by Amber Burns
Now or never, asshole.
I realize touching her is only making me more nervous. Forcing my hands off of her shoulders, too, I take a step back. Her eyes are wary, as I expect them to be, and she worrying her lip all over.
“Because I needed to tell you this,” I swallow, realizing this is my chance to back out. And what? Live a life without Astra, without knowing if she actually loved me?
How had Jesse put it – what counts more for you, this girl in your life or the potential of your heart kicked and handed to you all bloody for trying?
That sounds about right.
“I love you.” I flush, my whole body warming the more she stares, the more I pour myself out to her. “I think I always loved you, at least ever since we first had sex, um, made love. Not that it’s about the sex – that is, love making,” my tongue is twisted into a damning knot.
Fuck fluency. Fuck fear.
“Yeah, I want to fuck you,” my wording forces a gasp from my girl, but her chest is rising and falling and, damn, if she didn’t look ready to let me take her against the door. “But I also want to love you, need to love you.”
It’s like I’m playing to a crowd, only I’m more tense, more panicky and yet without the signs of panicking. I don’t need to have my ritualistic pep talks before hitting stage and center, not with Astra. Nor do I need to spend grueling hours trying to find the right words for a new song, or practicing with the guys to make sure we’ve nailed it.
All of this is natural, flowing way easier than I thought.
“And if you’ll have this asshole, I’ll cherish and care for you, be your number one fan, your groupie, but I’ll also protect you from any stalkers” I grin, my face easing from the tension. And before I get tongue-tied and lose my momentum, I pick up at, “I’ll be both your shadow and light because you’re my world. Babe, I’ll be your everything, just give me the word – and which is why I’m asking now...”
Going down on both knees, I stare up at her, into her shining little brown eyes, memorize the green flecks in her irises, the tiny dimple creasing the corner of her left cheek by her widening smile, and the gasp and fluttering, nervous-sounding laugh as I hold out both hands. “Will you let me love you, Astra?”
“Ryker,” she says my name with so much love, but it’s her arms wrapping around my neck, particularly hauling me off balance onto the floor with her on top that leaves me speechless, and reeling from the overload of...happiness.
Pure, unfiltered, unequivocal happiness.
We drop down from our knees and I bring Astra into my lap, our faces a sweet breath apart. The first kiss feels like the same first kiss we’ve had, like I’m reliving the past in the present while planning our forever-future together.
It’s fierce and passionate, our tongues mating, her crotch pressing against my belly as I draw her in wanting more, needing more Astra.
She breaks apart on a loud moan, keening her head back, exposing her throat for my searching, hot kisses. I surge forward, attacking her flesh wherever I can.
“Ahh,” she breathes, her hips undulating against me, her ass stroking my cock back and forth. Ripping our clothes off and plunging into her, killing these flames licking my body, is looking better and better. Screw the fact we’re sitting on the floor in front of her door – a door I’m not entirely sure she locked when seeing Charlie out.
“Astra.” I groan her name, grunting when she bears down on me again, her warm, solid weight rolling my eyes to the back of my head.
It takes all of my self-control to pull myself away from her body, holding her hips fast to clear my head and think straight. At her questioning look I kiss her softly and chuckle, “You deserve a nice bed for when I take you, hard and fast. Trust me. You won’t appreciate the floor afterwards.”
Her cheeks, already red from everything else, grow rosier if possible.
“Ryker,” she says again, her palms cupping my cheeks, forcing my gaze to mirror hers. “I love you, too.”
I hug her because it’s too much and it’s not enough, squeezing her until she gasps my name at my tightening hold. I know now she’s the only person who can hurt me – really hurt me. Not my mom’s mistakes, or my being cheated out of a family, or Custodio, or the band’s impending hiatus.
Nothing or no one else.
But she’s also the only one who can make me whole.
And I know it as surely as I know my own name, my past mistakes and my dreams, I love this woman like I love my music, my own life. “Rock me much?”
At my loosening embrace, she pulls her head back and I fall in love again at the sight of her wide, brilliant smile, and again when she giggles, and again at the touching of our lips.
With another kiss, she promises, “Always.”
Chapter 12
It’s the emcee calling for Tense Finger that forces me out from between Astra’s legs.
“No. Keep going.” She’s whimpering her protest, and I have to force her hands from their grip in my hair. I run a hand through to make sure there aren’t remnants of evidence of our pass time between gigs. Licking my lips, my hands massaging her inner thighs, I press a quick kiss to her pink folds and grin at her bucking.
“Please don’t tease me,” she begs, struggling to prop herself up on her elbows.
“Who’s teasing?” I blink innocently; she’s not falling for it.
I drag myself over her body, holding her to the bed, trapping her legs around mine, fingers locking around her wrists and settling them by her head. “This,” I kiss one of her eyelids then the other softly, the tip of her nose and each of her cheeks.
Each kiss brings a soft sigh, a shudder and breathy moan, and when I kiss her jaw I smile at her closed eyes, pooched glossy lips, her picture of anticipation.
Kissing her forehead, I complete my though against her smooth flesh, “Is teasing.”
I lift off of her, ignoring my hard-on and the strong pull that makes me want to throw all other commitments but giving her yet another mind-blowing orgasm, the third that day if I haven’t lost count, but duty calls...loudly.
“Five more minutes before Tense Finger rocks our minds, peeps,” the emcee’s voice thrums through the closed bedroom door. I sidestep Dan’s clothes. The trail of T-shirts, socks and jeans lead to a half-filled, open suitcase propped up in front of the doors leading to the walk-in.
My man had loaned Astra and I his room soon as we officially announced our status. I’m still getting used to the whole ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ thing, but Astra’s done adjusting the top of her simple, black dress and reaching for me, her arms coming about my waist and her soft lips catching me off-guard under the jaw.
What I don’t need to get used to is holding this woman and kissing the breath clean out of her lungs.
“Ryker,” she breathes hard, her mint-laced breath fanning against my throat when I hug her, hands moving down to cup her ass and bring her to my clothed cock.
“Soon as I’m done, we’re picking up right where we left off. So I better see this cute ass,” and I squeeze her cheeks for emphasis, and Astra yips a cross between a hitched breath and a gasp. “Better be here, in the air, ready for my touch.
I press a hard kiss to her crown and step back, exposing myself to her hand. Astra cups me through the jeans and I’m swallowing my groan from fully being voiced at her half-lidded, smiling expression.
With her hair piled up in a haphazard bun, and ringlets of red waves cascading her pale, full cheeks, hazel eyes and reddened lips, words like enchantress, seductress, temptress come to mind.
Fuck. I have to be the luckiest guy in this world.
“You little minx,” I growl without a lot of heart and she lets me pull her hand up by the wrist and nip at her fingers and thumb before trapping it to her chest and stealing one last kiss...for now.
Astra giggles, letting me lead her to the door with an arm secured around her waist, exactly where it’d be the whole night if I weren’t playing, “Showtime?” I ask.
&nb
sp; She nods, her face radiating a glow rivaling the extra lighting worked into the house specially for the party. Astra passes her hand over the banister strewn with fairy lights, awe working her features open. “This is beautiful. Holly’s really done a great job pulling this party together.”
“And last minute,” I tag on, navigating from the quieter foyer where two young men in black and white livery were helping the latest arrivals with their coats.
“But she still seems pretty worried,” Astra adds, her brow compressing. I draw her to a halt and press my pointer between her shapely red eyebrows, physically smoothing her anxiety and then I trade my finger for my mouth.
She’s on my wavelength, smiling and tugging me down by the collar to lock our lips to the shock of the teen girls behind us and their not-so amused parental guest.
“Mindy, Sharon, move,” the irate mother says, giving us a parting sharp glance.
“Sorry Mindy or Sharon or both girls’ mom.” I murmur to Astra’s groaned laugh. She lifts her head off my chest and looks up at me. I kiss her forehead quickly. “Pretty sure they didn't’ recognize you as one half of St. Blowjob’s counselling team.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call the school that name,” she says, but damn if she isn’t chewing her lip to hide her smile.
“Two minutes and counting – who’s ready to rock with Tense. Finger.” At the emcee’s prompt the crowd in the monster family room converted concert hall shouts for an encore of the band.
We’d already played four songs to open the evening, and with the party lasting for another two hours, we were slated for another four songs.
“Looks like you’re wanted by others.” Astra says, breaking away from me at the threshold of den. “Break a leg, lover boy.” She steps out of my reach, letting the crowd swallow her and I’m forced to grin and bear the cries and screaming excitement at the teen girls catching sight and hold of me first.
I glance up at the stage, glad to see the steps are within reach. Jesse and Dan are up there, nearer to the back tuning up, and waving once in awhile to catcalls.
Closer to the front of the stage are two pretty brunettes, in green, white and black skirts and matching sports bras, expertly twirling, tossing and catching green and white flags while synchronize their handwork to fast foot and body moves.
Though TzaTza and Custodio haven’t floated around me all evening, the Lopezes pulled out all stops for their little girl, nabbing two cheerleaders from the Jets Flight Crew to entertain guests with a little cheer passion; the emcee a familiar face as well from some popular teen vampire TV show currently in the ‘in’.
Lola, in true diva fashion – or is that princess? – is sitting in a throne, beaming up at something the dark-haired, handsome emcee is saying. He laughs at something she’s saying, and I swear she’s about to turn to mush and soak the red velvety cushion of the dais.
Likely though she is to wind up like her control-freak father and sneaky, trophy wife mother, I can’t take this away from her – no much more than her parents tried and failed to sabotage Astra and I.
So I’d let her, even help her, live the wet dream of most sixteen-year-olds on their sweetest of birthday celebrations.
“About time,” Dan winks, particularly knocking me over he’s at my side fast enough. “How did it go? Casa Dan good enough for you and the missus.”
Lowering his voice like the music ripping through the top-line basses with the deejay’s beats or the screaming fifteen and sixteen and seventeen-year-olds aren’t enough to mask any chance of his line of questioning.
“The missus?” I roll my eyes, but unable to stop smiling. Shrugging, I say, “Let’s just say I’ll be playing stiffly.”
“TMI,” but Dan thwacks me playfully. “Good to see you’ve come down from the stars and back on Earth, my man.”
“Blame Astra. Though don’t tell her I said that.”
We laugh.
“You’re flying out with us tomorrow morning, right?” Jesse joins us, adjusting his earpiece, his eyes and hair blonder in the white light washing down from the rafters of the deep purple floors and curtains of the stage.
“Yeah.” I don’t bother to mask the disappointment. Leaving Astra behind bites, but we’d promised to wait to make any hasty moves like one of us handing in their resignation nearer the end of the school year and planning to move across the country for good.
Or one of us fessing up about a ring they’ve ordered custom-made to be delivered from a jewelers in Beverly Hills to Orange Compass…
“Are you guys ready?” the vampire teen emcee wanders over to us from Lola, his gaze trailing to the bouncing rears and racks of the cheerleaders, both women at least a decade older than him.
With our blessing, he smiles at the peppy cheerleaders backing off for the next concert and turns his charm to the crowd of teens closer to his age. Party people, as promised we’ve got Tense Finger here and ready to heed your call. Give them some noise and even more lovin’!”
We crash with an opening, doing two songs back-to-back without commentary, and then during tune-up and Dan changing from bass to a two-headed guitar, I take the microphone and talk to the audience. Calling out to the closer fans, I stare down their flashing cameras and phone lens, and flicking one of my guitar picks into their reaching hands.
“Who wants more goodies?” at their crying enthusiasm, I visit Jesse who hands me a pair of spare drumsticks. He kisses the sticks to the wild fanfare of the audience.
And not to be outdone, Dan pulls the red bandana from his back pocket, and though the cloth is dampened by sweat, for good measure he wipes his brow clean again, and cupping his hand, he shouts, “Hello Orange Compass!”
A chorus of ‘hellos’ and ‘his’ and possibly ‘screw mes’ rain back his way. He grins at me, poking his tongue back at Jesse who shakes his head with a smile.
“Okay, okay,” I hold up one of the sticks. “Who wants this from our lovely drummer?” I randomly shoot for the left of the crowd, seeing hands and heads diving for the stick.
“And this one?” I toss the other drumstick right, getting a little more aggression. “Cool it, cool it. We do not condone violence. We’re not playing for animals here.” I cover the mic and stare down the group of girls who’d been fighting for the stick. “Ladies,” I breathe, waiting for them to settle down; two chaperones already approaching them.
“All right then, last item for toss and drenched in the sweat of our bass genius.”
Dan strums his guitar when I announce the bandana.
“Who wants dibs?” the crowd screams and I see a familiar face surging in the crowd – little Nate Ringermann from the B&B. There’s a girl beside him, leaning in close to whisper something. Maybe it’s the light, but his face is even redder than it was when he was stuttering his way to asking an autograph from me.
“Hey Dan, is it okay if I pass it over to my friend, Nate?”
His guitar sings as way of ‘yes’.
“Nate Ringermann, for you then.” The boy is shocked, but he recovers quickly enough when I point him out and nod with a grin. He’s close enough for him to catch the balled-up cloth and he holds it high for a collective cheer and the starting intro of song three from Dan and Jesse.
It takes me a moment to make my way back to my place, hooking the mic on its stand and jumping in with back-up guitar and the lyrics to our new song.
The next two songs pass in a blur, thankfully, and we haul our asses off-stage to be replaced by the deejay and a concert break, the second to last.
I’m faster at unstrapping than the guys. Clearing the stage quickly, I suffer the groping of stray hands and keep my smile on until I’m at the exit of the den, running into Holly.
“Seen Astra?” is the first thing that pops out of my mouth.
“Hello to you, too.” She says with a quick smile and then sighing. “No, I haven’t. But I’m here and there, and all over, and I barely know who I’m seeing or not. It feels like there’s still so much to do.”
“If it helps, the place looks stunning.” I say.
“Just stunning,” Dan’s voice floats over.
Dan and Jesse are not too far behind, catching up to me and greeting the stressed out party planner. Our resident Casanova has Holly by the hand and he presses a kiss to it before she can so much as snatch it back...which she doesn’t, she doesn’t even complain about that beard of his. “It’s top-notch planning, you super-planner, you.”
“I’ll have to put you in touch with my mom. She’s chairwoman of her ladies’ social club, whatever that really means, but she’s always complaining about having to plan last-minute gatherings; luncheons and tea parties and charity dinners, that kind of thing. I could give her your number,” Jesse takes my place closer to Holly as I drift away from the trio and their weird love triangle.
