Lick: Stage Dive 1

by Scott, Kylie

  Our lips met again and he groaned, hands kneading my breasts. His tongue slipped into my mouth and that fast and easy I ached for him. Needed him. My insides squeezed tight and my legs wrapped around him, holding him tight. Let him try and get away now. I’d fight tooth and nail to keep him. Thumbs stroked over my nipples, teasing me. My hands slid up his arms, curved over his shoulders, holding steady. Hot kisses trailed over my face, my jaw, the side of my neck. Half naked or not, I don’t think I’d have cared if my high school marching band paraded through the room. They could bring baton twirlers and all. Only this mattered.

  No wonder people took sex so seriously, or not seriously enough at all. Sex addled your wits and stole your body. It was like being lost and found all at once. Frankly, it was a little frightening.

  “We will be fine,” he said, teasing my earlobe with his teeth. Rubbing his hardness against me. God bless whoever had thought to put a seam right there in jeans. Lights danced before my eyes. Did it feel as good for him? I wanted it to be the best and I wanted him to be right about us being fine.

  “Sweet baby, just need time,” he said, his warm breath skating over my skin.

  “Because of her,” I said, needing it to be out there in the open. No secrets.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice faint. “Because of her.”

  The truth bit.

  “Evelyn, there’s just you and me in this. I swear.” He returned to my mouth and kissed me as if I was delicate, giving me only the briefest taste of him. An awareness of warmth, the firmness of his lips.

  “Wait,” I said, making my legs give up their grip on him.

  He blinked dark, hazy eyes at me.

  “Move back. I want to hop down.”

  “You do?” His lovely mouth turned down at the edges. The front of his jeans were in a state of obvious distress. I’d done that to him. A victory lap around the kitchen counter would probably be taking it too far, but still, it felt good. That knowledge sat well within me. She didn’t do that to him these days. I did.

  I shuffled off the edge of the counter and he grabbed my hips, easing my descent to the floor. Just as well. My legs were liquid. He stared down at me, his brow wrinkled.

  “There’s something I want to do,” I explained, fingers shaking from nerves and excitement. First I wrangled with the button of his jeans before moving onto the straining zipper.

  His hands gripped my wrists. “Hey. Wait.”

  I hesitated, waiting to hear what he had to say. Surely he wouldn’t try to tell me he didn’t want this. Every guy wanted this, or so I’d been told. He looked perplexed, as if I was a piece that refused to fit the puzzle. I honestly didn’t know if he meant to stop me or hurry me onward.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked, when he didn’t speak.

  Slowly he removed his hands from my wrists, setting me free. He held them up like I’d pointed a gun at him. “This is what you want?”

  “Yes. David, why is this a big deal? Don’t you want my mouth on you?”

  A soft smile curved his lips. “You have no idea how much I want that. But this is another first for you, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, fingers fiddling with the waistband of his jeans, but going no further.

  “That’s why it’s a big deal. I want all your firsts to be perfect. Even this. And I’m pretty fucking worked up here just at the thought of you sucking me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you all damn day. I kept fucking things up, couldn’t concentrate for shit. Amazing we got anything done.” He pushed his fingers through his long hair, pulling it back from his face. His hands stayed on top of his head, stretching out his lean, muscular torso. The bruise on his ribs from the bar fight last night was a dark gray smudge, marring perfection. I leaned in, kissing it. His gaze never left me because my bare breasts were still most definitely a part of me. My eyes, my mouth, my breasts: he couldn’t seem to decide what fascinated him the most.

  Carefully, I lowered the zipper over his erection. No underwear. At least I didn’t jump this time when his hard-on made its sudden appearance. With two hands I pushed down his jeans, freeing his cock. It stood tall and proud. Just like this morning I pressed my hand against the underside, feeling the heat of the silken skin. Funny, the idea of the male appendage had never particularly moved me before. But now I felt moved, as my clenched thighs attested.

  Moved and more than a little proprietary.

  “You’re mine,” I whispered, my thumb rubbing around the edge of the head, feeling out the ridge and the dip in the middle. Learning him.

  “Yeah.”

  The sweet spot sat below that little tuck. Over the years, I’d read enough magazines and listened to enough of Lauren’s tales of sexcapades to know as much. She did love her details. I made a mental note to thank her, take her out to dinner somewhere nice.

  I moved my hand around so that I gripped him and massaged the area with the pad of my thumb, waiting to see what happened. Much easier to see what was going on without the soap bubbles in the way. It didn’t take long. Especially not once I tightened my hold on him a little and pumped slightly. His stomach muscles flinched and danced, the same as they had this morning in the shower. My fingers moved the soft, smooth skin, massaging the hard flesh beneath, pumping once, twice. A bead of milky fluid leaked from the small slit in the top.

  “That means you’re fucking killing me,” my husband supplied helpfully, his voice guttural. “Just in case you were wondering.”

  I grinned.

  He swore.

  “I swear it gets bigger every time I see it.”

  His smile was lopsided. “You inspire me.”

  I stroked him again and his chest heaved. “Evelyn. Please.”

  Time to put him out of his misery. I knelt, the floor uncomfortably hard beneath me. If you were going to kneel in front of someone, some minor discomfort seemed an obvious part of the territory. It all added to the atmosphere, the experience. The musky scent of him was stronger later in the day. I took his cock in hand and nuzzled his hip bone, breathing him in deep.

  He still watched. I checked to be sure. Hell, his eyes were huge and dark and focused solely on me. Beside him, his hands gripped the counter as if he expected a tremor to hit at any time, knuckles white.

  When I took him into my mouth he moaned. My inexperience and his size prevented me from taking him too deep. He didn’t seem to mind. The salty taste of his skin and the bitterness of that liquid, the warm scent of him and the feel of his hardness, merged into one unique experience. Pleasing David was a brilliant thing.

  He groaned and his hips jerked, pushing him further into my mouth. My throat tightened in surprise and I gagged slightly. His hand flew to my hair, patting, soothing. “Fuck, baby. Sorry.”

  I resumed my ministrations, rubbing my tongue against him, drawing on him. Figuring out the best way to fit him into my mouth. Doing everything I could to make him tremble and cuss. What a glorious thing giving head was. His hand tightened in my hair, pulling some, and I loved it. All of it. Anything with the ability to reduce my world-weary husband to a stammering mess while giving him such pleasure deserved a serious time investment. His hips shifted restlessly and his cock jerked against my tongue, filling my mouth with that salty, bitter taste faster than I could swallow.

  So it was messy. Never mind. My jaw hurt a little. Big deal. And I could have done with a glass of water. But his reaction …

  David dropped to his knees and gathered me up in his arms, all the better to squish me against him. My ribs creaked, and his dug into me over and over as he fought for breath. I pressed my face against his shoulder and waited till he’d calmed down some to seek my acclaim.

  “Was it okay?” I asked, reasonably certain of a favorable response. Which is always the best time to ask, in my opinion.

  He grunted.

  That was it? I sat there feeling rather proud of myself and he gave me a grunt. No, I needed more validation than that. I both wanted and des
erved it. “Are you sure?”

  He sat back on his heels and stared at me. Then he looked around, searching for something. The T-shirt he’d left forgotten on the floor. And then he wiped beneath my chin, cleaning me up. Nice.

  “There’s some on your shoulder too.” I pointed at the unfortunate spillage I’d obviously transferred onto him. He wiped it up as well.

  “Sex can get messy,” he said.

  “Yes, it can.”

  “You on the pill?”

  “You can’t get pregnant that way, David.”

  The side of his mouth twitched. “Cute. Are you on the pill?”

  “No, but I have the birth control thing implanted in my arm because my periods are erratic so—” His mouth slammed over the top of mine, kissing me hard and deep. Shutting me up really effectively. A hand cradled the back of my head as he took me down to the floor, stretching out on top of me. The cold, hard flooring beneath my bare back barely registered. It didn’t matter so long as he kissed me. My hands clung to his shoulders, fingers sliding over slick skin.

  “I care about your periods, Ev. Honest to fuck I do.” He kissed my cheeks, my forehead.

  “Thanks.”

  “But right now I wanna know how you feel about us going bare?”

  “You mean more than losing the shirts, I take it?”

  “I mean fucking without a condom.” His hands framed my face as he stared down at me, eyes that intense shade of blue. “I’m clean. I’ve been tested. I don’t do drugs and I always used protection, ever since I broke up with her. But it’s your call.”

  The mention of “her” cooled me a bit, but not much or for long. Impossible with David sprawled all over me and the scent of sex so heavy in the air. Plus pizza. But mostly David. He made my mouth water, forget about the food. Thinking wasn’t easy given the situation. I’d said I trusted him and I did.

  “Baby, just think about it,” he said. “There’s no rush. Okay?”

  “No, I think we should.”

  “Are you certain?”

  I nodded.

  He exhaled a deep breath and kissed me again.

  “I fucking love your mouth.” With the top of a finger he traced my lips, still swollen from what we’d been up to.

  “You did like it? It was okay?”

  “It was perfect. Nothing you do could be wrong. I almost lose it just knowing it’s you. You could accidentally bite me and I’d probably think it was fucking hot.” He gave a rough laugh, then hastened to add, “But don’t do that.”

  “No.” I arched my neck and pressed my lips to his, kissing him sweet and slow. Showing him what he meant to me. We were still rolling around on the kitchen floor when the buzzer on the oven screeched, startling us apart. Then the phone rang.

  “Shit.”

  “I’ll get the pizza,” I said, wriggling out from beneath him.

  “I’ll grab the phone. No one should even have this damn number.”

  An oven mitt sat waiting on the counter and I slipped it over my hand. Hot air and the rich scent of melted cheese wafted out when I opened the oven door. My stomach rumbled. So maybe I was hungry after all. The pizzas were a touch burnt around the edges. Nothing too bad, though. The tips of my broccoli were toasted golden brown. We could concentrate on the middle. I transferred the pizzas onto the cool stovetop and turned off the heat.

  David talked quietly in the background. He stood in front of the bank of windows, legs spread wide and shoulders set like he was bracing himself for an attack. Relaxed, happy people didn’t strike that pose. Outside the sun was setting. The violet and gray of evening cast shadows on his skin.

  “Yeah, yeah, Adrian. I know,” he said.

  Trepidation tightened me one muscle at a time. God, please, not now. We were doing so well. Couldn’t they stay away just a little longer?

  “What time’s the flight?” he asked.

  “Fuck,” came next.

  “No, we’ll be there. Relax. Yeah, bye.”

  He turned to face me, phone dangling from his hand. “There’s some stuff going on in LA that Mal and I need to be there for. Adrian’s already sent a chopper for us. We all need to get ready.”

  My smile strained my face, I could feel it. “Okay.”

  “Sorry we’re getting cut short here. We’ll come back soon, yeah?”

  “Absolutely. It’s fine.”

  That was a lie, because we were going back to LA.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  David’s knee jiggled all the way back to LA. When I put my hand on his leg he took to toying with my wedding ring instead, turning it around on my finger. Seemed we were both fidgeters, given the right circumstances.

  I’d never been in a helicopter before. The view was spectacular, but it was loud and uncomfortable—I could see why people preferred planes. A chain of lights, from street lights to houses to the blazing high rise towers in LA, lit the way. Everything about the situation had changed but I was the same bundle of nervous energy in need of sleep that I had been leaving Portland, not so many days back. Mal had thrown himself into the corner, closed his eyes, and gone to sleep. Nothing fazed him. Of course, there was no reason this should. He was part of the band, welded into David’s life.

  We landed a little after four in the morning, caught up by delays on departure. Bodyguard Sam stood waiting at the helicopter pad with a business face on.

  “Mrs Ferris. Gentlemen.” He ushered us into a big black SUV waiting nearby.

  “Straight back home, thanks, Sam,” David said. His home, not mine. LA had no happy memories for me.

  Then we were ensconced in luxury, locked away behind dark windows. I sank back against the soft seating, closing my eyes. It kind of amazed me I could be so damn tired and worried all at once.

  Back at the mansion, Martha waited, leaning against the front door, wrapped up in some expensive-looking red shawl. His PA gave me all the bad feelings. But I was determined to fit in this time. David and I were together. Screw her, she’d have to adapt. Her dark hair shone, flowing over her shoulders, not a strand out of place. No doubt I looked like someone who’d been awake for over twenty hours.

  Sam opened the SUV door and offered me a hand. I could feel Martha’s eyes zero in on the way David slung an arm around me, keeping me close. Her face hardened to stone. The look she gave me was poison. Whatever her issues, I was too damn tired to deal with them.

  “Martie,” Mal crowed, running up the steps to slip an arm around her waist. “Help me find breakfast, oh gorgeous one.”

  “You know where the kitchen is, Mal.”

  The curt dismissal didn’t stop Mal from sweeping her off with him. Martha’s first few steps faltered but then she strutted once more, ever on show. Mal had cleared the way. I could have kissed his feet.

  David said nothing as we made our way up the stairs to the second floor, our footsteps echoing in the quiet. When I went to turn toward the white room, the one I’d stayed in last time, he steered me right instead. At a set of double doors we stopped and he fished a key out of his pocket. I gave him a curious look.

  “So I have trust issues.” He unlocked the door.

  Inside, the room was simple, lacking the antiques and flashy décor of the rest of the house. A huge bed made up with dark gray linens. A comfortable sofa to match. Lots of guitars. An open wardrobe, full of clothes. Mostly, there was empty space. Room for him to breathe, I think. This room felt different to the rest of the house, less showy, calmer.

  “It’s okay, you can look around.” His hand slid down to the base of my spine, resting just above the curve of my ass. “It’s our room now,” he said.

  God, I hoped he didn’t want to live here permanently. I mean, I did have school to go back to eventually. We hadn’t exactly gotten around to discussing where we’d live. But the thought of Martha, Jimmy and Adrian being around all the time sent me into a panic. Shit. I couldn’t afford to think like that. Negativity would swallow me whole. What was important was being with David. Sticking together and
making it work.

  How horrible, being forced to live in the lap of luxury with my wonderful husband. Poor me. I needed a good slap and a cup of coffee. Or twelve hours’ sleep. Either would work wonders.

  He drew the curtains, blocking out the dawn’s early light. “You look beat. Come lie down with me?”

  “That’s, umm … yeah, good idea. I’ll just use the bathroom.”

  “Okay.” David started stripping, dumping his leather jacket on the lounge chair, pulling off his T-shirt. The normal hoorah of my hormones was sorely missing in action. Drowned out by the nerves. I fled into the bathroom, needing a minute to pull myself together. I closed the door and switched on the lights. The room blazed to life, blinding me. Spots flickered before my eyes. I stabbed switches at random until finally it dimmed to a soft glow. Much better.

  A giant white tub that looked like a bowl, gray stone walls and clear glass partitions. Simply put, it was opulent. One day I’d probably become inured to all this, but I hoped not. Taking it for granted would be terrible.

  A shower would soothe me. Sitting in the giant soup bowl would have been nice. But I didn’t totally trust myself to get into it without falling on my butt and breaking something. Not in the overtired, wound-up state I was in.

  No, a long, hot shower would be perfect.

  I stepped out of my flats and undid the zip on my jeans, getting undressed in record time. The shower could have fit me and ten close friends. Steaming hot water poured out from overhead and I stepped into it, grateful. It pounded down in the best way possible, making my muscles more pliable in minutes, relaxing me. I loved this shower. This shower and I needed to spend quality time together, often. Apart from David, and occasionally Mal, this shower was the best damn thing in the whole house.