“Someone who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to do what it takes to get it. He’s got to keep me on my toes. And make me laugh. And do stupid girl shit with me.” I bit my lip, still staring out the window. I was describing Bret. We didn’t do stupid girl shit together, but he planted flowers and was willing to read romance novels. Even if it was just for the dirty parts. Close enough. “And the sex better be insane.”
“Right?” Bret chuckled. “Or else you’d have to keep reading those books.”
“They serve a very important function in American society. I’m sure they’ve saved a marriage or two. They saved my sanity after a semester of Anatomy and Physiology and research papers. What about you?”
Bret ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip as he thought about his answer. He didn’t look at me, but at the brake lights that glowed in the twilight in front of us. “Someone with amazing tits, as you know. But I could buy those for the right girl. It’s not a deal breaker. She can’t think I’m God’s gift to the earth, just because I play guitar in a band. I need a challenge. But I like it when she actually cares what I’m doing. That’s pretty huge.” He glanced over at me. “Someone I can’t stop thinking about. The reason I fucking wake up in the morning. That’s what I want.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Fuck you, Gem.” His hands curled tighter around the steering wheel.
“I’m being serious. It really is. You say you’re not a romantic, but I think you are.”
A blush crept up under Bret’s cheeks. I made Bret Starling blush. Too bad I couldn’t put that on Tumblr. Talk about scandalous. “Maybe I am. But a girl like that doesn’t want to put up with my shit,” he said.
“You’d be surprised.” I’d spent most of the summer with him, seen him in action when he didn’t know anyone was watching, had been alone with him and shared secrets that no one else knew about me, and he checked all my boxes. “You make the right girl happy, and she’ll move mountains for you.”
“Probably,” he mumbled. “But I’m having fun now. I’ll worry about that when I’m old.”
“You should be worrying about it now. The world is your oyster, and you’re pissing it away, fucking those groupies.” He put himself out there on every level, but he was afraid to let people see the real him. The one that cooked dinner for his stepmother every night, and took sailing lessons to honor the memory of his father. The one who touched me so tenderly in the middle of doing the filthiest things to me, it took my breath away.
Bret glared at me. “Who are you? My mother?” He slammed on the brakes, inches away the car in front of us.
“Watch where you’re going.” The staring contest was back on. “And why the hell are you taking the George Washington Bridge? We’ll be in traffic forever.”
“Now you’re a fucking traffic expert, too?” Bret turned back to the road when the car behind started honking frantically. Bret flipped the driver off. “You know everything. Don’t you, doctor?”
I should know better than to take anything Bret ever said to heart, but that stung. “I do know you should’ve gone around the city.”
Bret’s mouth was pressed in a hard, angry line. “This was a terrible idea.”
Why? Because we were stuck in traffic? No, there was more to it. Something really upset him, and it happened when we started talking about our perfect partners. He’d been in a great mood before that. Don’t read more into this than it is, I told myself. It can’t ever be that, even if that’s what you want, too. It wasn’t like we could talk about it. It wouldn’t make it better. In fact, it would do the opposite. I had a funny feeling I felt the same way he did.
“Fine,” I said. “Turn the car around, make a stop at the lawyer’s office, and I’ll have that money in the bank first thing in the morning.”
“Not a chance in Hell.”
“Are you sure? Because that’s where we’re going.” I smiled, hoping Bret would think the joke was funny and lighten the fuck up, but he didn’t even acknowledge me. “Listen, I’m sorry if I said something that upset you. Let’s just forget that whole conversation happened, and have a good time for the rest of this trip.”
We were in Hell, and damn, it was cold. I apologized to Bret. Again.
I could only see one side of his face, but the corner of his lip turned up. It was enough to make my pussy pulse. That no-good, fucking smirk. “A good time? Jersey’s not going to know what to do with itself once we leave,” he said.
“How about we start the party a little early?” I bit my lip and unhooked my seatbelt, as Bret glanced over to me. We needed to talk about this in the language we shared. I leaned over and considered my options. “Can you get your seat back a tiny bit and still drive?”
His mouth fell open. “Gemma.”
I unzipped his shorts and pulled out his cock. “What? You’ve never had a little road action before?” I pumped his shaft. Bret’s breathing changed. He pressed his lips together for a very different reason now, as he eased the seat back an inch. Just enough for me to get my face in his lap.
“I didn’t expect it from you.” He groaned, as I pulled on the ball of his piercing with my teeth.
I sunk my lips down the length of his shaft, and his hand fell into my hair. He twisted it, stroked it softly, and pulled it hard when I least expected it. I showed his cock the same mercy, going low and slow. Bret’s leg went back and forth against my shoulder between the brake and gas pedal, adding to my rhythm as the car inched forward. We would be stuck in traffic forever. I’d been caught in this nightmare more times than I could count, getting back into the city—until I learned to go other ways, but I wasn’t going to remind Bret of that. I wanted this to last.
I made sure to catch every single drop when he came, licking him clean while he moaned. Couldn’t have him checking into the hotel with cum stains on his shorts. Once I was happy with my work, I tucked his cock back into his shorts and carefully zipped them up. Dizzy from sitting up too fast, I wiped my mouth and leaned against the window. I wasn’t surprised it was a little fogged up.
“You said you wanted to fuck in the middle of Times Square. Close as we’re going to get tonight is the Cross Bronx Expressway,” I said.
Bret was trying to catch his breath, and we were still stuck in New York City.
“Get over the bridge, and I’ll do it again.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Get naked.” Bret’s face lit up like it used to when he was a little kid, rounding the corner on the stairs Christmas morning, and seeing all the presents underneath the tree.
Of course every year he’d insist they were all for him and Santa had forgotten about me. When I was really little, I believed him, and my mom would have to calm me down before we opened anything.
He had his shirt off before the hotel room door snapped shut. “We’re staying like this the entire time we’re here. No holds barred. Anything goes. This is going to be fucking awesome.” He was totally naked before I put my suitcase down.
“All you ever think about is sex,” I said.
“When you’re around? Absolutely.” He lay on the bed, careful not to crush his hard cock. “You’re still dressed, Gemma. Didn’t you hear me? Naked. Means no clothes.” He tugged on the bottom of my shorts.
I held on to the waistband, on the off chance he got them down. I wasn’t making it that easy on him. “Are you going to be thirteen forever?”
He rested his chin in his hands. “If I’m lucky. I have an idea.” This couldn’t be good. “Practice your striptease on me.”
Holy shit. “Now?” It wasn’t going to get any better in a room full of skanky strangers, but I hadn’t prepared for this. “I’m sober.”
“Go in my bag. There’s a bottle of rum. Coke too, if you want mix it.” Bret wasn’t going to miss a detail on this trip. “I brought all our favorite toys too, but first I want you to show me what you’ve got.”
My tongue was coated in sandpaper. The drink I made was far more rum than Coke.
I wasn’t bashful about stripping in front of Bret. I’d just sucked his dick halfway down the turnpike. Tomorrow night, on the other hand, terrified me. Bret could laugh his ass off at me, but at least he’d tell me what I was doing wrong. If that happened at the club, I’d have to swallow the mortification like a bitter pill. I could probably avoid coming back to New Jersey for the rest of my life, but I’d never be able to get the memory out of my head.
“Should I put on my sexy stuff?” I’d brought the sexiest bra and panty set I owned. I bought it when my last boyfriend got accepted into his residency. I don’t think he even noticed it, and it was in like-new condition.
“That’s a good idea. Make sure you don’t have any wardrobe malfunctions.” Bret grinned. I made him a drink too. Might as well get this party started.
There was no need to go in the bathroom to change. This wasn’t my fucking wedding night. I stripped out of the crap I’d worn for the ride and slipped on my lacy set. It was blue satin with black lace overlay, balconette cups that struggled to hold the girls in, and a matching thong.
I’d already made it to the bottom of my first drink, when I turned around and spread my arms wide in front of Bret, as if I expected a round of applause.
“That’s hot. Now take it off, before I tear it off you.” Bret looked positively feral, watching my every move.
I froze and covered my face with my hands. The rum had yet to take effect.
“Come on, Gemma. It’s just me.” He got up from the bed and reached for my arms. Somehow he managed to slide them away from my face and tipped my chin up, so I’d meet his gaze. His mood swings gave me whiplash sometimes, going from sadistic bastard to the sweetest man I’d ever met in the span of a sentence. “You said this was your fantasy. That’s why I want you to do this. You’ll feel more like shit if you don’t. I know it’s fucking scary, but let me tell you something about men. We are all so damn excited to see a woman naked that there’s absolutely nothing you can do to fuck this up. You could fall flat on your face, and as long as you take your bra off, they’ll be happy. Just don’t fuck with their food or beer, or get in the way of the TV when a big play is happening, and you’ve got this.” I slipped my hand into his, and he squeezed it.
“What if they laugh at me?” I choked out the words. I’d never had a problem picking up guys, but I’d never been naked on stage before, either. Putting everything out there. As kind and probably true as Bret’s words were, I’d heard him and his friends tearing apart more girls than I wanted to remember. Seeing them naked hadn’t been enough for them.
That lopsided smile that would be my favorite part of this summer spread across his face, setting his eyes ablaze. Whatever he was about to say wasn’t bullshit. That smile couldn’t lie. “Impossible.” He wouldn’t let me look away. “Do this for you, Gemma. Don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you care about something bigger than yourself. For that alone, there are plenty of men who will be falling all over themselves to see you take your clothes off. And that’s before they see these.” He tugged at the bra strap. “Don’t let fear win. You don’t want to look back and regret the things you didn’t do.”
What I really wanted to do was kiss him. I knew what he could do with those lips and his tongue, but nothing he’d done had touched me more than what he just said. If we were a normal couple, I’d slam him against the wall and show him how much that meant to me. There were no words for it. Maybe I was letting fear hold me back. It was one of the reasons I agreed to this challenge. We had to maintain the level of craziness, or else we’d be left with something neither of us could have.
Maybe I’d regret not kissing him, but I had a feeling I’d regret doing it more. I’d never know.
Bret sat back down on the foot of the bed. “I paid for a show, Gemma”—he reached around me, grabbed the rum bottle from where I’d left it on the table, and offered it to me after he took a swig—“and I’m still waiting.”
I planted my foot between his legs, just missing his cock. The rum burned my throat, warming my whole body in that fuzzy way. It was like a superhero suit, and after another swig, I might become invincible. Only one way to find out.
I let the rum run down my chest and then slammed the bottle down too hard on the table behind me. Bret’s gaze was fixed on the stream of liquid running down my sternum, pooling between my bra cups, and dripping down my stomach. I ran my finger through it, up from my belly button to my cleavage, and brought it to my mouth but didn’t touch it. Instead, I put my finger in Bret’s mouth, letting him suck the liquor from my skin. He swirled his tongue around my finger, pulling, nipping… letting me fuck his mouth.
The way he clamped down on my finger, I wondered if he’d ever given another guy head. Maybe that would be my next challenge for him. I needed something over the top, to compete with this. I wondered if Matt would be game for it. Holy shit, that would be hot.
His eyes flew open when I pulled away, slipping a strap down my shoulder. I followed the ribbon with my gaze as it lowered, then flicked it back to Bret. He moaned as I caressed my shoulder and then repeated the motion on the other side. A swirl of my hips accompanied reaching around to unhook my bra. I arched my back, letting my rock-hard nipples scrape against the top of their lace restraints. The bra was free, but I didn’t let it fall. I caught it, feigning surprise when Bret groaned, and then turned around.
“Come on.” His mouth hung open when I turned to wink at him.
There was something to be said about the art of building anticipation. Bret had seen me naked more times than I could count now, a statistic that would’ve sickened me months ago, but he was still dying for more.
I held my bra in place with one hand, as I leaned over. My ass was practically in his face. I traced the length of my leg, before I let the bra drop to the floor and turned around.
Bret let out a huge breath, like he might have not survived if I hadn’t let him see a little more skin. I liked that. I breathed in, high off the pure power, and sunk into his lap, a thin strip of fabric the only thing separating me from his cock as I straddled him. Another grind of the hips pushed my tits into his face, before I leaned back, bending to the floor.
Bret took a hold of my thighs and pulled me with him on to the bed. Drunk me might’ve thought that move looked hot, but real life me had no idea how I was ever going to get up.
“Jesus, Gemma,” he said as he stripped the thong from my legs. “If you pull moves like that tomorrow night, I’m going to storm the stage and fuck you in front of the whole room.” On the prowl, he crawled halfway up my body and stopped.
“Maybe that’s what I want. It can be like our own little Times Square.” Shit, did I say that out loud? My mouth got me into enough trouble already. It got me here.
“In the old days, Times Square used to be full of sex clubs. We really could’ve fucked on stage.” Bret positioned himself between my legs. Yes. “Have you decided on a stage name?”
“Yeah. Katelyn.”
“Why that?”
“Because it’s basic, and no one will remember me.”
“Trust me. Everyone’s going to remember you.” Bret didn’t say anything more before settling his mouth on my pussy.
**
“I think I’ve seen every single episode of this show.” Bret spread out beside me, naked again, as promised. “When we’re on the road, sometimes there’s nothing else to do.”
We’d just finished off the pizza we ordered. Bret had insisted he’d answer the door naked, but put on his shorts, covering himself and his butt plug, at the last second. Good thing, since he’d signed an autograph when he gave the guy his money. We were still up in the wee hours of the night, lying in the haze of another long, lazy sex session. I was having a really good time, hanging out with him.
“Law and Order, huh?” I got up and put the box next to the trash. Why did they put the smallest trash buckets in the universe in hotel rooms? They knew we’d be ordering takeout. I crawled
back on the bed and lay on my stomach. “Didn’t expect that.”
“What did you expect?” Bret rolled to his side and propped up his head on his hand. It was a great question. Spending this time with him like this, laughing and talking without aggression or agenda made me wonder what it would be like if we could be a real couple.
I’d expected this time together to be something completely different. Raunchy, scandalous sex. And yeah, we had some of that too, but the sweet moments of arguing over pizza toppings—I won—and Bret singing along to commercials, and now discovering his love of crime shows made it seem like so much more than that.
I shouldn’t let myself get too comfortable. This wasn’t going to last.
“Horror movies. Porn. I don’t know. Not this.” I yawned. I never pulled all-nighters. Even during exams, I didn’t wait until the last minute and cram everything all in. I did way better with a full night’s sleep.
“Sometimes. But that shit gets boring. I like these, because they’re always good, they keep me guessing, and they’re over in an hour.” Bret started playing with my hair. It tickled my back as he moved it. “I figure I’ve got to use my brain cells before I kill all of them off.”
“It’s so”—I yawned again—“grown up for you. You surprise me sometimes, Bret. You like doing the most domestic stuff.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?” He gave my hair a tug like he didn’t want me to think he’d gone totally soft.
“You like to cook. And the flowers.” It was getting hard to keep my eyes open. I’d worked before we left, which was exhausting enough before I factored in the travel and the sex. “You’re like Mr. Mom. Got any kids that you’re not telling me about?”
“Not that I know of.” Bret sunk down beside me after he switched off the light. “Do you sleep with the TV on or off?”
“Off.”
He picked up the remote and said goodnight to Law and Order. I’d dreaded this moment since I saw the room. We had a king bed. I didn’t know if that was by design or circumstance. Had I been asked, I might’ve requested for a room with two beds. All this time together with Bret, knowing we were headed for an implosion… I needed space.
Dirty Little Secret: New Adult Rock Star Romance (Not Exactly A Stepbrother Romance Book 1) Page 13
