by James, Vicki
“I like it.” Presley smirked.
“You can fuck off, too,” I said, turning my back on them and dropping myself down on one of the leather sofas. I dragged the rucksack from the top of the coffee table and tucked it in between my feet. Glancing the guys’ way, I waited for them all to join me.
They did.
As did Dicky not long after.
We were reunited, going through our upcoming schedule, talking about our plans, hopes, and dreams for the next album. Big D wanted us to speed things up—to put out an album that would shout from the rooftops who we were and why we weren’t to be messed with. He wanted Presley to showcase some drum solos, pitting hardcore rock against lyrics that shouldn’t work. Lyrics about love, heartbreak, and what it feels to keep you alive. Coops had tried to write a couple of tracks, too, but the ones he showed us were… okay. One in particular not one of us fucking understood, but Coops was adamant he wanted to try it out once we all got back behind the instruments. Hawk admitted to feeling pretty uninspired and flat. He was convinced that the Devil’s Doormat tour and album was something we would struggle to top. Dicky shouted at him on several occasions, warning that pessimism would not be tolerated on the first day of our next chapter. Apart from a few nods and grunts here and there, I’d stayed pretty quiet, leaning back on the sofa with one arm over the back of it while my other hand held smoke after smoke after smoke, and my knees jiggled in waiting.
Where is she?
That’s all I could fucking think about.
I could still smell her on my skin.
I could taste her pretty little tongue, feel the harsh yet soft texture of her beautiful nipples between my teeth.
It was after a few hours that I realised one thing to be true:
I was fucking nervous.
Nervous about her returning to me in front of the guys, and about keeping it secret. I was nervous that I’d fuck it all up with my big mouth, badly timed jokes, and overenthusiastic need to just… kiss her.
Do you know what I love most about them? I love how Presley always gets so nervous before Tess walks into a room. He got weaker and she grew stronger. It was incredible to see the way love changed them both.
“Rhett?”
My head snapped to the side, where Dicky was staring at me like I had three heads. His elbows were resting on his knees, hands hanging limply between his legs.
“What?” I croaked, clearing my throat and sitting up as I released a long stream of smoke up towards the ceiling.
“If you could pay attention, that would be great.”
I rubbed a tired eye and yawned. “Sorry.”
“Don’t tell me. You were getting laid by some woman named Trixibelle, and she kept you up all night long.”
I grinned to myself, just in time to see Julia walking through the studio doors behind Dicky.
I grinned at her as I answered him.
“That sounds about right. Up all night, fucking a woman named Trixibelle. That’s why I’m tired.”
“Sounds like nothing’s changed around here,” Julia said, making everyone’s head snap her way in surprise. She and I held each other’s gaze for only a couple of seconds before the others descended, telling her what an idiot she’d been to leave. What a fool she’d been to think they could replace her. How each of them were glad to have her back. How she was theirs and only theirs, she couldn’t ever leave them.
Like fuck she is. She’s mine.
That’s what I wanted to say, even as I watched them cuddling and pawing her while she stood there in her skin-tight blue jeans, red T-shirt, and that cropped black blazer I now loved more than my own dick.
I rose to my feet eventually, not wanting to seem too casual, especially given the meltdown I’d had over the phone with Dicky. The men cleared as if knowing I was making my way to her, and the loud bursts of laughter soon faded away to empty chuckles that were turning into curious sighs.
Raising a brow, I brought my cigarette up to my mouth and inhaled a long, slow drag of it. Aiming it away from her, but keeping my eyes trained her way, I blew it out before I rubbed my lips together.
“You’re back then,” I said, acting like I couldn’t care less.
“Don’t be too enthusiastic, Rhett. I wouldn’t want you to strain a muscle with a smile.”
“Doesn’t matter to me what you do, princess,” I lied.
“And don’t act like you don’t love me.”
“I love you, Jules, like I love having my balls squeezed by Hawk.”
“Is that why you guys sneak off together all the time?” She grinned, taking me on.
“If only you knew what I get up to with people I shouldn’t.”
“If only I gave a shit.”
“It would bode well for you to care about the band for a little while. You know… after your recent dramatics and all.”
“Don’t you worry about me and my job. We both know I’m the only one who can do what I do for you.”
“I guess time will tell.” I smirked.
“Sure will,” she fired back, playing her part well. “And it’s so good to know you’re still an arsehole.” Her eyes narrowed in fake hate, while her heart no doubt danced around in circles, just for me like mine was doing for her.
“You thought a week away from me would change that?”
“One could hope.” The others behind me laughed, and I winked down at Jules.
“Keep dreaming, sweetheart. No amount of time can change who I am. No one person will, either.”
“We’ll see,” she whispered, almost to herself.
Before I ruined everything and reached out to touch her—perhaps bend her over and press my smoky lips to her candy-flavoured lipstick—I forced myself to turn and make my way back to the sofa. I dropped back into place, unzipped my rucksack, and pulled out a load of papers.
“Now we’re all here, how about you fuckers sit down and see what a real musician does with his time off?”
When I looked up, I pressed the cigarette to my lips, and I squinted an eye as I looked at them all through a cloud of smoke.
“What?” I asked roughly, my voice gravelly and carefree.
Five faces stared back at me, confused and surprised.
Then there was another, smiling behind pretty tight lips and twinkling eyes.
Maybe we could have some fun with this secrecy thing, after all.
Chapter Thirty
Everything that once annoyed me about her now held me captivated.
The way she would pace back and forth in front of the band, worrying that thumb against her bottom lip as she thought of ways to make us even more relevant than we already were. The way she checked her phone endlessly, responding to emails, taking calls, her voice never far away, always hovering close by. She had once been like a piece of furniture I always used to bump into while in a drunken haze. Now I was sober, and she was the most beautiful thing in the room because I’d finally seen the craftsmanship that had gone into every part of her. The room was beautiful because she was in it.
I found my attention drifting to her on occasion, only to look up and catch either Dicky frowning at me, or Presley giving me one of those knowing looks that was attached to his goddamn cocky smirk.
We’d gone over several pieces I’d written. Big D picked out a melody to a track I wanted to call Leave This Party, and it only took an hour for everyone to be throwing their ideas back and forth.
Off the strip/Take the hit
All this time/Drowning in thoughts too loud
Then you
You
You
You
Told me to leave this party.
Leave it alone.
Leave it and come on home to you.
We were scratching words out and replacing them with others. Every time I thought my mind was putting up a brick wall, I’d look at the woman who was running a hand through her hair, and my eyes would drift down to her tight little arse, and I became inspired all over again.
I wrote while lying on the sofas. I wrote while sitting on the floor, propped up against a wall with a guitar in my hand. I wrote while kneeling beside the coffee table.
“I’m worried,” Hawk said to Coops.
“Me, too,” Coops grumbled in return.
“He’s…”
“Possessed.”
“Should we call a doctor?”
“We may need an exorcist.”
I looked up to find them both looking at me before I rolled my eyes and scratched my balls like their concerns were no concern of mine.
After two hours, I was struggling to not just outright stare at Jules. In work mode, she was incredibly fucking sexy. She had taken her blazer off, and her tight red T-shirt was tucked into the waistband of her slim jeans, showing off her perfect little curves, and the strain of her tits against the cotton material.
“Where are the toilets around this place?” I asked everyone in the room.
“Out those doors there, turn left down the corridor, and they’re at the bottom on the left again,” Dicky said as he tapped away at the laptop propped on his knees.
“Cheers.” I nodded, catching Julia’s eyes as I turned and offered her a look.
I wanted her. Now.
She blushed before she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down at her phone. When I turned to walk out of the room, I caught a glance of Presley behind the studio’s drum kit. He was watching me carefully, so I stuck my middle finger in my mouth, sucked it a few times, and then flipped him the bird as I walked out of the room.
I made it down the corridor to see a single, accessible toilet at the bottom. It was fucking huge. I stepped inside, not locking the door as I went to stand in front of the mirror in there.
It took her two minutes to open the door and close it behind her.
My reflection changed in the mirror. The straight-faced, bad boy rocker turned into the grinning idiot with a spark in his eyes and a stiffy in his jeans as I turned around, took one look at her, and slammed her up against the door. Her breath hitched in her throat as I caught her with one hand while my other cradled that delicate neck and brought her mouth closer to mine.
“Keeping you a secret is making me want to fuck you in public.”
“You’re so dreamy.” She sighed, her eyes closing as I pressed my lips to her jaw, kissing her, breathing her in, unable to control my smile.
“I thought I was a nightmare.”
“Oh. Yeah. You’re the worst.”
I kissed her so hard, my tongue swept over hers, claiming it as my own. She responded with as much vigour, her hands finding the back of my hair and those nails I loved so much scraping my scalp. Every time they did that, my dick jumped for joy at the thoughts of her scratching my back, holding on tight, scratching my arms, my neck—my face, too.
Our mouths twisted together. Me, all smoke and spearmint. Her nothing but candy and honey I couldn’t overdose on.
“Why do you always taste so damn good,” I moaned against her.
“No idea,” she panted and hitched up a leg. I squeezed it, holding it to me as I gyrated my hard cock against the obvious heat between her legs.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you.”
“Why aren’t you? I want you to fuck me…”
I pulled back, blinking to try and refocus as I took her in. For me, she’d become this private, naughty girl I couldn’t control myself around. I also couldn’t have been more aroused if there were seven of her, all down on their knees, begging to suck me off.
Okay, imagining seven of her was too much.
“Do you have anything on you?”
She eyed me, her breaths heavy and chest pounding. “Condoms?”
“Yeah. Mine are out there in my fucking bag.”
“You idiot,” she sighed through a smile.
“I want you so fucking badly right now, this isn’t even funny. Do you have anything, Jules?”
She rolled her head on the door, her amusement evident.
“Shit!” I cursed, releasing her neck and slamming my hand on the wooden panels behind her.
“Sorry, pretty boy.” She reached up to squeeze my chin.
I growled and looked down into her eyes. I mean… I growled. The thought of not releasing soon had me feeling like I had two swollen bollocks wedged in my tight throat.
“I’d get on my knees, but I like these jeans, and this bathroom stinks.” She chuckled lightly. “You’re going to have to put me down and let things… soften.”
Dropping my forehead to hers, I closed my eyes and released her thigh from my grip, pressing that hand to the door, too, while I rocked from side to side.
“You look in pain,” she whispered.
“Agony,” I breathed back.
“Poor baby.”
“I could go bare.”
“You could, but…”
“Don’t deny me.”
Jules trailed a nail down my cheek, jaw, and neck before she let it rise up to my ear. A shiver of excitement ran through me, forcing me to flutter my eyes open and take her in. “Control it,” she whispered as she reached behind her for the handle and began to open the door.
I stared at her blankly before she walked out of that public bathroom without a care in the world.
She disappeared around the corner when I heard her speaking again. “Hey, Gillian. Sorry I missed your call just now. I had a situation I needed to take care of.” She laughed, her voice drifting farther away. “So, you wanted to talk to me about the band appearing on your show…”
* * *
We spent the rest of that afternoon and night being careful, but I had to admit that the sly thigh grazes, the longing looks across the room, and the secret pecks on the cheek around the corners when out of sight of everyone else were becoming fucking addictive. I was beginning to feel like one of those uncontrollable teens going through puberty, unable to stop themselves from getting a chubby every time I saw a pretty girl walk by.
She was my pretty girl.
Three days in the rehearsal studios passed by with us creating this unbelievable tension, only for her to come back to my hotel room in the early hours of the morning, and for us to fuck each other until the sun came up. Her orgasms were the sweetest thing in my life. My name never sounded better than when it was tearing at her throat.
While with the others, we tried to act like we always had done. I’d snap at her, only for her to put me down with some well-timed comeback that had the guys laughing their arses off. The only difference now was that I wasn’t storming out of the room in a huff like I once had, and I wasn’t being too harsh with the names I threw back at her. I just hoped like hell I wasn’t being obvious.
If any of the band were suspicious, they never said. Presley’s sly looks were starting to piss me off, but Julia had assured me she hadn’t told Tessa the finer details of what had been going on between us both.
Why would I tell her? You’re my dirty little secret.
At first, I’d been fine with the idea of that.
Dirty little secret.
But when someone as powerful as Jules waltzes into your life, sashaying her arse, making you listen to reggae music you once hated, and forcing you to do whatever the hell she says, the dirty part starts to grate a little.
I wanted to be for her what she was becoming for me. Some kind of fucking saviour. A name she couldn’t help but scream out to anyone who would listen. Something good, and clean, and pure in her life.
The two of us were laid in bed back in my hotel room after our third session in the rehearsal studio. The day had been pretty successful, and we had five tracks on the go that we were really excited about.
“You need ten, at least. Plus, three for the bonus tracks,” Julia said as she stared up at the ceiling.
I had my arm around her, and her head was tucked lazily into the curve of my shoulder as she ran a single finger up and down my hand and wrist. It was lulling me into a sleep I wasn’t ready to fall into. I needed more time with
her. I needed more of everything. I was starting to feel out of fucking control, and I wasn’t entirely sure what was making my heart gallop faster: the giddiness of having her with me, or the fear of what would happen if I let myself go any more than I already had done. Even when in front of thousands of fans, I’d always felt like a loner. The success hadn’t stripped me of the memories of those high school bullies—of never quite fitting in. Being with Jules made me feel like I had purpose. It made me feel like I was somebody without having to put on a show. Really somebody.
“Rhett? Did you hear me?”
I pressed my lips against her head and nodded. “Yeah. Ten tracks. Three bonus.”
“The ones you have already are sensational. You need that to vibe to flow through the full album. Why haven’t you shown the guys half of what you wrote while with me?”
“Just… biding my time.”
“For what?”
“To see if what I wrote is something I want to keep singing about for years to come.”
Her hand slowed, the movements less fluid against my wrist as her breathing picked up pace. There was a weird tension in the air all of a sudden, and there was shit all I could do to get rid of it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to as I stared down at the rise and fall of her chest and waited for her to say something.
“Me?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out. “Some are about me?”
“Kinda.”
Jules tilted her head back, her big, innocent, worried eyes looking up at me in a room that was lit up only by the moon. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“Nothing.” But my voice was small—too small for me.
She turned in my arm, propping herself up on her elbow and pressing her naked tits to the side of my chest. She ran her hand over my heart, letting it pause there as she stared into my eyes. “You’re heart’s beating like crazy. Did I say something that spooked you?”
You do something every day to spook the fuck out of me. “No. I’m fine.”
