by Joey Bush
“Mmm, God, you’re so sexy. All I’ve wanted was alone time with you for days,” he whispered, running his hands over my hips. “I've waited so long for this, too long. It's been driving me out of my mind.”
I didn’t say anything back, but I leaned back against him, pressing my ass against the growing bulge in his jeans. He pressed gentle kisses to my neck and slipped one hand over my ass, letting his fingers slip between my thighs.
“I want to lay you down on the bed, kiss every inch of your body,” he moaned, his fingers starting to rub over my panties. I couldn’t stop a moan escaping from my lips.
The elevator dinged again, and this time it opened on our floor. He led me out, forcing me against the wall and surprising me with a deep, passionate kiss. I put my arms around him, and he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.
Maybe I had been all wrong about what happened earlier. Maybe all it had been was a stupid pose for some bimbos’ Instagram accounts. It had bothered me, but maybe that was just a part of the rock star life that I wasn’t used to, and it really had meant nothing to Owen at all. The way he was acting now, it seemed like those girls were the furthest thing from his mind.
After a moment, he lowered me back to the floor and fumbled with his card key for a few seconds before finally getting the door to the penthouse open. He led me to his room, stopping every now and then to kiss me as we went. Once we were in his room, he backed me up to the bed and laid me down, kissing me again, his tongue flicking against mine.
“Nalia, I want you. Only you,” he said to me in the gruff, low voice that made heat pool low in my belly. I pulled him harder into a kiss, massaging my tongue against his as I rolled over so that I was lying on him.
His hands cupped my face tenderly, sweetly, threatening to make me melt in ways I wasn’t emotionally ready for, so I took one of his hands off my face and slid it down to my breast. He groaned into my mouth, dropping his free hand down to my other breast, massaging them both. His touch felt like drops of pure fire on my body. It soon made me want him even more. When his hand slipped down on my stomach, and started to head even further south I grabbed it, giving him a smile.
“No.”
His brow arched high. “No? Are you fucking kidding me?”
I shook my head and leaned against him, allowing my breasts to flatten against his chest. His hardness was pressed in the V of my thighs, the thought of what was about to happen was nearly driving me crazy with need. “I want to do this.”
His lips flattened into a thin line, and he dropped his hands from my body, folding them behind his head. “Go ahead. Do your worst, then. Let's see what you've got, Nalia.”
I gave him a cat-like smile and sat back up, grabbing the end of my shirt and pulling it over my head, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. Tonight, I wanted him writhing under my touch, begging for me to finish. I wanted to be the one in charge this time. My bra went next, and I heard the swift intake of his breath as his eyes feasted on my bare breasts, the fire simmering in their deep blue depths.
True to his word, though, he didn’t move or try to take charge of the situation. I smiled, pleased with his obedience, and promptly grabbed the edge of his shirt, slowly and achingly revealing his washboard stomach. “Take it off,” I instructed in a tone that suggested there would be no compromise on this.
“Gladly,” he agreed, pulling the shirt the rest of the way and throwing it off to the side. His hand reached for me, and I mimicked the arched brow he’d given me, forcing him to put his hands back where they had been above his head.
“Not yet,” I scolded him. “I told you, I'm the one in charge here.”
“Damn,” he answered, his breath ragged. “Are you trying to kill me, Nalia? Shit, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out like this!”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I simply smiled at him – a lustful, flirtatious smile that I could see had the effect of driving him even wilder. I kept my eyes locked into his as I ran my hands over his chest, marveling at the way he was built — so powerful, muscles so hard and chiseled, without an ounce of flab anywhere on him. He really was close to perfect. And this body was mine, all mine for the whole night.
Leaning down, I trailed kisses along his chest, right above his heart. Silently, I considered what I was doing as a thought suddenly entered my mind. It had been an unconscious action, but I guess I had just wanted to be close to his heart. He probably wouldn’t understand the meaning, and I wasn’t so sure I fully understood what was going on, either, but tonight, it didn’t matter. Tonight, we were just going to lose ourselves in the moment.
I allowed my tongue to trace a trail over his pecs, slowly tasting the saltiness of his skin as it moved over it. He didn’t flinch, but I could hear the change in his breathing, feel the strain of him against his jeans. When I reached his belly button, I allowed myself to slide with tantalizing slowness down his body, my fingers working on the button of his fly.
“Nalia,” he warned as I flicked it open and pulled down his zipper.
I looked up and gave him a stern shake of my head. “No talking, Owen. Don’t forget, I’m the one in charge here,” I murmured. “Now, do as I tell you and raise your hips.”
His expression was stormy, but he did as I instructed so I could pull his jeans down over his hips and to his ankles, sliding back up to free him from his boxers. He was pulsating against my hand, hot, swollen, and as hard as a rock. I ran my thumb over the tip, causing him to jerk ever so slightly beneath my touch. He was ready and so was I.
“What do you want?” I asked softly, looking up at him. His eyes were hungry, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at me.
“I want you.”
“How badly?”
“Like I’ve never wanted anyone before in my life. Please, Nalia, you’re killing me.”
I squeezed him gently, earning a groan in response, knowing that I couldn’t last much longer myself. But I was determined. He wasn't going to get me just yet. I wanted to drag the experience out a little more.
It didn’t matter that I wanted it as badly as he did, I was enjoying the feeling of control. I caressed the head of his long, powerful member with gentle fingertips, and he shuddered and moaned at the pleasure it brought.
“Jesus, Nalia,” he uttered as I began to stroke his shaft up and down in a gentle rhythm. It wasn’t easy to maintain the feather light touch, only just brushing my hand over it when I wanted to wrap my fingers around his hard length and have my way with him. He twisted and turned, gasping loudly with ecstasy.
“Are you ready, Owen?” I purred.
“Are you kidding? Damn, Nalia, I can't hold on for another fucking minute! I need you. Now. So fucking badly.”
I wiggled out of my skirt and panties and slid up his body, rubbing his hard planes against my already heated skin. “I won’t make you suffer for too much longer. You've been a good boy, and you deserve a reward, I think.”
“Thank God,” he breathed as I brushed my lips over his. “How long before I can touch you? You don't understand how bad you're torturing me right now.”
“Soon,” I promised, sliding back down again, my stomach gliding over his. God, he was so hard. Moisture pooled between my thighs in anticipation. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, I located the ever-present condom and opened it, pulling out the slim rubber before reaching for him again. He groaned and hit his head against the headboard, his hands clenching the sheets as I pressed my lips to his bulging tip before sliding the condom over him.
The anticipation was building and becoming far too intense to hold out for much longer. I rose up on my knees and positioned myself above him, looking him directly in his eyes. “Do you know who you are fucking tonight?”
“You,” he growled, his eyes boring into mine. “Only you, Nalia. Only you.”
Satisfied, I lowered myself on him, not stopping until he completely filled me. I was groaning as I felt his length press as deeply as I could take him. I caught my breath and s
poke. “You can touch me now.”
His hands gripped my hips and I rose again, moaning as he filled me quickly and completely.
“Yes,” he forced out as my hands blindly touched my own breasts, my orgasm coming hard and quick. His hands tightened on my hips and I rose up again, allowing him to drive into me. “Come for me, Nalia; only me.”
“Only you,” I whimpered as another wave of pleasure hit me, nearly causing me to collapse against him. He held me in place, his hips pumping into me hard and fast, the bed squeaking from the force. “Owen!”
“Yes!” he shouted, sweat building on his forehead as he gripped my hips, his pace quickening. “God, yes!”
I felt him stiffen, and then he let out a guttural groan as I collapsed against his chest. For a moment, I heard nothing but the harsh breathing and the rapid heartbeat under my cheek. I felt strangely sated, though some of our other sexual encounters had been longer. I had felt the need tonight to keep my heart tucked away in my chest, yet, somehow, I had lost myself in him — heart, body, and soul.
His hand drifted to my hair, and he chuckled, the rumbling under my cheek. “God, you’re amazing.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said as he slid over and allowed me to fall into the bed.
He disposed of the condom and climbed back naked into the bed, reaching for me and pulling me close to him. “The hell you didn’t. It might have been quick, but it was the hottest connection I have ever had.”
I smiled as his arm tucked under my breasts, the warmth of his body against mine a comfort. My heart was in turmoil, enjoying the moment that oozed so much aching tenderness that I wanted to cry into the pillow. Why had I developed feelings for him? Why had I put myself in this position to be hurt and hurt badly?
It wasn’t long before Owen’s breathing evened out and I realized that he had fallen asleep, though my own body was still revving from the encounter. Just like earlier, I was antsy, unsure of what to do. Careful not to wake him, I slid from his arms and gathered my clothes, throwing them on in case someone had come to the penthouse while we were busy.
I took one last look at the bed and sighed. He looked so different when he slept, not the bigger than life rock star that I watched on stage, but somewhat vulnerable, actually. His lips were curved into a slight smile, and I could only hope I had put it there. I tenderly kissed his forehead.
Opening the door, I was relieved to see that the living room was void of anyone else. Good. I didn’t want any awkward encounters tonight. I had done exactly what I had planned on not doing, and though I knew in my head it wasn’t smart to keep this attraction going between Owen and me, my heart was saying something completely different.
I flopped on the couch and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I needed to make sure that no awkward photos or comments were being made about the band. Plus, I needed to update their social media pages with the new shots I had taken tonight.
Pulling up one of my favorite media sites, my heart dropped into my stomach as I saw the photo plastered all over the front page. A photo of Owen and some woman wrapped around him in the back of the concert venue, her lips on his. What the hell? Weren’t those the same lips that had just kissed me senseless all the way to the bedroom? My stomach sank.
Throwing my phone on the couch, I ground my eyes with the palms of my hands, feeling nauseous. I was no different than the rest of those women. I was easy access, nothing more than a bed partner.
Well, I was so done with being such. I was going to finish this round of concerts and go back to my normal life, even if I wasn’t going to feel normal. They could find someone to replace me for when they started up the next leg of the tour.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Owen
The last strains of the song faded away, and I just stood there, unsure of how I felt about it. Before me was the stadium we would be playing in later that night. While empty now, it would be packed to the rafters with screaming fans in a matter of hours, yet, I felt strangely detached from the excitement I normally felt. We had played out a few songs, but they hadn't sounded quite up to par.
Of course, with all that was running through my mind, the music hadn't done too much for me. I couldn’t shake the void I was feeling inside me. The worst part was that I knew exactly why I was feeling that way, and it was pissing me off.
For over a month, Nalia had been avoiding me like the plague — exiting the room when I entered, refusing to answer my calls, and only responding to texts that were directly related to the tour. If she needed to speak to someone in the band or give instructions, she would only talk to Talon or one of the other guys – never to me. It was like the moments we had spent together had all been nothing but a dream and she had no idea who I was. And not only that – it was like she had no interest whatsoever in knowing, either.
“Owen.”
I turned to see my brother right behind me, a concerned look spread across his face. It actually looked a hell of a lot more like pity more than concern, and I hated to be pitied more than anything. It was getting to me.
“You were fucking off on that beat,” I blurted at him.
“What?”
“You heard me,” I said, the anger I was feeling over Nalia ignoring me was starting to wash through my core. “You were off.”
Talon’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. “Get a grip, dude, and stop dishing out bullshit just because you’re in a shitty mood. Because what you just said is pure bullshit. I was far from being off.”
“Tell yourself what you want,” I shot back.
“Ask any one of the other guys in the band. You're the problem, Owen. Your singing sucked, man; you missed half your cues and were hitting off key all over the place. Where the hell is your head?” he questioned.
I flexed my hands. “It’s on your damn playing. That shit was awful.”
“Whatever, you fucking asshole! Stop trying to blame me! You know it's on you, and you're just not willing to admit that it was your fault!”
“The hell it was. Shit, maybe I should just bring in the drummer from the opening band to take your place. At least he can keep a beat.”
Anger flickered through Talon's eyes.
“Back off, Owen. You're full of shit right now and you know it. Quit fucking blaming me for your fucked up issues. We both know this has nothing to do with the music.”
“Fuck you, Talon. You're dragging this band down.”
Talon’s jaw clenched, and suddenly his hands were shoved against my chest, causing me to stumble across the stage.
“Go to hell, Owen!”
I caught my step and charged toward him, taking him down to the stage floor with a diving tackle.
“You asshole!” he shouted as I clocked him once, my fist landing against his chest.
With every punch, I felt myself get madder, wanting to deck him again and again to release the tension that was so tightly wound up inside. I was pissed about Nalia and her cold shoulder routine, pissed that nothing I could do or say could fix it, that I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. My seemingly perfect existence was falling down around me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. So, naturally, I did the mature thing and exploded in a rant of pure rage.
“Get the hell off of me!” Talon shouted.
I felt the jerk of someone on my shoulders, and moments later, we were pulled apart, allowing Talon time to get to his feet. I snarled and wrenched my way out of the person's grasp, charging at Talon once more, determined to finish what I had started. We tumbled into the equipment, the clanging of drums and cymbals sounding loudly in my ears as we crashed against them. Two seconds later, Talon’s fist collided with my jaw, and I felt a shudder rock my head from the outside in. I sure as hell was going to feel that tomorrow.
It didn't matter though; I still had plenty of fight left in me. I stumbled back, and Talon charged in to try to press home while he still had the upper hand.
He hadn't done a damn thing wrong, and in spite of that I was using him a
s a punching bag to take out all of my frustration on. It was a downright shitty thing to do, really. For a brief moment, a flicker of guilt about what I was doing shot through me.
But then, Talon's fist crunched against my ribs, sending a shock of pain crashing up my left side. My mental focus kicked straight back into fight mode, and any sense of guilt about my behavior quickly vanished. He tried to land another punch on my ribs, but I was expecting the second one, and I blocked it before countering with a right cross that caught him square on the jaw. As he stumbled just a bit, I tackled him again and we both crashed to the floor.
“What the hell,” I heard from somewhere else in the room just as Talon managed to grab my head and pull me into a headlock. As we wrestled, I punched at his sides, a movement that was rewarded with the sound of grunts in response. As messed up as it sounded, a good fight was just what I needed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Nalia
“No, that light goes over there. They like it for photos.”
I put my hands on my hips and watched as the stage hand moved the light for the fourth time, judging it with a critical eye. I had been doing a great deal of that lately, second guessing myself, and I knew exactly why. It was because I couldn’t concentrate and I hadn’t been able to truly stay focused over the last month.
After the night in Owen’s penthouse, when I had seen those photos of him and the other woman, I had kept my distance, bidding a silent — and permanent — farewell to anything we had once had together...if you could even say we’d actually had anything together. I was probably just fooling myself all along.
I’d gone over it and over it in my head a thousand times. The conclusion I had finally come to grips with was that I had latched onto Owen at the completely wrong point in both of our lives, and since it was quite clear that he had never had a single thought in relation to possibly having something with me, I had decided to do the same.
