Blackthorne: Heart of Fame, Book 8

by Lexxie Couper

  He moved. Grabbed her. Crushed her mouth and scored a line down to her breasts, torturing one nipple as he kneaded her arse cheeks. He sucked on her flesh as he squeezed her backside, knowing he wasn’t being gentle but unable to stop.

  Caitlin’s groan told him she didn’t want him to. As did her fingers clawing at his shoulders, over his chest.

  When she grabbed his upper arms and pulled him to the bed, ramming him to his back on the mattress, he let out a ragged, “Fuck.”

  When she straddled him, her thighs hugging his hips, her pussy kissing the tip of his cock, her nipples brushing his chest, he growled and grabbed at her hips.

  She teased him that way for an eternity, with her breasts, her nipples, her sex, their stares locked, their choppy breaths the only sound to be heard.

  And when he couldn’t take it any longer, when he was about to burst, she took a hold of his length, aligned it to the sodden seam of her entry and guided him inside her.

  At the first tight pressure rimming the tip of his cock, he almost lost it.

  He groaned, bunching the sheet at his side in one fist as he dug the fingers of his other hand into her hip in a fierce grip.

  Fuck, would he last much—

  She slid lower down his length.

  “Oh, babe,” he ground out, body on fire. Thrumming. Charged.

  She took him deeper, her whimper falling from her lips as he stretched her wider.

  “Fuck, babe.” He closed his eyes and tossed his head. “I can’t…”

  She slid lower, enveloping him, tight and hot and perfect.

  “I’m gonna…” He stopped, swallowed, opened his eyes and gazed up at her. “I want…Jesus, I’m going to…”

  Without a word, she completely impaled herself on his engorged length. Surrounding him. Taking every inch of him into her body.

  “Fuck.” He clenched his teeth.

  He was going to come. Fuck, he was going to come. She was so tight, so right, and he was going to fucking—

  Think of something. Think of…think of…

  “Oh, God, Josh.” Caitlin’s whisper filled his head. “You feel so right inside me.”

  It was the open joy in her voice that undid him. That shattered any control he had left.

  With a growl, he opened his eyes, grabbed her hips and flipped her onto her back, driving his cock deep inside her. Kissing her as he did so, sucking on her nipples, squeezing her arse, pulling her knee up to plunge deeper.

  Filling her.

  Claiming her.

  Loving her with every fibre of his body until she called out his name, her pussy sucking at his thrusting length, her heat seeping from her. On the cusp of insanity from pleasure overload, he came.

  His seed flooded the condom, leaving him in powerful spurts.

  “Oh, God,” Caitlin cried out, wonderment in her eyes and voice, “I can feel you coming. I can feel…”

  The raw exclamation stole any rhythm he had left. He pounded into her, his face buried into the side of her neck, her name falling from his lips, over and over again.

  Until there was nothing left. Until he was spent.

  Until strength deserted him, his knee screamed at him in agony and he crumpled on top of her, panting.

  Her own pants mingled with his. She trailed her hands in languid patterns over his back, across the top of his butt. “Holy fuck,” she whispered. “Who knew rock stars had so much stamina?”

  He let out a weak chuckle, rolling to the side just enough to take his weight from her body, but not enough to withdraw his spent cock from her heat. He didn’t want to be separated from her yet. “I wasn’t always a rock star, remember?”

  She stroked her nails up his spine. “That’s right.” She nodded, staring up at the ceiling. “You played some kind of sport, didn’t you? What was it? Cricket? Rugby union? Something like—”

  He pinched her nipple in a soft vice, making her laugh. “Oi.”

  She laughed, squirming against him as she slapped at his gentle punishment. “Soccer! Soccer!”

  He nestled his head against the side swell of her breast, loving the way each breath he took smelled of her. “Rugby union?” he grumbled in mock indignation. “Do I look like the kind of guy that played rugby union?”

  She twisted on the mattress, her stare finding his. “No,” she whispered, all jest gone from her face, her voice. “You look like the kind of guy I could fall in love with.”

  His breath caught in his throat. His pulse thumped fast in his neck. “I do?”

  She nodded at his barely spoken question. Caught her bottom lip. “Maybe,” she whispered. “One day.”

  He studied her, a glorious weight strapping his chest. “One day,” he echoed on a breath. “I can live with one day.”

  She touched her fingertips to his lips. “Living would be a start.”

  “I can do that as well,” he murmured and brushed his lips over hers. “Promise.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “At some point,” Josh called, his voice floating to her from the kitchen, “we’re going to need a grocery run.”

  Shifting on the sofa, Caitlin muted the television, silencing Ichabod Crane in mid how-can-the-twenty-first-century-be-so-horrid tirade. She grinned at Josh as he walked back into the living room, a bottle of water in one hand, an apple in the other, Fluffy draped over his right shoulder.

  “What are you smirking at?” Josh asked, a second before taking a bite out of the apple.

  She chuckled. “Who would have thought a naked rock star could wear a lizard with such panache?”

  Cheek full of apple, Josh twisted his head to give Fluffy a gooey-eyed look. “We’re mates,” he said, voice muffled. “Aren’t we, Rocket Man?”

  Caitlin raised her eyebrows. “Rocket Man?”

  Continuing into the living room, Josh rounded the edge of the sofa and lowered his butt to a cushion. “He told me that’s what he prefers to be called.”

  “Oh, is that right?” She crossed her arms over her breasts. At some point they’d need to do a grocery run? They might want to put on some clothes first. When was the last time she’d had something apart from Josh against her skin? Over twenty-four hours, at least. Maybe longer. They hadn’t left her apartment for five days, after all. “When?”

  Josh bit off a tiny chunk of apple and held it out for Fluffy to take, which the lizard did without hesitation. “Last night while you were taking a shower. He was very put out you wouldn’t share the water and he told me.”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes, her grin wide. “You were very put out I wasn’t sharing,” she corrected. “And it was only because I had to shave my legs and I’m not quite ready to hand you the razor yet.”

  The pout he gave her was wonderfully dramatic as he scratched under Fluffy’s chin. “Ahh, Rocket Man, she doubts my skill with the razor.”

  “Eat your apple, Blackthorne,” she suggested, reaching for the television remote. “And stop telling my lizard lies.”

  Turning off mute, she settled back against the sofa, ready to give herself over to the craziness of Sleepy Hollow.

  At the sight of Fluffy ambling in his three-legged way across the floor in front of her, she turned back to Josh, lips twitching. “So he’s abandoned you after realizing you were leading him astray?”

  Josh shook his head. “I told him I was going to lead you astray,” he said, threading his fingers into the hair at her nape and lowering his face to hers. “Like this.”

  He kissed her.

  Of course, like it had every time he’d kissed her in the last five days, the kiss turned into something else. Something wild and passionate and sweaty involving lots of moans and pants and a condom…or two.

  A couple of hours later, Caitlin collected Josh’s bottle of water from the coffee table and swallowed a mouthful. She may not have hit the gym or gone for a jog in the last week, but damn, she’d done some intensive working out.

  “Seriously though.” Josh joined her on the sofa, sliding between her back
and the backrest to smooth his arms around her body and rest his chin on her shoulder. “I think I’m eating you out of house and home. I’m not sure what you’re doing to me, woman, but I’m starving all the time. Want me to do an online shop?”

  Leaning into his hard warmth, she shook her head, the game of Solitaire she’d been playing on the coffee table at a standstill. “I’ll head out now,” she said. “Might do me some good to get some fresh air, and by fresh air I mean re-circulated air-conditioned supermarket air. Want anything?”

  “You?”

  She twisted in his arms to give him a gooey smile. “Ahh, you’re a charmer.”

  He laughed before kissing the tip of her nose. “Hell, yeah.”

  Pushing herself from the sofa, Caitlin headed for her bedroom. “I’ll go grab some fresh fruit, bread, milk…maybe some steaks for dinner tonight.”

  “Hang on a sec.” Josh bounded off the sofa to follow her. “How about I come too?”

  She stopped. Stared at him. “You? In a supermarket?”

  He affected a wounded look. “Why not me in a supermarket?”

  She chuckled. “Because you’re Josh Blackthorne?”

  He snared her wrist and yanked her to his body, crushed her lips in a searing kiss and smacked her on the butt. “Perfect reason for me to be in a supermarket, in my opinion.”

  She laughed. “People will mob you.”

  He shuffled away from her and headed towards her bedroom. “No, they won’t. I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

  Twenty minutes later, they walked into the local supermarket.

  Every time Caitlin looked at Josh, she wanted to burst out laughing.

  He strutted beside her—as much as his limp would allow him. Black jeans covered his legs, her old Australia Wallabies Rugby Union supporters jersey covered his torso. His iconic dark mess of hair was concealed by a Dead Even 2 Stuntwoman cap Chris Huntley and her uncle had sent her as a joke gift for her last birthday. Black Ray Bans hid his eyes, which was a good thing, given both of them looked like they hadn’t slept for a week. Which was pretty close to it, given how much sex they’d been having in and out of the bedroom.

  Aware she was somewhat of a recognizable figure at the moment, what with the media running story after story of Matt’s death, Caitlin had attempted to camouflage her own identity with a Newcastle Knights cap and her own owlish sunglasses.

  “Still can’t believe you’re wearing a Rugby League cap,” Josh grumbled, flicking her a playful grin as they selected apples from the available pile. “Don’t you own a soccer hat?”

  Chuckling, Caitlin shook her head. “Nope. Never went to a game.”

  “Liar,” he shot back.

  She grinned. “Oh, okay, I went to one. When I was twenty. It was a first date. Sydney was playing Melbourne.”

  “Home game? Here in Sydney?”

  She nodded.

  He shoved another apple into the bag she was holding. “I remember that game. Thought I saw a super sexy girl in the crowd. Was that you?”

  Wicked delight and happiness shot through her. She placed the bag of apples in the cart and rolled her eyes at him. “Sure you remember that game. I remember it as well. The striker scored an own goal a minute before full time. Lost the game for Sydney.”

  “Oh, in that case—” he nuzzled her neck as he pressed his chest to her back, his hands joining hers on the cart, “—I definitely wasn’t at that game.”

  They made their way around the supermarket, selecting items, discussing favourite foods and arguing the merits of green tea versus white tea. Caitlin couldn’t remember when she’d had a more enjoyable time at a supermarket. How was that even possible? Having fun while grocery shopping?

  At the checkout, she couldn’t help but fidget as the operator kept giving Josh askew looks. If his identity was discovered, what would happen?

  “You look just like Josh Blackthorne,” the teenager finally said as Caitlin handed over the appropriate number of notes.

  Josh preened. “You think so?” He adjusted his hat, and puffed out his chest. “See, babe?” He nudged Caitlin with his hip. “I told you I look like him.”

  She rolled her eyes again even as her lips twitched. Damn, she was having fun.

  And so the day continued. They took the groceries home, packed them away and then made out on the kitchen counter.

  Sometime in the early evening, they made dinner. Josh taught her how to make a New York-style strip steak while slipping Fluffy little snippets of freshly cut raw beef as he did so. Her lizard had taken quite a shine to him, and Caitlin wondered what the reptile would do the first night Josh wasn’t there.

  A dark shadow fell over her contented joy at the thought.

  What would Fluffy do? What would she do? There was no denying she was more than halfway in love with the guy, and it wouldn’t take much to fall the rest of the way.

  He was funny and caring and intelligent and so goddamn sexy she knew he was close to ruining her for other men.

  Other men? Does there need to be other men?

  Refusing to ponder the fantastical notion, she returned her attention to her freshly cooked steak.

  After dinner, they went to the movies, Josh hiding his identity once again with her Dead Even 2 Stuntwoman cap, both using their potato chips to eat their ice cream, something Matt had always considered weird and gross whenever Caitlin did it.

  After the movies, they went back to her home and made love again.

  The next day, they left her bedroom only to shower and grab sustenance.

  The day after, they ordered pizza for lunch and ate it naked. Italian sausage, no olives, added pineapple. Caitlin was amazed, not only by the fact she’d found a fellow olives-on-pizza despiser, but at how comfortable she’d become in her own skin since he’d entered her life. Gone was the uncertainty of the extra padding on her hips and butt. Instead, she moved about her home undressed with confidence. He made her feel all sorts of sexy without touching her or saying a word. She’d catch him checking her out, a slow caress of his gaze over her thighs, a lingering look at her lips as she spoke, and she’d be instantly flooded with euphoric pride and delight.

  At times, when she’d find her glance skimming past the photo of her and Matt on the wall, a lick of guilt would trace a line over her heart, but those moments were rare. When she asked Josh if he was uncomfortable with the photo’s presence, he took her in his arms, kissed her and then carried her to her bed and made love to her.

  “There is nothing about you, about us,” he murmured in her ear as they lay sated and drained afterward, “that makes me uncomfortable. I would never expect you to take down the photo for me. Do it when you’re ready. Not before.”

  The words warmed her, eased the conflict that at times still haunted her.

  She couldn’t deny, not to herself or anyone else, that Josh had made moving on so much easier.

  That night, ready to face normal life again, and for the first time since the paparazzi had begun its stalking of her, Caitlin went to work.

  The buzz of the place, the charged energy, folded around her the moment she walked through the door. She smiled at Zach, nodded to her other staff members and made her way out to her office.

  Sitting at her desk, she flicked on the CCTV screens, opened up her laptop and readied herself to work. And found herself missing Josh. A lot.

  The hours dragged on. By the time the clock clicked over two-thirty a.m. and the last of the patrons filed out the door, she was eager to leave.

  A knock on the door stopped her just as she was rising from her seat.

  “Boss?” Zach stuck his head in, dark eyes finding her from the other side of the threshold. “Thought you might like to read this.”

  He entered her office, a folded newspaper in hand, and crossed to her desk.

  Heart racing, Caitlin opened the paper to the page he’d presented to her.

  The air sucked from the room. The vacuum left behind pressed at Caitlin�
�s ears, her eyes.

  For The Health of the Oppressed the headline stated, a large image of Matt filling the left quarter of the page beneath it.

  The by-line was Mackenzie Rogers, a tiny photo of a woman with mischievous eyes and an impish grin beside that.

  I have had the great honour, the article began, to know Josh Blackthorne, front man of the rock band Synergy and son of rock icon Nick Blackthorne, since he was a fifteen-year-old boy with dreams of being the next David Beckham. I have watched him grow—in my role as surrogate aunt—into a man of talent and dedication, full of genuine warmth and kindness. Trust me when I say—and this is not just the honorary aunt talking—these attributes are not overly common in the rock stars and musicians of today’s youth. I have been in this business for a long time, months before Nick’s “second-coming” as it were, an event that occurred well over ten years ago now, and I can honestly say his son, Josh, is unlike any celebrity I know.

  Self-effacing and quite often boyish in his mischief, Josh seems to forget at times he is spectacularly famous and successful. So when he called me a little while ago to tell me about a special performance he was giving, an unplugged performance at a nightclub in Sydney, I wasn’t in the least surprised. What I was, it turns out, is moved to tears. Because after I finished my conversation with Josh, I googled Doctors Without Borders, the organization to which Josh is donating all profits from his performance. And in googling them, I discovered the work they do and the horrific situations they do it in.

  The article continued, each word a profound testament not only to how much Mackenzie Rogers respected Josh, but to how moved she was by what Doctors Without Borders did overseas. Caitlin read each of those words with a lump in her throat, her eyes occasionally blurring from tears quickly blinked away.

  Tears that quickly spilled again when she read the next line.

  It is a tireless, dangerous job Australian doctor Matt Corvin gave his life for eight months ago.

  She stared at Matt’s name.

  At the words gave his life.

  Mouth dry, eyes burning, she continued to read the article.