Back Beat

by Sloan, Ryleigh

  “Now?”

  I crook a smile. “Isn’t that what you were doing when I so rudely interrupted you?”

  She looks down at the wet footprints on the floor as if she’s not sure how they got there. “Oh, yes. Yeah.”

  “So, it’s okay for me to join you?”

  She nods. “More than okay.”

  Holding out her hand, she leads me to her bathroom. When she’s in the middle of the room, she stops and turns around. Biting her bottom lip, she watches me as she slips her robe off, the terry cloth pooling at her feet. I don’t move. I can’t. I’m literally frozen to the spot as I take Blair in. Everything about her is perfect, up to the two-inch scar along the right side of her stomach. Against the backdrop of the landscape seen through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her bathroom, she is a work of art. I take far too long to move or react, and she starts to become self-conscious, moving her hands to cover herself.

  “No, Blair, please don’t. Let me look at you.”

  She drops her hands to her sides, and I can see her struggling not to fidget.

  I take a step forward and run my finger along her scar, her stomach muscles twitching under my touch. “What’s this from?”

  “Appendectomy when I was ten.”

  I bend down to kiss it, and she lets out a sigh.

  Straightening, I reach for my T-shirt and tug it over my head. I toe off my shoes and socks and unbutton my jeans. Her eyes blaze when my fingers pull the zipper down, and I slide my jeans to the floor, stepping out and simultaneously kicking them across the room. I take her hand and step into the bath, guiding Blair in so she doesn’t slip. As soon as we’re both in the jacuzzi-sized tub, I place my hands on Blair’s waist and dip my head, tugging her nipple into my mouth and then soothing it with a swipe of my tongue.

  I scan the bath, and my eyes land on the corner ledge. The bath is surrounded by ferns and plants, giving the room a jungle-like feel. I sit down in the water and rest my head on the seat, the water just lapping at my stomach.

  Blair straddles me, her warm pussy stroking over my hard cock. I groan and can’t wait to get inside her, but first things first—I want to taste more of her. “Move up.”

  She squints in confusion, and I reach out for her hips, guiding her up my body. She stops when she gets to my shoulders, and I give her a lopsided grin. “Sit on my face, Blair.”

  She blushes crimson, and I think she might feel a bit too vulnerable to take me up on my offer. After all, oral sex is far more intimate than fucking, and bathing with someone before they’ve made you come even more so, and here I am asking her to do both. “I want to taste you, but only if you’re comfortable.”

  She swallows hard and slowly moves. Her knees resting on the ledge on either side of my face, she looks down at me. Her breaths are coming in short pants, and I slide my hands up her body to cup her breasts. Our eyes lock, hers burning intensely as she slowly lowers herself onto my mouth. When my tongue darts out to lick her, she throws her head back and moans. Anyone walking past right now would not only get an eyeful, since the blinds are all the way up, they’d get an earful too. Good thing the chalets are at least a kilometer apart and Blair’s is in the private section of the reserve.

  When my name rushes out of Blair’s mouth in the most erotic moan I’ve ever heard, I have to restrain myself from lowering her right then and there onto my cock so I can empty myself inside her.

  I leisurely lick along her pussy and over her clit; long, slow strokes with the barest pressure. I want Blair to take what she wants from me, and she doesn’t disappoint. She slowly slides her wet pussy along my mouth, rubbing her clit on my tongue while she holds on to the towel rail above my head. Our eyes never leave each other’s the entire time she rides my face. Her moans stop for a while, and I’m sure she’s holding her breath. When I see her stomach muscles clench and her pussy quivers against my tongue, I squeeze her nipples, rubbing them between my thumb and forefinger. She makes the sweetest whimpering sound, and I slide two fingers into her and she pulses around them. She picks up the pace, her hips bucking against my face with abandon.

  Her thighs tighten, and I’m only managing to inhale small bursts of air in between her thrusts, but I don’t care. I’d gladly die of suffocation for Blair.

  She exhales the air she’s been keeping trapped in her lungs, and with it comes a low groan. I pump my fingers in and out of her while she quivers and trembles beneath my hands. When the last few pulses subside, I slide her down my body so I can hold her in my arms. She’s no longer capable of holding herself up and rests her head against my chest while my arms go around her, and I hang on tight.

  I allow her a couple of minutes to get her breath back before I lift her out the bath and carry her to the bed.

  22

  Dean

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I quickly reach for it before it wakes Blair. You learn a lot from sharing a bed with someone, and I’ve learned Blair is a bed hog and a cover thief, but I’d forgo ever having a good night’s sleep again if it means sleeping next to Blair. Something I hope to be doing as soon as the show’s over. First, Blair and I need to have a serious conversation. Last night shouldn’t’ve happened but I don’t regret a second of our night of marathon sex. That doesn’t mean it was wrong.

  I move onto the patio and slide the door closed before answering the phone. It’s a bit chilly out here, but the view is absolutely breathtaking, as always.

  “Hey, Kade. What’s up?” It’s 1:00 a.m. in New York—not unusual for Kade to be up at that time. I swear the man never sleeps.

  “Tell me it isn’t true, Dean.”

  I know what he’s talking about and immediately become defensive. “What isn’t true, Kade?”

  “Tell me you didn’t follow Blair back to South Africa to fuck her.”

  I stand and walk to the edge of the patio, leaning my arms on the railing. I struggle to keep my voice even when I’ve just gone from waking up to the best feeling in the world to pissed in a nanosecond. “You’re treading on very thin ice, Kade. What exactly does this have to do with you?”

  “Everything, Dean. It has everything to do with me and Amanda and Chantelle. The whole show is under fire because you had to chase a piece of ass.”

  This isn’t like Kade at all. He’s one of the most even-mannered guys I know, so I know he’s obviously really angry, but that doesn’t stop me from retaliating.

  “Who I sleep with and where I do it has nothing to do with you or anyone else on the show.”

  “Dean, it’s all over the fucking news. We’re all getting shit, and the integrity of the show has been called into question. This is fucking season one all over again. The execs are pissing blood because they’re sure the ratings are going to drop. There’s already a decrease in the votes for all the contestants. Especially for Blair.”

  The blood drains from my face, and I scrub my hand over my scruff in an attempt to get the blood flow back. “How do they know I’m here?”

  “Danielle!”

  “Danielle? How does she know? She went to Seattle to be with her boyfriend for the break.”

  “She posted all over social media that you and her had a heart-to-heart and she decided to take you up on your offer to work with her and Blair during the break, except when she arrived at the studio you weren’t there. Then the photos of Blair and her fans hit Insta along with #SouthAfrica and the rest is history, man. She’s claiming you’ve been favoring Blair from the beginning. You fucked up big-time, Dean.”

  I take the phone from my ear and stare at the screen. I want to chuck it so far into the bush, but instead I just grip it tightly in my fist and bring it slowly back to my ear. “Danielle isn’t interested in putting in the effort. You’ve been there when we’ve been rehearsing. She just wants the fame—she isn’t interested in the art.”

  “I know, but all this sounds like excuses. She claims you and Blair were seen in, and I quote…‘a warm embrace the day
of the last show’. Dean, there are pics.”

  I run a hand through my hair. Fucking Danielle. She must’ve come to the studio that day, and I didn’t notice. “Blair was crying. Her grandfather was in hospital, and I was comforting her.”

  “You didn’t tell any of us. If you had, we’d have covered for you. Now the execs are questioning all of us, and we don’t know what to say.”

  “I didn’t think. It was last minute.”

  “Why did you go with her?”

  I sigh. “Because I’m in love with her.”

  Kade curses on the other end of the line, and I realize that despite knowing this was a bad idea, I fucked up beyond repair. “You better fix this for her, Dean. She deserves better than this. She could’ve made it to the top. Now…let’s just say it’ll be lucky if she doesn’t get kicked off the show. Make a statement and make a bold gesture, Dean. This is bad.”

  I nod, not even caring Kade can’t see what I’m doing. “I’ll fix this.”

  We hang up and I stare mindlessly out at the endless rows of trees. Yesterday, my biggest problem was being trampled by a pissed-off elephant. Today, that seems like the lesser of all evils. I’m so fucking pissed at myself. Kade is right: she deserves so much more than this. She deserves to be at the top. People deserve to be touched by her music, and I’ve just ended it for her before it began. I flip to my emails and see at least a half a dozen from the execs and my agent. I open the one that has BREACH OF CONTRACT in bold in the subject.

  I read through it three times, the ball of lead in my stomach getting heavier and heavier with each line. The gist of it is what I already knew. I’m in breach of contract, and so is Blair. More to the point, I just pissed away her career.

  The sliding door opens, and Blair’s arms go around me. She’s draped in the comforter, and she encompasses me in warmth.

  I force myself not to turn because the moment I do, it’s all over, and the bubble I naively thought I encased us in will shatter like crystal on marble.

  “Do you ever take these for granted?” I don’t explain what I mean, but she seems to understand anyway.

  “Not one. Papaw always says each sunrise is a new beginning, a second chance. How can you take second chances for granted?”

  My heart sinks, and I kiss her hand. That talk we were going to have has taken a completely different turn. What I’m about to do next is hopefully going to see that she gets her fresh start, but it’s going to end what we have in the process.

  “Blair, we need to talk.”

  23

  Blair

  Dean turns to face me, and the skin at the back of my neck prickles. I know something bad has happened, but I’m too scared to ask. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “What’s wrong?”

  He takes my hand and leads me to the lounger. Sitting down, he pats the cushion next to him and repeats, “We need to talk.”

  It’s amazing what those four little words can do to your body. The blood rushes from my face, my hands go sweaty, and my skin is prickled with flashes of hot and cold. I want to freeze time and turn back the clock back to when I was lying in bed reveling in the feel of Dean’s lovemaking, but it’s too late.

  “Say something?” I know something happened. The Dean sitting next to me isn’t the Dean who made love to me last night. He is entombed in regret, and a wall goes up with every silent breath that passes between us.

  “Kade called.”

  I wait for him to embellish, but he just scrubs a hand over his face and the silence stretches on.

  “What did he say?”

  “It seems it’s all over social media that I’m over here with you, and the producers are flipping out.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He clasps his hands together, and I wish he’d reach out for me, but he doesn’t. I wish I could touch him, but he is giving off a very definite hands-off barrier, and I can’t bring myself to touch him.

  He blows out a long breath and wipes his hands over his face. Goose pimples dot his skin.

  “Would you like to share the comforter?”

  He shakes his head, and as silly as it is, I feel the sting of rejection as surely as if he’d turned from my touch. “Why is it a problem for you to be here with me?”

  “Danielle issued a statement to the press that she believes you have an unfair advantage in the team. She said I offered her the extra time during these two weeks, but then I flew over here with you. She released pics of us hugging in the studio when you told me about your papaw. Then there’s the social media posts of you on the plane. Danielle did an interview stating I have been giving you preferential treatment, and the rumors out there are that you’ve been sleeping with me to get extra favors.”

  I pale, pulling the comforter tighter around me as a chill seeps into me. “That’s not true.” But then it hits me. What if that’s what Dean thinks? “You know that’s not true, right?”

  “Of course I know it isn’t true, but it doesn’t matter what I think. Blair, I’m sorry, but things aren’t looking good for you. The producers want you to have a meeting with them, and depending on how badly your votes are falling, they’ll decide if you can stay on the show.”

  “My votes are falling?”

  He takes my hand, and I should feel better, but somehow his touch is laced with regret and it makes swallowing really hard. “I’m going to fix this. I’m flying out tonight to talk to them. I don’t care that they fired me. I’m going to see what I can do for you.”

  “They fired you?”

  “That doesn’t matter, Blair.”

  “I don’t understand. How can they fire you?”

  “Because I’m in breach of contract.”

  I feel so stupid because I just can’t seem to put two and two together. “How are you in breach of contract?”

  “It’s in my contract that I can’t have a relationship with a contestant.”

  “Okay? But why would they do that?”

  “Because this has happened before. I’ve had sex with a contestant before.”

  It’s like I’m being sucked back into a long dark tunnel devoid of light or sound or warmth. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I fucked one of the contestants in season one. She lost a battle, and I saved her with a ‘steal.’ People said she won because we were seeing each other. It caused a stink; the show’s lawyers had quite a job to squash the rumors and the truth. They paid millions to get it out of the press and have injunctions in place to keep it confidential. Because of that, the producers made us all sign contracts.”

  “You slept with another contestant?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Oh, I see. And you knew sleeping with me would cost me my shot on the show, but you did it anyway?” I slide my fingers free from his and stand up. This is a whole lot different than Dean being worried he’ll be too distracted to coach me.

  “I’m sorry, Blair, I came here last night to tell you and ask you to wait for the show to end but…”

  I’m going to be sick. “You came to tell me we couldn’t be together last night, but you still had sex with me anyway?”

  “It wasn’t like that, Blair.”

  “You need to leave.”

  “Blair.”

  “Now, Dean, get out!”

  He takes a step toward me, and I hold up my hand, the comforter falling to my feet. I’m left standing in his T-shirt, but I can’t feel the cold. I can’t feel anything but the pain slicing through me.

  I rush past him and rip the T-shirt from my body. I ball it up and throw it at him, then grab a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from the closet.

  “Blair—”

  “Please leave. Don’t call me.”

  Dean slips the shirt over his head and walks to the bathroom for his jeans. It seems like hours before he’s dressed and heading out the door. I don’t know if he looks back or not. I have my back turned to him.

  24

  D
ean

  My tie feels like a damn noose which doesn’t have anything to do with me not liking ties. I like ’em plenty, but Blair’s entire career is at stake here, and I can’t blow this meeting. I’m sitting in the conference room with Amanda, who’s here as my witness, and her wife, Adrienne—who happens to also be my lawyer—while we wait for James Hanson, executive producer of Breakout, and his cronies to officially give me the boot. We’ve been waiting for five minutes, but it feels like five hours. The door opens and James’s assistant walks in effortlessly while carrying a tray of coffee and water. I don’t want anything to drink, but I ordered the coffee so I could keep my hands occupied. I’m a fucking fidgeting mess, and I can’t afford for the producers to see how nervous I am.

  Once the assistant leaves, Amanda reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently. “You’re gonna do fine.”

  I don’t need to see my smile to know it’s weak right now. I can’t even muster a façade—I need to save that for the big guns.

  James walks into the room, his red curls in their usual ’80s-style cut that no one has the heart to tell him went out of fashion decades ago, and gives me a sympathetic smile. I spoke to James for hours last night, and I can tell he isn’t the one behind all this, but he does have a business to run and right now, I’m killing his.

  He holds out a hand and I stand, shaking it before sitting back down and undoing my suit jacket’s button. He makes his way around the table, kissing both Amanda and Adrienne and seating himself opposite me. We don’t get much time for pleasantries before Julian, another one of the producers, comes in. Julian’s tailored navy suit and perfect hair screams arrogance where it would normally make anyone else look businesslike and professional. Maybe it’s the way his smug expression seems to be cemented to his face, or the way he saunters into the room like we should all collectively bow at his presence. I’ve never seen the fucker outside of photos before, but I instantly dislike him.

  We go through a pantomime of making pleasantries. I grip my coffee cup and take a sip. The steaming liquid burns my tongue, but I welcome the distraction. Perhaps if my tongue hurts enough, I won’t be tempted to tell Julian to go fuck himself before he’s even had the chance to open his mouth.