The drink in my glass is dangerously low, and I look up to call my bartender when I suddenly find myself staring into Jake’s eyes. My hand drops back to the table, and I give him a grin.
“Took you long enough,” he says with a grin.
I cock a brow. “That’s mighty cocky of you.”
He leans with his elbows on the bar so he can look into my eyes. “Then tell me I’m lying.”
My grin grows wider, and I nudge the glass at him. “My glass needs filling,” I say in my haughtiest tone.
He chuckles. “Your wish is my command,” he says as he reaches below the bar and makes my drink for me.
He drops my new glass in front of me. I pick it up, licking the rim first before wrapping my lips around the straw and sucking as provocatively as I can. I shake my head, pretending to be unimpressed.
“Yeah, I prefer hers if I’m being honest.” I’m not.
He leans down and gives me a smile that has me pressing my thighs together. “Sure, her drink might be better. But I have something you can suck on that I guarantee would taste a whole lot better.”
Inside me, I feel my brain heat, my sex get wet, and suddenly get a yearning for this thing he so humbly brags about. Outside, I keep my easy smile on and don’t betray the fact that I’m dying to get naked with him.
“It might, it might not. Question is, do I really want to wrap my lips around it?” I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to.”
If I think I’m good, he’s better.
“Why are you then?” he asks, that smoldering gaze still on me.
“Maybe I just came out to get a drink, dance a little, and have fun.”
“I’ve got a bottle of wine at my place, a bed we can dance on, and I promise I know how to give you more fun than anything you can ever do here.”
“Are you telling me you’ve never fucked a girl in this club before?” I rejoin, so thrilled at this little game we’re playing.
“I may have done that a time or two. And if you want, I can take you somewhere else and fulfill that fantasy for you.” The look in his eyes has me wondering if I could risk it before remembering all the reasons why that is the worst idea ever. “But I bet you’ve got some other fantasy in mind. And I don’t see any ropes or paddles here.”
Our eyes meet, and I could swear something sparks between us, an understanding of sorts. Like he’s telling me he knows what I want and why I’m here, and I agree with him.
“I’m not looking for a relationship,” I say so he understands what’s happening here. “Just something physical.”
“Do you see me complaining?” he asks. For a moment, we just look at each other. “Why’d you wait so long?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Were you waiting to see if I was going to sell my story or something?”
“No,” I reply, going still at his words. “Are you planning to?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I trust you enough that I came back to see if you were game for this.”
He nods. “I just wanted you to know that I would never do that. And I guess it’s time I admit that I was hoping you’d be back.”
I’m back to grinning. “You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you? Don’t even need anyone to toot your horn.”
“No, I don’t. But this is not about that. I was really hoping you’d come back.” He stands straight and folds his hands across his muscular chest. “But then again, I figured the chances of lightning striking twice were close to zero.”
“What do you know? I guess it’s about to be a lightning storm.”
He chuckles. “I don’t get off for maybe an hour more.”
I look around the bar. It has slowly been emptying, and now there are merely a few people still partying.
“You sure?”
He nods. “Yeah. Club closes at two. I can tell Rayne to help me tally the receipts and account. But I gotta stay until then at least.”
“Okay.”
“I could give you my key, or . . .”
“Don’t worry, I can wait. I’ll have another mojito, though.”
He smiles. “One mojito, coming right up.”
When he’s done, he finds me glancing at Rayne. “Don’t worry about her. She’s cool.”
“Sorry, force of habit.” I pick up my glass and give him a smile when I see he looks a little worried. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Now go before you make me do something that would make me the trending hashtag on twitter.”
“You mean like the time you had sex at Coachella?”
“Simulated sex,” I correct him. “And if you’re not careful, I’ll do it again. Only this time, it won’t be simulated.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he says with a soft chuckle as he walks away, picking up empty glasses on the bar.
I watch him walk away and take the chance to ogle his ass. When I look up, it’s to find Rayne looking at me. She gives me a small smile before she looks away to continue doing what she’s doing. I wonder if she’s going to be trouble. Then I realize I have no reason to be worried. Jake has no problem with it, and the worst thing that can happen is some tabloids finding out I’m banging him. I suddenly don’t mind at all. I see Rayne and Jake talk to each other and am surprised when he walks toward me with a smile on his face.
“Get your things. We’re leaving.”
“What?”
“Rayne’s agreed to cover for me. Did you drive?” he asks.
I nod, still a little confused. “All right, you can go and wait for me. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I glance at Rayne, and she gives me a small wave. I return her smile and reach into my purse for my credit card to settle the tab. Jake helps with that, and I’m glad I don’t have to argue with him about it. Collecting the card back, I give Rayne a little wave and head for the exit, my hat pulled low over my face.
Chapter 14
I enter the apartment before him. But I have barely taken two steps when I feel him pull me and spin me around as he crushes his body to mine. I’m already rising on tiptoes before his lips slam into mine.
The kiss is rough and messy. His tongue shoving into my mouth with a force I want so badly to feel much, much lower. His hands grab my ass. And by grab, I mean he spreads his palms over my ass, squeezing so hard I’m sure they leave marks. I respond by pushing my hips into his, slowly rocking against the weight of his erection between us. I reach down to touch him, and he nips my jaw. I yelp. Or moan. It’s hard to tell with his tongue invading my mouth again as he sucks mine into his.
Suddenly, he spins me against the door and pushes me against it. Breathing fast, I turn around and ty to meet his eyes. The hand on my back is restricting my motion. I struggle a little, wondering why this is so hot I’m already pressing my legs and pushing against him.
“Stop that, or I swear I’m going to end this and spend the next hour teasing you with just my tongue and finger without making you come once.”
I immediately go still and lean my head against the door, struggling to keep still as he reaches down and tugs my blouse out of my pants. He reaches around, unclasps my jeans, and before I can react to that, is pushing my pants down and spreading my legs. Two fingers to check how wet I am, and since I’m dripping wet, he doesn’t see anything stopping him from guiding his cock into me with a speed that makes me cry. God, it feels so good to have him inside me again. I have maybe a hundredth of a second to enjoy that before he’s thrusting into me with quick, measured strokes. His hands go to my hair, and he tugs as he places the other on my lower back.
I moan low and push back against him, his hands guiding my hips as he slams into me over and over again. It doesn’t take a minute. Maybe even shorter than that. To be honest, I pretty much forget the concept of time here. All I know is that as soon as he begins to pump his cock into me, I can feel a ball of heat begin to form inside my core. Each stroke feeds that heat until it’s hot and blazing. One more pump, and I scream in ple
asure as my orgasm crashes into me with all the subtlety of a tornado, making a mockery of every single orgasm I’ve given myself since the last time he fucked me. I slap my hands against the door, my nails scratching as my whole body shudders in ecstasy.
He doesn’t stop thrusting during my orgasm. If anything, he increases his pace, stretching out that one glorious moment until it seems to last forever before slowly cresting and taking me down. When I turn around, he’s still fucking me. But as soon as I come down, he pulls out, and I immediately feel empty. He turns me around, and with one hand on my shoulders, forces me to the floor.
I willingly drop, already reaching for his cock. He pushes his pants down along with his briefs. Wrapping my hand around his cock, he grabs my head and pushes his bulging erection toward my mouth. I hungrily open and take him in my mouth, my two hands wrapping around the base as I begin to suck. I’m determined to rock his mind just like he’s done mine, and giving head is one thing I excel at.
I reach down and find his balls, tugging on them as I tighten my lips around him and suck hard. His grip on my hair gets tighter, and his hips slowly thrust in and out of my mouth. I keep my mouth and lips wet, not minding the dribble down my chin. My tongue finds the base beneath the crown of his tumescence, and I lick it, smiling when his leg jerks and he makes a groaning sound. Lips sucking, tongue licking, hand stroking and cupping, I work his cock, proud when I hear the variations in his breathing when I do something new. The way the speed of his cock pumping into my mouth begins to pick up so that he is soon fucking my mouth. I leave one hand around the base of his cock so he doesn’t destroy my throat. Still, he’s big enough that he fills my mouth.
Still sucking him, I take him as deep as I can, my head bobbing up and down as I stroke every inch of him with my tongue. I reach down and rake my nails against his balls.
“Shit!” he exclaims, grabbing my jaw and trying to pull back. “I’m coming.”
I don’t let up. Instead, I intensify my effort, struggling with him until he understands what I want. I hear him groan as he pumps into my mouth, and I feel the thick gush of his release fill my mouth and throat. I suck hard, smiling when he growls low in his throat as he slams his hand against the door and pours all of himself into me. I take all he has to give, loving the taste of him in my mouth. And when he’s done, I swallow him and suck one last time on his cock before letting him go.
I look up from my knees at him, a sultry smile on my face. “Seems you still haven’t lost the habit of putting things in my mouth.”
He smiles. Reaching down, he pulls me up and wraps his arms around me as he kisses me long and hard on my lips. He pulls back and we both pull our pants up.
“I guess that’s it for tonight, then. When do you think—?’”
“That’s what?” He looks at me as if I’ve told a bad joke. “We’ve just gotten started. Actually, we haven’t even started.”
“And what we just did?”
“An appetizer. I don’t want to bite into the main course until I’m well and truly ready.” He leans close and tug my hands so I’m forced to move into him. “And trust me, Kitty, I plan on taking a very big bite out of my main course. But first, we are going to order pizza. Then I’m going to show you something I got for you.”
I smile at him. “Do you order pizza for every girl you sleep with?”
He takes my hand and heads for the kitchen. “It depends.”
“On what?”
“How well she impresses me?” He smiles at me as he picks up his phone begins to scroll through it. “Some I send home with nothing but a smile on their face. Others I send home with pizza in their belly to go with the smile. And some, there are those rare few that impress me enough that I bring out my trusty waffle iron.”
“So, I did well enough to earn a pizza. I shudder to think what anyone would have to do to get the waffle iron out.”
He pretends to think about that. “Hard to tell. Even I don’t know what it takes. Maybe you’re going to be the one to cut that particular ribbon.”
I watch as he orders pizza for the both of us and shrewdly look around the kitchen for a waffle iron, wondering what I would need to do to make him get it out. I suddenly realize what I’m doing and have to admit he’s very clever. Making me compete with no one to see who can please him better. Still, I can’t deny that a part of me still wants to make him take that waffle iron out.
Chapter 15
Pizza and wine. I’ve been on worst dates and even fewer sexier companions.
“So, what do you do when you’re not serving drinks at the club?” I ask as I collect my slice of pizza and lean back against his couch. We’re sitting on the floor of his living room with the pizza box and bottle of wine between us.
“When I’m not in the club? Well, mostly I work on my paintings. I do some commission work, visit art galleries to see if they’re willing to carry my works and stuffs like that.” He chuckles and waves at the paintings on the wall. “As you can see, very few people think I’m as good as I think I am.”
“Of course you’re good,” I reply. And that is not a lie. Some of his work caught my eye enough that I wonder how insulted he’d be if I ask to buy them. “Sometimes I think it’s just about waiting for the right opportunity to come along.”
“I was just teasing you, Katie,” he replies with a smile. “I know all about opportunities. I did go to art school, and trust me, there is no group that knows more about waiting for the right opportunity than a room of starving artists hoping to be the next Banksy.”
I knew Banksy and would have to say I’m not particularly fond of his art. Of course, giving I’m in the presence of someone who seems to idolize the guy, I should know better than to let my feelings show. But they must, because I hear him chuckle.
“You don’t like him?”
“I won’t say I don’t like him. Uhm, how do I put it . . . ?”
“His art doesn’t speak to you?”
I point and nod. “That’s it.”
“I’d be surprised if it did.” He turns his head to the side as if he’s studying me. Then points to a painting in the corner I hadn’t even noticed yet, given that I’ve spent the better part of the time I’ve been in his apartment moaning in pleasure. “I think you may like that one.”
I turn around and have to admit the picture of the silhouette of a woman, head thrown back as she stares of into the distance, piques my interest. There’s something about the jagged edges that form the backdrop of the pictures that reminds me of mountain peaks and sharp corners.
“I like it,” I say with a nod.
“I call it orgasm,” he says, grinning when I turn to him and roll my eyes.
Looking at the picture again, I have to admit it really does look like a woman right on the cusp of an orgasm, head thrown back, falling off a peak.
“So, you own all these paintings?” I ask him. There’s an impressive number of paintings on the walls. About eight or so.
“Not all of them. Just these three.” He points at his paintings, and I see the similarity in the styles.
The rest are so diverse I wonder if he really thought of a team before he bought them. From erotic to portraits to abstract paintings. I immediately wonder what Franco, my decorator, would think of it.
“Most of the rest I bought while thrift shopping. I have a small collection of them in a storage unit. You never know when you could uncover some hidden treasure.”
“So, you plan on selling them?”
He shrugs. “I guess if the right price comes along. Funny fact, someone once offered to pay three grand for that painting.” He points to the erotic painting I had been admiring the first time I came to his apartment. “I couldn’t sell it.”
“How much did you pay for it?”
“Five hundred dollars at a friend’s exhibit? Yeah.” He nods at my facial expression. “That’s the look my credit cards gave me the next time I opened my wallet.”
“Sorry, it’s just . . .” I grin ruefu
lly.
“Don’t worry, I understand.”
Suddenly interested in his story, I tentatively decide to ask something that may be kind of personal.
“So, when did you decide you wanted to be an artist?”
“About six or so. My dad owned this knockoff painting of Monet’s Sunrise, and I remembered some nights he would just sit down staring at that painting. It was the best time to talk to him too, because he’d get really introspective and stuff.” He takes a sip of wine and stares into the distance. “I used to wonder how it would feel to have that kind of power. Make people introspective and stuff. Started drawing when I was ten. Got a little serious with it in high school when I learned girls dug guys who could make them look beautiful on paper. Decided it was easier making money as an accountant than an artist when I wanted to enter college. Then two nights after a particularly grueling semester in my second year, I dropped out of college and got into art school. Some people say it was the worst decision I’ve ever made.” He grins when I laugh at that, and I can’t help but laugh because of the way he said it. “Yeah, I think fuck those people. Imagine if I had not gone to art school. I wouldn’t be working at a club. I wouldn’t have met you, and I wouldn’t be wondering how else I’m going to make you scream tonight.”
It feels kind of nice being able to validate such an important life choice, even if he only said it to be funny. I instantly want him to start trying out all the ideas he has come up with. But since he does nothing more than give me a sexy smile, I force myself to concentrate on wiping my hand with the paper napkin.
Taming His Rockstar Page 8
