by Brooklyn Ann
“Most people probably have a good time on these things, but with me it’s like a bad ’shroom trip or something. I keep seeing my father beating my mom, beating me…” Her teeth chattered. “He was a cop.”
Klement’s hand tensed on her bare shoulder. “So that’s why you were so freaked out earlier. And you keep his car?”
“No, it was my stepdad’s car. He was the one who got me into metal. Our house caught on fire, and he died saving us.”
Her voice broke in a strangled sob, and Klement winced. So that was where the PTSD came from. That, and the abuse she’d suffered. His heart clenched as the suffering emanated off of her in tangible waves. Every cell of his being surged with the need to comfort her, to protect her…
He gently pulled her onto his lap. Even though it was inappropriate and dangerous as hell, she felt like heaven in his arms.
***
Richard watched Klement Burke’s house through his binoculars.
The sight of the black 1960 Plymouth Fury just outside of the garage made him seethe with envy. When that fag bassist pulled it out to push Kat’s piece of shit car into its space, he’d had to cover his mouth to keep from screaming. He couldn’t believe anyone would bother trying to fix that fucking thing, let alone supplant a beauty with it. He’d tried to convince Kat to get rid of the Subaru and buy another car, but she stubbornly clung to it because it was her stepfather’s. Not even her real father’s. Stupid girly sentimentality.
Laughter bubbled in Richard’s throat despite his rage. Good fucking luck fixing that thing. He’d heard that sugar in the gas tank would fuck up a whole car, and sure enough, he’d watched Klement go into the garage and only spend a few minutes there before he walked out shaking his head. Now she’d have no choice but to get rid of it.
He was about to leave when he saw Cliff and the drummer—that British dude whose name he never remembered—come out of the house. Richard wondered what Cliff had thought of his present.
The two band members got into the drummer’s Hummer and took off. Richard waited awhile to see if Kat and Klement would join them, but they didn’t.
Richard rolled his eyes. Kat was probably being a hermit as usual and piddling time away on her website or practicing her guitar. He smirked. Or maybe the control freak bassist was putting her through her paces because her playing wasn’t up to his standards.
Sure, she was talented, Richard admitted, and ungodly so for a chick, but good enough to play with one of the Big Six in metal? He couldn’t fathom it. They’d probably let her in for the gimmick of having a girl in the band. Or they just liked her tits.
Thoroughly bored, he rose from the bushes and made his way through the woods bordering the road, not emerging until he reached his car, which was parked in an overgrown turnout a quarter mile away. He needed a beer. And more money.
As he drove back to Denver, he called his delivery guy the minute he got a cell signal.
“How’s the account look?”
“We sold fifteen eight balls last week and another five this week so far,” Chris said cheerfully. “We’re cooking another batch tomorrow.”
Richard did the math in his head. “So, four grand.” And he had some product of his own if he needed extra cash. But he didn’t want to risk getting busted here.
“Yup.”
“Wire me half of that.”
“Sure thing. When are you coming back?”
He ground his teeth. When I’ve made her pay. Aloud he said, “Soon. I’ll let you know.”
Once downtown, he drove around looking for a good bar. Kat’s reclusiveness had given him cabin fever. He needed to get out, see people. So he settled on a place called The Hellion that looked like it would play good music.
The club was all that it promised. With an appreciative eye, Richard walked past the black walls plastered with posters of metal shows past. The red lights gave the place a nostalgic feel, like he was stepping back to the glory days of metal, and some band was tearing up the stage with riffs and vocals that were just above mediocre but held an energy that roused the audience. Bobbing his head to the beat, Richard sidled up to the crowded bar to get a Southern Comfort with Coke.
The bartender took his order, and the guy next to him said, “Hey, that’s my favorite too. Cheers for good taste.”
Richard looked over to give a nod, and his jaw dropped. It was none other than Cliff Tracey.
He closed his mouth and thought frantically about what to say. Thankfully, the bartender handed over his drink, buying him some time.
“It’s on me, man,” Cliff told the bartender before turning back to Richard with narrowed eyes. “Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?”
Fighting back nervousness, Richard replied, “No, but I’m a big fan and honored to finally meet you. Thanks for the drink.” He raised his glass in a toast. “I love the way you do the two-handed slide. It’s subtle.”
Cliff clinked their glasses together. “That’s cool you noticed. Do you play?”
“Yeah, but I’m between bands at the moment.” Richard glanced around the bar and saw the British drummer at one of the pool tables. “And I’m nowhere near as good as you.” He tilted his head at the guitarist of the house band. “I’m better than him, though.”
Cliff laughed. “What brands do you play?”
As they talked guitars, Richard had an epiphany. Maybe instead of messing with the guy who was fucking Kat, he’d get further if he befriended him.
Chapter Ten
Kat’s mind and body roiled with the unpleasant high before the bad thoughts began to ebb away and awareness flooded in. She was curled up on Klement Burke’s lap. The solid warmth of his legs permeated the thin fabric of her dress. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and she could hear his heartbeat, a soft steady thump that seemed to anchor her while the heat of his body seeped into her flesh, seeming to warm even her bones. Her mouth twisted in a frown. Even her bones felt cold? When the hell would this shit wear off?
His hands continued to caress her, one sliding soothingly along her back and shoulders, the other stroking her hair until she wished she could purr like a cat. God, it felt so good to be in his arms. His embrace felt so safe, like a shelter from a storm. He even smelled good, like sunshine and mountain air. She had an almost undeniable urge to nuzzle her face in his neck, to reach up and caress his hair. Only, the fear that he’d pull away stopped her.
Then he massaged her right shoulder, where the weight of her guitar strap dug in the heaviest. His fingers worked magic. Rippling waves of gold-tinged pleasure reverberated through her, from her shoulder down her back and all the way to her toes. Her muscles felt like guitar strings, and he was playing her like a song.
A moan escaped her throat even as her mind spun. This pot cupcake was indeed potent to give colors to physical sensations. However, since it wasn’t a bad feeling for once, she was determined to roll with it. The cats leapt onto the couch and curled up beside her and Klement, and their purrs added to her comfort.
Klement continued to work at the tense muscles until she was writhing on his lap. Suddenly, she felt a hardness pressing against her ass. She knew what it was, too. So she bit her lip in longing and shifted positions so it would be in contact with her core, which was now pulsing in rhythm with the shoulder rub.
Klement’s breath hissed through his teeth. He stiffened, and his fingers stopped their exquisite ministrations. Not wanting him to let her go, she rubbed her cheek against his chest.
“Thank you so much. I’m starting to feel better.” She looked up at him, studying his sharp cheekbones, the line of his jaw, the curves of his lips. “Um, did you eat a cupcake, too?”
“No.” His hand slipped down to her upper arm, the touch hot but maddeningly unmoving. “I wanted to be sober enough to drive.”
So, he was sober and still wanted to touch her? Joy swelled Kat’s heart. But Klement also seemed somewhat reserved.
Tentatively, she reached up to touch the golden strands of his hair. S
he needed to keep talking before he released her. Even if this was a terrible idea for both of them and for the band, she couldn’t let this end. “When did you start playing bass?”
“I actually played the mandolin first, when I was five. It was my grandpa’s.”
“Five? Wow. Did your parents get you lessons?”
He shook his head. “No, they were executives of a marketing firm, so they were out of town most of the time meeting clients and doing trade shows. Grandpa gave me a few lessons while my sisters and I stayed with him and Grandma. Then he let me take the mandolin home and I taught myself the rest. I got a regular guitar for Christmas when I was ten and tried to get into bands when I was fourteen, but everybody plays guitar so I learned bass.” He smiled. “I like bass better anyway. It’s easier on my big fingers.”
She glanced over at those fingers engulfing her shoulder and licked her lips. They’d felt incredible on her back and shoulders. How would they feel on her—? The thought brought another flood of lust between her legs. Unbidden, her body pressed closer to his.
Klement shifted, and they both stopped breathing. Kat willed herself to escape the thick haze of desire enough to focus on what he’d just been saying. Klement Burke, the most mysterious member of Bleeding Vengeance, who’d never revealed any personal information about himself in any of the interviews she’d read, was opening up to her.
“So, you were alone a lot when you were a kid,” she said softly. That explained so much. His need to always be busy. His cars, his computers, his guitars, his countless hobbies—they filled a void of loneliness. And maybe he’d picked up all his talents in an effort to impress them, to gain their approval and attention.
“Yeah. It’s like my parents had kids because they were expected to, not because they wanted them. And I was a difficult kid.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the catch in his voice told Kat everything. Her heart ached for him. Despite her father’s abuse, her mom was always there for her, stepping in to take the beatings whenever she could. And when she wasn’t able to intervene in time, she’d kept Kat home from school and they’d make cookies together and watch movies. Sometimes she had even taken out her violin. That had been the rare occasion indeed.
“Mom tried to teach me violin,” she told Klement, still lightly playing with his hair. It was so silky. “She was a prodigy and had a scholarship to Juilliard before she got pregnant with me.”
“Really? That’s awesome. I mean about Juilliard, not that she didn’t get to go.”
He sounded genuinely interested. All the other guys she’d been with were bored when she talked about her mom.
“Are you any good with it?”
“Good enough to satisfy a high school orchestra teacher, but that’s about it.” Kat’s lips curved into a smile as she remembered the look on her mom’s face when she tried to play Megadeth’s “Gears of War” on the instrument. “In the end, Mom followed my stepdad’s advice and got me a guitar when I showed more enthusiasm for metal.”
Klement stroked her arm lightly, as if afraid she would break. “I’m glad she did. And I’m sorry your stepdad died. He sounds like a great guy.”
You’re a great guy, she wanted to say, but her throat was too tight from the painful memories, and the dizziness from the pot cupcake washed over her once more, engulfing her with that disturbing underwater feeling. Kat gripped Klement’s arm as if he could keep her from drowning.
“How are you doing?” he asked softly.
“Not good. I feel all muzzy.” Her voice croaked a bit. She was thirsty but didn’t dare move from the haven of Klement’s lap.
He looked over at the clock. “It’s only been an hour or so…” He let the words hang as if reluctant to point out the obvious. She hadn’t even peaked yet. Which meant that the “high” was going to get worse.
As if in confirmation, the cold returned. Kat knew it was just a cool draft from the air conditioner, but it felt like an icy blast that would kill her. Goosebumps rose all over her flesh and the shaking returned.
“Cold,” she managed before her teeth started chattering.
“I’ll turn the AC off.”
He began to move her, but panic welled up in her once more. She grasped his arm like a lifeline. “No, please stay. You’re warm…safe.”
“Okay.”
He wiggled around, jostling her as his arm reached back and twisted. Just as she was about to ask what he was doing, he covered her with the blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. A blissful sigh escaped her lips as she nuzzled against his chest.
She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, her curled in his lap, him lightly stroking her back, but peace and gratitude for Klement’s kindness welled up within her for what felt like an eternity until the compulsion to say something was impossible to quell.
“Thank you for making me feel better.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him, marveling that such a large man could be so gentle. She was astonished at herself for never noticing how truly handsome he was, either.
“I told you, it’s no big deal. Though, in all my years as a stoner, I’ve just never seen anyone have such an extreme reaction to this stuff.” He looked down at her, and his expression changed from aching sincerity to amusement. He laughed.
“What?”
“Your lipstick smudged a bit.”
The pad of his thumb brushed the skin beside her mouth before straying to the edge of her lips. Her skin tingled with pleasure at the feather-light touch, and tentatively she reached up and traced his firm jaw line before curling a lock of his hair around her finger. “Your hair is so soft. I…”
She lifted her chin slightly, and he bent lower until his lips brushed hers. Or was it the other way around? Kat didn’t care. Linking her arms around his neck, she pulled Klement closer, needing more, needing all of him. The heat of his kiss, its soft, delicate touch inflamed her senses, warming her from the inside out.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips before delving in to tangle with hers. Electric lust rippled through her body, narrowing the world to Klem and only him. She returned the kiss hungrily, reveling in this intimacy of which she had long been deprived. Shifting on his lap, she straddled his hips, gasping in ecstasy as his hardness pressed against her throbbing core. The blanket slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor.
Suddenly, he broke away. A pitiful cry caught in the back of her throat at the agony of unfulfilled desire, and his voice came out low and husky.
“No, I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not right, not in the condition you’re in.” His palm slid up to cup her cheek, the tenderness in his gaze enough to undo her. “Besides, I’m too old for you.”
She raised a brow. “Shouldn’t you have said that before you put your tongue in my mouth? Besides, you’re only thirty-five.”
Klement’s eyes widened, and he stared at her for the longest time before bursting out laughing. The sting of the rejection eased as he wrapped his arms around Kat and held her tight, and she laughed with him, a limited balm to her thwarted desire. Alas, that ended as well when he carefully lifted her and stood, setting her on her feet.
“Can you stand okay?”
Her legs wobbled for a moment, but she steadied herself, not wanting to be seen as clingy. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
He turned around and reached down his pants to adjust himself. Kat bit her lip as she imagined her fingers gripping his hardness, feeling its sleek hot length against her palm.
Klement turned back to face her, looking embarrassed. “Well. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
Her stomach growled, and her mouth suddenly felt like the Gobi Desert. “How did you know?”
“Munchies are inevitable.”
In the end, she guzzled nearly a gallon of water and ate an entire pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream that had been intended for Roderick. If there was any consolation to her accidental drugging, it was that the food taste
d so damn good. That, and Klement’s embrace had been pure bliss. It would almost be worth gobbling another cupcake if he’d kiss her again.
“What’s so funny?” he asked as she giggled.
“Nothing.” She scraped the last bit of ice cream out of the container and licked her spoon, and he gave her another assessing look, as if to make sure she was still doing okay.
“I was thinking of heading up to the music room, taking a bong hit and messing around with my bass. Want to join me?”
She nodded slowly, hoping the movement wouldn’t make her dizzy again. “Okay, but I don’t want a bong hit.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough.”
She followed him up the stairs and once more gaped with uninhibited delight at the guitars hanging from the walls. The bubbling noise from the bong seemed to vibrate across her skin, too, making her laugh.
Klement blew out a cloud of smoke and raised a brow. “What’s so funny?”
“The sound tickled.” She giggled again at the absurdity of it all.
He shook his head and took another hit, chuckling when it made her laugh again. Smoke came out of his nose, and she laughed even harder. But when he picked up an acoustic Dean Bass and began plucking a poignant melody, her amusement faded to bliss.
She could feel the notes undulating down her spine. The sight of his fingers dancing across the strings made her remember how they’d felt on her body, and naughty thoughts filled her mind as she imagined what they’d feel like on her breasts, between her thighs… She shook her head. There was no need to torture herself with fantasies she couldn’t achieve.
Closing her eyes, she let the music take her on a magical journey as it had when she was a kid. Once more, it engulfed her imagination, transporting her to new worlds of emotion.
Klement struck a last chord, which vibrated away to a hollow emptiness that pressed around Kat. She opened her eyes, about to ask him to play another song, when her eyes alit on a gorgeous double-necked six- and twelve-string guitar. How had she never noticed it before? The need to create had come over her suddenly, like a junkie’s craving.
