Something has to be wrong with me. We must have broken something in my area because I can’t stop shaking. I’m so freaking exhausted I just want to curl up with a giant smile on my face for the rest of the night.
I’ve seen movies. I know things. I know what just happened is supposed to be the beginning, not the end, but gosh, I don’t know how much more I can take. No one ever warned me about the stamina needed for guys—men—like that. That part isn’t in the movies. Those women scream and pound on walls for hours. Neighbors complain, stuff gets busted. We didn’t even knock the charging phone off the bed.
I’m sore too. Not sure why because it felt so amazing while it was happening and now. Geez. They don’t tell you that part either. All that licking and sucking adds up I guess. I stare into the mirror and flinch at the knock.
“Hey. Sylvie?”
“I’ll be right out. Just, uh, brushing my teeth!” In his room with no toothbrush. Crap!
He doesn’t respond right away, and I feel terrible. My Gypsy prince doesn’t deserve this. He definitely doesn’t deserve to be left on the bed alone with his, uh, erection. Am I really blushing just thinking the word? Speaking of that.
WTH?! I don’t know where my sudden bravery came from, but all of a sudden, it just clicked. Granny Smiths, bobbing, total aha! moment, and I wasn’t even embarrassed! He does something to me, makes me so comfortable that I stopped thinking right then. Forgot that I was Sylvie Drake, university virgin, and turned into some sex goddess porn star apparently.
He seemed to enjoy whatever it was I did, but I’m not sure I remember enough to repeat it. I just started with the apple thing and liked it. More specifically, I liked that he liked it. Hearing his groans, feeling the power I had over his body, it drove some untamed she-wolf out of me. And I think I might even still be a virgin! Not sure of the technicalities on that. Shandor will know if he forgives me enough to interpret.
I draw in air, lots of it, and tentatively reach for the door. Plastering a grin on my face, I brace myself and—the alcove is empty. My heart constricts when I realize he must have given up. Am I about to lose him because he was too good to me?
He looks up when I walk in. He’s still naked but perched casually on the edge of the bed. His silent doubt cuts into me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, lowering myself beside him. I hate how he instinctively shifts away, but I can’t blame him.
He draws in a breath, eyes searching. “Did I do something wrong, Sylvie?”
“No! No.” I claim one of his hands and close the gap again. “No, it was amazing. It’s just—it was a lot.”
I lean against him, lacing our fingers and even kissing the connection for good measure.
His gaze fixes on the wall, but he doesn’t pull away.
“We should finish you,” I say as a peace offering.
The slightest hint of a smile peeks through his dark features. “Yeah?”
I clear my throat. Oh no. Did he think that was funny? I thought for sure that was a thing.
“Yeah, I mean…” My voice trails off from losing all confidence in my medical instruction.
“You mean what?”
My stupid eyes dart to his penis, then back to their favorite pattern on the floor.
“Nothing.”
It’s a full-on grin now, white teeth forgiving me for following up a beautiful moment with a hundred-yard-dash.
“And yet, clearly dick-related. So let’s hear it.”
I groan, but when he tugs gently on our clasped hands, I know he’s not going to let it go. Of course, there’s also the fact that I owe him a grand humiliation after what I’d just done to him.
“Okay, don’t laugh, but can’t you die from that?”
He just stares at me.
“From that,” I clarify, pointing to his crotch.
“From a penis? I don’t think so.”
My face is on fire. “No, not that, the—the erection. Like, if you don’t come, it’ll kill you or something?”
His eyes, ugh. I hide my face as he laughs so hard I can’t help but join him.
“You’re serious! Oh my god.”
“I heard it somewhere!”
His laughter is addictive, and I bite my lip because I’m supposed to be angry at his teasing. Finally, he draws in a deep breath and faces me. Taking my hands, his amusement fades into an expression of grave warning. “Sylvie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. You’re right. I am absolutely going to die if you don’t jerk me off.”
It’s been a while since I’ve woken up with a woman in my room. Don’t get me wrong. I have my trysts when I want them. I tour for a living though, and I’m subject to my artists’ schedules. Usually, I share a hotel room with someone, and when I don’t, I’m on a tour bus. When I need some love, I wedge in an intimate hour or two at a girl’s place or an after-party. All that’s to say that wow, it’s different to find Sylvie in my bed.
She’s still asleep, lashes fluttering in dream. I catch myself going goopy and hoping she dreams about me. A small snort escapes me as I think of her efforts to jerk me off last night. At first, she’d been a vision sitting on my face. It was the way she approaches all things: unaware of this feminine force of nature she is to people around her. Or is it just to me?
When she returned from the bathroom, she was back to shy and awkward, yet absolutely irresistible. My nuts throbbed so hard I considered icing them down, for a moment.
Keeping a straight face, I told her she was right: I would die if she didn’t take care of me. She rolled her eyes and called me “silly,”—Silly? Me?—but proceeded to grabbing my penis so daintily I barely even felt her touch.
It did something to my brain. Fired off impulses that shot straight south. Oh I was already enthused, but out of nowhere I was more enthused than I’d been in my entire life. What the fuck? I was so shamefully ready that Sylvie didn’t even have to work for it. Was it five seconds or a minute later that I blew all over her hands?
Ah, the expression on her face. Surprise and delight and disgust and—pride! She was fucking full of herself after that. Who’d have guessed?
“Shandor?” I’m pulled back from my daydreaming. Her voice is soft from slumber. “Do we have water?”
“Um. Yes, hold on.” I get up, stalk to the fridge, and grab a bottle of hotel water. “Here, babe.”
Oh geez. I just babed her. Get a grip, lover boy.
She fumbles up into a sitting position. All that pink-blonde-turquoise hair. It’s beautifully disheveled. With mascara tinting the lower part of her eye, she blinks a little before she can see me. Then she starts to shake her head.
“Nu-huh. That stuff’s expensive. Is that VOSS? Don’t—I can drink tap water.”
“No, you can’t. You’re in a foreign country, a tropical one at that. The bacteria aren’t the same as at home, so you’d run the risk of getting a stomach bug.”
“Are you a doctor too?” she teases but accepts my offering. “Or, like, a marine biologist or something?” I have no idea if marine biologists work on potable water. I think not.
“To you, I’m both.” I bite my lip and wink. It makes her redden, so I relieve her of the bottle and sink in under the covers again.
I caress her stomach. She sucks it in, self-conscious. Oh hell, her reactions destroy me. It’s like she was created specifically to throw every cell in my body into attack mode. I trail downward, feeling smooth flesh beneath my fingers.
“Gah, don’t do that,” she says though she’s sliding her thighs apart. I doubt that she’s aware of her moves. Addictive.
“Why not?”
“You’re just going to make me all weird again.”
“As in?”
“Hot—”
“Yeah, that wasn’t my doing. You’re hot as hell all on your own.”
She giggles, even m
ore rosy-cheeked now that I’m descending, tickling the soft little triangle over her holiest.
“Hot, what else?” I sweet-talk.
“Hot and fluffy down there…”
“Not sure where you mean. Here?” My fingers locate already-swelling lips and an inviting cleft.
“Oopsie!”
Did I mention that her responses slay me?
“So delectably fluffy,” I sigh out, while her breath stutters. I lower our sheets a little so I can see her breasts. Unconsciously, she covers them with an arm but then she thinks better of it and drops her block slowly. I lean in and lick the closest nipple. It’s not enough. I suckle it into my mouth, feasting on her, and Sylvie lets out a quiet little squeak.
“Babe.” Shit. The word fits her too well. “Do you want to finish what we started last night?” I pull back enough to find her eyes. Women change their minds on stuff nonstop, and this is a big deal. I’m not going to take something she’s not ready to give me. “Only if you want to.”
I watch her mouth, slack from my touch. It curls into a slow smile that’s completely free of doubt. “Yeah. I’d like that very much.”
“You trust me?” I whisper. Below me, she arches against me. She’s a wave, needing my hands on her.
“Yes... please.”
“I don’t understand,” I murmur. “You want it all? Is that what you’re saying?” My own breath speeds up.
“Maybe…”
“Hmm, I think it’ll have to be all or nothing, babe,” I joke, “and you need to be sure. Since you’re not…” I act like I’m pulling away.
“No! I do—I know that I do, so totally.” Two small hands grab my shoulders and tug me over her. Her mouth seeks mine, open, ready, willing, wanting. “Gimme,” she adds to destroy me some more.
I pull her close to my body. Soak in her warmth. I nudge myself against her, making her moan, and she was suddenly born for what we’re about to do. She doesn’t like it when I have to let go, find my wallet, and dress myself to love her. She understands though, waiting impatiently as I rip the packet open and roll on the condom.
“It’s going to hurt.”
“I know…”
“You still want it?”
“Yes!”
I hold Sylvie’s stare as I join us. Her pupils widen with that first, controlled stab. I read pain. Astonishment. As I move us, lust—tentative but pure—clears the distress from her features, and just for a second, I shut my eyes so I can control my pleasure. It’s all-consuming. Love-fire wild.
“Ah.”
Nineteen. The number of texts I missed from Holland. Five. The number of calls. 7:16 a.m. The latest timestamp of her attempts. I don’t have a number for empty hotel room door knocks, but I’m going to guess that’s on the list. Calls to authorities? Let’s hope none.
In case it isn’t obvious, I got lost in Shandor after we left the venue. Like, legit effin’ lost and now my sister probably thinks I’m dead. I do feel badly about that, imagining my poor mom sobbing over the fine china as she sets it out for the funeral guests. Dad may or may not skip the Leafs game. Depends if it has playoff implications. Hannah and little Emma are a toss-up because they hate me half the time. Yeah, they’d do a funeral.
My family: the only reason I show up to breakfast this morning.
I slip into the room and scoop mini omelets and French toast sticks on my plate. Also, pineapple, because yum. They aren’t serving alcohol at the morning buffet or else I’d be breaking that rule too, because let’s face it, I’m already dead at this point. Mom should probably just get that china out after all.
“Sylvie! Oh my god!”
The entire room watches Holland run to me like she’d received news I’d drowned on the Titanic, but bam! Here I am to help run the farm.
That lasts exactly fourteen seconds.
“What the hell, Sylvie?”
“Sorry.”
She drops across from me, her face all you’re-about-to-die-but-I-still-have-to-know-why-I’m-killing-you.
“I should have called. I know, I know. I met a friend and we lost track of time.”
“A friend? What kind of friend? Where is she?”
I humor her with a glance around the room. “Not here.” He’s not.
“What’s her name?”
“Shand…a.”
“Shanda?”
“Um. Yes. She’s Polish.”
“What?”
“From Warsaw.”
Gosh, I’m the worst liar on the planet. My sister knows that.
“Uh-huh. What’s his name, Sylvie?”
“I said Shand—”
“Sylvie.”
“Ugh! Fine!” I throw in an eye roll too because it’s so not a big deal, right? Adults do stuff all the time. I’m an adult. Non-virgin and everything. “It’s actually Shandor.”
“Shandor? What kind of name is that?”
“Gypsy.”
“Gypsy? Are you serious? You’re fucking serious. Where were you last night, Sylvie? Tell me now or I’m sending you home. Were you with this Gypsy?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Not like what?”
“I don’t know, whatever you’re implying.”
“Did you spend the night in his room?”
“Not all of it.” CRAA-AAP.
I’m so afraid for her eyes right now. Those veins are not equipped for that expression.
“Did you…” She leans close and whisper-yells. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Sleep, yes.”
“And?”
I shrug. “I’m an adult, Holland.” We’ve established that, right? She obviously doesn’t think so.
“Did you have sex with him?”
No.
No, I did not.
No. No. No.
“Maybe.”
“Hey, babe. Have you…” Luke freezes as the death stare turns on him.
“Sit,” she commands.
If I weren’t about to die, I’d snicker at the look of genuine terror on his face. “Maybe it’s better if I go find Case and…”
“No. You’re needed. Sit your perfect ass down!”
Luke shoots me an apologetic look and obeys. “Okaaay?”
My adoring sister grabs his coffee from his hand and slams it on the table.
“Sylvie here was just explaining to me why we couldn’t track her down last night. Apparently, she hooked up with some random guy.”
“He wasn’t random. He’s Shandor... X-something,” I add, which apparently doesn’t help my case.
“I warned you about this. I told you the guys here are used to easy lays and would go after you.”
“I wasn’t just a lay for him. He was super sweet. When he found out I was a virgin—”
O.M.G. I suck at this.
“Oh HELL no! You were still a virgin? What about Dimples Dan from high school? You two held hands for four years and never consummated that fairytale romance?”
Sarcasm looks way better on our sister Hannah, but I’m still acquainted with Holland’s.
“Actually, no. Missy Fellowitz got in the way.”
She shakes off the tangent. “So let me get this straight. You lost your virginity to some Gypsy named Shandor X whom you knew for all of an hour.”
“Longer.”
“How long?”
“Um… what time did we get here?”
“My god! Say something!” she barks at Luke who looks so helpless I feel worse for him than myself.
“Did you… were you safe?” he mutters, earning himself a hard stare.
I think it’s the best question so far. I have to shrug, though, because I’m pretty sure we were, but also still confused about that first half. “Well, for the main part, yes.”
�
�The main part?” Holland’s back to ranting.
Is it evil that I’m starting to enjoy myself at this point?
“He gave me a blow job too.”
Luke spits out coffee. “I should go.”
“Sit,” Holland glares at her boyfriend, whose longing gaze shifts to the NSB table in the far corner.
Holland is more practical. “You don’t have a penis.”
“Well, whatever the girl version of a blow job is,” I clarify.
Holland presses exasperated fingers into her cheeks. Luke wipes the table with a napkin.
“So he went down on you. Is that it? Nothing else?”
I bite my lip, starting to get embarrassed. “Well, no. I mean we did the rest of it this morning.”
“The rest?”
“The penis part. The main part.”
“Oh my… Sylvie! Are you insane?”
“It was really fast,” I defend. “In and out. Like a minute.”
Luke is just full-on choking now.
“This is not funny,” Holland snaps at him.
He shakes his head, eyes wide in earnest agreement, even though he still can’t speak from suppressed laughter. Geez, he’s actually crying. I’m afraid he’s going to pass out.
“You! You need to find this Shandor and talk to him,” Holland continues, and his firm “no” shake transforms into a “yes”.
“Clearly,” he manages through snorts. “Because, one minute. Damn!”
Mariana wanted bridge pickups with side-by-side coils and twin-blade construction for her guitar. “Less twang, more chunk,” she said. “They’ve got them at most Guitar Centers.”
Of course the Guitar Center doesn’t exist here—the island is too small—but I told her I’d do my best. I wish their tour manager had come along. He’d have taken care of this mess instead of having me run off like an idiot before breakfast.
Now I’m back and hungry as all get-out. Awesome sex combined with an early morning outing will do that. I buzz Aishe all the while crossing fingers that the buffet’s still open.
Sylvie + Shandor (Rocker Shenanigans Book 1) Page 6
