Becky Wicks - Before He Was A Secret (Starstruck #3)

by Becky Wicks

  Her breathing is ragged even before the shirt falls over her hands and to the floor and I take a nipple in my mouth and suck gently. She gasps as I kiss my way down her body, stroking her breasts with my hands, till I drop to my knees in front of her and kiss along the line of her white cotton panties, across each hipbone. She feels incredible. Her hands are in my hair as she closes her eyes and lets me kiss more and more of her. Every bit of her tastes better than the last.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ I say, standing up again and lifting her by her ass. She kisses me furiously and I almost stumble on my way back to the piano with her. I put her on the stool. She leans against the keys, causing the discordant sound to shatter the silence. She laughs as I kneel on the floor again and her legs wrap around my middle for a moment.

  ‘What are we doing?’ she whispers. I grip her leg, hold it out and kiss along the inside from her calf, to the inside of her knee, up and up, till I reach the soft flesh of her inner thigh and she gasps, closing her eyes and rolling her head back. I pull her towards me and her arms splay on the keys either side of her as my mouth brushes the edges of her panties and I gently move the fabric aside. All I want is to taste more of her and she lets me, chest heaving now as I suck and press my tongue between the soft mounds and revel in the sound of her as the piano keys play a song that makes no sense every time she moves.

  ‘I want you,’ she breathes suddenly, gripping my hair and moving my head before leaning down to unfasten my belt. ‘Conor…’

  ‘I’m not arguing!’ I stand up, pull her with me now towards the stairs, kissing her as she scrambles to undo the zipper on my jeans. Halfway up the stairs she pulls me against the wall, hard against her almost naked body, almost knocking a photo of a horse off the wooden panelling in her haste to kiss me on the way up. Step by step we climb the stairs, making out like teenagers on prom night the whole way up, till we reach the double bed at the top. The floorboards are creaking under our feet as we make our way over to it, blinded by our sudden inability to tear our lips from each other’s mouths.

  ‘I want you to make love to me, Conor Judge,’ she says now, eyes blue and determined as I shuffle out of my jeans and boxers and take her face in my hands. My lips are buzzing and her nose and chin are pink from rubbing against my stubble but still I can’t get enough of her taste, of kissing her everywhere.

  ‘I would be honoured to,’ I say as I ease her onto the bed, across the quilt that’s covered in yet more horses. I roll over till she’s underneath me and slowly, I peel away her underwear completely, trailing kisses along her stomach and legs till the panties are around her ankles and then, on the floor. I take in her naked body for a moment, the way she curves and moves, the way her hips and breasts jut and fall as she breathes heavily, looking at me in desire and the tiniest bit of apprehension. I’m only the second person who’s ever had this privilege. And she’s only the second girl I’ve ever been this close to. ‘Are you sure?’ I say now, resting on my arm over her.

  ‘I’m sure.’ She pulls me closer, till I’m lying horizontally next to her. I run my tongue around her nipple again as she reaches down and takes me in her hands. Gently she feels and caresses her way for a moment and I close my eyes, letting her explore me as she let me explore her. After a minute she gets to her knees. Her lips around me make me grip the sheets, and her hair, till I physically ache to be inside her. She sucks and licks her way around me to the point where I can’t even control myself. Then I remember.

  ‘Unprepared,’ I say as realization sinks in. Stephanie grins around my hardness, thinking I’m quoting our song. She carries on in her mission, runs her hands along my body, kisses her way back up my abdomen and torso, presses her lips to mine again till I can feel and taste both of us mingling together in the dim light through the half shut blind. I reach for her face, pull her head to my own and kiss her as I come, shuddering underneath her.

  ‘No, really. Unprepared,’ I say after a moment as I hold her head to my chest. I scrunch her hair and kiss her forehead, feeling the hot warm mess on my stomach and reaching for the Kleenex on the dresser. ‘No condoms.’

  ‘Seriously?’ As the word leaves her mouth, a loud knock at the door downstairs makes her roll right off me and both of us bolt upright on the bed.

  13.

  Stephanie

  ‘I found him sniffing around out the back, I figured he was with you, saw the car drive by this afternoon.’ I clutch the comforter around me as I listen to the lady downstairs in the doorway, who’s clearly brought Bob Barker back to us. I can just see the top of her brown-haired head through the banisters and I pull the comforter higher. My adrenaline is spiking out of control. I’m still trying to process everything that just happened with Conor – the way he pulled me off that piano stool and said what he said; his hands on my body, everywhere; my mouth around him and the way he kissed me and gripped me as he... the memories make my cheeks flare.

  I’ve never been so turned on or felt so desired by anyone in my life. I’ve also never said the words, ‘I want you to make love to me,’ either. I think I heard them in a movie. I smile to myself, run my fingers over my lips, still burning.

  I’m hot but naked and I can’t go downstairs. I pray whoever she is hasn’t seen my clothing splayed about the living room. They’re still talking. Conor’s telling her the car won’t start and she’s arranging to bring some help in the morning. I look to the window where the rain is still hammering like it has an agenda. It’s almost dark outside now and I hear Bob’s paws padding up the staircase. He must be soaking wet.

  ‘Go away,’ I hiss at him through clenched teeth as he appears on the landing and eyes me with those big, brown, questioning eyes. He jumps right up onto the bed and starts trying to lick my face. I try to push him off. His drenched fur is making everything wet. ‘Bob, no!’ I whisper harshly, but he doesn’t budge and I hear the lady’s voice again.

  ‘Is there someone with you?’ she says. ‘Is that Grace up there?’

  My blood freezes like my body. ‘No, Abby-May, it’s not Grace,’ I hear Conor say. ‘Grace and I broke up.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ I hear the surprise in her voice as my heart continues to pound. I can’t help the smile cross my face again. I’m still tingling everywhere he touched me, like my body is literally begging for more of him. No one has ever touched me like that before, not Brock, not the guy I slept with. Neither of them touched my soul, either. Not like Conor does.

  Eventually I hear the door shut and I manage to shove Bob Barker off the bed as Conor runs back up the stairs. He’s grinning as he walks back to me, pulling off the shirt and jeans he threw on again to answer the door. His hair is more dishevelled and crazy than ever. I lower the comforter, take in his beautiful body, the not-too-sculpted but defined abs and those big strong arms that look and feel as though they could hold me and all my secrets.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he says, climbing back onto the bed and crawling towards me. He winces, lifting his hands when he feels the damp. ‘Bob!’ he says to my dog, who’s now slumped in a worn-out heap by the rickety old wooden dresser in the corner. But Conor’s still grinning. He pulls the damp comforter aside and snuggles in next to me. ‘I missed you,’ he says, pulling me into his arms and hard against his chest as I laugh.

  ‘You were gone two minutes!’

  ‘Two minutes too long.’ His warmth courses through me. Feeling his toned nakedness along the entire length of me sends the tingles back into action on a tide of lust and I can feel my body doing exactly the same thing to his. His hardness is a rock hard post against my thigh. He nuzzles my neck. The Conor smell that defines him and sets my nervous system up in smoke wafts up my nostrils.

  ‘Where were we,’ he whispers, letting his deep brown gaze roam my body and face before kissing me again, nibbling on my lower lip till my breathing turns ragged again and my body arches up into his. My arms move automatically around his warm, broad shoulders as I melt into him. For so long I’ve been wanting to kiss him, it s
till feels unreal that I am.

  Conor’s fingers and tongue trail their way in circular motions down my body. It feels like he’s worshipping me. He spends time on my breasts, licking, nibbling, sucking and then down, down, down in soft, butterfly kisses to the space between my legs. I grip the bed, then his head and even as the eventual orgasm shudders through me he presses his lips to my mouth and takes his time with his hands till I barely have any energy left in my body.

  I wrap my leg over him as we do nothing but kiss, body-to-body, heat against heat for what feels like an hour. I could kiss him like this forever. ‘I’m secretly glad we’re stuck here,’ I say after a while. ‘Even if I’m starving.’

  He laughs. ‘God, me too!’ he says, rolling onto his back and patting a hand on his flat, bare stomach. ‘Do you like pickles?’

  ‘If that’s all there is,’ I say, leaning on one elbow over him. He twirls my hair around his finger for a moment as I run my hand over the soft patch of fine hair at the top of his chest.

  ‘Of course, we could just feast on each other some more,’ he grins. But his face creases up on the pillow in dramatized anguish. ‘I can’t believe we don’t have any condoms.’ He covers his face with one arm in mock trauma. ‘So unprepared.’

  ‘Well it’s not like we planned it,’ I say, smiling. But I arch an eyebrow at him. ‘Or did you?’

  He moves his arm, studies my face from underneath me. ‘No, Jackson, I didn’t plan this,’ he says, his eyebrows knitting together. ‘But yes I’ve been thinking about it, every minute of every day. Course I have. Every time you look at me like you see right through me, every time you sing,’ he pauses. ‘You don't even know how amazing you are. And then there's watching your ass in those damn jeans…’

  I pretend to whack his shoulder and he grins, reaching for my face. ‘God, what are you doing to me?’ He pulls me down to kiss me. ‘I’m glad it happened,’ he says. ‘No joke. I need you to know I’m serious, Stephanie.’

  The tone of his voice takes me by surprise as I rest my head against his shoulder. ‘About what?’

  ‘You,’ he says. ‘I want you like you wouldn’t believe. But I wouldn’t be acting on it if I wasn’t serious.’

  ‘I know,’ I say as he strokes my hair back behind my ears. ‘Neither would I, trust me.’

  ‘I trust you,’ he replies. I lift my head. ‘Tal accused me of trying to fix you, but you were the one fixing me,’ he says, reaching for my guitar pendant and turning it over in his fingers.

  ‘You’re fixing yourself,’ I tell him. ‘You’re believing in yourself.’

  ‘Because of you.’

  ‘Well, then, maybe we’ve just been fixing each other,’ I smile.

  Conor sits up against the headboard, pulls me onto his lap and kisses me with such intent that I fall straight into him heart and soul with my legs wrapped around him, till I don’t even know what planet I’m on. ‘We have to wait,’ I breathe after a moment, remembering our lack of protection.

  He groans in unwilling agreement against my mouth, rolling me over onto my back, moving a finger to my nipple again and making soft circling motions around it till the ache returns between my legs and every inch of me is screaming that it’s really not OK to wait. But we’ll have to. I reach down for him with one hand, over the soft hair around his belly button and down, down, down slowly till he groans even louder and every inch of him rises up to meet me. We don’t make it downstairs to the pickles for a really long time.

  Bob wakes me up by licking my hand. I wince and try to move automatically, but Conor’s arms are wrapped tightly around me from behind. It takes me a moment to remember where I am or what happened, but when I do, I lie still, savouring the feel of him and smiling at the contours of our bodies pressed together, hot and sticky. Slowly I turn to face him. I watch as his eyelids flutter and a contented smile spreads across his face. ‘So it wasn’t another dream?’ he says in a low voice.

  ‘If it was, it was a good one,’ I say, returning his smile. ‘What’s the time?’

  He reaches for me, kisses me softly, tenderly in a way that sends an entire Mardi Gras joy parade blowing horns and waving streamers through my system. Then he rolls over and stretches out like a cat before sitting up and raking a hand through his wild hair. ‘Better check,’ he says, sleepily from the edge of the bed. ‘She’s coming early to help with the car.’

  I study his back muscles flexing in the soft morning light and feel the tingles again in places no one else has made me tingle, remembering the feel of his hands and lips on me, between my thighs, still craving more. Bob Barker lets out a bark and I know he must be hungry. The lady who found him, Abby-May, was nice enough to feed him but he’s not the only one who needs breakfast.

  Conor pulls on his jeans and heads downstairs. I pull my underwear on and follow him down into the kitchen, crossing my arms over my bare breasts but laughing as he grabs for me, spins me round on the floor and pulls me towards him. ‘Coffee, tea or me?’ he asks in low voice, putting his hands on my ass and lifting me up onto the counter beside the two mugs he’s put out for our drinks. I wrap my arms and legs around him and he reaches behind me to switch the kettle on before sweeping my hair aside and kissing from my neck, down around my nipples again, slowly, purposefully, till I’m shuddering and moaning underneath him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

  The morning light is falling on every freckle on his skin, as it probably is on mine and I realize that with anyone else I’d probably feel ridiculously self-conscious right about now, sitting on a counter top in nothing but my panties, but he makes me feel so different. I can’t even explain it.

  ‘I could do this all day,’ he says, kissing my palm and along my arm.

  ‘I could let you,’ I say. ‘But then we’d never get any songs written.’

  He grins. ‘I’d say we’re working on them right now. Good songs comes from good experiences, right?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, pulling him harder to me with my legs around his middle and running my hands up and down his arms. ‘Soon as we reach Ace we should start on I Did Bad Things On A Piano.’

  ‘And also, I Licked Her Nipples In The Kitchen?’

  ‘Catchy,’ I agree.

  ‘We should shower.’ He motions to the clock. It’s 7.30am. He lifts me easily off the counter, carries me into the bathroom, puts me down on the tiles and goes about turning on the water. My clothes are still draped over the tub where I left them yesterday. I sigh at my flushed face and messed up hair in the mirror and a wave of utter happiness washes over me. I watch his reflection slide off his jeans and hold a hand out to me. If kissing and touching can do this to me, I know without a doubt that having sex with Conor Judge is going to be the most incredible experience ever.

  I slip off my underwear again, take his hand and follow him into the shower cubicle. We both stand under the hot jet and I close my eyes, put my arms around his middle from behind as he lathers up the foam from the bottle in his hands, starts washing himself, and then me. We take our time cleaning every bit of each other, stopping to make out against the glass so passionately we both start spluttering under the water and then burst out laughing.

  I lean against the wall and he runs his hands with some expensive honeysuckle shampoo through my wet hair and shields me from the water’s flow with his back. I’ve never showered with anyone before. The experience is so new to me and somehow more erotic than sitting naked on a counter top, but it also feels kind of primal, like we’re animals grooming each other. I think back to the waterfall on the island that Alyssa and Joshua used to run away to. They thought we never knew, but we all did.

  We’re devouring each other again when the sound of a door slamming makes Conor freeze against me, then pull away sharply. ‘Did you hear that?’ he says, scrambling to rinse his hands off and stepping out of the shower.

  I lower the water pressure, straining to hear. ‘Is it Abby-May?’ I whisper. ‘Did she let herself in?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He grabs a bi
g white towel, wraps it around his waist. ‘Stay here,’ he tells me, just as a deep, male voice calls out and makes my insides lurch.

  ‘Are you in here?’

  I see Conor’s eyes widen. ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ he curses, towelling himself off at the speed of light and pulling his jeans on instead.

  ‘Who is it?’ I say, scrambling to wash the soap off me as fast as I can.

  ‘Conor!’ the voice shouts again as Conor pulls on his green shirt from yesterday.

  ‘It’s my father.’ He holds a finger to his lips, doing up his belt with one hand.

  Holy crap. ‘What?’

  ‘Stay here,’ he says, motioning for me to get back behind the glass. Then he pulls the bathroom door open. Soon as it’s shut behind him I hurry to dry myself off and pull my sundress and panties back on. My face is red from the hot water.

  I rake my hands through my hair, pull the band from my wrist and twist it up on top of my head. I lean my hands against the basin and study my hot face, trying to calm myself, trying to hear what they’re talking about. I figure they’re out on the porch but the voices grow louder as I hear them walk into the kitchen.

  ‘Abby-May was kind enough to tell me you were here, even if you didn’t see fit to tell me yourself,’ his father is saying. His voice is laced with poison. I hear a cupboard door slam. I can picture him, face all puffed out and red, standing opposite Conor. ‘So this is why we had to cover you in the store? So you could sneak off here with your goddam little mistress? What the hell do you think this is, some kind of brothel? Did I give you permission to bring anyone here?’

  His voice grows louder with every word and I realize I’m holding my breath, still gripping the basin. Mistress? Is he serious?