactly like a replica of one. Surely, there weren’t castles in Hollywood Hills. However, in true Abel fashion, he remodeled his home to look like one. It was a French Tudor style meets en-vogue-rocker-chic. He would be the only person that could pull this off perfectly without being gauche. The brick-paved, palm-lined driveway snaked around toward the house, past beautifully landscaped gardens where tiny lights twinkled, giving a magical feel to it.

  We pulled up to the double stained glass door entry. He commissioned the door in France after going to the cathedral. That little fact added to the laundry list of why I loved Abel so much. Opposite the front door was a small fountain. The water fountain was blue-tiled, with white mosaic styled after our trip to Greece. Two tiny mermaids adorned the left and right side of the fountain. Mermaids were my favorite, and the waters of Greece, I’d imagined, had them.

  My god. The grand entryway had an enormous crystal chandelier. It had his mother’s mark all over it. In fact, the more I looked around, I was positive this couldn’t have been pulled off without her. Hand-carved oak doors protected each spacious room. Long gone was the open layout of our Greek vacation home. This was expansive, but warm and modern for a house built out of stone. Comfortable modern pieces were intermixed with antiques. Thick, textured, colored rugs were placed in certain rooms with luxurious drapes. Other rooms held floor to ceiling windows with no treatments at all, giving them an open feel. Abel, I pondered. This was something he requested, keeping a voyeuristic feel, which I had no doubt he had plans for. Thank god there weren’t neighbors nearby.

  And for a single moment, I understood something…what it was like to love two men, separately and equally at the same time: my broody Dom, and my sexy rocker fiancé. One for the strong hand he guided me with. The other for being an absolute dream.

  I lost count of the stairs I climbed, watching Abel’s perfectly rounded ass in front of me. He held my hand, leading me through the house, and took pleasure in watching my expressions of awe. A gentle squeeze of my hand peppered with soft kisses told me he was enjoying himself. After all, he was a giver. That was something I had personal experience with daily. He lead me to the right of the darkened landing through a dimly lit hallway lined with wall sconces…to the same intricately etched wood door he had in Colorado. The very same one.

  I turned in surprise. He just smirked and nodded. He sought to comfort me in a completely overwhelming way. He opened the door and we walked through. My eyes landed on the elaborate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, wall-to-wall cashmere colored carpeting. Beautiful fresco paintings of various scenes of copulation hung from the walls. He explained, “A bedroom can be decorated for sensuality or comfort,” and he’d decorated our space for sensuality. Beyond a doubt, he decorated this to provide another texture—visual stimulation.

  I knew two things for sure. He was about sensory stimulation and anticipation. With those words tantalizing my brain, I moved to the centerpiece of the room—our bed. If ever there was a bed built for mating with this broody alpha, this was it. In the middle of the room, a rich mahogany bed with detailed mirror work and a thick, velvety mattress. How he mixed the two and made it work was mind-blowing. I’d never think to pair the two. However, it worked in a magnificently erotic way.

  His thumb strummed my spine as he moved me toward the terrace doors. He was anything but subtle. My heart leapt as I opened the doors to find a replica terrace of where he’d proposed.

  The tears I’d held back suddenly sprang forward, and the world in front of me fell away. His arms pulled me in, harnessing me in his muscled warmth. His breath danced across my collarbone and a shiver ran through me.

  His deep chuckle curled my toes. “I love that I can do that to you all day every day.”

  I rose up on my toes to place a kiss on my favorite spot on his pronounced Adam’s apple. “Pinch me,” I whispered.

  He bent down and lifted me in his arms. “I don’t have to pinch you, Beauty, but I promise to show you every day I’m alive how much you mean to me.”

  There was no arguing with him. I used to hate it, and it drove me crazy how much of a fucking caveman he was. It’s just part of who he is—passionate.

  My arm snaked around his neck. “Where are we going?” I asked as we passed the bed.

  “I have a surprise for you.” He walked evenly through a sitting room, past an enormous bathroom that I decided I needed to explore.

  “There’s more?” I wasn’t really surprised. This was Abel we were talking about. There was always more.

  He stopped in front of a white closed door and put me down. I twisted the silver knob and opened the door. “Oh my god. What did you do?” Nursery. I turned to those naughty smiling eyes through his sooty lashes. I hoped the baby would favor his bright green eyes.

  Today there were no demons…only love.

  He grabbed my hand and held it to his heart—a gesture he often did when he was emotional and chose to blow it off. “You can change anything you’d like. It’s a start.” He shrugged. “I heard mother’s like to nest. So there’s plenty of time for you to decorate how you’d like.” His face feigned indifference. However, I knew nothing would please him more than to have a hand in helping.

  I threw my arms around him and squeezed tightly for the man he was already, and the father I knew he would be. The sound of his strong heart proved to be a constant comfort. “I’d like to nest with you.” I kissed his lips,
sucking on my favorite piercing. “Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out, Mr. Gunner…you go and do this.”

  He smiled and his eyes flickered mischievously. He often talked about me being responsive to his touch, but he was like a cat. One touch and he purred, shooting a throb straight to my core. I’d have plenty of time to thank him properly. I walked over to the painted mural of Little Bo Peep and her sheep. The sun hit it on an angle and it appeared to be textured…almost 3D. Girl.

  He stood, arms folded against the door jam. His T-shirt rode up just a little to expose the fine line of heavenly hair that disappeared into his waistband. My eyes focused on him. He raised a single brow and I regained my composure. The opposite wall was masculine and very Abel Gunner. A painted replica of the guitar that Abel owned with a matching microphone stand—a bandana tied around it that read “Lethal Abel.” Baby musical notes like Zzzzzzz’s over a sleeping babe adorned the wall above the painting. Boy, I gushed.

  Abel’s dimpled smile grabbed my heart when he pointed up with his thumb. I looked at the ceiling and regarded thousands of tiny stars that danced above a full moon. Wishes. My eyes watered and I tried to hold it together. However, something shook the foundation I stood on.

  The room’s only piece of furniture was a single, white-washed antique rocking chair. My hand fell along the high back and I walked around to take a seat. It was surprisingly comfortable. My eyes met his and he answered before I asked. “It was my mother’s. Mine.” He threw out casually. “She used to rock me to sleep in it. Apparently, I wasn’t a good sleeper.” He walked over to where I sat and bent down. “You don’t have to use it. My mom offered, and I thought maybe you’d like it. But it’s all good, babe.” He half-smiled and it shook something in me.

  I thought about the words he said and the pained look on his face. I mean, who wouldn’t want something of his. I would treasure it. “Of course I want it. It’s yours. I want everything that’s yours. Are you kidding me?” I shook my head in amazement. And then it all hit me. He had already anticipated my response. After all, he was not only my fiancé, but my loving Dom. The one who knew my thoughts before I had them.