Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6)

by Jerica MacMillan

  His thighs are trembling when he finally pants, “Christ, Lauren. Stop now. I want inside you.”

  How can I deny a request like that?

  With one last long lick that leaves him gasping and his fingers tightening in my hair, I release him and stand.

  He wraps his arms around me and crushes me against his chest. His mouth crashes into mine, hard and aggressive, his tongue demanding entrance. But I’m not a passive recipient. I give as good as I get, pressing against him, meeting his tongue with my own, my own hands gripping his head to keep his mouth fused to mine.

  We’re starving for each other like we haven’t been fucking at every opportunity for the last couple of days.

  His hands clamp on my ass, lifting me and pinning me against the wall. My legs go around his waist and his cock slides down between our bodies, brushing against me on its way to sliding inside me.

  I’m about to be fucked against the wall.

  In a hotel shower.

  OMG.

  That’s so fucking hot.

  But then he’s setting me down again, tearing his mouth from mine, letting out a string of curses.

  I’m dazed and breathing hard, sagging against the wall, only his hands still on my ribcage keeping me upright. “Wha …?” I swallow and blink. “Why’d you stop?”

  In answer he pushes me against the wall and flings the shower curtain open. “Condom,” he calls over his shoulder as he rips the door open and stomps into the room, dripping everywhere.

  He’s back in half a second while my brain’s still processing, short circuited by the lust thrumming in my veins. The look in his eyes is predatory as he stalks back into the bathroom, tearing open the condom with one hand and his teeth and rolling it on almost without a pause.

  Then he’s on me again, lifting me against the wall. This time when my legs go around his waist, his hands supporting my ass, my own arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he pushes inside me in one long, slow slide.

  My head bangs against the tile wall, a groan escaping me. His ass flexes under my calves as he buries himself inside me in short, steady thrusts. And the dirty talk starts. A steady flow in his low, rough voice, his breath coming in pants.

  “Fuck, Lauren. You do something to me. I have no control with you. I’m not gonna last. Your mouth on me and now your pussy squeezing me and I’m gonna blow in no time. God, I almost took you without a condom.”

  I groan and squeeze him again, my thighs clamping on his hips as my pussy clamps on his dick.

  “You like that? You want me bare? You want to risk me fucking a baby into you?”

  The thought is somehow thrilling and terrifying. There’s no way I want a baby right now. But it would give me a connection to him after this crazy trip is over. And that thought is tempting.

  His thrusts get faster. “I’ve got you. I’m gonna come in a second. And if you’re not there, I’ll wash you clean and then fuck you with my tongue till you come all over my face. That way we’re both blissed out and relaxed to start our last day on the road.”

  My pussy contracts around him, his words driving me closer.

  But not close enough.

  His head pressing into the tiles over my shoulder, his hips start losing their rhythm and he groans again. “Fuck. Your tight little pussy. Fuck. I can’t—I’m gonna—“ And then he thrusts hard, pushing me higher up the wall with his dick, grinding himself against me as he trembles through his orgasm.

  When it’s over, he sags against me, his grip on my ass loosening, and he shudders every time I move against his now sensitive cock. Since we’re standing in the shower, he gathers himself more quickly than normal, pulling out and easing my legs down, leaving me missing the feeling of him inside me sooner than I’m used to.

  He kisses me hard and then steps out of the shower to get rid of the condom without a word. When he’s back in, he has my shampoo and body wash in hand, forgotten in our hurry to screw our brains out in the shower.

  With a nod to the still-running water, he sets the bottles down. “Get under there. I’m gonna wash your hair. Then the rest of you. Then I’m going to lay you on the bed and lick the water off your skin before I suck your sweet little clit into my mouth and make you scream my name.”

  He smiles at the way my breath hitches, and I hurry to do as he says.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Brendan

  Painfully aware of needing to get to New York as quickly as possible to fulfill the point of this whole trip, we hit a drive thru for breakfast and make minimal stops on the last day.

  But Lauren presses herself to my side at every chance, sitting in the car with her body angled toward me, leaning on the armrest between us as we talk, threading her fingers with mine when my hand finds its way to her leg.

  It’s … comfortable. Easy. Relaxed.

  Perfect.

  My first impression of her as a high-maintenance man-eater seems to be wrong. She hasn’t flirted with anyone else this whole trip. Not that there’s been a lot of opportunity … it’s not like she’d flirt with the overweight gas station attendant or something.

  Even if she is a man-eater, she’s relaxed and funny with me, sarcastic and witty, giving as good as she gets. And it’s refreshing. No excessive primping, whining about crappy food or cramped quarters in the car, no hints about extra things I could buy for her, always thanking me when I pay for meals or hotels. With kisses the last couple of days.

  It’s scary how quickly I could get used to this.

  The day passes in a blur, traffic getting thicker the closer to the city we get. I have Google Maps up on my phone taking us to the hotel I booked for tonight when Lauren was using the bathroom at one of our stops yesterday. I wanted to surprise her with a luxury hotel. I booked three nights, since that was before her parents called this morning. Hopefully we’ll be able to use them.

  If they’ve called or texted since this morning, she hasn’t said, but she alternates between checking her phone obsessively and stuffing it somewhere so she can’t see it.

  “Oh my god,” Lauren complains after being in stop-and-go traffic for almost an hour. “This is taking forever. I swear, this is the longest part of the whole trip.”

  I chuckle. “Worse than the snowstorm?”

  “Yes!” She stabs a finger at the stream of red lights in front of us. “At least in the snowstorm we were moving forward at a steady pace.” Leaning across the center console she looks at the dashboard. “We’re going seven miles an hour. Cars idle at this speed. This is ridiculous.”

  With a grin, I shrug. “City life. There’s traffic.”

  “Ugh. I just want to get there. No matter what, the last part of a long car trip feels like it goes the slowest. It’s even worse when you’re less than five miles from your destination and it’s going to take another hour to get there.”

  I risk taking my hand off the wheel to rub her leg. “Chill. We’ll get there. We’ll check into our hotel and grab a quick bite then go ice skating. It’ll be magical. I promise.”

  She turns to face me, her gorgeous face lit by the soft glow of the dashboard and the lights from the cars all around us. “Magical, huh?”

  “Isn’t that the point? A magical night of ice skating at Rockefeller Center? Like in the movies?”

  She stares at me for a long moment, the weight of it a tangible thing, then she nods and clears her throat. “I guess this whole trip does feel like a movie.” Then she sighs. “The last couple of years have all felt like a movie, actually. Or a bad soap opera. Full of ridiculous drama and improbable circumstances. And here we are with another dose of both.”

  “Ridiculous drama?”

  She flaps her hands around. “You know. My parents calling and hounding me. While I’m on a cross-country trip with some guy I just met. Improbable and dramatic, you have to admit.” She delivers the last line with a wry smile.

  “Maybe so. But if everything feels like a movie anyway, this should fit right in.”

  Afte
r an eternity, we finally pull up to the hotel, where I valet the car. Lauren gasps in delighted amazement when she realizes that we’re staying at the iconic Lotte New York Palace. She makes a slow circle when we get into the lobby, taking in the luxurious cream and gold color palette, a permanent grin etched on her face.

  And I put it there.

  When she completes her loop, she latches onto my arm, and if she were a different type of person, I swear she’d be squealing right now. “Oh my god,” she whispers, but in that high pitched way so that it sounds like a scream at really low volume. “I can’t believe you booked us a room here. This place must cost a fortune.”

  With a nonchalant shrug, I lead her to the check-in desk. “Don’t worry about it. I thought it’d be the perfect way to get the most out of our time here. The towers have amazing views of the city, and we’re close to Rockefeller Center.”

  She blinks up at me, then shakes her head. “Movie. I swear.”

  I can’t help grinning at her as I wrap my arm around her and pull her close. “Good. That’s what I was going for. The movie-perfect hotel to go with our movie-perfect ice skating date. We’re almost there. You ready?”

  Her breath catches, and she looks around again. “Yeah.” Her voice is unsteady, and I’m afraid she might start crying on me. I don’t know what I’d do with a crying Lauren. I’ve seen almost every facet of her personality in the last few days—sassy, sarcastic, sweet, worried, pissed, and horny—but I haven’t seen her cry.

  “Hey. Are you okay?”

  She blinks, turning her face to me with a soft smile. “Better than okay. This is … amazing.” She breathes the word like it’s sacred. “I can’t believe you did this.”

  “I already told you, it’s not that big of a deal. I can afford to splurge every now and then.”

  She shakes her head. “No, not just the hotel. I mean the whole trip. I mentioned in passing that I’ve always wanted to go ice skating at Rockefeller Center at Christmastime and you just say, ‘Sounds good. Let’s go.’ And here we are.” She examines my face with wonder. “Who does that?”

  For some reason her scrutiny makes me feel awkward, and I shift my shoulders and look away. “Me, I guess. I dunno. It just seemed like the perfect opportunity. We both have the time, I have the funds, I thought it sounded like fun too.”

  She just shakes her head at me. And if she were going to say anything else, she doesn’t get the chance, because it’s our turn to check in. She hangs back while I talk to the front desk, getting our keys and directions to the elevators as well as the rundown on the available amenities.

  “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Brasher,” the clerk says at last.

  “Thank you.”

  With that, I turn and grab Lauren’s hand, walking with her to the elevator. “Should we sit down for dinner first? Or do you want to just get a quick snack and eat after ice skating?”

  Lauren’s brows scrunch together like I’m asking her to tell me the meaning of life. “Ummm. I think quick snack, ice skating, then dinner. I’m not super hungry yet.”

  “Me either.”

  Once we’re in the room, I catch Lauren trying to be sneaky about checking her phone. Which is silly.

  “Your parents hounding you some more?”

  She startles, then looks at me. “No. And it’s weird. I feel like I’m just waiting for them to call and demand I come home tonight.”

  Not liking the way her shoulders hunch up to her ears, I cross the room and wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest. She lays her head against my collar bone, her forehead resting against my chin. It feels so right, standing here like this, breathing in the smell of the shampoo that I used to wash her hair just this morning.

  Thinking about the shower sex, washing her, and then eating her for breakfast has me getting hard, which is inconvenient since I’m trying to give her comfort. But I’m careful to keep space between our hips, so she doesn’t notice.

  After a moment she sighs, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a squeeze before lifting her head to look at me. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “You’re welcome. Anytime.” Dipping my head, I brush a light kiss across her lips. Because when she’s looking up at me like this, I can’t help but kiss her. “Let’s go ice skating.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lauren

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” I wobble, windmilling my arms to stay upright, hugging the edge of the rink, the iconic tree towering over us, lights all around us making it seem like daytime long after the early winter sunset.

  Brendan’s not much more stable on ice skates than I am. “What? Staying on your feet?” he calls back from a few feet away.

  I laugh, my joy bubbling out of me. “That too! But I meant this. Ice skating here.”

  “If you can call what we’re doing ice skating,” he shoots back, his comment laced with laughter. “When was the last time you went ice skating?”

  I groan, hanging onto the wall and tipping my head back to think about it. “I don’t know. Sometime in high school? I think I was a junior.” I turn to find him watching me, his cheeks pink with cold, his eyes bright as they study me. “So that would’ve been like four years ago. And I can’t remember the last time I went before that.”

  With his hands on his hips, he laughs, managing to stay balanced on both feet. “So why was this such a fantasy of yours? You can’t even claim it as a hobby.”

  I shrug, still smiling. “It always looked so amazing and romantic in the movies.”

  Pushing off with one foot, he glides closer to me, only a slight wobble giving away the fact that he’s pretty terrible at ice skating. He stops himself with one hand on the wall next to me, his other hand on my hip, clamping down hard enough that I can feel it through the puffy fabric of my coat. His warm breath fans over my face as he towers over me, our bodies pressed together, our feet overlapping. And he kisses me.

  Involuntarily, my hands leave the wall, gripping the open halves of his coat where it’s unzipped, hanging on for dear life as his hand on my hip slides under my coat to the small of my back, pulling me closer. I lose myself in his kiss, the heat of his mouth a contrast to the cold December air surrounding us.

  After an eternity, or maybe only a minute, our mouths separate, our breath mingling in puffs of steam that drift over our heads as we stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

  With a gentle push, Brendan separates our bodies, but his hand finds mine. He nods toward the people skating past us, circling the rink. “Come on. We’re here to skate. Let’s give you your fun, romantic fantasy.” He ducks his head so his mouth is by my ear, his voice low. “And then we can find out what other fantasies I can fulfill in the hotel room later.”

  I shiver at the promise in his voice. But he doesn’t give me any time to react, tugging on our joined hands and pulling us into the flow of skaters. Startled, I wave my free arm around again, struggling for balance. But after a few minutes, I start to relax and feel more comfortable.

  I let out another laugh. “Hey! I’m getting better!”

  Brendan grins at me. “It’s like riding a bike, I guess. Just gotta get used to it again.”

  We skate for about an hour, most of it hand in hand, but our snack from the mini bar in the room (I don’t even want to think about how much that cost) is quickly wearing off. My stomach is rumbling, and my feet are tired from being in the stiff skates.

  I give his hand a squeeze, drawing his attention to me. But when his eyes leave the ice in front of him, he loses his center of gravity, his arms flailing wildly as his feet slip out from under him.

  Since he’s holding onto me, we go down in a tangle of limbs, a wild shriek erupting from my throat.

  Brendan doesn’t move, his fingers still wrapped around my hand. Once I regain my breath, I start cracking up, leaning up on one elbow to look at him.

  “Are you okay?” I manage to get out between snorts and giggles.

  He groans, looking at me
with a rueful half smile on his face. “Apparently falling on my ass in front of you is becoming a thing.”

  “Aw, did you hurt yourself?”

  He gives a little shake of his head. “Just my pride.”

  “Anything I can do to make it better?”

  As an answer, he reaches his hand behind my head and tugs my face to his for a slow, sweet kiss. Before I can stop myself, I slip my tongue along his lower lip. He opens, his tongue tangling with mine, his fingers tightening against my scalp.

  “Get a room!” someone shouts as they skate past, making me jump.

  We break apart, but Brendan doesn’t let me go far, his eyes still locked on mine as his thumb slides over my lips. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starved.”

  “Me too.”

  And I’m pretty sure that neither of us is talking about dinner.

  Chapter Thirty

  Brendan

  After returning our skates, I thread my fingers with Lauren’s and lead her out and away from Rockefeller Center.

  Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are pink, and her face is open and happy, a permanent smile on her lips. I can’t help smiling back at her as she looks all around, taking in everything.

  “I still can’t believe you’ve never been here before. Didn’t your eighth grade class have a big trip? Why didn’t you go?”

  Her brows crease, and she takes a half step back, but I tighten my grip on her hand, keeping her from going farther. “It was too expensive, and none of my friends were going. I always figured I’d rather go to New York and Washington DC on my own terms rather than with a giant group of kids from school anyway. Why? Did you go on an eighth grade field trip?” She quirks an eyebrow, her lips pursed, the perfect picture of sass.

  With a chuckle, I shake my head. “No. The end of eighth grade was when I was on tour. I missed all those things. But most of my friends went. I saw New York for the first time with my brothers right before we became recognizable.”