by Lane Hart
“What’s up? You okay, man?” Ben asks, while I stand there, staring at the two of them.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say as I shake myself out of the green haze. “You won’t believe this shit. I came up with the start of two songs!”
“Fuck yes!” Ben says with a grin when he gets to his feet to wrap me in a hug that ends with us slapping each other on the back. “I knew you’d come up with something!”
“You wrote something just now?” Tessa asks with her brow furrowed. “I thought you said you couldn’t think.”
“I couldn’t, but then I was talking to Clarke, and the lyrics just hit me like lightning bolts, one right after another.”
“Y-you talked to Clarke?” Tessa asks, wrapping her arms around herself protectively while her cheeks go back to that rosy shade of pink.
“Fuck!” I exclaim as I spin around in a circle, looking for a pen and paper. There’s none in Ben’s room, so I jog down to the kitchen and grab the pad with a pen attached that my mom used to write grocery lists on, and start scribbling.
You’re so damn beautiful in every single color
But my favorite is that rosy shade of pink
You know the one I want, the one on your face
The one that always makes me think, makes me think
Of your dirty mind when it strays, when it strays, to the gutter.
I want to keep you there, down in the dark depths with me
Baby, you and I alone together, I never want to let you leave
Not until I see that pink, see that pink turn to red
The shape of my hand on your bare, sexy flesh
You know what I want, what I need.
It’s written all over your face
“Wow,” Tessa says, as she looks over my shoulder. “Is that another song?”
“Ah, yeah,” I say, picking the pad up and moving it before she has a chance to read the words over my shoulder. For some reason, I’m self-conscious about her seeing something that I’ve written about her. I’ve never written about a woman before. Hell, I had barely touched a woman before we went on tour with the album I wrote when we were still in high school. Most of those songs were about the isolation every teenager feels, along with the usual angst, fuck the rules and everyone else, themes of adolescents. This—words about a woman who is standing in front of me, looking so innocent and naughty at the same time because I have a pretty good idea about what she was doing with my friend a few hours ago—seems so much more…intimate. And a helluva lot more personal.
Will everyone who hears the words to these lyrics, especially the last ones I wrote, know I’m pining for a girl who doesn’t want me?
“Let me see,” Tessa says, when she takes a step closer. Close enough that I can smell the sex on her, taunting me with the visions that pop into my head of her and him. Jesus! More lyrics are springing up from God only knows where.
“Not yet, they’re not finished,” I tell her. “I need to get Clarke to work on the music and make sure it comes together first.”
Again, the mention of Clarke makes her cheeks flush red. Fuck me, but I want to know what they did while at the same time, I hope I never find out.
The part of me that needs to know says to Tessa, “Tell me what you did with Clarke, and I’ll let you read them all.”
Sure, it’s gonna suck to share, but it’ll be worth it to hear about how little Miss Professional lost her panties to the tamest rock star ever to walk the earth.
Tessa bites down on her bottom lip for a second as she watches me. I can see the wheels churning in her head as she weighs the pros and cons.
“I really want to see what you wrote,” she eventually says. “I loved the first album, and to see something so raw, fresh, and new that could turn out to be so influential at this stage, well, I would do anything.”
Shit. Why didn’t I ask her to fuck me instead? Probably because I know she would turn me down.
“So, it’s a deal?” I ask, transferring the pen and pad to my left hand to hold out my right to her. “Tell me all the dirty details, and I’ll show you everything.”
After a heavy sigh, she shakes my hand. “Fine, but this stays between you and me. I don’t want you to say anything to Clarke, or bring it up with him again since you obviously asked him already.”
“Deal,” I agree.
She walks over to check the stairs, likely to make sure Ben isn’t around before coming back up to me in the kitchen, standing just inches away.
“I took Clarke to get a massage today,” she says, her voice getting softer while her eyes stayed lowered to her fidgeting fingers in front of her. “We both got one together, and then after…”
“Yeah?” I ask, when she pauses, stepping closer so that I can hear her soft voice better.
“He picked up the massage where the masseuse left off…”
“And,” I prompt, waving a hand for her to get to the good parts.
“He used his fingers on me…”
“To make you come,” I supply, causing her cheeks to turn bright red.
“Yes.”
“What else?” I ask, as my breathing accelerates, and my balls start to feel as heavy as bowling balls.
“Then we had sex on the massage table.”
Holy shit.
“How, what position?” I ask, torn again on the need to know versus stabbing the pen in my hand through each of my ears.
“I-I was bent over the end of the table,” she says, causing my cock to swell at the thought of her bent over with her ass in the air, ready and waiting. “And we…we had the kind of sex that doesn’t ever make babies.”
“Holy fuck,” I mutter as I turn so that my hips are to the counter, needing something hard to press against the wood I’m starting to throw like a motherfucker. The woman isn’t just hot as hell, she’s actually kinky enough to let a man take her in every way possible. Clarke is one lucky son of a bitch, and I want to punch him in his satisfied dick.
Clearing her throat like she’s embarrassed, Tessa says, “Now you know, so let me see the lyrics.”
“Why him but not me?” I blurt out with my head still bowed, needing to know.
Blowing out her breath so loudly I hear it, she tells me, “I dunno, Ford. Maybe because you propositioned me on the same night, hours after some girl gave you a blowjob in front of everyone. And I didn’t intend for this to happen with Clarke, it just…happened.”
“Is it gonna happen again?” I ask through gritted teeth. When she doesn’t answer, I glance over and watch as she wets her lips, making me think she’s already considered it.
“Maybe. I guess we’ll see,” she replies.
“So why were you pissed when you came home?” I ask.
“Oh, um, that was nothing,” she says, while tugging on the collar of her shirt.
“Liar. Tell the truth, and I’ll show you the lyrics,” I bargain.
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “I made an amendment.”
She remains silent for so long, I’m certain she’s not going to answer. Then she tells me softly in a rush, “Because he said we were just fooling around, having fun or whatever, afterward. It was stupid of me to think sex could lead to more, but I’m a girl, and even though I know better, apparently we can’t help but have feelings get all twisted up in the act.”
Ah, she was disappointed that my friend treated her like a piece of ass. That is fucked up, and I’ll have to talk to Clarke about that. Can’t he see that Tessa is more than that? I can, and I’m the biggest player on the planet.
“Lately, I’ve, ah, been having shit get twisted up in my head too,” I admit to her, to hopefully make her feel better, and because it’s the truth. “You probably think I use them, but the groupies only want to be with me for bragging rights.”
“But it’s not like you want more either, if you keep going through them like toilet paper after every concert.”
Grinning, because I’m almost certain th
at the saying is Go through them like Kleenex, I tell her, “Who says I wouldn’t mind having one person I can count on to be waiting for me after every single concert? I’ve never had that, but I think it would be pretty cool, knowing that they are always there in the crowd for me.”
“Wow, Ford Donohue, did you really just admit that?” Tessa asks with a grin.
“I did. Don’t tell anyone that I’m apparently growing a pussy,” I mutter.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Tess replies. “And so are your lyrics. Hand them over.” She holds her palm out for my notepad, waiting. I’m surprised she isn’t tapping her foot as well.
“Okay, but these are rough and right off the top of my head,” I warn her before I finally push aside my fear and give the pad to her.
I watch her face the entire time as she reads, her eyes widening and cheeks flushing, obviously realizing that it’s about her.
“That’s um, that’s…” she stammers and pauses as she hands the pad back, unable to meet my eyes.
“About you?” I say for her. “Yeah, it is.”
“Oh, my God, Ford,” she mutters. Her big golden-green eyes blink back the shimmer of tears, and then she shoots toward me without warning, wrapping her arms around my neck. When my head finally catches up with what’s going on, I put my arms around her waist to hug her back. “I don’t know what to say except thank you.” Pulling away, she says, “You don’t know how much this means to me. Even if you guys never record it, or no one else ever hears or sees the words, at least I was able to.”
Great, now she’s made me feel uncomfortable and insecure. When was the last time I felt that way? Jesus, how does this woman manage to turn me inside out.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I pull out my phone and pull up the other notes I typed out in the app before handing it to her. They’re not nearly as intimate as the last ones felt. Or at least I didn’t think they were until Tessa’s face goes from pink to a deep crimson. Glancing over to see the upside-down words, I belatedly remember the harsher lyrics about fucking her. Or fucking the woman in the song, not that it was necessarily Tessa.
Okay, who the hell am I kidding? They’re all about her.
“These are…really great, Ford. I can’t wait to hear them.”
“You really think so?” I ask as I take back my phone and read through them again. “These may be the start to choruses, but Clarke and I will have to do a lot of work to make them into full-blown songs.”
“It’s an awesome start,” Tessa assures me, still sounding excited. “And that reminds me that I should probably go check in with my boss.”
When she starts to walk away, I feel that ridiculous absence again, like when she left me on the roof. I tell myself it’s nothing, just being bored without anyone but her and Ben in the house to keep me company. Yet, I’ve never gotten so down when Ben walks away from our conversation.
Chapter 16
Tessa
Oh. My. God. Did I just read Ford Donohue’s brand new songs that were written just for me? Okay, so he didn’t write them for me, but he admitted that the lyrics are about me. Wow. This day is like the ultimate fangirl’s dream come true.
With my face so hot it’s about to go nuclear, I try to fan it with my hand as I head upstairs to the bedroom I’ve been staying in.
Grabbing my phone, I hit my boss’s office number to call him, since he should still be there.
“Black Hawk Records, Joseph Cole’s office,” Debbie answers.
“Hi Debbie! Can I please speak to Mr. Cole? This is Tessa Graham, calling with an important update for him.”
“Sure, just a second,” she replies sweetly, before putting me on hold so that I’m listening to elevator music. Why doesn’t a record label have any of its signed bands’ music playing for people on hold?
“Talk fast,” Joseph says when he picks up the line.
“Hi, I just wanted to let you know that Ford has already drafted three different songs, one heavy, one a power ballad, and another that’s pretty catchy.”
“That’s great to hear, Tessa. Keep up the good work. It sounds like you’re really getting things done.”
Oh, yeah, I’ve done Clarke and Davis…
“Yes, sir,” I reply, and then the line goes silent, telling me that he’s already disconnected.
While my phone is in my hands, I check my emails and see that I have a few text messages that I missed earlier today. I read the most recent one three times before I finally know who it’s from. Honestly, since all of the words are written in shouty caps, I’m not sure why it took me so long.
WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?
I should be offended by the text message, but I’m grinning instead, able to hear his gruff voice saying the words, wanting to sound tough even though he’s showing a vulnerable side. Not only did he cave and reach out to me, but the message behind the harsh words is clear—the grumpy grizzly bear misses me. I can imagine that it took a lot of his pride to even type that short sentence, so while I’m still upset about him bailing the last time we were together, I forgive him and don’t waste any more time replying to him. It’s not his fault that my feelings got hurt by thinking what we did together meant more than just a physical connection. When will I learn to just enjoy myself without getting twisted up in knots over sex?
I type back to him:
I’m free now. Do you want me to come over?
I could’ve just said I’m on my way, but I would rather make him come out and say he wants me there instead.
YES.
His response is instantaneous, making my grin nearly split my face in half. I’m certain that a guy like Davis doesn’t like to ask for much in life. Before I give in that easily, I ask,
Should I stop by the store to buy condoms on the way?
His next response isn’t surprising at all.
FUCK YES. HURRY UP.
Anticipation zips through my lower belly, wondering what he’ll do to me when I walk through the door. If I had to guess, I’m pretty sure he’ll be waiting for me and attack without us even exchanging a word.
I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself too, but then afterward, if he jumps up again, I’m gonna lay into him because that’s not how this is going to work. If the big man wants to fuck me, he’s gonna have to learn to cuddle a little bit too.
A giggle nearly slips past my lips when I think of Davis and cuddling in the same sentence. I bet he’s never cuddled with a woman a day in his life. Which is incredibly sad if true. Guys need to be held once in a while too, and be doted on about how amazing a lover they were. If the man jumps up and leaves, he never gets that reassurance that he did well and should be proud of himself.
It hits me when I’m thinking about showering that if I go to Davis tonight, I’ll have been with him and his friend in the same day, which is so incredibly slutty that I nearly send a message to Davis and cancel. But then I remember the disappointment that was on his face the other day and decide that feeling guilty about sleeping with multiple men in one day is better than hurting Davis.
Besides, it’s not like Davis wants more from me than sex, and Clarke made it clear that we’re nothing but friends with benefits. That’s why, thirty minutes later, I’m in my car and on the way to the pharmacy before heading up to the cabin.
I was right about Davis. He opens the door and throws me over his shoulder with my purse across my body and plastic store bag dangling from my hands before I can even say hello.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you missed me,” I tell his hard bottom that I’m left facing.
A grunt is his response, which I take to mean he did.
Davis doesn’t put me down until we’re in the bedroom. That’s where he gently lowers me to the mattress. Now upright, I finally spot several lit candles around the room, even though it’s not yet dark outside. He lit them to try and be romantic which is so freaking sweet. I debate mentioning it to him but figure a tough guy like Davis wouldn’t want me to bring up his unexpected
gesture.
The next few minutes are a blur of big, frantic hands undressing me and himself, then Davis stands at the foot of the bed looking down at me with his forehead creased like I’m a naked, complicated puzzle he can’t figure out.
“What’s wrong, big man?” I ask, as I lie back on my elbows with my legs stretched out together in front of me. For whatever reason, the candles make me think that I made the right decision coming over to not only be with Davis, but spend some time with the lonely grizzly bear.
“I’m trying to figure out how to fuck you without hurting you,” he grumbles. “Were you sore? You know, after last time?”
“A little,” I admit. “But not enough to stay away.” He gives a single nod but doesn’t look happy about my answer.
“How about we do it like before? Did you like me riding you?” I ask, as I go up on my knees to talk to him.
“Fuck yes,” he mutters.
“Then lie down, Davis. I’ll use my mouth to make sure your dick gets nice and wet to fit inside of me first.”
The giant man groans before his knee comes up on the bed and then he flops onto his back with the heaviness of a redwood tree falling in the woods, nearly bouncing me off.
“Now”—I straddle his waist and trail a fingernail down the center of his fuzzy chest and abs to his hard length—“I want you in my mouth, and I want you inside of me. But if your big, sexy ass jumps up right after we’re done to leave me again, like you’re dining and dashing, I’m gonna take these home with me.” I reach down to cup his balls, making Davis suck in a harsh breath when I roll them around gently. “What do you say?” I ask.
“I won’t dine and dash,” he mumbles. “Now put your mouth on me.”
“What’s the magic word?” I ask, while still playing with his manly marbles.
“Please.”
I scoot down his legs and lean my head forward, so that my hair is dragging over his pelvis and my eyes are locked on his, waiting…
“Please, Tessa. Will you put your pretty little mouth on me?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer with a grin before I finally concede to give him what he wants.
