Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2)

by Virna DePaul

  “If he invites you into the room, are you gonna go?” Rosemary asked, nervously scanning our increasingly party-atmosphere surroundings.

  People flitted every which way. I felt like a frog trying to cross the street. I scooted back to let a dark, brunette exotic dancer by. Her gold bangles shook as she walked.

  “I don’t know. Not sure I want to see what’s in there,” I admitted.

  “I get that. But it would be a tremendous honor, don’t you think? Him letting you into his private circle.” Rosemary’s eyebrows did that Spock thing.

  “I suppose so.”

  Just then, Liam’s friend Helen strolled by with a few other girls, all wearing Feel the Burn concert T-shirts. She spotted me hovering near the center of the action and gave a gentle scoff, elbowing her friends, who all looked over as well. Great, high school all over again. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up? Waiting for Liam?”

  “Not really,” I answered, not caring to tell her what was up. Though the way she asked the question made me think that Liam had already told her what was up. Besides, why else would I be standing here like a fish out of water? An uncool, nerdy fish. With Rosemary, the Taylor Swift of giraffes off the prairie.

  “Oh.” She laughed with her friends. “He’s probably inside already.” Then she mumbled something I couldn’t hear, though it didn’t take a neurobiologist to understand what she probably said, considering that was the room where free blow jobs were being handed out like water bottles. She gestured toward the VIP room, though I hadn’t seen him enter, and I’d been standing here since the last set finished.

  She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it. Was she texting him?

  At that very moment, Wes and Corbin strolled by in their ripped jeans, tattoo-covered arms, and open shirts showing off smooth, tanned chests. Then, I spotted him. Liam and Tucker came running up behind them, bouncing up off the floor, and using Wes’s and Corbin’s shoulders as springboards. “Yeeeaaahhhhhh!” Liam cried, landing and sliding along the floor. Tucker tumbled, and Liam helped him up with a strong hand.

  I looked at Helen. He was inside already, huh? If I didn’t know better, someone was trying to thwart my presence backstage. As expected, she looked away.

  The four of them were having a moment of brotherhood bonding, while Rosemary and I talked about music and pretended not to be privy. But I could clearly hear what Tucker was saying to Liam. “What do you mean, you’re not gonna hang out with us?”

  “I’m just tired, dude.”

  “Tired from what, relaxing all fucking day yesterday? Bro, we didn’t see you yesterday, we barely saw you today, and now you’re taking off again.” Tucker slapped Liam’s arm, urging him to join them for some fun, and secretly, I prayed that he’d decline again. I knew it was probably hard for him to tell his buddies no, but I needed to know where I fit into his life—if I fit into it at all.

  “He doesn’t know you’re here,” Rosemary pointed out over the noise, shielding me.

  “I know. It’s so awkward,” I whispered back.

  “Come on, man,” Wes said, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Just chill with us. Have a drinky drink. It’s cool if you’re in love.” He laughed, bumping elbows with Corbin.

  “In love? Man, please,” Corbin said, taking a hit of what appeared to be weed, judging by the smell of the smoke. “We’re almost in Vancouver. That shit will end like a brick against a wall.”

  “Yeah, man. Wait till Giselle finds out he spent the day with Asian Persuasion,” Tucker said.

  “Why would she find out?” Wes asked rhetorically.

  “Dude, call her Asian Persuasion one more time…just one more time…” Liam pushed his face right into Tucker’s, and my heart sped up from the sheer adrenaline of his words and the tone of his voice.

  “You heard that?” Rosemary asked me.

  “Yes.” Nervously, I chugged from my water bottle.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Tucker said, putting on sunglasses and walking toward the VIP room. “I forgot you can’t take a joke. Perhaps you’d prefer the name Ball and Chain instead?” He laughed, bending and shaking his head at his own joke.

  It happened fast.

  Liam lunged at Tucker, grabbing him from behind and slamming him against a wall. Tucker fell back and swung out, clocking Liam in the temple, and in the nanosecond it took for Liam’s face to rebound back to center, his eyes met mine. Then he was back to pummeling Tucker. Everyone scrambled to stop them, and soon, they were surrounded by bandmates, Robbie, and a bunch of roadies trying to stop the fight.

  Rosemary tugged on my arm in alarm. “They’re fighting about you.”

  “What do we do?” I asked.

  “Did you hear me? They’re fighting about you.”

  They were. Fighting about me. Liam had stood up on my behalf to his best friend, while Helen, Corbin, Wes, Robbie, and a multitude of others watched in disbelief. He did it for me, because of me. If he didn’t care about me, he wouldn’t have bothered. He may have even laughed at the joke and brushed it off.

  I was in awe.

  Helen materialized from the middle of the crowd. “God, she’s right there, loser,” she said to Liam, pointing at me.

  Liam came out of the crowd, his face a scratchy mess with a horizontal bloody mark on his forehead. He ambled toward me, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to do, where I belonged. Then I remembered last night, the special time we’d shared. That was real. And something that didn’t go away just because the sun came up.

  “Let’s go,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me out of the madness.

  Rosemary smiled and gave me a thumbs-up, and off I went with Liam.

  *

  Twenty minutes later, we were in a private room on the opposite side of the venue, away from the circus madness that was a rock show after party. Liam locked the door behind us and dropped onto a leather sofa. Inside the lounge was a mirror, two more comfy sofas, and several vending machines.

  “Are you okay?” I sat down next to him and hugged him tightly.

  He nodded. “Just Tuck being a drunken dick. I’m kind of over it.”

  “Why does he care if you like me?”

  “He doesn’t care. Not really. But he might be scared it’ll mean the end of us as buddies, as wingmen, I bet. Don’t take it personally. Please.” His hands smoothed down my hair and back. One hand reached into the back of my shirt, maybe just to feel the warmth of my skin.

  “I’m not. I mean, I don’t know what to think.” It was frightening to consider that I might be coming between him and his friends. I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for friction. “Liam?” I asked, my cheek against his chest. His heartbeat raced within. “What are we doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, is this what you want? I don’t think I fit into your life.”

  “Says who?” He pushed my shoulders back gently to look at me. “Why would you say that? You fit just fine.”

  “Liam, just look at us. You, the highly wanted, high-profile lead singer of a famous rock band, and me…the backup cellist. Your friends are going to make fun of me. Your friend Helen makes fun of me.”

  He shot me a wary eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

  “A girl just knows.” I sighed, laying my head back down. “What I’m saying is…what if we see more of each other? If that ever happens, it’s going to come at a cost. The first one being that your friends will give you shit for it.”

  “Listen to you, cursing and all. I love it.” He chuckled, his chest reverberating against my eardrum. His arms held me tighter. We remained in this tight embrace for a while. I loved the silence that came with us wherever we went, the way we carved out time for each other amid the craziness. But I still sensed some hesitation and fear buried deep in his voice. “Abby, eventually we might have to nail things down, but for right now, let’s keep this simple, okay?”

  I hesitated. Simple. Was he serious? There was nothing simple about us spending time
together. Every time we did, I fell for him even more. But saying that would scare him, and I didn’t want to scare him. I wanted to give what we could be together a chance. So I said, “okay.”

  I almost asked him about Giselle, about his plans now that we were going to Vancouver. I needed to know where I stood. It was okay if he wanted to see her, but I needed to safeguard my heart if he did. Put up an iron wall and set up lots of cannons. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t be mad—I just wanted up-front honesty. However, the scent of his body and the salty taste of his skin where I started to kiss him—his neck, his collarbone—drove me into a tizzy, reminding me all about last night.

  “I don’t care if they give me shit.” He sighed, leaning back farther, arms tightly clamped around me. “And I don’t care if I miss the after-party blow jobs. Since I met you, they don’t even tempt me.”

  “What if they start to again?” I asked.

  “Then I’ll tell you.”

  His words sent a surge of trust through me. I didn’t know if he really meant it or not, but it sounded true. Maybe this life did come with an expiration date. Maybe he was getting tired of it all. But that was no reason why a different kind of fun couldn’t begin. I raised my chin to kiss him, and he accepted it with an even deeper kiss of his own, his mouth and skin tasting so delicious, it sent a wave of warmth into my panties.

  “Who said you wouldn’t be getting a blow job?” I asked, my fingers on his zipper.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Liam

  I’d be lying if I said I’d never had a good blow job before. Of course I had. Women had been coming backstage to our shows for five years now. There were bound to be loads (pun intended) of excellent ones. And yeah, a few stood out in my memory as mind-blowing (heh, heh).

  But none of them had come from a woman like Abby.

  From the moment she pulled down my zipper, I knew I was going to experience something sweeter, softer, cleaner, more elegant. Abby did not ravage me with sheer force, slurping and sucking like a porn star. She didn’t pose in self-aware ways, putting her butt up in the air, pressing her boobs together, or looking up at me from under heavily painted eyes. It wasn’t a show for my benefit, and she wasn’t on exhibit. It was simply a gift—a gift so I’d feel good, relax after the fight with Tuck, and that meant more to me than anything.

  Her dark lips took me in, all the way at first, then back again, concentrating on just the head, sucking and twisting me in her mouth so slowly I thought I would explode within the first few strokes. She kept her eyes down, as if I weren’t invited to this party, as if this were a date between just her and my cock, as she examined it from all angles and tasted it from all different sides. I threw my head back and closed my eyes.

  Holding me in one hand, she ran her hot tongue, flat and even, along the shaft to the head of my cock, feeling the curve of the bulge. Then she slowed and concentrated right on the underside, rubbing her tongue over and over on the crown while occasionally wrapping her mouth around the whole head to suck gently. Holy God in heaven. Most women got so wrapped up in jerking my cock, so hard it sometimes hurt, and they forgot this sweet spot entirely. Yet here was Abby, and though I had no idea how many times she’d done this before, she was enjoying this as though it were a gift for herself.

  I looked up and groaned, pushing a hand into her hair, holding her in place. “Right there, Abby…so good…”

  It was then that she looked up, and I nearly lost it. Her eyes watched my face, gauged my pleasure, as she tried several different moves with her tongue, all the way testing to see how I’d react with each one. “Is that okay?” she asked.

  So fucking cute. “More than okay. Perfect, so perfect…” I said.

  She smiled slightly and bowed her head, her sexy eyes turning downward again. “Good, ’cause I like it, too.” She shifted her body weight toward my searching hand. My fingers found her upper thighs and ass, which I massaged through her pants, but it wasn’t enough, and I sat up to undo them, while she continued sucking on me. “Don’t you want this?” she mumbled.

  “I do want this, but I want you to feel good, too. I have to make you feel good.”

  She shifted to her knees on the floor between my legs, giving me an even better view of her sucking me off, and I took the opportunity to slide my hand down into her panties, all the way until I found that sweet spot, so hot and wet and wanting me. My God, she really was enjoying it, too. I couldn’t help it and plunged my fingers into her, using my thumb to rub her clit at the same time.

  She moaned, her eyes flying open to look at me again through a lustful gaze, as her body pushed against my hand. She sucked deeper on my cock, got sloppy, and it was beautiful, because it was coming from her desire for more, not from a need to impress me. The more I rubbed her, the less calculated her movements became, and she just sucked with wild abandon in rhythm with my fingers. As one hand stroked my cock in tandem with her mouth, the other pressed down on my hand, guided it, showed me how to please her by pressing down on her clit with two fingers while she moved in circles.

  Instinctively, I moved my hips and pushed my cock farther into her mouth, wanting to feel the back of her throat, wanting her to look at me with those fucking sexy eyes right when I did it, but she was so engrossed in what she was doing, it was like she was lost in another world.

  “Look at me,” I said.

  She did, dark eyes finding mine.

  “I think I’m falling for you, Abby.”

  She blinked slowly. Her lips worked me sweetly, lovingly.

  Her hand gripped mine and pushed harder, grinding my fingers against her pussy until her legs tightened, and her mouth opened. My cock pushed against her open mouth, her groaning mouth, her coming, gasping mouth, as she cried out, and her whole being hung suspended. I felt waves of pure ecstasy ripple through her. I felt her muscles contracting against my fingers, and I felt an adoration I’d never felt before, as she sucked on me as she came, and made me come, too.

  Into her mouth. She took it, tasted it, and yes, swallowed it, then she collapsed her head into my lap and fell into a sleep-like trance so deep I was afraid of speaking to disrupt it. We lay like this for several minutes, and I thought about how perfect life would be if I had her with me every day to share.

  But sharing my days on the road? While on tour? Making her share me with my bandmates and screaming fans? God, was it even possible?

  Hearing the voices of others far away, as if in another realm, I thought about how we had to get going, how the venue people would begin cleaning up soon. I wanted so much to bring her with me on the bus ride to Vancouver. Any groupie would’ve given her right arm to come with us, but it was for that reason Abby probably wouldn’t want to. Moreover, she’d probably want to ride with her string section because she wouldn’t want to ignore her friend, was sensible and practical, and didn’t usually do the obvious, impulsive thing that I so desperately wanted her to.

  “Ab? I know you might not think it’s a good idea, but…”

  She took my hand and held it close to her face, inhaling the scent of my skin. “Can I stay with you tonight?” Lazily, she cracked open her eyes to peer at me with a gentle smile. “I think I’m falling for you, too, Liam.”

  *

  It was late, and the guys were mostly drunk when I slipped Abby onto our sleeper bus. The smuggling did not go unnoticed by Helen, however, who watched from her group of last-minute smokers just outside their ready-to-depart buses. She gave me a quick but obvious glare as I led Abby in, but I couldn’t stop to think about it. Helen always seemed to have some problem or another lately, and honestly, it was getting kind of bullshit.

  In the feeble light of the bus, Abby pushed her cello case under my bunk and crawled into my bed. I spooned behind her, covering her with my blanket. She settled in for the short ride to Vancouver. We’d arrive in about three hours and could move to our hotel suites for the rest of the day if we wanted to, though the band and I sometimes just kept sleeping on the bus like old
times.

  “This feels strange.” There was a smile in her voice.

  “What does?” I breathed in her intoxicating scent, still new and mesmerizing to me.

  “This. Just last week, I imagined myself working your show, spending free time with Rosemary and the others, and getting paid until the tour was over. Get in, get out.”

  “And now?”

  “And now…I’m in the bed of the band’s lead singer, someone I never imagined myself ever being with. I thought you’d be brash, bad for me, making poor choices, and being a general…”

  “What? Say it.”

  “Douchebag.”

  “Ouch! That’s worse than jerk and asshole but not as bad as motherfucker. Fine, I’ll take it.” I smiled into her hair. “But to be fair, I never saw myself with you either.”

  “Is that a good or bad thing? Tell me what you envisioned,” she whispered, her voice like a stained glass nightlight in the darkness.

  “Well…I envisioned kicking ass then partying like I usually do, getting drunk every night to cover up the fact that, despite people surrounding me at all times when we’re on tour, I’m actually pretty goddamned lonely.”

  “That’s sad, Liam. I’m sorry,” she said, stroking my arm with a light touch. “But I feel the same. I mean, aside from Samuel…”

  “Samuel?”

  “My ex-boyfriend. I was with him for four years until a couple weeks ago. I haven’t known any other guy except him. And you want to know the sad thing?” she asked. “I was more lonely when I was with him than when we broke up. I’d just reached a point where I had no idea why I was with him anymore, other than out of habit.”

  I nodded and thought about how familiar that sounded. “I agree. My buddies are awesome, don’t get me wrong…they’ll be there for me if I need them. But there’s always that feeling…that at the end of the day, the only person you can really count on is yourself. Abby, I don’t trust most women I meet. You have to know that. For me to let one this close to my heart is pretty fucking rare.”