Chest heaving, pretending to be just as taken by Yoshi as Milo, Viola pushed back. Her lips fell open as she ground her hips against his in return, swirling them in the opposite direction. The motion made her breasts, her pussy, and even her ass clench and pulse, ready to take him however she could get him. Even her mouth filled with saliva as if begging to get a taste of the rod against her back as well. If she could see her arms in the darkness—under the strobe lights flying a mile a minute—she was sure her veins would be protruding against her skin. Surging with the same piping hot blood that seemed to be shooting straight to her center, making it slippery, swollen with tension and need. A need to be claimed, entered, impaled. It must’ve felt so wrong to Jon, she realized. Like the last thing he wanted to do, but couldn’t seem to fight. Just the thought of the mental battle he must’ve been enduring behind her—a battle he was patently losing—sent her heart racing so fast it climbed out of her chest and got lodged in her throat, leaving her gasping for air.
Her toes curled in her black high heels as the gyration of her hips against his caused her clit to swell and her pussy to contract, warning of a loss of control that promised to take her over the edge.
She didn’t fight it.
And when his hand found her hip—on the opposite side of Milo—hidden from view in the throng of the crowd, and his fingers dug into her thigh, a spasm shot through her body that took her breath away. One spine-tingling shock after the other, each blast leaving her knees a little weaker until she was forced to reach behind her and clutch his thighs as well. His legs were spread wide, another indicator that she wasn’t alone in her desperate need to be near him. He could only have taken his body so low if he was just as hungry to get his dick exactly where he needed it. Where they both needed it.
Her fingers tightened around his muscled legs, his thighs clenched so taut it produced enough leverage for her to sit down on him like a rocking chair. So she did, giving him all her weight, letting his hardness push through the folds of her center, her lips falling open with a whimper. She worried she was moments from crumbling to the floor as the strongest orgasm she’d ever experienced rocketed through her body. Just when she was sure it was over, her tightly clamped thighs drew out another twitch, another jerk, another wave to ride that was a little stronger than the last.
It was a wave she wanted to ride for the rest of her life. A wave she intended to ride as many times as she could. Even if she was bound to wipe out.
Even if it was bound to swallow her whole.
Eight
Future wives didn’t cheat. Future wives didn’t have make-out sessions with their boyfriend’s brother. Future wives certainly didn’t double down on that make-out session by grinding on said brother at a concert, with her boyfriend standing right next to her. Future wives didn’t do any of those things, and yet Viola had done all three in less than 24 hours. She shuddered to think what Jon Baca thought of her. The look on his face across the dinner table at The Roof later that evening gave her the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t anything good. The rooftop buffet was on the 10th story of a five-star hotel and supplied breathtaking views of downtown Salt Lake City’s sparkling skyline beyond its floor-to-ceiling windows.
Some part of Viola was ashamed for allowing herself to fall so far out of control that night but also annoyed that Jon had the audacity to be looking at her with such anger and judgment at that moment. As if he hadn’t been right there with her, standing behind her at the concert, rubbing his dick against her backside. How dare he sit there and act holier than thou when he’d been the one to drag her into the dry humping session that had carried on for the duration of the concert? Subsequently delivering three of the strongest, most toe-curling orgasms she’d ever experienced in her life?
She tilted her head at him across the table and widened her eyes, unable to say what was really on her mind because they weren’t alone. Accompanying her and her dry-humping buddy at the round dinner table flanked with food and drink were Jackson, Milo, Adam, Shaun, Noodle, Yoshi Cho himself and his wife, Aria—also a singer whose star was rising fast. Sometime during the night, Viola’s heart had stopped skipping a beat every time she reminded herself, once again, that she was sitting at a dinner table with her favorite rock band and the biggest pop star in the world.
Unfortunately, her fellow buffet patrons hadn’t quite made the same strides. Every five minutes, a new diner approached the table, all clutching pens and cell phones with regretful, hesitant smiles, ruefully seeking photos and autographs. The famous faces at the table had obliged each request without complaint until a manager had finally stepped in and stationed a security guard next to them to dissuade anyone else from interrupting their dinner. So far, all the guard had to do was shake his head softly the moment someone tried to approach, shaming them enough to send them shuffling regretfully back to their seats. Viola found herself in a perpetual state of worry that someone would soon defy him and cause a scene just to get near the superstars at the table. Her heart bled a little for Yoshi—who’d received the most attention of all. It must’ve been exhausting being so well known. She was already exhausted by association.
Even as the guard’s presence kept fans at bay, Viola could feel the curious eyes all over the room burning looks at the table non-stop. She could hear their names—Adam, Yoshi, Aria, Jon—on the whispered lips of every table. Jon’s name always seemed the loudest. Probably because it was the same name playing non-stop—on full volume—in her own mind.
She continued tilting her head across the table at him and widened her eyes as the clattering of plates and silverware rose into the air.
He tilted his head back at her, blinking lazily.
The naked judgment in his eyes! She nearly grabbed her sparkling water just so she could throw it in his face across the table. He must’ve really thought she was the hoe of all hoes. Not only had he called her a hoe in the dressing room earlier that night—he’d also treated her like one. So sure she’d keep their little grinding session at the concert a secret he’d done it for the entire show, amidst an arena full of people. With his own brother standing right next to her. Like every man she’d ever met, she’d now been reduced to nothing more than a warm body. A vessel to use for his own pleasure and then discard. Not a woman worth knowing. Worth loving.
Would she ever find someone who didn’t look at her and see nothing but an object? Was it her fault for allowing it? She sucked in a breath when the thought made her lungs nearly seal themselves shut because, even if their behavior at the show made her a hoe, then it made him a hoe too.
Her heart broke at their disaster of a budding relationship. A relationship that had crashed and burned before it’d even had a chance to bloom. The worst part was that—for once—it hadn’t been her fault. She hadn’t done anything wrong. At the same time, there was nothing she could do to turn it around. She feared the thoughts of what could have been might haunt her for the rest of her life.
“Thanks for the concert tickets, Yoshi,” Jackson said, pulling Viola out of her haze. “And the dinner, too. This was the best night of my life—the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”
“Don’t mention it, man,” Yoshi said, his voice somehow whisper-soft and booming all at once. He wore a dark pair of sunglasses that nearly swallowed his face and hid most of his subtle Asian features and had a gold ring on almost every finger. He hadn’t changed since the concert, donning the same loud outfit—red silk pants and matching shorts—he’d been wearing during the encore. He leaned far back in his seat, attempting to blend in, but like most mega-stars, every attempt he made to blend only seemed to amplify his presence more. Something about him just naturally drew every eye in the room, regardless of the fact that the black baseball cap on his head had been pulled as low as he could get it.
“I really liked your part of the show too, Aria.” Jackson bounced in his seat as his eyes landed on Yoshi’s wife, Aria, a singer whose star hadn’t risen quite as fast and high as Yoshi’s but wh
o’d built a solid career in her own right nevertheless. With a giant Afro and dark brown skin, Aria looked very similar to Shaun, except Aria had two different color eyes. One brown and one blue. Viola knew from the articles she’d read on Aria that her eye had turned blue due to the trauma from a punch she’d taken from a foster parent as a child.
“Thank you, my love. You’re so sweet.” Aria smiled at Jackson. “If I could kiss you across this table, I would.”
“We could always get up and meet each other halfway.”
“Yo, calm down.” Yoshi held up a hand. “She’s mine.”
Jackson and Aria shared a look as if silently vowing to one day achieve their kiss, whether Yoshi liked it or not.
“What do you want with her?” Yoshi gave Jackson a luminous smile. “Why you still lookin’?”
“I’m not lookin’. I’m just sitting here, staring ahead with my eyes open,” Jackson said. “I can’t help that she’s sitting right across from me.”
“This one’s about to be a killer,” Aria said to Jon. “Nothing but trouble.”
“Already is,” Jon teased, bobbing Jackson on the head from the seat next to him.
“I think you guys are the best couple,” Jackson said to Yoshi and Aria.
“Yeah? Then stop ogling my girl, punk. Let’s start there,” Yoshi said.
“Frankly, I’m offended that you think they’re the best couple,” Shaun said, motioning between herself and Adam. “What are we? Chopped liver?”
“No, just mad boring,” Jackson shrugged.
“Well, tell me what you really think.” Shaun’s eyes widened.
Laughter rang in around the table as they all dug into their food, sinking into the comfort of sharing a meal with close friends and family.
“Now we just have to get Jon and Noodle cuffed so they can be boring with us.” Shaun filled the silence while nudging Noodle beside her. “Gotta settle down sometime, right?”
“Are you trying to give me nightmares tonight?” Noodle cut a look at her.
“Aw, come on. I think it would suit you beautifully. Marriage… Monogamy… White picket fence… Two and a half kids... You’re so good with kids.”
“Will you be purchasing the pistol I’ll eventually shoot myself with, or should I?” Noodle grumbled around the rim of his drink, a Johnny Walker Black on the rocks. “I’d rather die alone.”
“I don’t believe that,” Shaun said. “You forget how well I know you.”
“Why the hell would we wanna get cuffed like you fools?” Jon motioned to Adam and Yoshi. “We’re in the prime of our lives. Women from all walks of life throwing themselves at us. We have our pick of the litter. Only a moron would give that up.”
“Excuse me!” Shaun cried.
Jon shrugged but offered no apology.
“I’m with you, bro,” Noodle said, shaking his head as he took another swig of his drink, which he seemed much more interested in than the prime rib plate before him. “Marriage and monogamy is for suckers.”
“You’re only saying that because you haven’t found the right one,” Yoshi said, leaning over and kissing Aria’s forehead.
“Amen,” Adam said. “Just wait. Just wait ’til you fall in love, dude. There’s nothing like it. She’ll have your dick in a jar, and you won’t even care. Shit, you’ll help her shove it in there good and tight if you know it’ll keep her happy.”
“Absolutely pathetic,” Noodle spat, glaring at Adam like a disease that had suddenly become contagious. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Just love my girl, man. Wouldn’t trade her for anything.”
“When are you guys getting married?” Viola asked Shaun, desperate to keep her mind off Jon, whose name was still playing on repeat in her mind.
Shaun gave a beaming smile. “Next Spring.”
“Oh, it’s getting close,” Viola said. “Do you plan on moving to LA?”
“I actually just got promoted to associate editor at The New York Times,” Shaun said. “So Adam’s coming to New York.”
“Which is just one example of many that substantiates that dick in a jar,” Noodle said. “Which he apparently didn’t mind helping get in there good and deep.”
“Well, I think it’s admirable that Shaun’s not giving up her career just because she’s marrying Adam,” Milo said. “How fulfilling a life could it really be, following a rock star around the country? Seems like a great way to lose any sense of identity or individuality.”
Noodle squinted at Milo. “Have you ever been on the road? Nothing in the world will teach you who you are faster than sharing a tour bus cross country with these assholes.” He motioned to his bandmates. “You’ll have the patience of a Buddhist monk thanks to these assholes. Plus, you’ll get all the tail you could ever want which will teach you who you are in the bedroom as well. Do you know who you are in the bedroom, Milo?”
Milo squinted at Noodle. “I do just fine.”
“You sure about that? ‘Cause I thought I did just fine too until I spent my first six months on the road and learned all the best tricks from the orphan groupies who stalk us in every city. You know if a woman loves you, she’ll lie straight to your face, right? You lying to him, Viola? Or is he right? Does he do just fine?”
Every eye at the table flew to Viola.
“Don’t be shy,” Noodle said. “Take this as your only opportunity to better your sex life and thank me later.”
Well, seeing as Milo loves the cock it’s rather difficult for me to judge his performance in the bedroom.
“He does more than fine,” Viola said, placing a hand on Milo’s shoulder. “In fact, he’s the best I ever had.”
A chorus of whoops and hollers rose all around the table, though Noodle still appeared skeptical.
“You’re a nice girlfriend to lie,” Noodle said to Viola before his blue eyes shifted to Milo. “Hold on to this one. Tight. She won’t have a problem stroking your precious ego for life.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
“You got a good one,” Noodle said. “Though, I can’t lie… I would’ve bet money you were gay.”
“Noodle,” Shaun groaned. “What did we talk about?”
“I’m sorry, Molten, but I can only be myself. Anything else is too much work. Will you just let me be myself please?”
“Something is truly wrong with you.” She gaped at him in disbelief.
“And yet, here you are, madly in love with me regardless,” he countered. “So sounds like you’re the one with the issue, Molten, not me.”
She searched his eyes for a long moment before rolling her own with a smile and shaking her head as laughter rose all around the table.
“I see you falling in love with a total bookworm, Noodle,” Aria said, smiling across the table at him. “A prude. A woman who’s your polar opposite in every possible way.”
“Just watching Noodle fall in love will be a sight to behold,” Adam said.
“Frankly, I can’t wait,” Yoshi, who Viola had quickly learned was quiet by nature, jumped in with a playful smile.
“Jon, though…?” Aria bit her bottom lip while squinting one eye. “I don’t know… with Jon, I can actually see it. I can see him being the Leo DiCaprio of the bunch. The lone wolf. Making it all the way to his deathbed never married. Nary an heir or ex-wife in sight.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jon grumbled, shoving his food around his plate while shooting a hard look up at Viola. “What’s the point of a relationship, anyway? Monogamy is completely dead. Everyone lies. Everyone cheats. Especially women.”
Every woman at the table gasped dramatically except for Viola, who instead held her breath, knowing Jon’s comment had been tailor-made for her.
“Bullshit!” Shaun cried.
“I beg to differ,” Aria beamed with a hand over her heart. “Men are the biggest cheaters by far.”
“Act outraged all you want, but Noodle was right. Spend a few years on the road, and you learn the truth about women real quick. Not just s
exually, but generally. I’ve lost count of how many times a taken or married woman has agreed to join me in my hotel room. In a tour bus bunk after the show. The back alley of an IHOP. Under a bridge in the seediest part of town. Knowing damn well they had a man waiting for them back home or a wedding band hidden in their purse. Whispering to their boyfriends over the phone in the middle of the night, lying about their whereabouts and all the filthy things they’ve been doing to me all evening long.”
“Should Jackson be hearing this?” Shaun gazed at the teenager who’d been quiet as a mouse—which only spelled suspicion for a boy his age—affirming that he was probably listening intently to every depraved word leaving Jon’s lips.
“I’m not a kid.” Jackson perked up. “You guys can talk about whatever you want around me. I don’t even care.”
“This one’s the biggest perv here.” Noodle nodded at Jackson. “Tried to get me to hook him up with the big titty cougar standing next to us at the show, but I’ll be damned if I go to prison for pimping out his horny, underage ass.”
“Are you telling me you made a good choice for once?” Shaun giggled. “Proud of you, Noodle.”
Noodle popped his collar.
Jon carried on, eyes locked to Viola. “Women are the biggest cheaters. The biggest liars. No exception. Just smart enough not to get caught. In all my years of life, I’ve yet to meet a faithful woman. And every time I think I’ve found that one rare unicorn—that one woman who knows what real loyalty is—she proves me wrong. Every single time. Because she doesn’t actually exist.”
“Such anger,” Noodle breathed, covering his heart with his hand while throwing Jon a look of concern, taking on the inflection of a black church lady. “Have you been holding some stuff in, baby? You have some things to get off your chest, baby?”
“I’m good,” Jon grumbled.
“Seem a little irritated,” Adam said.
“I’m good.”
Refrain (Stereo Hearts Book 3) Page 11
