Let it Burn: Sons of Sinners Part 2 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  I didn’t know whether to be happy that he’d done that so that he could spend more time with me, or pissed that he’d taken it upon himself to call my boss and get involved with my work.

  “What exactly did you tell him?” I asked, moving my head back, keeping just out of his reach as he leant in to kiss me.

  He gripped my ass tighter, not letting me pull away any further, and shot forwards to steal a quick kiss anyway before giving me a self-satisfied grin. “I just said we had some catching up to do and could he do me a solid and cover for you today. He seemed happy to help.”

  “Gee, wonder why,” I said dryly, knowing that Harvey would be doing cartwheels right now just because Blake had remembered his name.

  “It is what it is. And if you think I’m gonna let you out of my sight today so you can go freak out about us, you’re fucking delusional.”

  I immediately felt defensive. “Who says I’m freaking out?”

  He gave me a look. “C’mon, Princess, it’s what you do.”

  “What I do?”

  He grinned at my reaction. “Yeah. You freak. It’s your thing. Like in the cellar the other day. We fucked then you freaked.”

  I frowned, confused by the tender way in which he was holding me while simultaneously insulting me. “Maybe I have a good reason to freak,” I said indignantly.

  He stiffened, his face hardening. “You regret this?”

  “No –”

  “But?” he demanded.

  I was quiet for a few seconds, considering how to put it. “It’s just a little scary. You’re…well…you’re a flight risk.”

  His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.

  “It’s okay,” I said, seeing his struggle and understanding it, even if I didn’t like it. “I’m not asking you to promise you’ll never leave again –”

  He quickly cut me off, “Listen to me, Princess, I swear I’m not gonna –”

  “Don’t,” I interrupted sharply before he could finish the sentence. Before he could tell me what I wanted to hear and make a promise I knew he wasn’t equipped to keep – not yet, anyway. “Don’t say you’ll never leave,” I told him. “I don’t want you to say something you could regret someday.”

  He got a little angry then; his hands pulled away from me to rake through his hair, leaving it spiked and messy. “Then what the fuck do you want me to say? I got no fucking intention of going anywhere, and that’s the goddamn truth.”

  “I know,” I said, because in that moment I truly believed him, “but if things don’t work out between us you will leave, won’t you?”

  “Why are we talking about this shit now?” he demanded, ignoring my question in favor of his own. “I just got you back and you’re talking about it being over?!”

  I let out a sigh. “Because one of the worst things about you leaving before was that I didn’t know why. I never got an ending. You just left me with a bunch of unanswered questions.”

  As I spoke, his shoulders slumped and the irritation disappeared from his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” I offered him a small smile. “I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I just want to know that if you ever decide to leave again that you’ll at least stick around long enough to explain.”

  He brought his hands up to my face, the pads of his thumbs pushing gently on my jaw, tilting my head up so that he could look me right in the eye. “I swear to you, Princess, I will never pull that shit again.”

  “…okay.”

  His lips descended on mine, urgent and dominating.

  I met his kiss, letting it reassure me.

  When he scooped me up and strode across the room to toss me onto the bed, I squealed with surprise. A moment later, he was straddling me. A jerk of his fingers opened the knot in my towel, leaving me suddenly naked.

  “I was fucking insane to leave you.” Blake’s voice was gritty as he palmed each of my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over my hardening peaks before dropping his head down to draw my right nipple into his mouth and sucking hungrily.

  I slid my hands through his soft hair and arched towards him.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he muttered, abandoning one breast to his talented fingers and moving his mouth to the other.

  Minutes later, both of my wrists were held securely in one of his rough hands, pinned to the bed above my head, as he sank his thick cock inside of me. Instantly, my slick walls were gripping him, rippling around his hard length while he hammered into me.

  After that, my orgasm obliterated any thoughts I had about him leaving.

  39

  It was like Blake was screwing me into submission.

  Every time he sensed a tiny doubt in me, or that I was wavering in any way, or even that my attention wasn’t a hundred percent on him, he literally took me over.

  He was demanding and dominating, as if I was his captive and he was striving to make sure the Stockholm Syndrome really stuck.

  When we weren’t having sex, we made out on the couch while music video channels played in the background; we talked about silly stuff and teased each other; we had tickle fights; we bathed together with me sitting between his legs, the back of my head resting on his chest…

  It was like we were trying to make up for all the time we’d spent apart by overdosing on one another.

  That night, we were half-dressed making spaghetti in my tiny kitchen – him in just his jeans, me in a tank top and some panties. Blake was opening a couple of beers that he’d just pulled out of the refrigerator, and his shirtless back was to me.

  Without thinking about it, I found myself behind him, reaching up to skim my fingertips over the small, intricate birds that flew from the front of his neck to just behind his left ear.

  He startled a little at my touch and looked at me over his shoulder. “Like ‘em?” he asked.

  I went onto my tiptoes to press my lips against the nape of his neck. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Not really what I was going for,” he chuckled.

  I slipped my hands around his waist from behind and tickled my fingers over his speed bump abs; I felt his muscles jump at the contact as he pulled in a quick breath before relaxing again in my arms. I glanced at a tattoo of a menacing skull high on his right shoulder; it was surrounded by black roses, each one dripping blood. “They’re a nice contrast to the creepy skull,” I teased.

  I heard the smile in his voice when he said, “Hey, I was seventeen. Skulls were badass.”

  I touched my lips over it, then dabbed light kisses lower, over the myriad of other images on his back, until I reached the woman gazing at the full moon. Every time I looked at that tat, which definitely hadn’t been there three years ago, I felt a hint of jealousy.

  And, yeah, I was very aware of how pathetic that was.

  But I think it was the fact that she – this mythical, fantasy woman – would be with him forever.

  “Who is she?” I asked softly, stroking the pad of one finger over the detailed shading of her light hair.

  “You really have to ask?”

  I glanced up to see him looking at me over his shoulder again.

  When our eyes met, the corners of his mouth slid up into a gentle smile and he turned in my arms. “Only one woman ever got to me enough to put her picture on my skin for the rest of my life.” He sank a hand into the back of my hair and lowered his head a little so that he could look deep into my eyes. “Only one woman made it fucking impossible for me to look at the moon without thinking about her every damn time.”

  Realization slammed through me, stealing my breath. “She’s me?!”

  The moon had always reminded me of Blake – since our first proper conversation all those years ago, out back of Filthy Joes – but I’d had no idea the same was true for him.

  His arms slid around me as he dabbed a soft kiss to my lips. “Yeah, Princess.”

  “Wow,” I whispered, feeling my eyes get wet. I had never dreamt he’d get a tattoo f
or me. At the risk of stating the obvious, it was such a permanent thing to do.

  A vibration against my hip made us both jump.

  Blake frowned as he glanced down at his jean pocket. “Fuckin’ phone.”

  A giggle burst from me. “I thought –”

  “What? That my dick was vibrating?”

  I laughed louder as he dug his cell out and looked at the screen before silencing the call. Immediately, the phone started buzzing in his hand again; he glanced down at it irritably.

  “Don’t ignore it for me,” I told him.

  “It’s just Danny. I’ll call him back later.”

  “Danny your drummer?” I asked and he nodded. “Maybe it’s important?”

  “This is important,” he muttered against my lips as he pulled me harder against him and kissed me.

  The buzz of the cell phone sounded again a second later.

  I smiled at his look of frustration as he finally put it to his ear. “Drum Bitch, what’s up?” he asked shortly. “Kinda busy here.”

  Since Blake and I were still pressed up against each other, I could clearly hear Danny’s voice on the other end of the line. He was British, but he didn’t have that Cockney accent that you always see in the Guy Richie movies, or the posh James Bond accent either. His voice was flatter somehow, a little rougher. And I’m not going to lie, pretty hot.

  “Alright, Sing Star, what’s this I hear about us recordin’ in Las Vegas?”

  “Yeah, man,” Blake confirmed. “Aiden called you?”

  “Yeah. Just got off a pissin’ fourteen-hour flight and he’s on the phone tellin’ me I’ve gotta get on another.”

  “You just got back to LA?”

  “Yeah, mate. I was gonna suggest a few pints to take the edge off this jet lag – it’s 2AM in England, the party’s just gettin’ fuckin’ started – but clearly you’re not around.”

  “Get over to Vegas, man, we need to catch up. Got a bunch of songs ready to go.”

  Danny’s voice took on a mocking edge. “Don’t try and distract me with band shit. The boys tell me you’ve been whipped good and proper. That’s why I’m expected to just hop on over to Sin City, yeah? That girl better be ridin’ you like a –”

  Blake cleared his throat loudly, covering the rest of Danny’s words. I bit my lips together between my teeth, trying not to laugh at the annoyed expression on his face. “Fuck the reasons,” he snapped. “You’ll love it here. Just get on the damn plane.”

  I heard Danny laughing. “Touchy, touchy! Tell you what, I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get –”

  “– on the damn plane. Yeah, heard you the first time. Keep your knickers on, I’ll be over in a few of days. Need to get my dick wet first. I’ve been stayin’ at my mum’s for the past few nights and I’m sick to fuckin’ death of wankin’ into a sock.”

  Blake closed his eyes, like he was praying for strength. That time, I couldn’t help laughing out loud.

  Danny must have heard me. “Who’s that? Is that HER?!”

  “Yeah,” Blake said. “Look, I gotta go –”

  “Woah, mate, put her on! I wanna talk to the girl who’s got you under the thumb!”

  “Not happening.”

  “Aw, come on, it’s the least you can do since I’m relocatin’ just so you can get your end away.”

  “He has a point,” I said mischievously as I held out my hand for the phone. Blake shook his head – so I pouted. He rolled his eyes but I could see he was stifling a smile.

  “Do you even understand what he just said?” he asked me.

  I shot him a scathing look. “I’m pretty sure I got it.”

  “Come on,” Danny shouted through the pone. “Just put her on. I won’t break her. I promise I’ll be a gent!”

  I plucked the phone from Blake’s hand; he just shrugged one shoulder like, You asked for it.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this the infamous Amy?!”

  I saw Blake’s wince and I knew he could hear Danny. “I’m infamous? That doesn’t sound good.”

  “You are. And I’m holdin' you solely responsible for the gamblin’ problem I’m about to develop.”

  “Okay, that’s fair I guess.”

  “So, Amy, tell me about yourself. What do you look like? What are you wearing?”

  “I’m blond. Kind of tall –”

  “Cup size?”

  “Oh, God,” I laughed. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?”

  “More than, love, but we’re talkin’ about you.”

  Blake snorted and shook his head.

  “Which part of England are you from?” I asked, redirecting the conversation. “I love your accent.”

  Blake’s expression sharpened as he raised his eyebrows at me; it made me giggle seeing how disgruntled he was getting.

  “Thanks,” Danny answered. “I’m from Leeds. It’s up north. Have you ever been?”

  “Never.”

  “I’ll take you anytime. You sound fit as fu–” I didn’t hear any more; Blake had snatched the phone from my hand and ended the call.

  “Well, that was rude,” I said with mock annoyance.

  “You love his accent, huh?”

  “You have heard him talk, right?” I countered, unable to stop teasing him.

  “Can’t say it does it for me.”

  “Really?!” I asked, like I found that incredibly hard to believe.

  He slapped the flat of his hand against my ass. “Stop,” he ordered.

  “Hammer time?”

  He burst into laughter at my lame joke and seemed to relax again.

  “So, you’re really recording your album here?” I asked, even though Kane had already told me as much at his party the week before, and the conversation between Blake and Danny had just made it pretty obvious, too.

  “Yeah.”

  “Not in LA?” I clarified, needlessly.

  He grinned and shook his head.

  “Say it.”

  Blake moved quickly, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me up so that my eyes were level with his. “We’re recording in Vegas. Wherever you are is where I wanna be.” I smiled as he lowered me to my feet and, with his hands on my hips, walked me backwards until the backs of my legs hit the couch. “Now, panties down and turn around.”

  40

  The next night, I wasn’t scheduled to work anyway, so Blake and I stayed holed up in my apartment all that day too.

  We just shut out the world.

  We had so much sex that Blake enforced a ‘Fucking Time Out’ that night because he’d figured out that I was getting a little sore but didn’t want to admit it.

  “You’re seriously turning me down?” I asked from the kitchen where I was making an omelet, wearing only a navy pair of lacy boy shorts.

  Blake was sitting on my couch, watching me. “No, I’m not turning you down. I’m refusing to hurt you.”

  I turned to face him, putting one hand on my hip and pointing my spatula at him. “Same difference.”

  “No, it’s not.” At that point, he wasn’t even looking at my face. His eyes were glued to my breasts.

  I sighed dramatically. “Okay. If we can’t have sex, I guess I’ll just take off these panties and put on my PJs.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Sucker…

  I dropped my shorts right there in the kitchen and stepped out of them towards my bed – then pretended that I just remembered the stove was still on and whirled back around, so that he had a full view of my naked ass.

  I heard him groan behind me.

  “Something wrong?” I asked over my shoulder as I turned off the stove.

  “You know exactly what’s wrong.”

  I played dumb. “You’re hungry? This is ready now.” I gestured to the omelet. “Come help yourself.”

  I saw him reach down and adjust the tent that he was pitching in his jeans, which gave me a ridiculous sense of feminine satisfaction.

/>   “I’m hungry for your pussy,” he growled. “Fuck the eggs.”

  I frowned, pretending to be totally confused. “But you just said you didn’t want to have sex.”

  “No, I didn’t. I said I wasn’t gonna fuck you and hurt you, but I didn’t say shit about not eating you out. Get over here.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I can’t do that.”

  He sat forwards, pinning me with a look. “Get your beautiful ass over here now, Princess.”

  I was instantly wet. The way he took charge always made me tingle deep inside. But I wanted to see what it was like when the roles were reversed. “And if I don’t?” I teased.

  He got to his feet and started towards me slowly, like a jungle cat preparing to pounce. “Then I’ll come get you – but I won’t be gentle.”

  I backed up, biting my lip, knowing it drove him crazy. “I thought you said you didn’t want to hurt me?” I dropped my eyes to his chest – he wasn’t wearing a shirt – and then lower, over his chiseled abs and down to the bulge in the front of his jeans.

  Then I licked my lips.

  “Sexy little bitch,” he muttered.

  I kept backing away from him. With every slow step he took towards me, I took one back until I was pressed against the wall near to the door. He put his hands flat against the wall either side of my head. “Open your legs,” he demanded. “Gonna tongue fuck you up against the wall.”

  “No you’re not,” I said, although I had to squeeze my legs together against the hot ache that was building inside.

  His brow furrowed and I knew I was confusing him – getting naked, practically begging for it, then saying no.

  But I’m pretty sure I clarified everything when I dropped to my knees in front of him.

  He cursed under his breath and his stomach muscles jumped when I grabbed the waist of his worn-down jeans and pulled. The buttons of his fly popped open easily to reveal black boxer briefs that could barely contain what was inside them.

  In fact, they couldn’t contain what was inside.