“I have no idea how this happened,” he laughs, leaning toward me, “I know we just met...But it doesn’t feel that way, does it?”
“No,” I say, running my hand down his muscular forearm, “To tell you the truth, I’ve lost track. So much has happened, so much has changed. The only thing to do is let it happen, I suppose.”
“That sounds like a solid plan to me,” he says, smiling wickedly.
I can’t help myself any longer. With a rush of unstoppable need, I bring my lips eagerly to Trent’s, leaning across the bar toward him. His firm mouth meets mine, moving with a desire paralleled only by my own.
He takes my face in his hands, and I open myself to him. A shudder of illicit delight runs through me as his tongue glides against mine. There’s no hint of strategy or technique about his kiss—he’s simply listening to my body, responding to what I want and need. Who knew that the act of listening could be so sexy.
Charged by the power of his kiss, I lift myself off the stool and swing my legs over the side of the bar. Trent’s eyes flutter open, gleaming excitedly. I close the space between us, sliding my legs around his tapered waist. I’m balanced on the edge of the bar, straddling Trent as he slides his arms around the small of my back. I let my fingers trail through his messy curls, down against the stubble on his fine jaw. My lips find his once more, and our mouths move against each other insatiably.
Trent pulls me tightly against him, and I groan as I feel the hard length of him press up against the throbbing, wet place between my legs. I throw my arms excitedly around his shoulders, grinding against him. He presses against me, letting me feel how stiff he’s grown for me. I bring my lips to his neck, flicking my tongue against his skin as I let my hands wander down to the front of his jeans.
His eyes close rapturously as I stroke him through the thick fabric. I need both hands to tend to him properly, and I sigh in anticipation, remembering how good it felt to pull him in, deep inside of me. My hands move quickly, running along the full length of him as I kiss him hungrily. I can feel his quickening breath hot against my skin. I love knowing that I can do this to him.
I gasp as Trent’s hands work their way up the front of the oversized sweater I threw on during my getaway. He lifts the thick garment up over my head as tosses it away, bringing his hands eagerly to my breasts. My head falls back as he kneads them tenderly. I reach around and unhook my bra, tugging it away from my body.
I don’t want anything between us.
Trent pulls the straps of my tiny tank top down over my shoulders and tugs down my top.
His eyes drink in the sight of me, straddling him topless. I let out a little cry as he scoops me up into his arms, hoisting me up off the bar. I wrap my legs tighter around his body, kissing every part of his face I can reach.
He carries me across the jet, shouldering his way through the back doors. They slam shut behind us, and I see that we’ve tucked ourselves away into a surprisingly spacious bedroom.
I lower myself onto the soft carpet and lean against the wall, pulling Trent hard against me. He leans into my body, his manhood throbbing against me. We kiss earnestly, feverishly, even. I lift the hem of his tee shirt, peeling it off his firm upper body. My skin meets his, as I tug him closer, my breasts pressing firmly against his chest. I let my lips wander down to the flat panes of his pecs, counting off each defined ab as I make my way further and further...
A low moan escapes Trent’s throat as I back him up toward the huge bed behind us. I guide him across the space, push him down onto the mattress so that he’s sitting before me, his eyes blazing with reverent wanting.
Meeting his gaze as steadily as I can, I whip open his belt buckle and tug his jeans down away from his body, taking his briefs along as well. His stiff, pulsating member springs from its linen sheath, and I don’t even get his jeans fully off his legs before I wrap my hands around it. I can’t help it, I need to feel him.
I work my hands up and down the length of him, as slow as I can stand to. Trent arches his back, and I can feel him growing even harder at my touch. Keeping my hands firmly wrapped around him, I wet my lips and lower my mouth to the tip of his member. Ever so lightly, I kiss the bulging head of his manhood, relishing the sharp intake of breath that escapes from his throat. There’s no way I’ll be able to fit all of him in my mouth, but dammit if I’m not going to try anyway.
Running my hands along his stiff shaft, I wrap my lips all around the tip of him. He groans deliciously as I let my tongue glance against the tender underside of him. Tracing long, luscious circles around his head, I work my way down, pulling more and more of him deeper into my throat.
Trent buries his fingers in my hair as I lick and suck along the length of him. I need both hands and my mouth to take all of him, and I do—working every inch of his pulsing manhood. I lose myself in the taste of him, the amazing sensation of feeling him in my hands, against my tongue, between my lips.
“Ellie...” Trent rasps, “You’ve got me so close.”
That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I lift my lips from around him, letting my hands travel up and away from his stiff member. As much as I want to keep sucking until he comes for me, filling up my mouth with all I can swallow, I want to feel him inside me even more.
I push his shoulders down onto the mattress, straddling him once more. He pops open the button of my jean shorts and slides them down over my ass and legs. I hook my fingers into my panties and tug them off as well. Looking intently into my eyes, Trent lowers his hand to my slick slit. A low, rumbling moan rattles within him as he feels how wet he’s made me already.
I rest my hands against his firm chest as he runs his fingers along the length of me. Trent looses two fingers and slides them slowly up inside of me, pressing against the tender flesh between my legs. I close my eyes, pressing down against his masterful hands.
I let out a cry of delight as he presses his thumb against the throbbing, swollen need between my legs, rubbing me in just the right way. I rock myself against his touch as he sends me hurtling toward bliss. I hold out, savoring the build of my own ecstasy until I’m on the edge.
As I reach the apex of my impending pleasure, I knock Trent’s hands away. He takes my cue and grabs for a condom. He tears the package and slides the rubber onto his rock hard manhood. I push his shoulders back onto the mattress again, straddle his hips, and slowly lower myself onto his throbbing member.
We cry out together as I slide down onto him. His thick stiffness parts the silky flesh inside of me, plunging deep into my body.
I look down at him in wonder as he presses ever further, opening places I never knew existed. The feel of him inside me is dizzying, and I need more. As much as I can get. I rock against him as he meets me thrust for thrust. Leaning over his pounding hips, my breasts bouncing, I bring him closer, and closer.
My mouth opens in a long, throaty moan as his thrusting body presses up against that hard, throbbing nub—the very center of my pleasure. Suddenly I’m back at the edge, poised on the brink of bliss.
“I’m gonna...I’m—” I whisper breathlessly. But Trent doesn’t need any prompting. He lifts me ever-so-slightly away before pulling me down hard onto his deepest, most forceful thrust yet.
Our faces screw up into silent howls of overwhelming pleasure as we come together, crashing through wave after wave of utter bliss. I let my head fall back as I bounce ecstatically on his final emphatic thrusts. The rippling shockwaves of pleasure travel through me, searing along every cell and nerve as I settle into the warm wave of orgasmic bliss.
I fall heavily against Trent’s chest, rising and falling with his every heaving breath. We lay together, still connected in the most intimate way, as our breathing becomes as one. Words don’t exist to describe what happens when we meet like this. I never knew that the kind of desire existed that only intensifies even as it’s sated. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of Trent like this, though I’m certainly going to keep trying.
T
he exhaustion of my wild flight from the festival begins to overwhelm me. The long, emotionally-wrought drive, the confrontation of my deadbeat father, Trent’s miraculous appearance, and now this, all slam into me at once. Sleep descends, whisking me away to the dream world...
Chapter Seventeen
I listen to Ellie’s breathing as it slows, feeling her body relax on top of my own. As gently as I can, I lower her onto the bed, slipping free from our intimate point of connection.
I pull her against my chest, spooning her as she falls more soundly asleep. Though I close my eyes as well, I know that sleep is still far off. I never doze for more than a couple of hours at a time, after all.
Truth be told, I’m perfectly content to stay here with Ellie, holding her as she claims some well-deserved hours of shuteye. It’s been a longer day for her than I'm sure she’s used to. I tug her a little closer, grateful that her long, desperate drive didn’t end in disaster.
Even more grateful still that she accepted me once I arrived to ask her back. I honestly couldn’t have said when I started out whether she was going to come away with me or not. Of course, now that I do have her here with me, the next step in our journey is a total mystery to me. Once we get back to the festival, what happens then?
I’ve just fired the one and only manager my band has ever had, and we’re playing a huge show in less than twenty four hours. On top of that, Ellie’s got a show to play right before ours, and she happens to be down one half of her band. I doubt that Mitch is going to be waiting in Kansas for her with a box of chocolates and an apology. Taking responsibility for his own actions doesn’t seem to be his style.
I can’t help but feel responsible for breaking up Ellie’s duo. Sure, they would have gone their separate ways eventually, but they probably would've gone a little longer without falling apart if I hadn’t come into the picture. My presence forced Mitch’s jealousy to the surface, leaving Ellie no choice but to reject him. I know she doesn’t blame me, but I still feel like I need to find a way to make it up to her.
Then there’s the question of my own band. We had an excellent show the other night, and the guys have been really patient with me throughout the festival, but I don’t know how much more they’re going to tolerate. They’ve already threatened to jump ship, and I know full well that they weren’t messing around. That’s not their style.
I haven’t been a good band mate since I met Ellie. But that’s not her fault, and it’s not because what we’re doing is wrong—it’s all on me. I’ve got to make all of this right.
Part of me wishes that I could stretch this short flight on into an eternity. Just stay here, curled up with Ellie, and never have to think about the rest of the world again. I let my imagination supply a picture of us, tucked away somewhere together.
For some reason, I picture a little house on a lake, with a long dock running out into the water. I see us, lounging in beat up beach chairs, nursing a couple of cool beers, our toes dangling down into the water...if only things could ever be that simple.
Even if I really did want to leave my music career behind, which I have to admit I emphatically don’t, it’s not like I could ask Ellie to drop everything and run away with me. Her career is just beginning and who knows how successful she’s going to become in her own right.
With a voice like hers, and the way she has with words, she stands a good shot at becoming huge. I wonder if she even realizes how good she is? Or whether she knows that she never needed Mitch in the first place?
I can’t even let her know how badly I wish we could just exempt ourselves from all the music industry bullshit and do what we love to do without all the extra drama.
As the sky regains its charcoal gray, pre-dawn color, an idea occurs to me. There’s a way I can help Ellie without forcing her out of the game before it’s even begun. It’s incredibly risky, and it may very well blow up in my face...but it might work. I rest my arm against Ellie’s and give her a little nudge, trying to draw her back out of sleep. She snuggles in closer to my body, unwilling to be roused.
“Ellie,” I whisper, kissing her lightly on the cheek, “Ellie, we’re almost there.”
“OK,” she mumbles. She has no intention of waking up just yet.
“I have an idea,” I tell her, “For your show.”
“I don’t have a show anymore,” she sighs, still mostly asleep, “Mitch left.”
“I know,” I tell her, “That’s the thing. I think I know someone who can replace him.”
“Who?”
“Me,” I tell her, “I could play for you instead.”
A moment passes as her slumbering mind finally shakes out of its stupor. She cranes her neck, looking intently into my eyes to see if I’m serious. But there’s no ambiguity in my intentions. I’m one hundred percent serious about this.
“Trent,” she says, turning to face me, “My music is completely different than yours. And there’s not enough time to learn it, anyway.”
“I know how to play things other than hard rock,” I tell her, “And I don’t think that Mitch’s instrumentation was quite as complicated as he led you to believe. I can pick it up, easy.”
“But what about...you know. Your image, or whatever?” she says uneasily, “I feel like you’re going to get enough shit from your fans now that we’ve been seen together. But if I turn you into my backup guitar? There’ll be a riot.”
“I’m not worried,” I say.
“I am,” she replies, “You’re not the one they’re going to hate for it.”
“Who is ‘they’?” I ask.
“Everybody,” she says anxiously, “Everybody in the world is going to think I’m just a fame-hungry hanger-on, using you for your success.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” I ask.
“Of course not,” she says.
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because I’m not used to this,” she says, “I’m not used to being the target of people’s interest and ire. I need to be taking baby steps here, not running full speed ahead into public disapproval.”
“Ellie,” I say, “You’re forgetting one very important thing in this equation.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“The fact that you’re one of the most lovable people most of the world will have ever laid eyes on,” I say.
“You...think I’ve lovable?” she asks slowly. My heart starts to beat faster in my chest. I hadn’t meant to bring the “L” word into all of this, but now that it’s hanging in the air between us, I can’t very well back down either. I take a deep breath and meet her rapt gaze.
“I think you’re incredibly lovable,” I tell her, “Which is why, I suppose...that I'm falling in love with you.”
Not exactly the most graceful speech of my life, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. Her mouth hangs up just the tiniest bit, and for a second I worry that she’s going to tell me to shove it. But then her lips pull up into a contented bow, a smile of pure delight.
“I suppose it turns out that I'm falling in love with you too,” she says with a smile.
A big, dumb grin spreads across my face, and I hug her tightly against me. For a decade, I’ve been cultivating my tough, crude, unsentimental image for the rest of the world. Who would have thought that one small town girl could have cracked that rocky exterior right open?
Somehow, she’s managed to see straight through the layers of false bullshit, straight to who I am really am. And even knowing that, she still cares about me.
“I think we should do it,” she says.
“Do...what?” I ask, perplexed.
“Play together,” she says resolutely. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“That’s more like it,” I say, “It’s going to be amazing, you’ll see. It’s going to be great.”
Chapter Eighteen
The festival finally comes into view across the plains just as the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. I gaze out the window, fighting to keep my breathing
steady.
I’ve been swallowing down as much high-octane emotion as possible, but I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to go without a good cry. Between Mitch’s abandonment, my dad’s sudden appearance, and the overwhelming feelings I have for Trent, I’m firing on all emotional cylinders.
Watching the festival loom up before us is adding a whole new feeling to my already jam-packed heart: apprehension.
I trust Trent’s judgment, and I’m sure that he only has both our best interests at heart, but I can’t help but be terrified about this idea of his. We already brought a storm of attention and disdain down on our heads when we went gallivanting about together after his first concert at the festival. I know that this little stunt of ours is going to set off a media firestorm. The gossip blogs will be raging about our collaboration, and everyone will have an opinion about it. But I know that I need to come to terms with all that sooner or later.
I just have to keep reminding myself that however the media chooses to represent me, it doesn’t change who I really am. The people who know me the best won’t be swayed by some music blogger’s opinion. My mom and sister will still think the world of me. And even though I’ve only known Trent for a little while, I feel as though he knows me better than anyone.
His esteem of me won’t be altered by some fluff piece on a second-rate gossip website. With practice, I’ll be able to ignore all the critics, just like he does. I’m glad to have him as a guide through this crazy industry.
The rainstorm yesterday flushed all the haze and humidity out of the air, and the sky lightens into a clear, crisp canopy over the festival. Even with the ugly things that have happened at Hawk and Dove this year—with Mitch, and that skank Kelly—this place is still one of my most favorite spots on earth. There’s something wonderfully equalizing about pitching a tent beneath a canopy of stars with thousands of people you’ve never met.
Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) Page 17
