I lifted the bra off my chest and brought it to my face. It smelled like her, like cherries and cream. Her mouth fell open as she watched me smelling it.
“The entire diamond industry?”
“You’ll have to take it back,” she insisted.
I dropped the bra on the couch beside me. “I don’t think they take back lingerie that’s been worn.”
“Well, we’ll donate it to charity.” She smoothed her dress. “Do you normally buy diamond-encrusted gifts for women the minute you start dating them?”
My gaze slid over the perfection of her tits, braless in the soft dress. Then I adjusted my dick in my jeans, spreading my legs as I eased further back in the seat. At this rate, the girl was gonna keep me perpetually hard. I looked up into her blue-green eyes, wondering how drunk she was. How much of this was Katie Bloom and how much of it was for show.
“You, Katie Bloom, are definitely nothing like the women I normally date.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, glancing at my hand on my crotch.
“You should.”
“Well, I have my integrity,” she announced. “And I don’t care if my values are misguided or not. They’re mine.”
She crossed her legs and my gaze dropped to the hem of her dress. My cock throbbed at the sudden image: me, balls deep in Katie Bloom, my hips rammed up between those creamy, smooth thighs. “What about the panties?”
Her eyes narrowed at me again. “They don’t have any diamonds on them. And they’re staying on.”
She sank into the love seat again, pleased with herself, and leaned into my side. My arm returned to the back of the seat, fingertips smoothing over her bare shoulder again. She glanced up at me.
Then she turned into me and kissed me.
It took me by surprise, but I wasn’t an idiot. I kissed her back.
When she pushed her body against me, I growled into her mouth, my dick straining in my jeans. My hand moved into her hair and I held her against me as my tongue found hers. We pressed into each other, my other hand stealing to her soft breast, squeezing her gently though the dress. She melted into my hands and I had the overwhelming urge to spread her legs and do exactly what I was doing to her mouth to her sweet, soft pussy.
I dug my fingers into her thigh, probably bruising her, groaning as she swept her soft tongue against mine. My thumb skimmed her hard nipple. Then she pulled away and drew a breath, and I let her go.
She reached for her glass and glanced around but no one was paying much attention. We weren’t the only ones making out.
She dropped her hand to my thigh and left it there, close to the bulge in the crotch of my jeans. Dangerously fucking close. My heartbeat rammed in my chest, in my dick. If she moved her fingers one more fucking inch, I swore I was gonna blow.
“So… how come you never date ordinary girls?” She cleared her throat a little and took a shaky swig of champagne. “And by ordinary I mean not famous,” she added, using the line I’d used to describe her that night in the hotel bar.
As she met my gaze she looked horny as hell, her pink lips swollen from kissing me. I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to push her back on the love seat, rip off those black lace panties and spread her thighs, and lick her all the way to a screaming, shuddering orgasm. I wanted to suck her off until she came so many times she forgot how to breathe. I wanted to screw her with my tongue until she forgot her fucking name.
Instead, I took a deep breath and exhaled.
“I have no idea,” I said.
CHAPTER 17
KATIE
Somehow we made it back to the hotel before the sun came up.
We went up to our room, Jesse, me, and the thudding music of every bar we’d been in tonight all muddled together, pounding in my brain. I had a cool dubbed-out remix of Baby Bash’s Suga Suga in there, still making me dance. I danced right into the hotel room as Jesse shut the door, but despite the cacophony in my head, the room was empty. We were alone for the first time all day.
Just the two of us.
It was the end of the first night of the tour, an incredibly long night. What felt like a whole lot of nights in one.
An incredible night.
Jesse stumbled over to the beds in the near-dark and tossed his stuff off onto the floor. I turned on a light, wondering how the hell I was going to keep up with this pace as I stumbled taking off my new boots. It reminded me of the first night we’d spent together, in that other hotel room. Except this time I wasn’t planning on doing anything stupid, like stripping in front of him. Which was exactly why I’d paced myself throughout the night.
Mostly.
I’d done my best to make sure that this time Jesse was drunker than I was. This was no easy feat. The man could hold his alcohol. But luckily for me, everyone and their damn dog wanted to buy him a drink, so inebriation was a definite eventuality. The real kicker was when we’d crossed paths with a bachelorette party of eight drunken women, who’d insisted on sending us three bottles of champagne. Jude had flatly refused to help us drink them, apparently feeling responsible for our drunk asses and realizing, correctly, that he was the last sober line of defense between Jesse and a stampede of horny drunk chicks. So Jesse had ended up ordering Flynn, on threat of dismissal, to drink with us.
I was pretty sure Flynn was short-pouring his own refills though, just like I was, making sure they were ten percent champagne, ninety percent bubbles.
We never said it out loud but at some point in the night Flynn, Jude and I had definitely colluded to get Jesse trashed.
I watched him stagger a little as he sat down on the bed and yanked off his boots. I then shrugged off my lucky leather jacket, tossed it aside, and did something stupid.
I decided to help Jesse Mayes get undressed.
I couldn’t help it. Seeing him all cute and wobbly and drunk, I felt this ridiculous but overwhelming protective urge, maybe because he’d been so protective of me with the whole roadie-blowjob thing. Maybe it was stupid and misguided, but I really wanted to look after him. I felt like it was my duty as fake girlfriend.
And I got down on my knees to do it.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he told me. “I don’t always get wasted after a show. Wouldn’t wanna disappoint you with whiskey dick.”
I laughed and struggled to undo his jeans, which had an incredibly stubborn zipper. Or else I was just that drunk. He let me do it, leaning back on his hands to enjoy the show as I fumbled.
When I glanced up, his dark eyes were hooded, though not with drink. Clearly he was enjoying the fuck out of this.
“You are not that drunk,” I accused.
“Am I?” A grin spread across his face.
I squinted at him, but admittedly my judgment was more than a little impaired. There were two of his sexy faces smiling down at me.
Shit. In the silent stillness of the hotel room, I was way more drunk than I thought.
I sat back on my heels. “I thought you were totally wasted. You drank like five million drinks.”
“Nope. Like watching you down on your knees, trying to figure out how to get my pants off though.”
After that, I let him figure it out himself. Which didn’t take long, because by the time I’d stepped out of the bathroom with my makeup removed, teeth brushed and pj’s on, he was in bed.
I’d splurged on the matching camisole and pj pants yesterday, just for the tour. They were flattering but didn’t exactly scream I want to get boned. Normally I slept naked, but I figured that was a dangerous habit to keep up in Jesse’s presence.
I turned off the light, but Jesse had switched on a lamp by the bed. I knew he could still see me. I also knew he was naked because every inch of skin that I could see was bare, and the one area that was just barely covered with the corner of the sheet had a definite tent-like shape.
He followed my gaze to his blatant erection, then grinned a cocky grin. “Just wanted to make sure I could. In case you wanted to.”
“Wan
ted to what?” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down at him.
He waggled his eyebrows, making me laugh.
He was teasing me. I knew that much. This was all a game to him. A game he played well and probably often.
I saw the way those women looked at him tonight—all of them. If I’d had any doubt before, there was no doubting it now. Jesse Mayes could get it anywhere, any way, and with pretty much whomever he wanted. And yet he’d promised not to get it at all while I was around. Which meant I couldn’t really blame the guy for giving me a hard time.
I let myself take a good look at his almost-naked perfection, once, those unsettling questions rolling again through my mind.
How far would I go for two hundred grand?
Not that far.
How far would I go for Jesse Mayes?
Undecided.
I took a breath and shored up my courage. No matter how unsure I was, I had to set my limit with him, now, or I was fucked. Literally.
So I told him as breezily as I could, “Not tonight, handsome.” Then I climbed into the empty bed, pulling the covers up tight around my chin.
“G’night, beautiful.” His voice was low and gravelly from use as he turned off the lamp by his bed.
“Goodnight, Jesse.”
I breathed quietly in the dark, my toes still tapping to Suga Suga… more or less waiting to see if he was gonna make a move.
He didn’t.
I glanced over and I could just make out his arm, tossed over his face, his wrist over his eyes, and it was so fucking sexy. I could stare at him all night, the faint light from the window skimming the long curves of his smooth, golden skin…
He shifted, sinking deeper into the bed and exhaling. His hand went to his crotch. I watched as he cupped his cock and adjusted himself. He pulled the sheet up over himself. Then he breathed deeply and went still.
Sadly, truly pathetically, I felt bad. Bad that Jesse Mayes had to waste a perfectly good erection on my behalf.
I also felt hornier than I’d ever felt in my life.
The things I wanted to do to him, right now, in the dark, made me blush… and at the same time, made my clit throb, my pussy clenching with need as I resisted the urge to climb into bed with him. Maybe I did need a vibrator. How the hell else would I make it through the next six weeks without molesting Jesse in his sleep?
Hopefully I was just drunk enough that I would soon pass out and forget how good it felt to be in his arms tonight… the feel of his kisses all over my face, my neck…
I like you in pink.
I groaned, quietly, jamming my mouth with the pillow to silence myself. I rolled over, turning my back to him, and wondered if I’d made a gigantic mistake agreeing that this whole thing was just for show.
Because I wanted him. I couldn’t help wanting him.
I’d had his body against mine, his hands on me, his tongue in my mouth… and worse, I’d seen that look in his eyes. The one that said I want to fuck you. It was a look I hadn’t experienced up close in far too long.
I listened to the soft rumble of his low, deep breaths as he drifted into sleep. And yes, I wanted him.
I could admit that much to myself here in the dark.
I’d never wanted anyone more.
CHAPTER 18
KATIE
The next day we said goodbye to Maggie and Brody. They flew home to Vancouver, and I was sorry to see them go. I liked them both, and since the two of them were the business end of this whole thing, I figured I was safe with them around. Safe from what, I wasn’t sure.
Having my underpants charmed off by Jesse Mayes?
Um, too late. I’d already stumbled over that line with my strip tease and now dangled precariously on the precipice over the danger zone. I feared, as the minutes ticked by, that there was very little keeping me from diving pussy-first off that cliff.
As if reading my hormones, Maggie’s parting words to me were, “If you value your sanity keep it in your pants. He won’t.” Then she hugged me, kissed me, and left me standing on the curb in my overpriced new clothes with Flynn, my ever-present, muscular shadow.
Then I flew with the band from Montreal to Toronto—first class; the tour trucks had made the drive last night to set up for tonight's show. When we landed, we were whisked to a TV studio where Jesse did an interview with a live audience, in which he answered a bunch of questions about his new girl—me. Which was surreal, for me, though he handled it with incredible professionalism. Somehow he kept it light and mysterious, giving up little detail about our personal life while confirming that yes, he and Elle were a thing of the past, and yes, he was head-over-heels for one Katie Bloom.
Crazy.
I watched from backstage as he signed autographs and generally got pawed by a hell of a lot of adoring women, which he handled with incredible ease. He seemed pleased with how they were taking the news. According to Devi, #JessesGirl was trending on social media, which was a good thing, I guess, since Maggie had also told me that a big-ass spike in song downloads was reflecting the fans’ excitement about Jesse’s new love.
Though it didn’t keep them from throwing themselves at him.
On the way into a signing and meet and greet at a record store, I saw a chick, in broad daylight, peel up her shirt, shoving her perfect, braless boobs in Jesse’s face and asking him to sign them. Which he did with a big black permanent marker. The girl couldn’t have looked any more pleased if he’d just planted his lovechild in her womb.
I tried to pretend it didn’t bother me. Because as the girlfriend of a sexy-as-fuck rock star, you probably had to get used to that sort of thing. Fast.
When I failed at pretending it didn’t bother me, I went ahead and let it bother me, so I could process it and let it go. But I failed at that, too.
◊◊◊
That night, after another massive, sold-out show, there was no clubbing, which was probably a good thing. The last thing I needed was another night of slow, steamy making out in public to really fuck with my head and leave me with a raging case of “blue clit,” as Devi so aptly called it when I texted her to recap the previous night’s events.
While Jesse went to sound check in the early evening, I’d let Devi convince me to take her shopping—keeping her on speed-text while I picked out a vibrator.
So at least I’d gotten that taken care of.
After the show, we piled onto Jesse’s tour buses and drove for the Canada/U.S. border, heading to Buffalo. Jesse and I were sharing one of the enormous buses with Jude and Raf, the tour manager, Mick, and Kenny, our driver. Flynn, Letty, Pepper, and a bunch of crew guys were on another bus that had a ton of bunk beds. Ours had four bunks for the guys and a big bedroom in the back, which belonged to Jesse.
And now, me.
Since we were crossing the border, everyone was on their best behavior. No boozing or partying. The bus was pretty quiet, most of the guys playing cards in the lounge. Apparently we had at least two hours before we hit the border, and I was exhausted. I sat in the lounge drawing in my sketchbook, but everyone kept telling me to just go to sleep. I had no idea if Jesse had put them up to it, but Jesse himself had disappeared into the back and I could hear him playing an acoustic guitar through the open door. I waited as long as I could before I wandered back there, too tired to put off sleep any longer.
The tour bus bedroom was nicer than the one in my apartment. Decorated in shades of cream and white with mahogany leather furniture and clean, modern lines, it had recessed lighting, plush carpeting, and a big closet with all kinds of built-in drawers that I’d already put some of my stuff into. There was one big bed in the middle. Jesse was sitting on it, curled around an acoustic guitar, cradling the neck of it in the crook of his arm like some swooning lover as his dark gaze swept over me. He smiled. That freaking gorgeous mouth… that scruff of week-old stubble… those whorls of thick, dark hair… God, he was beautiful. In a too-easy-to-fuck-you-over kind of way.
I washed up and changed in
the washroom and by the time I came out, the lights were dim. Jesse was already in bed.
Naked.
I approached the bed in my pj’s. “So you seriously always sleep naked?” I asked in my most prudish tone.
“Always.”
He’d already tossed his arm over his eyes, his tattooed wrist turned out so that the tender flesh of the inner wrist was exposed. Damn. I couldn’t get over how sexy it was when he did that. I just wanted to kiss that wrist and lick the long, curved lines of his tattoo—a set of wings that wrapped around his forearm and met behind the back of a small figure on his inner wrist. An angel?
His muscled torso was bare, the sheet around his hips, and as usual, he’d kicked the blankets on the floor. I’d already figured out that the man ran hot; if I wasn’t here he probably wouldn’t even bother with the sheet.
I grabbed a blanket, switched off the light and slid into bed, pulling the sheet over myself and tucking myself in under the blanket.
My heart thudded as I felt him move. He shifted closer to me, the bed dipping, making me tip slightly backward… and up against Jesse. The entire length of his hard, hot body, under the sheet with me.
I took a breath, quietly, and ignored him.
His hand snaked beneath the sheet; he placed it on the curve of my waist, his grip gently tightening, and drew me closer against him.
The son of a bitch was spooning me. Naked.
“Let’s play a game,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear, his voice low in the dark. “Actually… let’s make it a wager.”
“Mmm,” I murmured noncommittally, pretending I was half-asleep. It was really my only line of defense. My heart slammed in my chest, my pulse pumping between my legs. It was getting really hot in here, really fucking fast.
Unfortunately I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to take my new vibrator for a test drive, so all the horniness from last night had only been compounded by hanging out with him on and off all day, watching him up on stage tonight, and enduring his many kisses… when he went on stage, when he came off stage, when we posed for photo ops throughout the day. I just kept taking the kisses, the hugs, the familiar gropes. It was all just for show, just part of the act.
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