by Kacey Shea
“Fuck.” He groans and his lips move down the side of my throat until they caress my shoulder. “I will. It’s gonna be so good.”
“I want this.”
“Promise you’ll tell me. If it gets to be too much. If you want to stop.”
I nod because he’s stopped lavishing my skin with kisses. He’s waiting for my response. I love that about him, and it only confirms he’s the right guy. “I will. I’ll tell you.”
“Okay.” His lips turn up with the trace of a smile. Sweet.
It’s gone the moment I reach for my shirt. Emboldened by the desire in his gaze, I pull it over my head and drop it to the floor.
“Jesus,” he whispers reverently, his gaze glued to my chest. “You are so beautiful.”
I bite my lip, a nervous habit, because I’m not sure how to respond. I was never the beautiful girl, the one to draw eyes in a crowded room, but with Leighton I’m that and more. “Your turn.” I tug at the hem of his tee.
He reaches back and has it off in one swift movement.
“Wow. That’s impressive.” I giggle, more because the nerves and excitement bubble up from my belly.
He nods, and the smile on his lips could almost be construed as shy. “Where do you want to—? I mean, not in the bedroom. Right?”
“Here?” I glance down at the carpet. It’s clean, thanks to the crew who comes in on occasion, but it doesn’t look very comfortable. “Where’s shag carpeting when you need it?”
He pulls me flush with his body and claims my lips for a soft kiss. “Give me a minute. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nod and step back as he practically races to his bunk.
He pulls out his blanket, sheet, and pillow, and then goes to the storage cabinet for more. It’s highly entertaining watching him construct a bed on the floor, mostly because of the enthusiasm he demonstrates.
“Come sit.” He lowers himself to the pallet he made, leans back and pats the space next to him. His lips lift into a smirk as if he’s proud of his ingenuity, and he should be. He should also be proud of the trim waist and broad shoulders that practically beg for my touch.
I pad over, my bare feet scuffling softly across the floor, and drop to my knees before crawling over him. My jeans press against my center as I straddle his waist. He flicks the clasp of my bra and peels the pale pink lace down my arms before his hands are back to cup my breasts. We kiss, and all the anticipation for this moment builds and bursts.
Gentle touches. Wet firm kisses. Hurried breaths. Our hands explore. My center rubs against his hardness as I rock my hips, and I feel as though I might die if we don’t do this soon.
“I’m ready,” I say between kisses. Leighton nods.
“Condom,” he says. “Be right back.” Rolling me to my back, he kisses me once more before dashing down the hall.
I instantly miss the warmth of his body. A little self-conscience, I tug one of the blankets over my breasts, then shimmy out of my jeans. I leave my panties on, though I’m not sure why. A rush of nerves hits and I think back to everything I know about sex. I want this to be good for him, too, but I have no freaking clue how to accomplish that.
“Hey, you good?” Leighton holds shiny foil packets in one hand and a towel in the other. “We don’t have to—”
“I’m ready.” I bite my lip and take a deep breath as he joins me on the makeshift bed. “I want this to be good for you.”
He chuckles, the sound throaty and deep. “You don’t have to worry about that. It will be. I’m the one who doesn’t want to let you down.” He spreads the towel out between us and when I cock my head he explains. “We might make a little mess the first time.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment and fear grips my chest.
“Hey.” Leighton runs his palm along my jaw and waits for me to lift my gaze. “We’ll go slow. I’ll be gentle.”
I nod, and release an exhale. As nervous as I am, I trust him more. I push away the sheet I was using as a shield and delight in the way his eyes come alive.
His lips cover mine and he rolls our bodies so he’s on top. He holds most of his weight off my body, but his impressive length presses against my center. I can’t help but spread my legs, wanting to feel him closer. Even with the barrier of cotton between us, I let loose a groan as his erection rubs my clit.
“I want you. So much. But first,” He pulls away and his lips twist with a wicked smile. I almost ask what, but before I do he’s scooting down my body, his mouth at my mound. “These need to go.” He snaps the waistband of my panties.
“I agree,” I whisper and we both laugh. With his help I shimmy out of the last of my clothes.
Leighton spreads my legs wide with his hands, and stares unabashedly at my center. It should be embarrassing. Mortifying at least, but all he succeeds in doing is fueling my desire. “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks.” His admission sends my pulse racing. I love how this isn’t weird, or awkward, and that we’re able to be honest. Playful, even.
“You made some pretty big promises. Sure you can deliver?” I raise onto my elbows so I can watch his reaction.
That wicked grin from before? It turns positively devious. “Watch, Opal. Watch me eat this pretty, wet pussy.” His lips drop to my center and he lavishes me with his tongue. Licking. Sucking.
Fuck. My eyes almost roll back with sheer pleasure when he finds my clit. My body feels hot all over and my hips try to buck off the ground, only he holds them down. The sound of wet flesh and slurping play like an erotic soundtrack to his ministrations. He wasn’t lying. The man is skilled.
He pushes one of my thighs over his shoulder and wraps his arm around my thigh. His palm is wide and presses into my abdomen. The pressure adds intensity to his movements, and before I realize what he’s doing, he slips a finger deep inside my center.
“Oh, yes.” Everything feels good. Too good, and that familiar coiling tightens inside as my orgasm builds. He doesn’t let up, increasing both pressure and speed. And then I’m falling, breaking, and shattering apart.
Before I catch my breath, Leighton is over my body, kissing my mouth. “You are so goddamn sexy when you come.”
Satisfied and bold, I reach between us to run my hand against Leighton’s hardness. “I’m ready for you.” I slide my fingers inside the waistband of his sweatpants, and tug them down. His erection bobs out from its restraint. “Happy to see me?”
“More than you know.” He sits back on his knees and reaches for one of the foil packets. I watch with rapt attention as he sheaths himself in latex.
This is it. It’s time. I’ve been holding on to my virginity, and for that I’m thankful because I get to share this with Leighton. My life, and everything that’s happened has brought me right here, to this moment with him.
“Is this okay?” He settles on his forearms and holds his body above mine.
“Yeah . . . I mean,” I inhale a breath and relax my limbs on the exhale. I glance down between our bodies. My legs are open for him, ready and waiting. I try not to think about how this may hurt, instead focusing on the affection I feel for him. Glancing between us I watch him line up at my center. Is this how he wants it? A memory surfaces and before he pushes in I blurt out. “Should I turn around?”
“What?” Leighton lifts his head, his eyes finding mine.
I lick my lips, feeling stupid all of a sudden. “During one of your interviews, you said you preferred—”
“Doggie style.” He chuckles and his whole body shakes with the sound.
I cover my eyes with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me!”
“I’m sorry. I’m not. You’re adorable when you’re flustered.” He pulls my hands out of the way, kisses my lips soft and sweet, and leans back on one elbow to catch my gaze. “And there’s no way in hell I want to have sex with you if I can’t see your face.” His hand cups my cheek before descending its way down my neck, and over my chest where he palms my breast. “These are fantastic tits.” He kisses me again and I groa
n into his mouth. His lips move to my ear. “I want to watch you fall apart when you come on my dick for the first time.” He thrusts his hips forward, slowly, controlled, the sensation of his hard length delicious against where I ache for more.
“God, you’re so wet.” He groans and kisses my lips.
“Only because of you,” I whisper into his mouth. The pain is there, but it’s nowhere as intense at the tattoo I got.
Leighton reaches for one of my hands, threads our fingers together and holds tight. With an unhurried pace he moves his hips forward and back, pushing inside deeper with each thrust. His lips never leave mine, kissing and whispering words of adoration as our bodies join as one. “Still good?”
“So good.”
He nods and releases my hand so he can strum my clit with the same precision and expertise he brings to his music. Maybe this is why women go crazy for rock stars. My pulse races and my breath comes quicker. I’m there again. So close. He increases the rhythm of our love making, but still it’s not enough. I want to feel his body on mine, heavy and strong.
“More. Please,” I beg and that’s all the encouragement he needs. He abandons my clit and his thrusts go deeper, more powerful. His pelvis hits against my clit and I grind my body to seek the friction I need for release.
“Yes. More.” My hands reach around his shoulders and dig into his skin to pull him down onto me.
His head bows, his mouth on mine, and then at my ear. “That’s it. Get there. I won’t come until you do.” His throaty growl strikes passion in my core and a few minutes later I’m coming, my center squeezing and begging for his release. Muttering unintelligible words of pleasure and affection, I clench my eyes shut as my orgasm rushes through me. I’d always heard about climaxes like this. Ones that curl your toes they’re so good. I thought they were a load of crap. Evidently not.
“Oh, God, yes. You feel so good, baby.” Leighton’s breaths hit my skin, little bursts of air that scatter goosebumps across my flesh. I can tell he’s close from the lack of control in his movement. His hips pump once, twice, and then his muscles go rigid. “God, Opal. So good.” He groans into the crook of my neck and I cradle his body against mine as he relaxes on top of me.
I try to take a full breath but his weight makes it impossible. “Can’t breathe.” I pat his back, and let a little laugh escape my lips.
“Shit. Sorry.” He pushes off of me, holding himself and the condom as he rolls to the side. He stares unabashedly at my naked skin and messy hair. I doubt I resemble anything close to a supermodel but the heat from his stare makes me feel like one.
“I need to take care of this.” He cups his crotch, grabs his sweats, and pushes up off the floor. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
I nod and stare at his backside as he struts away. I stretch out my legs and there’s a soreness, a dull ache that wasn’t there before, but other than that I’m fine. I consider tracking down my clothes, or at least my underwear, but before I move Leighton steps back down the hall.
He drops to his knees and it’s then I notice the cloth in his hands. “May I?” he says to my vagina more than my face. Of course it’s this moment that embarrasses me most and I can feel the heat move up my cheeks as I nod my consent. The cloth is wet and warm, and my bashfulness fades at the thoughtfulness of his actions.
After he finishes wiping between my legs he sets the cloth to the side, wrapped in the towel we made love on. I expect him to hand me my clothes, but he surprises me yet again by laying at my side and pulling me close.
I rest my head on his chest, enjoying how his arm wraps around my waist, and listen to the rapid beat of his heart. I snuggle in closer, and relax into the comfortable silence. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I, as if we’re both trying to prolong this moment.
“We should probably clean up.” He finally sighs, and turn to his side to meet my gaze. His smile is playful and sweet. “I don’t know when they’ll be back, but we shouldn’t be naked on the floor when it happens.”
I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly, but I can’t bring myself to smile like he does. I trace my fingers over his now healed tattoo. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets, not from the people I love. I can’t let this day get away from us without coming clean. Nerves bubble in my belly, the fear he could be upset with me for hiding this from him, but I battle through because I have to be honest. “Hey, there’s something I need to tell you.” I glance up to meet his weary gaze.
“Okay.”
“I’m not supposed to. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I can’t keep this from you. Not if we’re together.”
His eyes drop to the space between us and I swear I can feel him pulling away.
“You know Lexi Marx? Of course you do. I’m her . . . She’s my—” Lord, what is wrong with me? After keeping this secret for so long, I don’t know quite how to frame it. Just spit it out! “We share the same father. We’re half-sisters.”
“Oh, yeah?” He meets my stare, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes as if he’s about to laugh. A chuckle escapes his mouth and he reaches for my hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss softly. “I kinda already figured that out.”
“What? No way!”
“Yes, way. No one came out and said it exactly, but between how protective Trent is and how much you seem to care about Lexi, and all the talk about your sister, I put two and two together.”
“Oh. Well, crap.” I thought we were being careful. I guess I dropped my guard around Leighton miles ago. “Lexi doesn’t want the press to get hold of it.”
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.” He meets my gaze, his eyes wide and full of emotion. “I’ll act like I don’t know. Same as the guys. If that helps.”
I close the space between our lips and kiss him. “You’re a good man.”
“I’m not.” He shakes his chin stiffly. “You just want to believe I am.”
“No. You are. You passed up the interview today for time alone with me. I may not know everything, but I sure as heck know Rolling Stone is a big deal.”
His brow pinches with a deep furrow. As if my answer somehow pains him. “It was nothing.”
“It was everything.” I wait until he lifts his gaze to mine, proud of how my voice doesn’t waver even though it only takes one look from him to rattle my nerves. “You’re a good man, Leighton. The kind of man I want to be with.” Forever. I don’t say that last part. I’m not a fool. I know it’s too much and too fast, but the thought comes all the same. I could envision a life with him. If I’m honest, I already do.
His gaze is full of longing and he reaches for my hip, pulling our bodies flush together. “You make me believe I can be that kind of man. Hope that I might be.”
A grin takes over my face, one that stretches the skin so much it almost hurts. “Well, then, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”
His smile is just as wide. “I like the sound of that.”
My heart squeezes at the thought he might be into me a fraction of the way I am to him.
28
Leighton
“So your dad is Richie Sands, huh?” This is it. The information I’ve been tasked to discover. I don’t think it’s the secret my uncle is expecting, and while I have no intention of sharing it with him or anyone else, a new curiosity blooms in its place. The kind in which I have to know everything about this woman in my arms.
Opal worries her lip between her front teeth before meeting my stare. “Yeah, only I didn’t find out until it was too late. I never got to . . . Not that he’d have wanted me in his life anyway.”
“That’s bullshit.” My voice comes harsh and fierce. Her eyes widen at my outburst. “I don’t see how anyone wouldn’t want you in their life. He would have loved you. It’s impossible not to.”
Her eyes shine with wetness and she nods as if my words were exactly what she needed to hear.
My finger trails from her hip, up her ribs to where her tattoo paints her skin. “So, this . . .”
“His word
s. My mother met him on the road. She traveled with the band for some time. They were lovers. I don’t know why she left, but I suspect she knew she was pregnant with me. They wrote letters. The ones you’ve seen me with. My mama passed on after complications during my birth. But I never knew about the letters or my father until I discovered them a few years ago.” Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, but her voice is strong and full of love.
“Opal, I’m so sorry.” I press my lips to her forehead, transferring what comfort I can give. My mind conjures a young Opal, wide green eyes and without a home. The loneliness she must have felt all those years without her parents. No child deserves that kind of pain. My admiration for her grows exponentially. My God, she’s so strong.
She releases a shaky breath and pulls back to find my gaze. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”
“But it still hurts. To lose someone, or the idea of something, even if you never had it.” This I understand. Right down to my bones. I may have grown up with every opportunity one could ever want, but my parents weren’t present, not really. Most of my childhood was spent in the company of paid help tasked to look after me. Hell, my own parents would rather disown me than support my dreams because they don’t align with theirs. That’s not unconditional love. They’re nothing like books or movies, and I’ve always coveted that.
“It does.” She nods, a small smile working onto her lips. “I’m just thankful my Grams didn’t have it in her to throw away the letters. Otherwise, I never would have found Lexi. I’d have no one.”
I ask the question even though I suspect the answer. “Where’s your Grams now?”
“In heaven, baking her famous sticky buns.” She laughs, and its equal parts pain and admiration. “Feeding everyone, probably.”
“You’re a lot like her, then.” My fingers can’t help but brush along her jaw. To touch her.
She smiles and it’s so damn beautiful. “I hope so. I miss her.”
“Is that what you want to do? When you’re done playing PA for the famous Trent Donovan?”
