“Riku?” She couldn’t imagine the flamboyant figure sneaking in anywhere.
He laughed. “Oh yeah, him too. Here we are.”
He stopped before one of the doors, featureless except for a gold number on it. The card that operated the lift also operated the lock. He slid it through the slot and when the gentle click and green light told them it had worked, he flung open the door and dragged her through it.
Laura had no time to look around because Zazz had her against the door, his lips on hers. As eager as he, she opened her mouth to accept and explore, tasting him. He tasted of mint, of beer, a mingled flavor she’d always associate with Zazz. Lifting her hand, she tunneled her fingers into the short strands of his hair, stiff with the gel he’d used to go onstage, but she didn’t care. It occurred to her that he hadn’t even showered. The band had done their conference straight after coming offstage. Donovan had even made a joke once about the stink of sweat, and yes, he was right, Zazz wasn’t odorless but all she could think of was freshening it up. She hadn’t bargained for his devastating sex appeal that threatened to melt the skin off her bones.
He drew back suddenly, and when she opened her eyes she saw concern in his. “I shouldn’t do this to you.”
“Don’t you do groupies like this?”
He shook his head. “Don’t use them.” He grimaced. “I don’t want to name names, but—no. Just no. I don’t want to go where some of them went before me. So no, I don’t. I’ve not exactly been celibate though.”
He didn’t say it, but she guessed girls like her. Not groupies, exactly, but fans, or people he met at clubs. But she wanted to be sure of one thing. “What’s my name?”
“Laura,” he said promptly. “Should I shower?” He glanced at a closed door, presumably leading to the bathroom. “You know, I think I should. And you must be a bit grubby, after sitting in that arena. They clean it with hoses.”
“The floor in the arena was sticky,” she admitted.
He laughed. “There you go. Come on.”
He was off again, towing her to the bathroom where he drew her through the door. “Still up for it?”
For answer, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed his leather jacket off, afraid to stop because then she might lose her nerve. He let it drop with a heavy thud to the tiled floor, watching her with eyes gone suddenly grave. “Now you.”
She shrugged off her jacket. It joined his on the floor. A smile pushed at one corner of his mouth, then came to rest again as he swept his T-shirt off his head. She followed suit. He growled. “Nice.”
She didn’t stop, but with fingers shaking from combined fear and excitement, unhooked her bra and slid that off too. Now he did smile and reached for her, but she shook her head, teasing him with the possibilities. “And the rest. You’re right, I want that shower.”
Zazz had a joyous laugh, all ringing highlights, no shadows. She heard the sardonic laugh he used onstage sometimes, but not this one. Just for her, and she loved it.
Stripping off the rest of her clothes took no time, but some courage. She’d rarely behaved so openly with a man, but it seemed right. He’d expect it. He’d probably seen more nude women than he could count. Shit, some of them took their tops off for him in the audience. He never turned a hair, but this time she was gratified to see the light in his eyes deepen, his smile turn sultry. He watched her while he unsnapped his low-riding black pants. Finally, she saw that yes, he was going commando, as she’d suspected, and the grooves slanting down from each hip framed a fully erect, magnificent cock.
So fucking good it made her mouth water. Not to mention her pussy. She wanted to cover herself, so plain and ordinary, not even shaved. She should have waxed more than her bikini line. Too late now, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Not the way he was studying her over, all male and—fuck.
When she tried to take the step that would bring her to him, so she could get close enough for him to stop staring like that, he held out a hand, palm out in a stop gesture. “Let me see you. I don’t want to rush, this first time.”
First time? Did he mean—no, he meant their first time tonight. He’d make good use of her before they parted. Then she’d have to try to contact Chick, make good with James.
James wasn’t here. Zazz was. The man giving her a detailed visual examination. Nothing to do but follow suit. And wow, did he reward careful scrutiny! His upper body was much more powerful than she’d thought, his height and lean build giving the illusion of lankiness. He was tense with muscle, his skin smooth and touchable, only a sprinkling of brown hair breaking the surface. Long legs, narrow hips and oh, that cock.
She’d expected to see ink, since most rock singers were covered in it. But he only had two—a tribal bracelet around his upper left arm and a small figure over his right nipple. A black cat, like the one in the French poster. She bet it tasted good and she could hardly wait to find out. “I thought that was a mole or something,” she blurted. Zazz sometimes took his top off onstage, but she’d been too busy concentrating on his groin to worry about the dark mark over his nipple.
“Cute, eh? Can’t compare to Jace’s dragon though.” Jace’s dragon started on one shoulder and finished somewhere around his buttocks. Only his lovers knew, and they weren’t telling, including his fiancée.
Then he did reach for her, but didn’t pull her close until she made the first move, the first step toward him.
Heat and strength powered through her as he turned to switch on the shower. Unlike the one she’d glimpsed in his dressing room, this one was large, the stall plenty big enough for two. More, if he wanted. But right now she was here, and she’d take everything he had to offer. And she had him all to herself.
He snatched a kiss before breaking away to put his hand under the stream of water, testing the temperature. Then he held out his hand to her and she took it, as if taking more than a shared shower. The fanciful part of her thought it was as if he were leading the way toward an uncertain future. Uncertain meant adventure, it could mean terror, failure as well, but that prospect didn’t scare her witless anymore. Perhaps she could ask Zazz how it was done.
No, that was fucking stupid. People found their own way.
He helped her into the shower. It was a walk-in, the floor sloping away to the drain at the back, water already pouring into it. Hot water. She shivered in pleasure as she felt the force of the jets, and then as he stood behind her and slid his arms around her waist. His cock pressed hotly into her lower back. “I could take you now, hard and fast, and send you home,” he said. “Is that what you want? A dream fuck with a rock star?” He added a derisory tone to the last two words, as if he didn’t believe them, or disliked using them.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Oh no, you don’t get off that easy. Tell me. What would you want from this if you could have it?”
She didn’t allow herself to overthink her answer. Always something she did to talk herself out of things. “A friend. Someone I can connect with.” She dropped her gaze, staring at the water swirling around her feet. “I feel apart sometimes. Like I don’t belong. And sometimes I say and do things and they stare, as if I’d said something stupid. I probably have. I read a lot.”
“What do you read?” He smoothed a strand of hair away from her cheek in a gesture that felt almost tender. But his cock still pressed insistently against her.
“Everything. Anything. Fiction, history, biography. I love to read, it’s my escape, I guess. And listening to music.” She wouldn’t tell him about the other, about making her own music. He might think it was too needy, that she had an ulterior motive in coming with him tonight. And she didn’t, she honestly didn’t.
He kissed her shoulder and she lifted her head, leaned back against his chest. “I have two eReaders and I’ve packed them full,” he said. “I read lots of stuff too. I can read during the long journeys.”
She felt privileged, him telling her something so personal. He kissed her neck, added
a nibble, sent shivers through her, sensitizing her nerves. “I used to feel out of place too. I still do when I’m not with the band. Music grounds me, it keeps me sane.” He gave a short laugh.
With a sudden movement he spun her around. She would have fallen if he didn’t have such a good hold of her, but he held her tight. “So let’s fuck.”
He reached out of the shower, opened a small cupboard and found a condom. She tried to follow his mood. “Is that one of your riders?”
“You bet. Condoms in the bathroom and the bedroom.” A wicked grin accompanied his words before he kissed her again. This time it was a blatantly sensual, sexual kiss, exploration and desire, his tongue mimicking what he’d soon be doing to her below. He slid his hands slowly down her back, tracing her spine with one finger until he reached her buttocks. Curling his hands around them, he made an appreciative noise into her mouth, a hum that added and intensified their kiss. Fuck a duck, Zazz was humming to her.
She was losing touch with the man from the stage and getting to know the man beneath, in more ways than one.
She roamed her hands greedily over him, enjoying every swell of muscle and ridge of bone, trying to memorize it all. She wanted more and she wanted it now.
He lifted her without seeming effort, his muscles accommodating the extra weight smoothly, bunching in the natural movement. She should know, she had her hands on his shoulders when he did it. Lifting her legs, she curled them around his waist without him having to ask her, bringing his cock pressing urgently against her stomach. If she shifted, he’d be inside her.
He broke the kiss, his eyes alight with pleasure. Leaning her against the wall beside the shower head gave him a free hand, enough to sheath himself. She watched that meaty goodness get enclosed. It seemed wrong, somehow. She wanted it bare, even though she knew it was the height of stupidity to even think it. But she let the thought linger in her mind, disappear like a wisp of smoke, as she looked up and met his expression.
Hungry.
His cheekbones stood out starkly in relief, his face taut with tension and anticipation. Holding her securely with one hand around her waist, he had enough space to reach down and part her pussy lips. He exposed the pink flesh, now darkened, evidence of her desire for him.
“Sweet,” he murmured. “Bet it tastes sweet too. I’ll find out later.” As he shifted her with expert precision, his cock met her clit. They watched. Sensations coursed through her at the firm pressure of his fingers on her labia and his cock pushing against the bundle of nerves at the top of her cleft.
Then he slid his cock farther, through the crease. “Now that’s what I call a happy trail,” he said. It seemed appropriate, although she’d always thought the happy trail referred to the darker hairs from a man’s navel to his cock. She wanted to trace his with her tongue.
He pushed in a little bit. His broad cock head breached her pussy. It contracted around him in instinctive reaction. She clutched him, kept him there. He growled again, deep in his throat, then pushed a little more. “Shit, that looks good,” he murmured, as if to himself. He drew her closer, pulling her body nearer to impale her on his rigid shaft.
Laura left reason and coherence behind as useless impediments to her pleasure. “Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” was all she managed as he took her and took her, so deep. Pressing her shoulders against the wall gave her the leverage she needed to bear against him. Then his growl turned feral as he gritted his teeth and fucked her.
His first withdrawal and thrust slammed her against the tiles, gave her the chance to push back, to work him deeper. As if unable to stop, he hammered into her, drilled her against the wall. Laura reached for his shoulders and held on, though she didn’t realize she was laughing until he said, “Funny, is it?”
“No, yes, oh fuck. This is so good. Why shouldn’t I laugh?”
“Yeah, why not. Let’s see if I can make you scream.”
He could. Half a dozen strokes and she was screaming his name. She convulsed wildly against him, her body bucking, her pussy spasming in contractions that milked him, made him throw back his head and shout her name.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she could be naked in a shower with Zazz, and he’d yell, “Laura!”
Oh, okay, maybe yes, the BOB-induced wildest dreams. But she couldn’t have imagined this. This was far beyond anything her rabbit could produce. Warm hands holding her thighs, her ankles crossed behind his back, and the sight of him, every muscle tensed, and a most unmusical sound coming out of his throat now.
He pushed her against the wall, pressed his forehead to hers as they rode the aftermath together.
As soon as their bodies had stilled, he drew out of her, careful to hold the base of his cock to keep the condom in place. Wordlessly, he drew off the rubber, left the shower to dump it in the toilet, then came back to her. She stood, legs wide apart to support her still-trembling body.
They washed each other in silence, but he stole a kiss or two before they exited the shower and found thick, warm towels. When she wrapped the towel around her hair to blot it dry, he drew her against him, his chest hot against her back. He kissed her neck. “Mmm, tasty. Now we smell the same.”
“Lavender.”
“Is that what it is? Baby, in a little while all you’re going to smell of is me.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed.
His mock indignation only made her laugh more. “Here I am, biggest rock star on the planet, and all you can do is laugh. What’s wrong with my deathless prose?”
“First of all, the fight with Mick Jagger should be worth seeing. Second, nothing is wrong with your deathless prose. You made me cry tonight.”
“Really? Cool. C’mon, let’s get into bed. Hungry? We can get room service. They have designated members of staff, sworn to secrecy.” He gave a sharp laugh as they moved into the spacious bedroom. “Personally I think it’s all crap, all this security stuff. True, we got mobbed in the States, but this is Manchester. People here are too cool to mob a hotel room. We’re not a teen band, so what the fuck?”
She turned to confront him, her back to the bed. “Did you see the audience tonight? Those two singles have rocketed you into the teen world. They think you’re cool, banging—”
“Belting,” he finished with a smile. “I might have heard that. I still think they’re crazy. We sing about doom and gloom and the end of the world, and they dance and scream and sing along.”
“We understand about gloom and doom up here. And in any case, your songs celebrate the individual.”
“O-ho, you have been listening, haven’t you?” He pushed her shoulders and, taken unawares, she tipped backward onto the bed, bouncing. He landed on top of her, holding his body clear of hers by propping his forearms on either side of her. “How did we get here?” he asked softly and kissed her.
She wound her arms around his neck and cupped the back of his head, feeling the soft, short strands of his hair, damp against her palm. He finished the kiss but stayed where he was, gazing down at her. “I should have known Manchester girls are the best.”
She gave him a cocky grin. “Why’s that?”
“Oh I spent some time here a while back.”
Did she detect a touch of Manchester twang in his voice? She’d thought so earlier, but couldn’t be sure, apart from the flat vowels. Zazz’s biography was patchy. He never used any other name but Zazz, and if officials who handled his tax and his passport knew his full name, they weren’t telling.
That was about it. Most people assumed Zazz was a Londoner, since that was where his career had started. Now she wasn’t so sure, but she held off asking him. He kept the details of his childhood out of his public profile. Their relationship, such as it was, was too new for her to press him about something he obviously wanted to keep private. But she ventured something. “You know what I’d like?” Her heart was in her mouth.
“Tell me.” He pushed a strand of hair off her face in a tender gesture that melted her.
“Your family?” He seemed genuinely interested.
“Not really.” It hurt her to confess that. “I mean, I love them and all, but I don’t find them easy to get along with.”
His mouth twisted. “Tell me about it.” His eyes darkened as he watched her mouth. “On second thought, don’t.” He didn’t allow her response, but bent his head to her and kissed her. Her nipples hardened against his chest and he groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating down her throat.
Singing, just for her.
With a powerful movement Zazz turned them so she was on top, still in the kiss. When she tried to break away, he stopped her, pressing his hand against her head to encourage her to continue the kiss until she’d relaxed back into him. He felt so good, head to toe in contact with him. For now he wasn’t anything but a man who wanted her, almost as much as she wanted him.
The kiss lasted an age, so long she was beginning to think he’d never stop tasting her, enjoying her mouth, as she explored him. Mutual. Eventually he pushed her shoulders, gently urging her far enough away for him to speak. His sultry smile told her what he wanted before he said anything at all. Only close and naked. If a voice could be said to be naked, his could.
“Let’s see how independent you are, hmm? Sit up. Do me, Laura.”
Oh yeah. She’d do him good. First, a tease. She cupped her breasts, lifting and displaying them as she sat. A strange pride infused her, encouraged by his one-sided smile. She could get addicted to his smile. His cock reared between her legs, ready to go again. The sight of it made her mouth water. So plump, hard, oh she didn’t have the words, and anyway, she wanted more than words.
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