He's hard.
"Keep it there." He groans as his fingers skim my sex. "Close your eyes."
This time, I don't object. I want what he's offering. I want all my senses tuned to him. I want every other thought erased.
My eyelids press together. The sounds of the room—the guitar, the trumpet, the conversation—blur into white noise. Our breath comes into focus. His is smooth. Mine is strained.
He groans against my neck as he slides his thumb over my clit.
God yes.
I shift, leaning towards him, turning my back to the room. I'm defenseless. No way to tell if someone is approaching. If we're going to get caught.
I trust him to make sure that doesn't happen.
It's terrifying how much I trust him.
He strokes me. I kiss him. Rub my palm against his erection. The jeans are in the way.
His touch gets harder. Harder. There. It's perfect. I bring both my hands to his shoulders and tug at his crisp black shirt. The fabric catches between my fingers. It's soft. It's practically magnetic.
Pete groans into my mouth.
I groan back, sucking on his tongue as the tension in my core knots tighter and tighter. There isn't a single part of me that wants to hold back.
His next stroke pushes me over the edge. I dig my nails into his skin as I come. My orgasm is intense. I shudder. I barely manage to keep from screaming.
His deep brown eyes fix on me, watching me like I'm a masterpiece.
I hold his gaze for as long as I can. It does something to me. Makes it hard to keep track of my breath.
When I finally get a handle on the whole inhale exhale thing, his lips curl into a smile.
That's the only thing in the universe that matters, his smile.
My heart thuds against my chest. I'm not sure which way is up or down. I can't mix things up. This is sex, no feelings besides desire.
I can't fall for him.
No matter how sweet he is under the don't give a damn exterior, I can't fall for Pete Steele.
My heart can't survive being torn in half again.
He scoops me into his lap. His expression shifts, back to desire. His hands go to my hips, adjusting our positions so I can feel his erection.
Damn, I'm actually considering mounting him right here, in the club, in front of all these people.
My thoughts go straight to my tongue, no stopover in the inhibition part of my brain.
"Can we go back to your place?" I ask.
"Yes." He pulls twenty dollars from his wallet and drops it on the table. "But I don't want to wait until we're back at my place."
***
He only waits a minute and a half, until we're through the back door, in the empty alley.
His hands go to my hips. In one swift movement, he pins me to the wall. It's late, dark, not the best part of town.
None of that matters.
Tomorrow doesn't matter. Potential heartbreak doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is our bodies joining, Pete erasing every heavy thought in my brain.
He's not delicate this time. He nearly rips the zipper as he tugs my dress to my waist.
Immediately, his eyes go to my chest. "You have amazing tits."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh."
My cheeks flush. "I always thought they were a little small."
"No. They're perfect. And this." He slides his thumb into my bra and rubs my nipple until I'm groaning. "That's the best fucking music I've heard in a long time."
My thank you is messy grunt of vowels.
His hips press against mine. I can feel him, how hard he is, how big he is. I arch my hips so my clit rubs against his cock. His jeans and my dress are in the way, but the friction is enough to send shivers up my spine.
"This is a habit for you," I breathe. "Fucking in public."
"You're not going to convince me you don't like it." He drags his fingers over my sex. "You're still dripping."
Breath flees my body.
I gasp as he slips a finger inside me. God, it's such a tease. I need him filling me.
I need him. Period.
His voice is low, deep, in-control. "You want me to fuck you against the wall or from behind?"
"Against the wall."
My cheeks flush. I actually said that. I actually told him how I want him to fuck me.
I'm actually having sex in public.
He pulls a condom from his pocket and unzips his jeans. His eyes meet mine, this intense look that says yes.
He leans down to take my nipple into his mouth. His eyes stay on mine as he flicks his tongue against me.
Lust shoots straight to my core. I groan. When that's not enough, I let his name fall off my lips.
I do away with my bra. My chest is on display to him, to anyone who happens to walk by the alley for a smoke or a phone call.
God help me, the thought spurs me on.
"Please." I squeeze his shoulders. "Please fuck me."
He presses his palm against my hip, pinning me to the wall. "Not yet. Want to savor this."
He pushes his boxers to his feet. I watch with rapt attention as he unwraps the condom and slides it onto his cock.
He's huge.
His hands go to my ass. He holds me against the wall, the weight of his body sinking into mine. "Wrap your legs around me."
He shifts his hands under my thighs to help me. There. My thighs strain as I squeeze his waist, pulling him closer.
Pete's eyes stay glued to mine as he shifts our bodies together. His cock nudges against my sex. I exhale deeply. It's a tease. It's not enough.
I stare back at him, pleading with my eyes.
He teases again.
Again.
Again.
I can't take it anymore. My need overpowers my shyness. "Please, Pete. I need you inside me."
His eyes go wide.
God, I love the look on his face. I take a deep breath. This time, it doesn't take much to get the words to my tongue. "Deep inside me. So deep I can barely bring myself to say your name."
He pins me to the wall. His eyes stay glued to mine as he slides inside me.
More, more, more. Then he's so damn deep I can barely breathe.
He slows, watching my reactions, waiting until my chest heaves with a steady inhale.
It's right, our bodies connected.
It's the most right thing in the history of the universe.
Still, I need him closer. One of my hands slides around his neck, to the back of his head. The other goes to his shoulder, under the soft fabric of his shirt.
His eyes stay glued to mine as he nudges deeper. Deeper. I squeeze him tighter, arching my back, spreading my legs.
My last hint of inhibition falls away.
He groans as he goes deeper. "Mmm. Jess." His nails are hard against the soft flesh of my ass. "You feel fucking good."
He presses me against the wall as he slides into me.
It's slow. I can feel my sex stretching to take him deeper, enveloping him. God, he feels good. I tug at his hair. No shyness. "You're huge."
He nods. No ego. Just an acknowledgment of facts.
His eyes are glued to mine. His voice is attentive. "Stop me if it's too much."
Slowly, he shifts out, so I can just barely feel him. He does it again. Again. Again.
Pete Steele is a hell of a tease.
My eyelids drift together. I'm dizzy with lust. I can't think. Can't do anything but feel his cock driving into me.
My body moves on its own. My thighs squeeze his hips. My hands go to his chest, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. There, one down. Then the next. The next. Three. Two. One.
I push the shirt to his shoulders, exploring every inch of his chest.
My sex clenches as he thrusts into me. It's hard. Deep. I feel full. Like our bodies are meant for each other.
I lose myself in the pleasure building between my legs. I arch my back so my clit presses against his pubic bone. The sounds of the str
eet—- the traffic, the conversations outside the club, the music—fade until all I can hear is his heavy exhale, our flesh connecting as he thrusts into me.
Again.
Again.
Again.
An orgasm rises up inside me. Almost. I bring my hands back to his shoulders, holding tight.
I've never come from penetration before.
But I'm almost there.
Like last time, my body knows what it wants better than I do. My fingers dig into his shoulders. My back curls, my shoulders pressing against the wall, my hips shifting towards his.
He's watches my reactions, moving in time with my grunts and moans. It's like he knows what I want before I do.
His hands stay tight around my hips, pinning me in place so he can work his magic.
Harder. Deeper.
Oh.
That's exactly where I need him. I dig my fingers into his skin, groaning his name.
"Don't stop," I breathe.
He grunts something totally incomprehensible. His lids are heavy. He's close. But he’s still so fucking attentive.
My sex clenches. Almost. The bare skin of his chest presses against my mine. I soak in every inch of him I have.
It blurs together, like beautiful music, until my entire existence is pleasure. My eyes roll back in my head. My lips part.
"Pete," I groan. I see white. The entire world is this lovely shade of white, nothing but the blinding light of bliss as my sex clenches tighter and tighter and tighter.
One more thrust and all that tension unwinds. It spills through me. My sex pulses around him, pulling him closer.
"Pete," I groan it again. Again. Again.
He brings his hand to my chest and toys with my nipples.
Pleasure shoots to my core. He's playing me like an instrument, like he knows my body better than I do.
He rubs my nipple with his thumb. "Tell me when to stop."
I don't want him to stop. I'm sensitive enough this aches, but I don't want him to stop.
Words make it to my tongue without passing through my brain. "I want to come again. With you."
My chest feels light. Free.
It is exhilarating asking for what I want.
He plays me perfectly. I lose track of everything but the sounds of his groans. The way his chest shakes against mine. The weight of his body as he presses me against the wall.
He thrusts harder. Deeper. His cock pulses. His lips part with a heavy groan.
His pubic bone makes for the perfect amount of friction.
"Fuck, Jess." His hand goes to my hair, pulling me against him. His lips press into my neck. A soft kiss. Then harder. Harder.
Then his groans are sending vibrations down my chest.
My sex clenches. The sound of his pleasure is enough to push me to the edge. With his next thrust, I see all that perfect white light. I come again.
No holding back. I scream his name.
Then he's there, one hand knotting in my hair, the other holding my body against his.
"Jess." He lets out a low, heavy groan.
There. I can feel him come, even with the condom.
It does something to me, hearing my name on his tongue, feeling his pleasure.
It's different than with Nathan. Better. A million times better.
Pete holds me against the wall. He presses his lips against my neck and shoulder.
We stay tangled as our breath returns to normal.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I'm still in a daze when we get to Pete's place. It's the picture of an expensive Southern California home—gated neighborhood, flat tile roof, front yard of pebbles and succulents. Damn, there must be two dozen cacti lining the walkway.
He parks in the driveway and leads me inside. The main room is a huge open space—there's a couch and a TV near the entrance. The kitchen and dining area are behind that. The sliding doors to the backyard glow from the aqua light of the pool. And there are even more plants in the backyard.
"You must have a hundred cacti here," I say.
He chuckles. "That's what you've noticed?"
"What am I supposed to notice?"
"Three thousand dollar flat screen TV."
"I watch TV on my laptop."
His lips curl into a smile. "Two thousand dollar couch."
"I don't even have a couch."
"All stainless steel appliances in the kitchen."
"Now, we're getting somewhere."
He nods to the backyard. "Pool is heated year round."
"Get bikini models in there at your loud rock star parties?"
"Throwing parties is Tom's thing." His voice softens. "It's dead quiet here without him."
Sadness flares in his expression. He blinks and the vulnerability in his eyes is gone.
He clears his throat. "You want the grand tour?"
I watch his expression, the way he looks around the massive room like it's empty.
He's lonely here all by himself.
I get lonely some nights at my apartment. Plenty of nights. It would be nice to have company. It would be especially nice to have the gorgeous, glowing pool as my nightly hangout spot. The stainless steel kitchen, the expensive looking leather couch, the spiraling staircase straight out of an old Hollywood movie—it's all amazing.
But not amazing enough to convince me to give up my space.
"Sure, give me the tour," I say.
Upstairs is just as nice. There are four bedrooms. One is nearly empty, another is cluttered with musical instruments and notebooks, the third is totally furnished. It's all out—disco ball on the ceiling, star and moon decals on the walls, bondage restraints tied to the headboard.
Bondage restraints plus me plus Pete... Beautiful images flash through my mind. I want him tying me up. The thought never occurred to me but now it's clear as day.
"Is this your room?" I ask.
Pete nods to the restraints. "Getting ideas?"
Uh...
He clears his throat. "Jess. You're imagining me again. I'm right here. If you want me, take me."
I want him very much, but I'm not sure I'm ready for bondage restraints. I clear my throat. "After we finish the tour."
He nods and leads me to the balcony. It's beautiful—a perfect view of the backyard and beyond that the sprawling hills. I can already imagine a nice life here—lounging by the pool with my morning coffee, poring over my Kindle under the stars, sprawling out on the couch for a Gilmore Girls marathon.
But I imagine things I can't have—him joining me on the couch with a smile, pulling me onto his lap during the commercial break and whispering sweet promises about love and forever in my ears.
Damn. It is quiet. I can hear my heartbeat. I can hear his breath. I turn so I can get a good look at him. It's hard to make out Pete's expression in the starlight. There are still hints of sadness in his eyes.
"Mind if I use your shower before we... go again?" I ask.
His lips curl into a smile. "You're still shy."
"Compared to you, maybe."
"Try saying it."
"Saying what exactly?"
"Mind if I use your shower before you throw me on the bed, rip off my towel, and fuck me until I'm screaming your name."
A flutter builds below my belly. There's no way I'm saying that. Even half that.
"Not gonna try?" he asks.
"Later."
He nods and leads me back inside, to the bathroom in the hallway.
It's even more tempting than the pool. The faucets are shiny and clean. And the bathtub, goodness, that bathtub. It's big and deep with jets and a digital thermometer.
I point to the tub. "Can I?"
"California's in a drought," he teases.
"You could join me."
He cocks a brow. "To save water?"
I nod. It's a very plausible story.
"Don't like baths." He sits on the side of the tub and turns the faucet. He tests the temperature of the running water then looks back to me. "Yo
u can join me when you're done."
"Okay."
"You want anything else?"
I want too many things. It's confusing. I shake my head in the hopes of regaining some hint of sense.
His touch is gentle as he helps me out of my clothes. We don't talk, but still, I feel free and light. Like nothing else in the world can hurt me.
When the tub is full, I dip a toe to test the temperature. It's tolerably hot.
I slip inside. It's not like the tub I have back home. I can practically swim in this thing. I rest my chin on the side and stare back at Pete.
"Are you going to stand there and watch me?" I ask.
"You gonna touch yourself?"
My cheeks flush. "You'd want to watch that?"
His brow furrows with confusion. "Of course. You wouldn't?"
"Watch myself? No."
He nods to the mirror opposite the tub. "You should try it."
"Maybe."
He kneels on the tile next to me. His eyes meet mine. They're wide with enthusiasm. "Wouldn't you want to watch me?"
"Uh..." Delicious images fill my head. I nod frantically.
"Jess, if you want something, you should ask for it." He pushes himself to his feet and takes a step backwards. "I'm gonna leave. Unless you want something."
I'm tongue tied.
He cocks a brow. "Last chance."
My lips refuse to part.
He takes another step backwards. His voice is a dare, his expression intense. "I'll be in my room. When you figure out what you want."
He steps into the hallway, leaving the door half-open. The bath is still perfectly luscious. The house is still gorgeous. The moon is still shining through the window.
But I don't feel light and free anymore.
I already miss his presence.
I know what I want. It's the one thing I can't have—his heart.
***
The bath is a marvel, really. The water stays warm for all thirty minutes of my soak. My muscles relax but I'm still lacking the feeling of lightness I have around him.
When I'm finished, I towel dry and find Pete's room across the hall.
He's lying in bed, in his boxers, sound asleep.
Mmm. It's probably wrong, gawking at a man who isn't conscious, but the starlight falls over his chiseled torso just so. With him on his side, I get an amazing view of his shoulders, arms, stomach, back. I can even see the tattoo on his hip—roses in a mix of grey, black, and red.
Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) Page 8
