Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2)

by Cari Quinn

  Never happy with a man like you.

  I shook that off and settled my hand on her hip. Not even a ripple in the conversation. She just kept on talking as her skin burned under my palm. Didn’t she ever wear a shirt that went past her belt for fuck’s sake?

  I tried to tune into what she was so animated about, but all I could focus on was her ass brushing across the front of my jeans. My fingers curled into her belt loop and her breathing changed.

  “Are you guys going to be in town for the show?”

  Faith’s nails grazed my thigh. “What?”

  “We’ve got a show in Denver at the end of the year. Can you guys make it?”

  “Yeah, definitely. I’d love to.”

  The girl talking to her had jet black hair streaming over her shoulders and down her back. Her obsidian dark eyes flashed at me, then down at Faith. “Bring tall, dark, and delicious.”

  Faith’s nails went from a light scrape to bite. “Want to go to Brooklyn Dawn’s show with me, w—Quinn?”

  I stifled a groan. Right now, she had to go with almost slipping? With the name that had taunted for days, and brought me back into myself. I tried to step back, but the tips of her fingers grazed my cock. “Wherever you want to go, babe.”

  She dragged in a breath ending in a laugh. “See why I keep him around?”

  The blonde with the dark haired woman laughed. She was startlingly beautiful. The kind that made headlines for more than just ticket sales. I hadn’t even noticed her until Faith made me click in.

  Fucking dangerous as hell.

  What else wasn’t I paying attention to?

  Her ass swayed across my thighs inciting more anger. “Would you excuse us for a second?”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh. All right. I’ll catch you two later?”

  The brunette nodded, her gaze raking down my body. “Definitely.”

  Faith’s voice deepened. “Behave, James. He’s mine.”

  My grip increased. I wasn’t—not really—but right then I wanted to be. Right then I wasn’t sure how I could turn it off. I slid my hand from her hip to lock with her fingers, dragging her across the room to the darkened hallway.

  “What the hell, Warden?”

  “We need to have a conversation.”

  “If you wanted me in a dark room all you had to do was ask.”

  “This isn’t a game.”

  She whirled on me, causing me to take a step back into one of the trunks. “I know it’s not. But if you don’t stop staring at me like that.”

  I gripped the trunk. “It’s my job to stare at you.”

  “I’m used to you watching me, Warden. There’s even a little bit of a buzz under it that I’ve acclimated to. That’s not what you’ve been doing since we got to Boston.” She moved in until she straddled my leg, and her hand pressed into my side. “Then on the side stage. When you touched me.”

  “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It’s going to keep happening. You know why?”

  I refused to answer, even though I knew she was going to keep talking. I pushed her away, and she came back at me, her nails slipping over my belt buckle into the front of my jeans to anchor me in front of her. “Faith,” I said in a low voice.

  “That’s why. Right there. That voice.” She put pressure on heel of her hand as her other hand tugged at my tucked T-shirt until she got under the material. “Because neither one of us can resist this.”

  “I can resist.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to watch and protect. I don’t fuck clients.”

  “I’m not just a client.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Her blue eyes blazed. “Liar. I can see it right here.”

  “Chemistry. Lust.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you’d really give into that if you didn’t want to.”

  “Believe me. If I could turn this off I would.”

  A flash of something in her eyes made me wish I could take that back. I don’t know if it was hurt, or hate, or something even more incendiary. She flipped out the tail of belt from the buckle and I stilled her hands. “Touch me, Warden. Take this all away and then maybe, just maybe we can concentrate again.”

  “If I touch you, I’ll never stop,” I growled. I hated the truth in that statement, but there it was.

  She tugged at my belt. “Thank, God.”

  I pushed away from the trunk, into the dark. The crash of notes made me curse.

  “It can take it.”

  “It’s your piano.”

  “My harpsichord.” She went up on her toes and nipped my chin. “Sturdy.”

  “Christ,” I said and looked over my shoulder. We were alone. The party was still going on. Music carried down the hallway and the laughter reminded me there were people close.

  But not that close.

  She tugged my zipper down and I pushed her hands away, spinning her around to face the large, curved instrument. “That is not how this is going to happen. Not right now.”

  Her hand reached back to my thighs. “I want it to happen here. I don’t mind our first time to be in the shadows.” She cupped my shaft. “I just need it to be now. I can’t wait any longer.”

  No way was I going to be able to handle her touching me right now. “My way then.” I slid my arm along her elbows, pinning her shoulders back. Her breath stalled, as her head rested on my chest. Her moan made my dick pulse behind my half done zipper. A shaft of light highlighted her high, upturned breasts, nipples pushing against her shirt.

  I’d tasted them tonight. Salt and peaches over silk.

  I walked forward until her body rested into the curved side of the piano. I lowered my head until my lips were at her ear. “Just how sturdy is this thing?”

  “As sturdy as I am, Warden.”

  26

  Keys

  My back arched at the angle. He towered over me, his breath a brand on my neck. This was what I wanted. I hadn’t known it. I’d never known sex could be this exciting and heightened before.

  Adrenaline from the stage I’d used and fucked through before.

  This was different. The taste of this kind of intoxication couldn’t be duplicated with anyone but Quinn. That scared me as much as it thrilled me. Part of me didn’t want to know these kinds of feelings existed.

  Part of me wished that I could stay ignorant and happy with the status quo of my life.

  But the part of me that strained against his touch, that ached for the danger of the dark and his huge, hard body—that was the part of me that had never been more alive.

  The part that I could never, ever put back in a box.

  His teeth grazed along my pulse again.

  “Mercy.”

  Was that my voice? It was broken and husky.

  “There isn’t any mercy to be had tonight, Faith.”

  I shivered at the low tone of his voice. It wasn’t the clipped Quinn I knew. It was darker, almost angry. His grip was harsh, almost too much—just on the verge of fear inducing.

  With his free hand, he coasted down to my jeans, digging between my legs until the seam of the denim rubbed over my swollen folds. He was relentless, the friction driving me higher and faster than I thought possible.

  “I need you with me.” He ground his cock along my ass. “I’ve been like this for hours.” He sucked at my neck. “Fuck, I’ve been like this for days.”

  I bucked against his touch. My husky groan only made him move faster. I was as immobilized as the night he’d pinned me to the bed, and didn’t know how to go over. He held me there, on the edge of the fastest orgasm of my life, and then he just stopped.

  “Fuck,” I growled and rolled my hips. “I need…”

  “What?” His voice was at my ear again. “I said I needed you to catch up, not go over.”

  I kicked at him and he laughed.

  Fucking laughed.

  “I want your nail marks on my back.” He nosed do
wn the collar of my shirt and nipped my collar bone. “I want them in my flanks when I fuck you.”

  I whimpered. “Yes.”

  Holy crap, yes. Everything about his touch made me want to rip into him. I wanted to leave marks too.

  How did he know?

  “But right now.” He twisted my arms up until they were folded against my back. “Now, I need you to just take me. Round two you can do what you want to me.”

  Then he pressed me down onto the piano cover, my cheek flush with the top, my hips arched up and me on my toes. I wasn’t tall enough for this. He seemed to realize that, but instead of correcting the situation, he boosted me up and released the snap of my jeans.

  “Quinn.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “God, no.”

  “Good, then hold onto me with your legs.” He dragged his teeth down the dip of my lower spine and peeled away my jeans.

  “What are—Oh, God.”

  He held both arms with one hand, bracketing my wrists, with his other hand he drew his thumb down the seam of my ass to my slit. “Fuck. So fucking wet.”

  Exposed and splayed onto my belly, I couldn’t move if I wanted to. But then his mouth was there and the idea of moving melted into the shadows.

  His tongue was relentless as he filled me. He sucked and slid along every fold. The sounds. It was like I was another person. That couldn’t be me, writhing under his tongue. He slid his thumb inside me and pulsed in time with his tongue.

  There was no beginning, no end, no rhyme and no reason. There was only him and his mouth and my inability to deny him. He let go of my arms and I flailed to pull away, to crawl over the piano to get away from the insanity drowning me.

  He dragged me back and rolled me over. His eyes were shiny black in the low light as he splayed me open and licked me until I sobbed out his name.

  His hand slid up my chest to my throat and over my mouth. He didn’t stop, didn’t relent. He sucked and stroked my clit until there was no light left, no sweet little sparkles of a shiny orgasm.

  No, this was a maelstrom of pain, pleasure, and finally a boneless release.

  He dragged me off the piano and the cover slid with me onto the floor. But not me. No, I was safe in his arms.

  No.

  No, safe wasn’t the word. He rounded to the front of my harpsichord to the bench and sat down with me. I ripped at his belt, at his zipper, at the cotton of his shorts until there was skin.

  Hard, hot, skin. The flared head of his shaft was so tight that he hissed when I swirled my fingers around it. “Faith.”

  I shook off my jeans that were dangling from my ankle. My other shoe clattered to the floor. I wasn’t really sure when I lost the first one. It didn’t matter. My only goal was to get on top of him, to get him inside me.

  “Wallet,” he growled.

  I moved so he could dig into his pocket. His wallet flipped onto the top of my harpsichord and then there was the crinkle of plastic and the snap of rubber.

  Thank God.

  “Inside, inside, inside” I chanted. I fisted my hand around his base and he hissed. “Now.”

  He gripped my hips and pulled me down on top of him. I arched, suddenly not so certain I could survive this. I tried to back off of him. Hard, huge, full.

  So full.

  He slipped inside of me, his eyes fierce. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I gasped. Every nerve was alive and firing as I tilted forward and took all of him. “Oh, so okay.”

  He gripped the cover of the keys and rocked me. The impact of the bumpers getting shifted resonated inside me like an extra vibration. “Fuck.” His lips crashed into mine, scraping over my lower lip as he seated himself again and again. “So fucking tight and perfect,” he said against my mouth.

  I tucked my face into his shoulder, curled my arms around his neck, and held on as he lifted his hips up and drove into me again and again. I should be able to control all the angles and the depth, but I was lost to the overwhelming force of him.

  I couldn’t deny him.

  I couldn’t do anything but hold on and roll my hips in time with his deep strokes.

  He hollowed me out, and owned every part of me. I leaned back enough to press my forehead to his.

  I dug my fingers into his shoulders, then down into the collar of his shirt to get to skin.

  He groaned into my mouth, his fingers racing up my back to pull me down on him. My name was a broken curse.

  His cock pulsed inside me as I held onto him and clenched around him instinctively. I wanted all of him tattooed against the inside of me where no one could ever take this feeling away.

  I trembled and held on as he slowed and finally stilled, but didn’t leave me. He was still inside me even as the world had surely shattered around us.

  His arms fell away first. I immediately missed the bite of his grip on my hips. Like he couldn’t handle the idea I’d get away.

  “Trying to compartmentalize me, Warden?”

  “Dammit, Faith.”

  My body tingled at the warning and frustration in his voice. “Is it the warden thing that has you pissed of, or the fact that you just fucked the stuffing out of me?”

  He stood, but instead of allowing him to unseat me, I clamped my knees on his hips and gripped his shoulders. His eyes flashed in the limited light. “This isn’t a fucking game.”

  I wrapped my legs around him and had to bite back a moan as he lost his footing and slammed me into the harpsichord. He was still inside me, and still semi-hard, which was kind of amazing actually. Did they give them extra doses of testosterone in Ranger school?

  They certainly hadn’t skimped on what he was packing. Front or back.

  His jaw was so tight that I could see the vein throbbing in his temple, even in the dark. I didn’t want this to be weird.

  It was going to be weird regardless. No one could have that kind of sex and not want to regroup, myself included. But I also knew that if I didn’t handle this right it would turn back the clock to the first day we met.

  The reserved Quinn without humor. I liked the little bits of sarcasm that started bleeding through.

  I didn’t want to lose that.

  I tipped my hips so he had no choice but to pay attention to me. And all of him was paying attention—and growing.

  “You promised me a round two.”

  He closed his eyes as our bodies started moving together. We had a rhythm of our own, a beat that would never come from an instrument, and I didn’t want to let that go. I didn’t want him to push it into a box.

  I slid my fingers up the nape of his neck as he finally held onto my hips again. “This isn’t round two.”

  His fingers dug into my ass.

  “You only get one ride on my piano, buddy.”

  The puff of air along my neck eased the nerves building inside me. “Was that a laugh.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I don’t laugh.”

  “Liar.”

  He pinned me to the elongated cover. My harpsichord was a two level keyboard so my ass actually fit right on the cover. However, it wasn’t meant for the kind of hip action this man could provide.

  Damn those thrusting hips.

  “This can’t be what we’re about, Faith. No matter how much I want to be inside you.” He groaned and ground us ever closer. “How good this feels—”

  “If you say it’s just sex, I’ll boot you across the room right now.” Even if even the idea of him withdrawing made my heart sink.

  “You’re more than just a fuck. Even if I was that kind of guy, I couldn’t be with you.”

  The stark truth in his voice and eyes kicked my heart rate up until I could barely hear around it.

  “I’m also here to protect you.”

  “Nothing’s happened,” I growled. Frustration with him and with this entire situation, as well as the fear that was always just a step away, made my voice louder than I intended.

  “I c
an’t have this conversation with you clamped around my cock. I can’t think when you’re this close to me, let alone when I’m balls deep inside you.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” I didn’t like that my voice was so hesitant, but I was riding on way too many different emotions right now.

  “One of us has to be clear headed about this.” His hands came up to cup my face. “You’re Noah’s.”

  Startled, I blinked. “What? No, I’m not.”

  He shook his head, his jaw flexing. “No.” He growled. “Christ, I can’t.” His eyes were hooded as he kept instinctively moving inside me.

  I dragged in a ragged breath. “You can’t be talking about someone else when you’re inside me, Quinn.”

  “Not like that or I’d never have touched you.” He touched his forehead to mine as he glided in and out of me. The unhurried pace fracturing my resolve to talk this out.

  He coasted down my shoulder to my breast and cupped it, plucking at the nipple that was busting through my bra and shirt. His hands weren’t gentle. I liked that he couldn’t seem to stop touching me. I liked that he wasn’t soft and sweet with me.

  His focus shifted to where we were joined. “Fuck.” When his gaze lifted to me, it was bleak. “Nothing can happen to you.”

  “It won’t.” I met his firm lips and softened for him. Waited for him to unclench and kiss me. I was pretty sure I’d been waiting him out for what felt like forever. I hooked my arm around his shoulder and took each stroke, felt the tremor of the dampers undulating along the strings of my harpsichord under me, and my own skin that felt too tight.

  He tore his mouth away and buried it into my shoulder as his hips flexed and the friction pushed me out of my head. I gasped as the release blindsided me. I’d been so focused on him and trying to figure him, that my body’s reaction dropped like a curtain.

  Nothing but Quinn filling me up.

  His breath fusing with my skin, his fingers branding me again.

  “It won’t,” I said again as I held on.

  27

  Quinn