by Lisa Gillis
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1:FIVE HOURS EARLIER
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3: FIVE MINUTES LATER
CHAPTER 4: FIVE DAYS LATER
CHAPTER 5: FIVE MONTHS LATER
CHAPTER 6: FIVE YEARS LATER
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 1
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CONNECT
Eye of the Storms
Lisa Gillis
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
©2013 Eyes of the Storms by Lisa Gillis
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
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Dedicated to rock star readers of the series. This anniversary edition is the original story of Jack and Marissa with the POV and steamy scenes restored.
To infatuation and love at first sight
PROLOGUE
Marissa
Looking back, everything about that day was a perfect storm.
My bestfriend’s score of two VIP passes the day before the Hang Fest. A giant hurricane with a generous shot of alcohol. A sexy metal musician who was opposite of my cheating fiancé in every way.
Those inked-up muscled arms holding a tiny puppy protectively to his bare chest told me there was more to him than met the eye.
I had to know more.
Jack
That's true. A Perfect Storm.
There was the puppy my sister forced on me as an exercise in commitment.
And for damn sure, the cutoff shorts and tight sleeveless top Mariss was wearing that day. The tan lines on her legs well past the very short hem, and the one way above the very low neckline told me the packaging on this girl was deceptive.
I had to know more. Much more.
♪♫ ♫♪
She was beautiful. Not in a perfect model way—in a simple and subtle way. Long ass legs, almost too long for her petite body and tiny waist. Skinny. On the borderline of too skinny for my taste, but curvy enough in all the right places. In fact, of all the women I’d known, Marissa’s tits and ass now outranked my top favorites.
Chugging a bottled water, I eyed her as she held her clothing modestly over her privates while leaving the bed. That was okay though. I guess I could live with her covering that sweet stuff in the front. Now if she would only turn around… Although my hands had been all over her backside, I hadn’t laid eyes on it nearly as much as I wanted.
And there it was…
When she pivoted to the bathroom I almost dropped the water. Her ass. As perfect as it had felt in my hands.
The bathroom door closed off this view. Disappointed I clenched the empty water bottle while picking up a foil packet and other trash from the floor. This was something that had been drilled into my head—making sure all of my little swimmers were accounted for. There had been cases of women secretly collecting the used condoms of their celebrity bangs in an evil attempt to conceive a million dollar baby.
Not that Marissa would.
I didn’t think.
It was just habit.
As I moved about, I repeatedly reconciled myself to the realization of never seeing her again.
Sometimes with some women, this was hard. Occasionally I invited one to ride around show to show for a few days. But this one, she didn’t look like the type to say yes. We had talked very little, but enough for me to know she had a job at a casino.
My eyes fell on one of the clips from her hair. As I reached for it, I couldn’t help but notice her phone also on the floor close by. Grabbing it up, I debated with myself as I placed the hair accessory on a table next to my phone… and then continued to eye my cell.
When was the last time I had given some random girl my real number? High school? If I gave women my number, it was the digits to the disposable minutes’ cell.
So why had I now picked up my personal phone in this thought process? But I knew. Because if I gave Marissa my number, I didn’t want it to be one I might later toss away like trash. My temporary phones tended to have a life of about three months before the contacts became a nuisance. I couldn’t consider a time Marissa would ever be a problem.
Sliding the screen open, I delayed the decision while looking at the apps littering the screen of her phone. Finally punching my number in, I let it ring once before ending the call and setting her phone on the countertop.
My gaze went to the bathroom door, and my ears honed in on the sound of the water. Hooking my thumbs into my still unbuttoned jeans, I hesitated.
“Need any help in there?” My knuckles made light contact with the door while I made the inquiry. Her voice was muffled, and I entered the tiny cubicle of a room. “Was that a yes?”
“No,” she retorted, and my pounding heart dropped. Other parts of me picked up, straining against the restraint of clothing as I voyeured her through fogged glass. My hand was on the door to retreat when she used a finger to wipe a clear circle on the glass. Raccoon eyes peered through, and she curved the impish smile I had seen several times in the last hour or so. “No. It wasn’t a yes… I said, ‘hell yes!’”
Confusion muddled my mind for a minute before I understood the joke and shucked my jeans off in less than a second.
Steam poured into my face when I swung the glass open. Two of the most tantalizing curves on her body brushed my chest as I squeezed into the space-saving shower.
Pulling her against my length, I inhaled the scents of my own soap and shampoo which somehow smelled so different when it was in her hair and on her skin. She began sliding down my front, and mesmerized, I studied the top of her wet head and enjoyed the friction of her wet skin as she dropped.
Although we had used something for the main events earlier, I had broken my required rubber rule during the blowjob. So neither of us gave it a thought now. Without preamble, she had me gripping the walls for balance. I stopped her within seconds. Faster than I wanted to, but I did, after all, have a show in a little over an hour, and fun favors to return…
Lip service was not something I performed on strangers. Hell, I didn’t even kiss a woman when I was banging her. I didn’t have to impress. I was Jack Storm. Just being naked in my company kept them creaming. Kisses on the lips—or lips—only came natural when I found myself in a relationship.
I’d had several relationships ongoing as friends, and a few who were more. The few who were more hadn’t lasted over six months. The friends with benefits arrangements had gone on for years.
So why this Marissa? Why was she different? I had no idea. I only knew I wanted to rock her world like it had never been shaken before. And I wanted to taste her…again…
I loved every sound she made when I knelt before her, and I loved feeling her nails biting into my shoulders. She orgasmed with a melodic pitch, which
cracked at the end of one long hum. I’d heard it enough in the last couple of hours now to be familiar with it, to fall for it. Her legs gelled, her weight falling to her palms on my shoulders.
Reflexively, I gripped her hips. Straightening, I quickly pulled her close, wanting to feel the pound of her heart and uneven breathing—wanting to experience the physiological effect I’d had on her, now that I’d heard the audible.
My hands slipped from her tits around to her backside, and remembering the quick glimpse of her ass, I spun her away for another look.
I could look at that view forever. Her arms were bent, palms to the faux tile pattern on the wall, and her head rested forward on the tiles. A totally submissive stance. And having this woman at my complete will turned me on like I hadn’t been in so long. As much as her ass was my eye candy, my hands itched to be filled by her tits, and I curved my fingers to their soft, firm weight.
Pressing my length to hers, I savored the way she fit to me, and before I knew it, I was pressing to her… wanting more…
“Mariss, you want this?”
Marissa
“You want this, Mariss?”
Do I want it? Did he really just ask that? Twice?
I had never wanted anything more—and I didn’t even know what exactly it was that he was asking permission for!
Hot and hard, every part of him was smashed to me. My head fell back to rest on his shoulder. I took in the colorful forearms braced to the tile, and the sinewy upper arms that penned me against him and the wall.
His lips came to the crook of my neck as he asked again, seeking a verbal answer in addition to my grind against him.
Whatever he was asking, I was up for it. Things I would say yes to for him and no one else. What’s more, I had no idea why my body acted in blind loyalty to his every desire.
“I want it… Yes… oh shit… mmh… Yes!”
One arm dropped, fingers slipping onto and into places that felt so good. His other arm fell, curving possessively around my waist, and I gasped when we came closer than close. I had the presence of mind to brace my own hands against the tile to avoid a concussion and trusted the rest of my well-being to his hold.
There was something sexy about the echo of our voices. When all was silent except for the splash of the cooled water, he was balancing both of us. My faculties returned from that dizzying ride, and I could tell his strength was back by the way he was moving about in the cramped space, letting the water rinse him from head to toe.
His head tipped back into the spray, and I saw the smile on his face, just before his chin dropped, his eyes opened, and he turned that pleased expression to me.
♪♫ ♫♪
Fate. A funny word. A reflective word…
Never would I forget that sweet, sexy smile and the possessive fire in his look. Maybe some innermost part of him knew he was now a perpetual part of me.
Later when I thought back on that moment, I think I knew too.
It was more than chemistry. More than biology. It was one of the miracles of science. And it forged a permanent bond between the two of us.
To the public, we’re Jack and Marissa Storm. Aka JackMa. Here’s our story. You may have heard it before, but we’re filling in a few of the naughtier blanks… in our own words…
CHAPTER 1:FIVE HOURS EARLIER
Marissa
“TFH!” The letters came out in a gasp. Not because I ever verbally used acronyms, but because hours under the scorching sun had my skimpy shirt plastered to my skin, and the strength sapped from even my voice. Olivia, my closest friend, habitually voiced text abbreviations and therefore, had no trouble with the interpretation of ‘Too Fucking Hot’.
“Marissa Duplei, you’re such a vampire! When did you stop having fun?” Olivia complained, and pulled up short to avoid collision in the midst of the crowd we were currently navigating. “We used to be on all day beach patrol.”
My friend’s allusion was to our younger years in the coastal town and our non-stop troll for guys who could stop a girl dead in her sandy tracks. Back then, Spring Breaks and summer months brought vacation flings, and temperature had never once been a complaint.
I wiped at beads of sweat forming near my hairline, and wondered how the newest drugstore clearance mascara currently coating my lashes was holding up. Shoving the cheap shades higher on my nose, I made an effort to appear carefree as we strolled the ‘Hang Fest,’ a festival of live bands, rides, and vendors.
Olivia closed glossy lips around the straw of a super-sized hurricane. I had no doubt that her lipstick as well as anything else painting her face was a department store brand, priced in, or near, triple digits, assuring her a worry free day from streaking, smearing or disappearing. Taking a pull from my own straw, I eyed the surrounding crowd as the cool alcoholic slush trickled soothingly down my throat.
“Two o’clock, Rissa,” Direction, and not time, was the subject of Liv’s clipped, enthusiastic sentence. As instructed, I slung my gaze to the slight right.
A long, lanky roadie had paused in the stage set up and seemed to be honing his attention over the crowd and to the two of us. Automatically, I sought eye contact, not having reached the age of twenty-two without learning to confirm that ‘interested and interesting hot dude’ was actually into me and not some chick behind or beside me. The dead-on stare and grin curving in his attractive face answered my silent question.
Putting the awful events of the previous week behind me, I mustered my sexiest smile and my first ‘strange’ flirt in five years. Finishing the tear down of a microphone stand, he waved in a come-hither motion, gesturing to the side of the stage.
“Score!” Olivia did a dance before grabbing at my wrist and towing me through the crowd. “While you get your hookup on…” Vaguely, my excitable friend rattled on about which band members, from which bands, in which order, she wanted to bang. Mindlessly, I listened as a severe case of cold feet set in.
When it came to men, I was out of practice. A local casino was my current place of employment. The sexy smiles I rehearsed in the mirror were for better tips from blackjack players, not real live flesh and bone players.
Walking in on my fiancé, Kel, with some tramp atop him had been devastating. The irony of forever knowing this faceless tramp’s name because of the decorative lettering permanently stamped on her slim back waist could not be ignored. Hibernating, I moped in misery around my apartment every evening after work, eating Nutribars, and yogurt (yes, I was a healthy binge eater). Olivia became the only person I spoke to, wailing to her face, whining into her calls, and texting chapters of Kel hatred.
When I quit sending Kel’s pleading and apologetic calls straight to voicemail, Olivia charged to the rescue heading up ‘Operation Save Rissa From Herself.’ Since my friend’s answer to breakups was hookups, my given mission today was to pick myself up, dust Kel off, and get dirty with someone else.
Olivia sent a look of encouragement as we paused at the fence, which jutted up to the stage platform. Working through a mild panic, I focused on my friend instead of the area beyond the fence. Bending at the hip, Olivia raked manicured fingers through her scalp, and then flipped her thick mane of hair as she straightened. Actually, Olivia thought the answer to everything was a hookup and was obviously focused on working out some of her own problems today as well. Hopefully, this would keep her too occupied to care about continuing our covert operation.
Draining my drink to the last slurp, I desperately hoped an alcohol confidence would quickly kick in. A few paces away, I trashed the cup, ignoring Liv’s silent disapproval. With the cup, refills were half-price, and Olivia, despite wearing designer everything, was as into alcoholic discounts as she was hookups.
Although initially he had been several hundred feet away, recognition came easy, and the roadie was even hotter close up. A ponytail of straight dark hair was elasticized at the nape of his neck, and his heated hazel eyes perved us both.
Pushing the gate open, he stepped to the side, e
nough for us to pass through, but not enough that we could avoid brushing against the tee shirt he wore. The small talk went fast, although the pace was slow. We walked, one on either side of him, answering the usual questions, name, where we were from, and getting the same back.
Dirk was from New York City, and he had Olivia’s undivided attention when he spoke of one the bands she had mentioned less than five minutes ago. Resting a foot on a stoop to one of the many trailers parked around, he inquired with a secretive smile, “So you want to meet Jackal?”
“You mean it?” Olivia bounced from one heel to the other and almost dropped the empty hurricane cup in her excitement. With a confirming smile into his face, she gushed, “Oh hell yeah!”
Trying to get a grasp of the situation, I remained silent, and in doing a study of Dirk’s expression, instinctively I disliked what I saw.
His smile stretched. “I know all the guys in the band. So, yeah, if you want to meet them… well, the thing is, if I did you this favor…”
There it was. The ability to block unpleasant things was a recently learned skill, about a week recent, and his words just garbled through my ears into the garbage that they were. Disgusted, I pivoted on the heels of my Doc’s, but turned back when Olivia didn’t follow.
“Liv!” The hiss left my lips as an annoyed breath and was quickly sucked in again when my friend, not in the least perturbed, pulled me aside.
“I’m going to hang out. Aren’t you?”
Olivia was wild in her ways and had done similar many, many times. But, to offer whatever favors some stranger wanted in exchange for a chance to meet some idol was reckless. So irresponsibly reckless, I wondered if she had pregamed before picking me up this afternoon.
When Dirk the jerk butted into the argument, I lost the battle, but not before demanding Olivia’s phone. On the pretext of making sure it was set to take calls, I switched the tracker on and thrust it back into the pocket of Liv’s designer jeans.
