Perfect Ten: A Rockstar Romance

by Kelley R. Martin

  Her eyes are wide. A little wild, a little scared. “I’m not good at this,” she admits quietly.

  Kissing down her jaw, I grip her generous ass in my hands. I fucking love how it spills out of my palms, like one cheek is more than I can handle. “You’re phenomenal at this.”

  A low, throaty laugh tickles my ear. “I’m not talking about sex. Sex, I’m good at.”

  I bet she is. I bet she’s a fucking wildcat in the sack.

  Caroline threads her fingers in my hair, her nails subtly scratching my scalp. It makes this guttural sound slip from my throat as pre-cum leaks from my cockhead.

  Jesus Christ, I’m not even inside her and I’m ready to shoot off like a goddamn bottle rocket. This chick must be some kind of sex wizard.

  That’s a thing, right?

  She grinds against me, undulating her hips in these soft, slow thrusts that kill—me—dead. “My last relationship was a total disaster,” she murmurs against my mouth, teasing me with soft kisses. “Not that I think we’re in a relationship or anything,” she adds quickly.

  “If it was a disaster, that’s on him, not you.” I’m 100% sure of it and I don’t even know what happened.

  A little crease forms between her brows as she pulls back. “How do you know?”

  To me, the answer’s obvious. “You’re single, aren’t you? Any man worth his salt would’ve moved heaven and earth to keep you.”

  The touched, appreciative look she gives me is powerful enough to make my heart skip a beat before she leans in and kisses me again. The erratic pounding in my chest echoes in my ears as she sucks my lower lip into her mouth, gently biting it.

  She might as well have pressed the fast forward button, because pretty soon my hand is between us, stroking her pussy through the cotton gusset of her tiny boy shorts. Her breath is coming in short, shallow gasps and stops all together when I slip my fingers inside her panties.

  “Oh, god,” she groans.

  Caroline is fucking soaked, and it’s got nothing to do with the water.

  I slide over her clit with ease, her silky soft wetness making my mouth water as I imagine tasting her, licking up her cunt and sucking her swollen clit into my mouth.

  “This is crazy. I’m not—” She swallows, talking faster the more I tease her. “I’m not the kind of girl who does this. I know I was dressed a certain way when you met me tonight, but that was for work. I’m not the kind of girl who jumps into bed with someone she’s just met.”

  No, she’s not. She’s special, and I should treat her as such. Trying to fuck her in this pool isn’t special.

  Hundreds of girls have probably been fucked in this pool, I realize slowly.

  My skin crawls as I sigh and pull out of her panties. “I do.”

  Dazed, she blinks before confusion sets in. “What?”

  “I do this kind of thing a lot,” I mumble.

  Caroline’s face slowly falls. “Oh,” she says, climbing off me.

  I might as well have sent her packing. There’s no way she’s going to want anything to do with me after this. “I’m not telling you this to scare you off, I’m just…trying to be honest with you,” I offer lamely.

  I just met this chick, but this is the realest thing I’ve ever felt. Being less than completely honest with her feels…wrong. I know jack shit about relationships, but I know better than to start one on a lie.

  She nods. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  God, why does that make me feel like such an asshole? She didn’t say it sarcastically. Her words weren’t laced with venom or disgust. But I feel like such a dick for disappointing her.

  Scratching my jaw, I try and think of how to salvage this. “In the vein of being honest, this isn’t about sex for me. Not with you.”

  She doesn’t look like she believes me, not in the slightest.

  Tilting her chin up, I force her to meet my eyes. “I like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else. If you’re up for it, I want to see where this goes.”

  Dropping her gaze, she mutters, “I’m pretty sure I know where it’s gonna go.”

  My thumb strokes her cheek. “That’s up to you. If you want to fuck me tonight, then I will gladly take you up on that offer, sweet Caroline.” I smile when she looks back up at me, telling her, “I’ll make you come so many times you’ll lose count. And if you don’t want to fuck me tonight, then that’s fine too. I’ll still want to see you tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…”

  She bites her lip, looking doubtful. “And then what? What happens when you go home? We try the long-distance thing? That rarely works, Ten.”

  Oh, shit. Up until this very moment, it never occurred to me that I’d be leaving in a couple of days. It’s like my brain refused to think about being someplace she wasn’t.

  Fuck.

  My smile slowly dies. “No. It doesn’t.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want this night to end. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and burst this little bubble with real life and all its complications.

  I want to stay in this moment with her forever.

  As soon as the thought enters my mind an idea occurs to me. It’s crazy, a little bit reckless, and I’m not even sure she’ll go for it, but I’m on board if she is. “What if we skip all that long-distance bullshit and go straight to the good stuff?”

  She narrows her eyes, confused. “What’s the good stuff? Sex?”

  Well, yes, but that’s not all I’m talking about.

  Climbing out of the pool, I lean down and hold out my hand. “C’mon. We’ve got a date with Elvis.”

  SEVEN

  Caroline

  “You can’t be serious,” I say, completely awestruck as we stand outside the Cartier shop in the hotel.

  Ten squeezes my hand before leading us inside. “As a heart attack.”

  My eyes bulge as we pass the glittering rows of encased jewels. I feel underdressed just being in here, and based on the expression of the guy behind the counter, I’m not the only one who feels this way.

  Can Ten even afford anything in here? I know he’s staying in a swanky suite, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s got money. He said he was here for work, so maybe his employer’s footing the bill.

  “Welcome,” the guy behind the counter says, although the tone in which he says it isn’t exactly welcoming. “What can I help you with this evening?”

  “We need wedding rings,” Ten says, beginning to pull out his wallet.

  Holy shit, he’s serious, and this is seriously getting away from me.

  How the fuck did I end up here? I just wanted to drink myself into oblivion and forget about this trainwreck of a week. Now I’m shopping for wedding rings? I feel like I took a wrong turn and ended up in The Twilight Zone. In fact, I have half a mind to look for Rod Serling, because that’s the only way any of this makes sense.

  Forcing a tight smile, I say, “Just a sec,” to the guy behind the counter and pull Ten aside. “Are you sure about this? You seriously want to get married?” I whisper-hiss. Frowning, it finally hits me. “How drunk are you?”

  I don’t know about him, but my drinks are definitely starting to catch up with me. The room is taking on a bit of a funhouse tilt and I’m not so sure I’m holding his hand because I want to. I’m pretty sure if I let go I’ll take a nosedive into this plush, cream carpet.

  Leaning in, he kisses my temple like he did earlier. “Drunk enough to want to kiss you, but sober enough to know that I want to say some vows before I do.”

  How am I supposed to remain in control of the situation when he goes and drops lines like that? They’re like little bombs that set the drunk butterflies in my tummy aflutter. “Are you always this smooth?”

  The side of his mouth hitches into a cocky grin. “Wait until Elvis pronounces us husband and wife and then you can see for yourself just how smooth I am.” He winks and my knees buckle.

 
Is it me, or did it just get twenty degrees hotter in here? I fight the urge to fan myself as I imagine the picture he’s painted.

  Oh my god, am I seriously considering this? I don’t even know this man. Shit, I don’t even know his middle name.

  Where will we live? Where does he live? And who will take care of my mom?

  Oh fuck. I’m going to have to explain to my mom that not only did I get married to a man I just met, but I didn’t even invite her to the wedding.

  Ten must notice my panicked look because he tilts my chin up and presses his lips to mine, stealing my breath and ability to think rationally. Time seems to speed up and slow down all at once, the background fading until it’s just white noise. He kisses me like his life depends on it, like the air in my lungs is all he needs to live.

  I feel his hands slide down my hips and curve around my ass. I’m just about to jump into his arms and wrap my legs around him when he pulls away, resting his head against mine. My lips still feel electric, his kiss still dancing across my skin.

  “Tell me you felt that,” he murmurs.

  I nod, unable to form coherent words.

  “Now tell me you’ve felt that with anyone else. I dare you.”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t.”

  His mouth curves into that cocky grin I’m beginning to love. “That’s how you know this is real.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “We’ll figure out the details later. Right now, I just want to get a ring on your finger so everyone knows you’re taken.”

  Heat creeps into my face as I nod in agreement, embarrassed at being so turned on in public. Jesus, I was ready to mount him right here and now…

  Ten pulls his wallet out and hands the guy a shiny black American Express card. His eyes go wide as he reads it, jerking his head back up to gape at Ten.

  “Mr. King, I—” He fumbles over his words, awkwardly straightening his tie. “It’s an honor to serve you. Please, look around. Would you like some champagne while you shop?”

  “I think we’ve had enough tonight. If we drink anymore, we might drown.”

  Laughter erupts out of me, which only makes Ten laugh. I clamp my mouth shut, suddenly realizing how obnoxious we’re being. “Shh,” I say. “We’re in Cartier,” I whisper rather loudly.

  Oh, no…

  I am fucking blitzed.

  EIGHT

  Tennessee

  Rings? Check.

  Marriage license? Check.

  After hitting up Cartier, we hailed a cab and headed downtown to the Clark County Marriage License Bureau, which Google informed me is conveniently open until midnight, 365 days a year. Guess they weren’t kidding when they named Vegas the “wedding capital of the world.”

  You’d think the people who work there have seen it all, but the woman behind the counter didn’t have much of a sense of humor. She didn’t think it was funny in the slightest when I asked Caroline for her last name while filling out the application.

  Thankfully Caroline thought it was funny. The last thing I want is her getting cold feet, especially since mine are toasty warm.

  At the altar, Elvis and I are waiting for the ceremony to begin. “From one king to another,” he drawls in his signature accent, “I’ve got to tell you what a huge fan I am. All of us here at the Palisades Hotel and Casino are honored to serve the new king of rock n’ roll on his wedding night.”

  As far as Elvis impersonators go, he’s pretty good. Looks like him before he got all bloated. And that’s either the best damn wig I’ve ever seen or that’s his real hair styled into a pompadour.

  “Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile at the grown man in the bedazzled white jumpsuit next to me.

  I’m always happy to meet a fan, but they pop up at some of the most inopportune times. Like the police officer who asked for my autograph after he arrested me for assault, or the girl who took a selfie with my unconscious body while I napped on a first class flight from New York to LA.

  Sometimes I just want the anonymity everyone else takes for granted. Tonight’s definitely one of those nights.

  Guilt eats at me the longer I think about it. Here I am wishing for more privacy when I’m about to rob Caroline of hers. Her life will never be the same after tonight and she has no idea what she’s signing up for.

  I’m a real bastard for doing this. Especially after all that shit I spouted off about being honest with her…

  Just when I contemplate finding her and telling her everything before it’s too late, “Can’t Help Falling In Love” starts playing through the chapel’s speakers. The double doors open and “Priscilla” starts walking down the aisle, sprinkling rose petals on the floor.

  Shit. In the words of Elvis, it’s now or never.

  I take a step in that direction, but stop dead when Caroline appears in the doorway. At least I think it’s Caroline. She’s wearing the same clothes but I don’t recognize the long mane of red curls framing her face.

  Dumbfounded, I watch her walk toward me. “What…?”

  She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, growing shy. “If you’re going to marry me, then it should be the real me. Not the girl I pretend to be when I’m dancing.”

  Yep, I’m officially the biggest asshole on the planet.

  And it’s just my fucking luck that she’s actually a redhead. They’re my kryptonite.

  Cupping her face, I rest my head against hers. “This, right here—this is what matters, right?”

  She nods.

  Encouraged, I kiss her forehead. “I’ve lived in the moment all my life, never once stopping to think of the consequences. It was selfish of me, but I figured it didn’t matter. The only person I was hurting was myself. But now… Now I’m not the only person who could get hurt. I may not have been the best person, but I promise you, sweet Caroline, I will be the best husband. If tomorrow comes and you’re only able to remember one thing from tonight, remember that.”

  It’s not the same as telling her the truth and I’m sure there’ll be hell to pay for it tomorrow, but right now I can’t not marry this girl. I just can’t.

  Caroline nods, smiling despite the tears welling in her eyes. “I will.”

  “Do you have any words you’d like to say, lil’ mama?”

  Elvis’s voice shatters our little bubble of bliss, reminding us that we’re not alone.

  “Oh, uh…” Caroline wipes at her eyes as Priscilla—our witness—offers to take the bouquet off her hands. “Thanks,” Caroline murmurs as she turns it over. Taking my hands in hers, she sniffles. “Ten, I— Thank you. Thank you for making my night and for showing me that there are still good people in the world. You were compassionate when you didn’t have to be and respectful when most guys wouldn’t have been. You’re a true gentleman, despite what you think.” She smiles at that before continuing. “I tend to be cynical most of the time, but I never once doubted your authenticity. And for the record, what we’re doing is absolutely insane…but I like your crazy. It matches mine.”

  The grin that splits my cheeks is so wide it almost hurts.

  “Who has the rings?” Elvis asks.

  Priscilla steps forward and hands him the rings. “Caroline, honey, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband for better or worse, in sickness and health, till death parts you?”

  “I do.”

  He hands me Caroline’s pavé diamond eternity band. “Go on and place that ring on your bride’s finger, son.”

  Holding her hand, I slip it on her ring finger.

  “And Tennessee, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife for better or worse, in sickness and health, till death parts you?”

  “Fuck yeah, I do.”

  He hands Caroline my platinum wedding band and she slides it on me. Neither one of us can stop smiling. We probably look like a couple of drunk idiots, but then again, we are.

  “By the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Go on and kiss your beautiful bride.”

&nbs
p; I pull her to me and kiss her as the opening chords of “Sweet Caroline” fill the chapel. She grins against my mouth but doesn’t stop kissing me.

  I hope she never does.

  NINE

  Caroline

  Ten carries me over the threshold of his penthouse suite. Not in the traditional way a groom carries a bride, but more in a “we were sucking face and he grabbed my ass and lifted me up” kinda way.

  But hey, it’s the thought that counts.

  My back hits the wall as he slowly lowers me, our lips parting for the first time since Elvis pronounced us husband and wife.

  He leans in, caging me in with his arms. His lips are dangerously close to mine as he murmurs, “Are you ready to consummate our marriage, Mrs. King?”

  Hell, yes.

  That damn lip ring is doing things to me—naughty, delicious things that have me feeling needy. Achy. And so fucking wet I can feel my panties clinging to my pussy as it practically weeps for this man.

  Somehow, I manage a nod and a meek, shaky, “Yes.”

  He smiles at the quiver in my voice, like he knows the effect he’s having on me. I’d be embarrassed, but I’m past the point of caring. With only a few words, some kisses, and a little heavy petting, Ten’s got me hooked like a junkie who needs their next fix.

  It’s so not fair.

  “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I can’t wait to sink my fat cock inside your tight little cunt.”

  His hot, dirty words flit across my jaw moments before his lips follow their path, kissing his way down to the pulse point in my neck. My breath catches as his warm, rough hand slides up my outer thigh, making goosebumps prick my skin in tingly waves of anticipation.

  “You’ve been teasing me all night with these shorts.” His deft fingers slip under the hem of my frayed denim, lightly tugging on the rough material. “The way they hug your ass and don’t quite cover these luscious cheeks…” Ten bites his lip, his hand snaking around to cup one. “Every time you bent over to bowl, I got quite a show.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut—not from embarrassment, although I should probably be mortified that he apparently got a “show” I wasn’t aware I was giving, but from the sheer amount of lust coursing through me. I’m pretty sure Ten could make me come without even touching my pussy.