by Melody Grace
Someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. On their knees in the back of the tour bus; bent over an amp; stripped naked backstage sucking us off in front of the whole fucking room, just because we could.
They were willing, don’t get me wrong, but that doesn’t make it any better. Whether it was a world-famous supermodel or some small-town girl sneaking backstage, they all wanted the same thing. Fame. Status. A moment in the spotlight on my arm. But soon, I realized, they didn’t give a fuck about me; I was just a name to them, a badge of honor.
And I couldn’t care less about them either.
It eats you up inside if you’re not careful. Someone acts like they’re not worth a damn, then sooner or later, you start thinking the same thing. But it’s not right, to use people and then just throw them away. I got jaded and bitter real fast, until I couldn’t take that shit anymore. I’d look at the girl begging to suck my cock, and wonder what the hell happened to her to make her feel so cheap, like she can sell herself for a couple of VIP passes and a moment in the spotlight.
And if I couldn’t respect her, then I sure as hell look at myself in the mirror the morning after, and see the guilty look in my eyes.
Alicia shifts in her seat beside me, and the movement under my hand drags me back to real life, the moment right now.
Her.
I inhale, the drift of her honeysuckle scent forcing the dark shadows from my mind. I haven’t told her anything that happened last year, but somehow, she understands. The way she kissed me back in the parking lot, just reached up and chased the demons away…
It’s a salve, an escape, the sweetest salvation I could imagine.
And I sure as hell won’t screw this up.
I drive us back through Beachwood Bay and pull into the crowded lot outside Jimmy’s. It’s the local dive, a cool, laid-back kind of place where they play Dylan on the jukebox and the locals don’t give me a second glance.
“Garrett makes the best burgers in town,” I tell Alicia, holding the door open for her.
“Garrett?” she repeats slowly, then her face changes, seeing the bartender across the room. “Hey!” she calls out, a delighted note in her voice. “I didn’t know this was your place!”
My buddy Garrett laughs, coming to pull Alicia into a hug. “This is it, the pride and glory,” Garrett grins.
I feel an unfamiliar stab in my gut, seeing his hands on her. Jealousy, hard and hot.
What the hell?
Garrett steps back, looking back and forth between us. “Hold up, you guys know each other? Small world.”
“Sure is.” I drape an arm around Alicia’s shoulder, drawing her against me. I meet Garrett’s eyes with an even stare, but the message better be crystal clear.
Hands off, buddy. She’s mine.
“Is this the friend you were talking about in town?” I ask Alicia, trying to stay cool.
“I know his fiancée. Sorority sisterhood,” she explains, smiling.
Right, I forgot Garrett was getting hitched. I relax a little, but still keep a wary eye on him as Alicia chats.
“How is Carina?” she asks. “I haven’t seen her since the baby shower.”
“She’s good,” Garrett replies. “I sent her packing to the city to spend some time with her sister. All the summer tourists mean we’ve been rushed off our feet, and you know Carina, she can’t resist planning five million special events to draw the crowds.”
“Well, tell her I said hi,” Alicia beams. I tug on her arm, wanting to get her to myself again.
“Sure. I’ll get you guys some drinks,” Garrett says, giving me an amused look. “Beer?”
“Thanks,” I reply shortly, steering Alicia over to a corner table away from the crowds.
I sit us down, trying to pull myself together. I’ve never been the jealous type, I never gave a damn about a girl enough to try, but seeing Garrett wrap his arms around Alicia in that friendly hug…It was primitive, instinctive the way my body reacted, sending my hackles straight up, my whole body wired for trouble.
I want to be the only man who touches her, the only hands she wants on her body.
I take a breath, reminding myself to chill. Garrett’s not a threat, he’s with somebody else.
Wait.
“Is that him?” I demand in a low voice, my blood pounding with rage.
“Who?” Alicia crinkles her forehead in a frown.
“The guy. Your guy.” I glare across the room at Garrett. It’s bad enough to know her heart belongs to someone else, but if he was here, right now, in this very room…I don’t know what I’ll do.
“You mean…? No!” Alicia yelps. “God, no. I’ve only known him a little while, and even then, just through Carina.”
Relief floods through me. “Good.”
Alicia studies me, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you jealous?”
“What? No,” I growl, still on edge. “I just wondered, is all.”
Alicia doesn’t look like she believes me, but she’s interrupted by Garrett arriving to bring us a couple of beers, “Sorry, I can’t stay,” he says, looking stressed. “The lunch rush is crazy.”
“A couple of burgers would be great, when you get the chance,” I add.
“Sure thing,” Garrett nods, already heading back to the crowd by the bar.
We’re alone again in the corner, just the two of us.
Alicia takes a sip of beer, her pink lips closing around the neck of the bottle in a way that makes my breath rush out of my lungs.
Damn, I need that mouth on me.
“So is this your local hangout?” she asks, oblivious to my X-rated thoughts. She looks around, taking in the homey, casual vibe and motley collection of families, vacationers, and regular townsfolk. “I like it.”
“Garrett’s a good guy,” I nod, dragging my eyes from her perfect lips. “I’m glad I don’t have to have to kick his ass.”
Alicia’s eyes widen as she realizes what I mean. “You’d have done that?”
“If he was the guy who’d blown you off?” I scowl at the thought. “Damn right I would.”
“I told you, he doesn’t even know how I feel about him,” she protests.
I don’t know why the hell she feels like she needs to defend him, but it just makes me hate the guy even more.
“It’s not his fault,” she adds, “I’m the one to blame.”
“I don’t care.” I reach over and grab her hand. I brush my lips across the knuckles and then turn it over, pressing my lips against her palm like I could brand her with my kiss. “He hurt you, that makes him a fucking chump in my book.”
“Enough about him,” she smiles shyly. “Unless he comes walking out with a cheeseburger right now, he’s the last person I want to see.”
Good.
“Because we made a deal, remember?” I yank her hand, pulling her suddenly into my lap. The feel of her curves against me is heaven, and I have to hold myself back from laying her out on the table and ravaging her right here in front of the whole damn town. “You’re mine for the week.”
I feel Alicia’s breath hitch, her body melting against me like clockwork, the sweetest feeling in the world.
We’re in a crowded bar, but I still can’t resist pulling her closer, kissing a blazing path along her collarbone and up the soft skin of her throat. It’s intoxicating, the fire in my blood from the touch of her; the crash of desire just holding her close.
I want all of her, I want it soon.
“And sweetheart?” I add in low, possessive growl. “I don’t like to share.”
12.
ALICIA
We enjoy a lazy lunch tucked away in the corner, sharing food and kisses with nothing much on my mind. It’s a fun hangout, and I can see that Dex is at ease here. Aside from the odd double-take from across the room, nobody pays him a second look. But I find it hard to focus on the casual conversation with his dark eyes devouring me, and the thrill of heat suffusing my whole body.
He was jealous.
I
know I shouldn’t like it. I’m not his possession, he doesn’t have any claim to me, but the truth is, my knees went weak when Garrett hugged me and I saw that territorial flash in his eyes.
I’ve never had a man feel possessive of me; never inspired that kind of instinct before.
It made me feel thrilled, powerful.
It made me feel like I matter.
Dex pushes out his chair when he’s done with the food and glances around. His gaze lands on the pool table in the back. “You play?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
I give a casual shrug. “Not for years.”
“C’mon, I’ll go easy, I promise.” Dex pulls me up and heads over to the table. He racks the balls in a few seconds flat, then takes his time picking out a cue and chalking the tip. He’s clearly an expert at this game, so I let him break, running the table with clean, precise hits.
He’s good.
But I’m better.
I didn’t lie to him before. I may not have picked up a pool cue for years, but freshman year of college, I worked as a camp counselor upstate. Most evenings we wound up in the rec room, playing for tips. A couple of guys taught me the game, and that summer, I wound up reigning champion of our unofficial league.
Not that Dex needs to know that right now.
Rule one of hustling, don’t show your cards until there’s something worth winning on the table.
“Try putting your weight in your support hand,” Dex instructs me when I take my turn. He leans over from behind me, shifting my stance, his hands light on my hips.
I catch my breath, feeling a shock of heat from the contact of his body. My head spins so much, I don’t even have to fake a bad shot; my hand shakes, sending the cue ball skittering wide, bouncing off the far bank and rolling uselessly into the middle of a cluster.
“Tough break,” Dex says, grinning. He lines up his cue ball and runs the rest of the table, sinking all his balls in quick succession.
“Can we go again?” I ask brightly. “I barely got to hit any.”
“Sure.” Dex racks the balls. “Want to make it interesting this time?” His smile turns devilish.
“Depends what you have in mind,” I smile, teasing.
“Hmmm…” He pretends to think. “How about, loser plays a forfeit. Anything the winner decides.”
“Anything?” My pulse kicks. I can only imagine what Dex would have in store for me.
“It goes both ways,” he points out. “What do you say, sweetheart? Want to take the bet?”
I bite my lip. I can think of a hundred things I want from him. Another kiss, for starts. But if I lose, then I’m writing Dex a blank check to demand whatever he wants from me.
Sounds like a win-win to me.
“OK then,” I decide, with a rush of adrenaline. I’m in deep already, there’s no point pretending I won’t take this all the way. I pluck the cue from his hands. “It’s a deal.”
I sashay to the head of the table, putting a swing in my step when I feel his eyes on me. My heart is racing as I lean over, carefully taking aim, and open with a clean strike that sends the set scattering wide and a striped ball ricocheting into the corner pocket.
Dex’s mouth drops open.
I grin, my confidence building. I circle the table to sink an easy stray ball, then set up a sweet sequence that sinks two more in swift succession.
“You little hustler.” Dex narrows his eyes at me, but there’s respect flashing in their midnight depths. “Have you been playing me all along?”
“Me?” I widen my eyes, doing my best innocent look. “It’s beginner’s luck, I’m sure.”
“Right,” Dex drawls. He watches me sink another ball. “Damn, you know you’re just asking for trouble.”
“I thought you were the one in trouble,” I counter, grinning. “From the looks of it, you’re losing.”
I take another shot, smiling with triumph. I know I’m not the most likely candidate for a pool shark, but most people don’t realize, the game is just math. Angles, force, momentum and precision—a delicate equation that needs to be balanced just right. I study the table, plotting out my moves, then lean over to take the perfect shot.
Dex strolls closer to watch. He reaches out and strokes his fingers gently down the middle of my spine.
His touch blazes through my dress. I shiver. The cue slips a fraction of an inch to the left—but that’s all it takes. The ball goes wide.
“You did that on purpose!” I exclaim, straightening up.
Dex smirks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My shot.”
He circles the table and studies the spread.
Fine. Two can play that game.
Exhilaration sparkles in my bloodstream as I slowly lean over, resting on my elbows on the edge of the table. My sundress may be demure, but at this angle, Dex can’t help but see right down the front to the edge of my pale pink, lacy bra.
Sure enough, his eyes slip lower. Dex’s jaw tenses, and he grips the pool cue, his knuckles turning white.
I arch my back, sending my butt out behind me, high in the air.
“Go ahead,” I smile sweetly, “take your turn.”
“Devil woman,” he growls, going to make the shot. He strikes too hard, and the ball bounces back out of the pocket.
I clap my hands together in delight. “My turn!”
I pick up my cue and round the table with a skip. I’ve never felt like this before, so teasing and flirtatious.
I’m having fun.
Dex lounges against the wall, watching as I check the angles. I feel his gaze on me, that molasses stare, dark and reckless. It makes my whole body sing with awareness, my skin prickling under the thin fabric of my dress.
I force myself to focus, leaning to take the shot.
“How do you feel about bondage?”
Dex’s words crash through me. I jolt upright with a shock—just managing to keep my cue free from impact. “What?” I blink, gasping for air.
He smiles at me, dangerous. “You heard me,” he replies casually, as if we’re talking about the weather, or what’s on TV tonight. “I think I’m going to tie you down and make you beg for me.”
Holy shit.
Blood pounds in my head. I go dizzy, and cling to the edge of the pool table for balance.
“You’d make a pretty picture all wrapped up in silk,” Dex continues, his eyes never leaving mine. “You won’t be able to move, or resist. You’d be totally at my mercy. I’ll touch you however I want, gorge on your sweet body. Taste you. Everywhere.”
Desire floods me, a molten thrill. I can’t believe he’s saying these things.
I can’t believe I want it so bad.
“Take your turn.”
I stare blankly at him, confused, still caught up in the wicked promise of his words.
A smile plays on the edge of Dex’s lips. “It’s your shot, sweetheart.”
The game.
I look down at the table, my head scattered, all my focus gone. How on earth am I supposed to hold it together now, when my knees are shaking and my whole body aches for his touch?
I take a ragged breath, and try to pull myself together.
Get a grip, girl. This is exactly what he wants.
I do my best to make the shot, and as I release the cue, I think I might just have made it. But at the last minute, the ball spins away, and barely grazes the pocket.
“What happened, baby?” Dex grins. “Something shake your game?”
I narrow my eyes, watching him line up his next shot. He looks cocky as hell, like he’s got this all sewn up now.
We’ll see about that.
I move closer, sliding my hand over the rippling muscles of his shoulder blades. I feel him chuckle, a low, vibrating hum. He straightens up. “You trying to distract me, sweetheart?”
“No,” I coo, looking up at him. “If I wanted to distract you, I’d do something like…this.”
I stroke lightly down his arm, barely a whisper, and lift his hand to my
lips. With my gaze never leaving his, I slowly lick his fingertip.
Dex groans.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but a wicked instinct drives me on, making me bold.
I part my lips and take his index finger into my mouth. The callused skin is rough against my hot, wet tongue, a foreign sensation that thrills me, heady with desire.
“Fuck,” Dex exhales in a gasp. “Alicia…”
I slide my lips around his finger and suck.
He snaps.
With a growl, Dex wrenches free, shoving me back into an alcove until I hit the wall. I don’t have time to think, to even breathe, before his lips crash against mine, hot and fierce. Claiming me.
Yes.
I arch up against him, dizzy with lust. The fire in my blood is ignited, raging out of control as I grasp at his neck, his shoulders, tugging on the soft fabric of his T-shirt, desperate and greedy for more. It’s overwhelming, the hunger suddenly clawing at my body, blocking out everything but his demanding mouth and roving hands.
I don’t care about the game, abandoned behind us. I don’t care about the people, just a few feet away. All that matters is need and heat and lips and tongue.
This. All of it. Now.
Dex clutches me tight to him, his hands roving across my waist and back, tangling in my hair. He forces my lips wider, plunging his tongue into my mouth to taste me, hard and hot and unrelenting.
This is the kiss I’ve been dreaming about for months. The total obliteration of all sense and logic, a passion so overwhelming, I have no choice but to succumb.
“Jesus.” Dex gasps for air. He thrusts his body against me, and I wantonly respond, arching up to meet him, aching to feel his touch on my skin. “Alicia…”
There’s a note of desperation in his voice, a strangled plea. I feel it, echoing in every atom in my body.
Such a raw desire, I think I’ll die if I don’t have him all my own.
I pull him down to me again, needing his kisses, the exquisite pleasure of his mouth on mine. His hand slides down my body, grazing over my breast, sending me gasping from the sensation—
