Strum Your Heart Out (Sinful Serenade #2)

by Crystal Kaswell

  "You're a poet."

  "Your ass too."

  I check my reflection to assess the veracity of his claims. Scar issues aside, the swimsuit is flattering. It plays up my curves without any unfortunate pinching.

  "For the record, you see anything you like, it's on me." He shifts, his gaze glued to my ass. "Even if you want everything in the store."

  "I'm not sure I like you buying me so much stuff."

  "Trust me, Kendrick. This is not for you. It's for me."

  He's panting like he can't stand that we're in public and not alone. I bite my lip to keep my mind out of the gutter. There's time for that when this is over.

  "Okay." I move back to the dressing room and change into my normal clothes. My muscles are tight and my nerves are shot. The purple suit isn't quite right, but it works for the beach. This black-and-white polka-dot thing is just for us, alone, so I can see that needy look spread over his face again.

  I fix my hair and bring my new swimsuits to the register. Drew whips out his credit card and pays without even looking at the total.

  ***

  Once we’re inside the car, Drew turns to me, his expression dead serious. "For the record, Kara, your thighs are divine. I'm happy to prove it."

  "How would you do that?"

  His expression flares with something mischievous. "Bury my face between them."

  My cheeks flush. "I'm not sure that proves anything."

  "How about I do it anyway?" He reaches over and runs his hand over the inside of my thigh.

  Heat courses through my body.

  I want to feel normal. As normal as it's possible to feel stripping naked in a parking garage in the middle of the day.

  I nod.

  He leans over me, unbuckling my seatbelt then pushing my seat back until it's nearly flat.

  "This might be uncomfortable for a minute." He shifts into the passenger seat next to me, pressing me against the window. "Bear with me."

  He slides his hand up my t-shirt and unhooks my bra. His hands traces its outline. He keeps my shirt on, but pushes my bra up and out of the way.

  He slides his hand over my breast. "Your tits are also divine." He pushes my shirt up to my neck. Then the bra.

  He palms my breasts, teasing my nipples with his fingertips. I try to forget we're in a car in a parking garage in the middle of the day.

  Drew kisses me hard. His tongue dances with mine. His hands work their magic on my chest.

  Our kiss releases and he brings his mouth to my ear. "Do me a favor and take those jeans off."

  "A favor?"

  "You'll like the results."

  He looks up at me with a shit-eating grin. Can't say that I'm opposed to the view. There's enough light in here that I can see every line of definition in Drew's chest, shoulders, and stomach. I can make out every brush of ink in his tattoos. My gaze is drawn to a glass heart on his shoulder. It's broken, bleeding.

  I trace its outline. "Your ex?"

  "That relationship wasn't something I'd want on my body."

  "Then what's it for?"

  "You want me to use my mouth to explain or you want me to use it to make you come?"

  "First one then the other."

  He shakes his head like he finds me ridiculous. "I got it with my sister."

  "You did not."

  He nods. "After all that shit happened. She has a matching one."

  “Wasn’t she fifteen?”

  “I knew a guy.”

  "What's it supposed to mean?"

  He drags his fingertips over my stomach, settling on my jeans then unbuttoning them. "It's a statement on my feelings at the time."

  His heart was broken over his sister getting hurt. I swoon. Drew can be fucking sweet sometimes.

  He pulls my panties to my thighs. He runs his fingertips over the scars on my hips. "I'd die buried in those thighs if I could." Drew looks up at me. "You still want to talk?"

  "I kind of like what you're saying."

  He runs his fingers over another half-dozen scars. "We could get matching tattoos."

  I study his reaction for some sarcasm, but there isn't a hint of it. The guy can't say the word "girlfriend" but he has no problem offering to permanently mark his skin for me.

  Rock stars—they make no sense at all.

  He pushes my panties and jeans to my knees. Motions for me to take them off. "You're making it awfully hard to eat you out."

  "I like this conversation."

  "Take off the jeans if you want another word."

  I do as I'm asked.

  Drew looks at me like I'm crazy to want to hear more about this, but dammit, I really do like what he's saying.

  "What kind of tattoo would we get?" I ask.

  "Whatever you want." Drew pats the space on the seat right outside his chest. "Knees here."

  I press my hands against his shoulders and drag my knees up the seat.

  This little crick develops in my neck. He's had his face between my thighs before and it was amazing as all hell, but that was at night in the dark. This is the middle of the day in bright light.

  I brace myself for the worst possible reaction.

  Drew runs his fingertips up my inner thighs, tracing one scar after another. It's gentle, attentive.

  "You okay?" he asks.

  "Yeah, just..."

  One of his hands slides around my leg, trailing up my hamstring and resting on my ass. He looks up at me. "Your thighs are amazing."

  "But, they're so..."

  "Sexy." He kneads the flesh of my ass. "Now sit on my face." He brings his hands to my hips, pulling me closer.

  The seat doesn't go quite flat and the car isn't all that tall. I shift, moving closer, spreading my legs. My head bumps into the roof of the car.

  Drew slides down the seat, bringing his mouth inches from my sex. His exhale wakes up all the nerves in my body, sending any doubts away.

  When I'm with him, I really do feel divine.

  He holds onto my hips, pulling me closer. His tongue slides over my clit. It's a long, luxurious lick. He goes slowly. Really slowly.

  My head bumps into the roof of the car again. If only the damn thing was a convertible. We'd be getting arrested but there would be nothing limiting his range of motion.

  Drew slides one hand up my torso. His fingers draw circles over my nipples. The same long, luxurious movements. Then his hand goes to my side. He squeezes me like he's telling me to stay in place.

  I shift so I'm not quite pressed against the roof and I hold damn steady.

  Drew guides me over his mouth, licking me from top to bottom. It's slow. So, so slow. Pleasure whirs inside me. I pant. I claw at the roof of the car. It's not fast enough. I need more. I need to be there, at the edge, pleasure spilling through my body.

  "Drew," I whine.

  "Hmm?" he mumbles into my inner thigh then sucks on the flesh.

  "Make me come."

  He moves his mouth a little higher, presses his lips into my thigh. "Hmm?"

  "Pretty please."

  That pleasure whirls, a little faster, a little higher, but still not nearly enough.

  He moves his mouth a little closer, sucking on my flesh again. Then it's closer and he's sucking on my outer lips with the softest, lightest touch.

  I struggle to keep track of my breath.

  This is more, so, so much more. I close my eyes and dig my hands into the passenger seat.

  Drew nibbles on my outer lips. I can't help but gasp. I lose track of everything except that pleasure whirring inside me.

  His mouth moves over my sex, licking and sucking and biting.

  His speed picks up and my breath picks up with it. I'm panting. I tug at his hair, holding his mouth against me like I'll die if he stops.

  He explores me. Soft, hard, slow, fast, zig zag, side to side, front to back. And then his tongue hits just the right spot.

  I gasp. "Drew..."

  There. He tries out different speeds. Different pressure. It's not enoug
h. Then it's too much. And then it's perfect.

  I dig hard into his hair. "Don't stop."

  He doesn't.

  He licks me right there, perfect rhythm, perfect pressure.

  Every flick of his tongue pushes me higher. Closer. My sex clenches. Pleasure spreads through my thighs and stomach. It's like I'm so full I'm about to tip over and spill.

  It's so much to take.

  Almost.

  I buck against his mouth, but he holds me steady. He licks me with care and attention.

  There. An orgasm rises up in me. The muscles in my sex clench. They're so tight, so desperate it hurts. And then he licks me one more time, and I fill up completely.

  I come, my sex throbbing with pleasure.

  He sucks on my lips, just soft enough I don't overload completely. Once I catch my breath, he nibbles on my inner thigh.

  His eyes turn toward mine. "Another?"

  Damn, this man is insatiable. Not that I'm complaining. I nod.

  "That's not very polite."

  "Pretty please."

  "Better." He sucks on my inner thighs. Then my lips.

  My clit.

  He's not wasting any time. His tongue laps at me with hard, steady strokes. Different than before but just as good.

  I'm already halfway there. I have to press my hands against the roof of the car to contain the sensation.

  Drew brings a finger to my sex, teasing me with it.

  Whoa.

  It's a whole new sensation and I want it so badly.

  No waiting, I beg. "Please."

  He slides his finger inside me. My sex clenches. Drew groans into my inner thigh. He can feel my pulsing and he fucking likes it.

  His tongue goes back to my clit. He slides another finger inside me, teasing at first, then going harder, like he's fucking me with his fingers.

  My sex clenches. Again. Again. The pressure is intense. He licks me again, strokes me again, and it only gets tighter.

  Tighter.

  Tighter.

  I moan. "Drew."

  He goes a little harder.

  "Drew."

  He groans against me.

  "Drew." I nearly scream it. Almost there. It's so strong I can barely stand it.

  He licks me. Strokes me.

  Again.

  And again.

  And then I'm there. The tension inside me rises to a fever pitch, so much stronger and harder and tighter than before. And then it releases.

  An orgasm rocks through me. My sex pulses like it's never going to stop.

  I catch my breath, shifting so I'm sitting on Drew's lap instead of his face.

  He's hard.

  He presses his hands against my back, brings his lips to my ear. "You have another one in you?"

  Hell yes.

  I nod, shifting onto my knees so I can unzip his jeans and shove them to his knees.

  He runs his hand through my hair. "This'll be fast. It was torture not fucking you in that store."

  "Good. I want to feel you come inside me."

  "Fuck." He groans as his cock brushes against me.

  I'm in a completely awkward position, not quite sitting up, not quite lying down, but I make it work. Hands on Drew's shoulders, I tease him until I can't stand it anymore. Then I shift, lowering myself onto him so he fills me.

  God, that feels good.

  I shift my hips, rocking against him with a steady rhythm. My attention stays on Drew, on the delicious expression in his eyes. Pleasure looks damn good on him.

  He stares back at me. It's not slow today. It's fast and needy. His hands go to my ass, guiding my movements so I'm going deeper, harder.

  He groans. His eyelids press together. My body is spent, but his sounds are enough to push me back to the edge. I surrender to what feels good, closing my eyes and rocking against him. His nails dig into the flesh of my ass. His teeth nip at the skin on my shoulders. His groans reverberate over my chest.

  My sex clenches.

  Almost.

  I lean into it, holding him tighter as I move faster and deeper. It's erratic and animal and I forget about everything that isn't him inside me.

  The tension builds to a fever pitch. It hurts so good. And then my sex is pulsing around him, drawing him closer. I sink my teeth into his neck as I come, groaning loudly enough for anyone on the floor to hear.

  Drew sinks his fingers into my skin. He pulls me closer, rocking his hips against mine to thrust into me. I can feel his orgasm in the tensing of his chest and shoulders. I blink my eyes open to watch him come.

  It's fucking beautiful. He throws his head back, his lips part to make way for a groan. His whole body shudders as he fills me.

  He wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. We stay like that for minutes. Eventually, we get back to our clothes and Drew shifts to the driver's seat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  We spend half of the day in the pool, naked. The rest we spend in the living room, curled up on the couch or making food in the kitchen.

  I have to devote Sunday to studying. Drew promises to give me the day for my schoolwork, and he sticks to it. He's still not home when it's time for bed. I get ready and curl up with my current reading-for-fun novel.

  My eyes drift closed. Just a few minutes...

  I wake up to the feeling of weight shifting on the mattress. I turn to see Drew, sitting next to me in his boxers, hands curled around a glass of water.

  "Hey." He takes a long sip then hands the glass to me. "You finish?"

  I nod, down half the glass, and set it on the bedside table.

  "I'll give you room to study for the next two weeks." He shifts closer. "But I'm here if you need a break."

  "A break?"

  He smirks and lies next to me. His arm curls around my waist. He lifts himself up, so he's looking down at me.

  His fingertips go to my wrist and he traces the faint scars. "These really weigh on you, huh?"

  "Yeah."

  His voice is low. "I know I freaked when you first told me. I wanted to protect you—"

  "But there was no one to punch in the face?"

  "Kendrick, don't be rude to people who are trying to open up to you." He moves closer. "I don't ever want you to hurt like that again. Not alone."

  "You can't stop me from experiencing pain."

  "But this—it's so much to hide. How do you manage that?"

  "I'm used to it."

  "You sure you're okay living like that?"

  "Not forever." I shift onto my elbow. "But I'm not ready to face the kind of scrutiny I'll get when people see."

  He nods like he understands. "If there's any way I can help—"

  "Let me handle it. Please."

  Drew turns off the lights and slides next to me. He turns me around so we're face to face. "Let's play a game. Truth or truth."

  It's dark, but I can just make out his eyes.

  "One question each," he says. "You can start."

  I nod. I'm awake enough for one question. There's one burning a hole in my brain.

  "You never want me to hurt again," I say.

  "Yeah. But that's not a question."

  I meet his gaze. "You're human. There must be times you hurt. Not someone you loved hurt, but you hurt."

  "I hurt when the people I love hurt." He squeezes my hand. "I hurt when you hurt."

  "When did you hurt because you hurt?"

  "When Willow ran off with that asshole." His eyes turn down. "I didn't hear from her for days. I thought she was gone, forever, dead or ran away. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't even play my guitar. I only went looking for her boyfriend so I could make sure he hurt as bad as I did."

  I close my eyes to picture teenage Drew in a fit of rage and agony. I never saw him feel anything like that, but I can still picture it so easily.

  "When else?" I ask.

  "When I got my first C."

  "You got a C?"

  "Yeah." He shifts away like he's embarras
sed. "This algorithms class in college. I studied my ass off, but it did me no good."

  "But you're a rock star."

  "Back then, I was just a guy who killed it on the guitar." He turns back. Makes eye contact. "Still cared what my parents thought of me. Still had this idea I'd end up some Silicon Valley programmer who only played as a hobby."

  "I can't picture that."

  "Me either. That's why I've been so pushy about this teaching thing. Because I know how it feels to try to fit into a life someone else made for you."

  "Do you ever doubt your ability to play?"

  "You already had your question. But no. Not since I was a teenager." His gaze drifts to the pillows. "That hurt. When my mom stopped talking to me."

  "What happened?"

  "She said that if I took a year off from school to pursue the band, that she couldn't support me. For my own good supposedly. Of course, I dared her to follow through. Dared her to stop talking to me. I figured I'd give it a couple weeks and she'd realize how wrong she was. But she never did. Six months went by and nothing. Wasn't until my sister called to tell me I wasn't invited home for Christmas that I realized there was no turning back. I fucking lost it. Cried even."

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  "But you always act so tough not being in touch with your parents," I say.

  "It's better not to think about it. I can't change her mind. Dropping out officially sealed it. She's never talking to me again."

  "But you're... you make a lot of money. Don't you?"

  He laughs. "I have six figures in my bank account and seven invested in mutual funds. That's rock and roll, huh, mutual funds?"

  God, he says it so effortlessly. I have seven figures. I'm a millionaire. No big deal.

  "Did you ever tell your mom that?"

  "Nah. She wouldn't care. Willow tried for a while to change her mind, but only thing she decided was that she'd kick Willow out if the subject stayed in the conversation." He pulls me closer. "Maybe she'll forgive me one day. Maybe not. Either way, I'm not apologizing for doing what I love."

  "You could see her while we're in San Francisco."

  "I'm not sure that I want to," Drew says.

  I nestle into his body. "I'm sorry you went through that."

  "Thanks." He runs his fingertips over my shoulders.

  We're quiet for a long time.

  Drew shifts. He runs his fingers through my hair. "Why didn't you tell me about your cutting sooner?"