Who I'm Becoming

by S. Q. Williams

  “Montana, where have you dragged me to?” I asked as he bent inside.

  “My place. Thought we could catch up… if you get my drift.” His right cheek lifted in a wicked smirk. I, grabbing the hand he offered, laughed and stepped out of the car. Once we were on the pavement, the valet pulled off, and we turned to face the building.

  Montana walked inside with my hand in his. We walked through the lobby, and he pressed the elevator button. It wasn’t a short ride up. I assumed he lived on one of the top floors. Once we reached his floor, he pulled out a bundle of keys from his pocket and stuffed one into the lock of the door. He opened the door and stuck out his arm, welcoming me inside. As I stepped past him, my eyes scanned the room. His place was far more modern than I imagined—Coffee-brown leather sofas, a marble bar counter in the corner, and the same marble running along the kitchen counters.

  My shoes clicked across the floor as Montana walked ahead of me and flipped a light switch. A dim light illuminated the room, and he sighed, slipping out of his denim vest.

  “This is your place?” I asked, studying the lights and lamps. He had chandeliers for heaven’s sake. Couches that I’m sure he didn’t pick out himself. “You had to have a designer do all this. Did you?”

  He laughed. “Oh, what? You think I don’t have good taste?”

  “I think a guy like you wouldn’t waste his time putting a place like this together. All a guy in band needs is a couch, a room for his instruments, maybe a bed for sleeping or messing around in, and that’s about it.”

  He knocked his head back, releasing a throaty chuckle before lowering his head again. “You think we’re all the same.”

  “You all pretty much are.” I shrugged.

  “And how would you know that, Princess?” He walked towards me, reeling me in by the waist. The tip of his nose ran across my cheek, and I stiffened in his arms. He vibrated with laughter.

  “I’m just assuming.” I was lying. I knew a good amount of information about rock stars; most of them were the same in some kind of way.

  “Assumptions are deadly…” His voice was low. His lips were now near my ear. He smelled nice and manly. All I wanted to do was cling to him, breathe him in, and engulf his lips, but I held back.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  He dipped his head back, looking down at me. “I’ve got a question…”

  “Yeah?”

  He pulled away a little, giving himself enough space to see my entire face. “Have you ever smoked weed before?”

  I frowned. That wasn’t the kind of question I was expecting. “Um… no. Never.”

  One of his eyebrows lifted. “May I ask why?”

  “I’ve never found it intriguing.”

  He nodded, lips pressing. “Would you ever… try it?”

  I blinked. “It depends…”

  “On?”

  “Where I am and who I’m surrounded by.”

  “What if it’s just me…?” He revealed a soft smile.

  “You have pot here?” I whispered, as if someone could hear me.

  He lifted his shoulders. “I like to get high, what can I say?”

  I laughed. “And you want me to get high with you?”

  “Look, weed isn’t as bad as it seems, I swear. Just imagine this: You’re having a stressful-ass day. Everything seems to be going to shit, and you’re about to lose your shit in like two point five seconds because nothing’s going the way it’s supposed to. Instead of losing your shit, you know there’s a way to calm down… and that way is taking a few hits from a joint… mellowing out…”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “It’s one way I stay calm and collected.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” I asked.

  “Nah. I only smoke here or around the boys. I’m not dumb enough to take it out with me in public. Although, I can’t lie, sometimes I do.”

  I nodded. I was still hesitant. I’d been around plenty of people that smoked pot (and snorted other things of the sort), but I’d never done it myself. For some reason, pot and I were never on the same page. People I cared for smoked it, and frankly, it only made them lazy and self-centered. I didn’t want to become that.

  But then I looked at Montana, and he was far from lazy or self-centered. He was chill… he was a cool guy. It didn’t seem like he let much get to him, and pot may have played a big factor in that. I started to wonder what pot would do to me, how it would make me act.

  “I’m not pressuring you,” he said, taking my hand and leading the way to the sofa. “I just think it would be fun, and it might sound weird, but I wanna see you get high. I’m sure it’s hilarious.”

  We sat down, and I shook my head, drawing in a breath. “I’ll try it… with you. I trust you.”

  He looked me over as I said the word trust, his eyes big and glossy. It took him a while to pull himself together, but when he did, he nodded and reached under his coffee table, pulling out a tin box with blue spaceships on it. I laughed at the sight of it. “Spaceships?” I asked.

  “And clouds,” he pointed out. “Trust me. You’ll be feeling like you’re in space once it hits you. Best feeling ever.” He took out a colorful handheld bowl and a small baggy of green stuff that I assumed was the pot. He began to open the bag, but paused immediately, narrowing his eyes at me. “Hold up… I feel like a terrible influence right now,” he said, his voice abrupt.

  I shook my head. “No. I want to try it! I swear. Plus, I’m an adult. If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t.”

  “Alright.” His voice was uncertain. “Just don’t wanna take too much of that adorable innocence out of you.”

  I kissed his cheek. He smiled. “You won’t,” I murmured. “I’ll always be innocent for you.”

  His smile was boyish, and with those words, he finished what he was doing. After stuffing the bowl and pulling out a lighter, he held it to his lips and lit it, inhaling hard and deep. I watched him, hoping I’d be able to pull and release as smoothly as he did.

  He handed the bowl to me carefully, cupping his hands around it. “Do it nice and slow. Don’t try and inhale too hard. You’ll be coughing all over the place.”

  I nodded, bringing it to my lips. I pulled softly at first, but it wasn’t enough, so he told me to do it a little harder. I think I did too hard because as soon as the smoke hit my throat, I gasped and choked, pulling the bowl away from my lips and sputtering. Montana fought a laugh, hitting me on the back to help me.

  My eyes watered as I sat back up, smiling like a goof. “Oh my gosh! It’s so strong.”

  “Strong is the best.”

  My head shook as I cleared my eyes. “Okay… let me try it again.”

  An amused smile appeared on his face, and he quickly handed me the bowl. The second time I did okay. He cheered for me like I was baby taking my first steps. Honestly, that’s what it felt like. He was a pro, and I was nothing in comparison. He inhaled and released smoke through his lips and nostrils as if it didn’t bother him one bit.

  About five minutes passed before I really started feeling it. Montana sat forward, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. As he looked at me, he burst out laughing, his eyes low and heavy. “You’re slumped,” he teased.

  “What do you mean by that?” Oh… goodness. I could hardly speak. My entire face felt lazy—hell, my entire body felt lazy. Moving wasn’t even in the question. If I were told to move, I wouldn’t have.

  “Slumped… like stuck. I don’t think you’re gonna feel like moving from there for a while.”

  I shook my head and laughed uncontrollably. “Probably not. Ohh… this is bad. Is that bad?”

  He laughed. “It’s not bad. This is just some good shit.” He turned slightly and laid back to place the back of his head on the center of my lap. I looked down at him, finally making a move by stroking the edges of his hair. His eyes were hooded and heavy without a doubt, but I could still see the brilliant blue. He was smiling up at me, but the longer we looked at eac
h other, the thicker the air became between us.

  Immediately, Montana sat up. My eyes stretched as much as they could as he slid in closer, cupping my face. His lips neared mine, but he was careful about it. My heart thundered in my chest, more so than it normally did. I figured it was because of the pot. The pot was making my blood whoosh in my ears and my pulse pound in my veins. I wasn’t complaining though. I liked the feel of this. I couldn’t explain it. A person just had to be high in order to know what I was feeling.

  All of my senses were heightened, and all I wanted was a taste of him. I was surprised his lips hadn’t landed on mine yet. He was only staring, looking me in the eyes and breathing through parted lips.

  I started to speak, but he stopped me, bringing one of his hands up and placing a single finger on the fold of my lips. I blinked slowly, inhaling through my nose as my heart raced even more. What was he waiting for? I wasn’t entirely sure. All I knew was that I wanted him to touch me. I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted his body glued to mine and his lips caressing me. I wanted him.

  “I want you to promise me something,” he murmured. He dipped his head, placing his warm, damp lips on my neck. I released a heavy breath, tilting my head back and allowing him more exposure to my skin. He kissed me right between my jawbone and the bend of my neck. I tingled uncontrollably, and he pulled back, meeting my eyes again. “Promise me you’ll give us a chance…”

  “A chance?” I breathed as he cupped the back of my neck.

  “Yes, a chance. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and most of it has been about you. I wanna… try something new.”

  “What do you mean try something new?”

  He kissed my cheek tenderly. Sweetly. “I mean, I’ve never gotten serious. Not with a chick. I wanna try it with you. Doesn’t seem like it’d be all that bad.”

  I leaned back a little, my eyes roaming his face.

  “I know,” he whispered. “I know you’re scared.” He laughed a little. “Trust me, I am too. But… I’ve always lived in a way that involves risks. I’ve pushed a lot of people around me into taking certain risks. If I’m risking getting… hurt,” he swallowed hard as if it pained him to say, “…or if I’m risking having my emotions or even my… heart… in the hands of someone else, I want it to be with you.”

  I blinked hard, lowering my gaze. “Montana…”

  He tilted my chin. “No, Lauren, I don’t want any more bullshit. I wanna be yours, and I want you to be mine. We don’t have to make things official or anything right now, but I want to know we have a stand somewhere. I wanna know that no one else is touching you but me. I want you to make me that promise…” He paused, licking his lips. “I want you to promise me that you’ll give us a chance—a real one. Promise that while we’re doing this shit that you’re mine and mine only.”

  His words, they were coming out strong and somewhat demanding. Some part of me liked the demanding part, but another part of me cowered from hearing it. I wasn’t ready for that. Well, I felt like I wasn’t. The truth was, I was afraid of giving myself to him. Once I gave myself up, it was a wrap. There would be no turning back.

  “Let’s see how things go and whatever happens… happens,” I whispered.

  A faint smile appeared on his lips. He said, “That’s good enough for me. I’m sure I can convince you,” and then he cupped my face, bringing my lips to his. He leaned in further, and I leaned back, resting the back of my head on the arm of the sofa. He released my face and threaded his fingers through my hair with one hand, locking fingers with me with the other.

  He thrust himself against me, his cock hardening in his jeans. His kisses grew heavier, fervent, and I sighed as my body sank into the sofa. He spread my legs with his knee, released my hand, and pulled his fingers out of my hair. He gently grabbed my hips and placed me on his lap. I grinded on top of him as my skirt rose up, bunching around my waist.

  A deep moan rattled in his throat as I cupped his face, sucking on his piercing. “Fuck,” he groaned again.

  I smiled behind my next kiss. He removed his hands from my hips to tear at the button of his jeans. He lifted his hips with me still on top of him. I lifted mine as well so he could slide them down. After his boxers hit the floor, it was skin on skin. I wasn’t wearing any panties… only the skirt and blouse I’d chosen because I knew I was going to run into him that day.

  He pulled my shirt over my head, exposing my pink bra. He undid the strap, and it fell off. I tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he sat back so I could relieve him of the one article between us. Once his shirt was gone, he blinked slowly, his blonde eyelashes touching his cheekbones as he looked down. He sat forward again, connecting his lips with mine. I panted each time our lips parted, and my core tightened whenever I felt his cock poke at my entrance. He was almost there, and I wanted all of him.

  I lowered my head to coat sugary kisses on his neck. He sighed, pulling me in closer, our bodies molding and grinding. I’d had enough of waiting. I needed to feel him, so I shoved him back gently and he sank into plush cushions of the sofa. He lifted his arms and placed them along the back edge of the sofa, watching as I lifted up and slowly placed my entrance on his tip. I was already soaking wet, and when he felt it, his pink lips part in a silent gasp.

  My hips sank further and further, but to enhance his arousal, I kissed him, running my tongue through his lips. He dropped his arms and pulled me in close, groaning deep as I finally slid my way down his cock. He clutched my bare ass, and I worked my hips back and forth.

  His body tensed as I clasped my hands around his face, riding harder as our tongues clashed and ran over each other’s. My hips swiveled in quick circles, and his groans turned guttural and husky. He held onto my ass tighter, causing my walls to clench around him.

  “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had,” he said as our lips separated.

  His voice was smooth and silky. I loved when he talked dirty to me. “You like it?” I asked, still working my hips.

  “Fucking love it, babe,” he breathed. Our lips were close, but we weren’t kissing. I went faster, and he held on tighter, breathing down my neck and cursing beneath his breath. He was enjoying this, so much so that he spanked me, causing a mild yelp to spill out of me. It only boosted my ego. I locked eyes with him, pressing our foreheads together, lifting my hips. Each time I came up, I’d tighten my walls around his cock and he’d gasp, as if he’d never felt it before. I tossed my head back, and he sucked on my skin, running his fingers up my back and then down to my hips.

  “Oh, Montana,” I breathed.

  “Yeah… come around me, babe,” he whispered. Then, he kissed me again as the pad of his thumb ran across my clit.

  “Shit…” He was really building me up. A mass of heat traveled from my throat to the middle of my legs, and I locked up, biting my fingernails into his shoulder blades as he added more pressure. He grunted. Something wet touched my fingertips, and when I lifted my hands I spotted small droplets of blood. The intensity grew as Montana lifted his hips and thrust into me, pounding like a jackhammer. I tried to keep up, but I was too close to the brink. I was almost there. He was being rough; I was being rough. I fucking loved it.

  Maybe it was the pot, or maybe it was because it’d been two, long, and depressing weeks. Whatever it was, this sex—this make-up sex—was fucking amazing. I fell forward, running my hands through his hair and pressing my chest against his. I synced with him, grinding each time he did. Then I felt it.

  And I squealed.

  I cried his name.

  I bucked like a wild bull.

  I was at that high point of ecstasy, spilling my juices around his entire length.

  When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me, watching as I came undone. Then he rapidly turned me over so that my ass was facing his cock. He didn’t hesitate burying himself within me. He stuffed his entire length in my depth, and a heavy gasp rolled out of me as I clutched the arm of the sofa. His fingers ran through my scarlet locks, and he tugged on th
em, lowering his lips.

  “You feel so good,” he breathed.

  I whimpered, but it didn’t stop me from throwing my hips back. He released my hair and gripped my waist, pushing his body forward. He grunted heavily, bringing one hand up to my shoulder—the other still on my hip—and thrusting harder. Swear words flowed from his mouth in harsh, heavy whispers, and his fluid-like strokes became stiff. He was on the verge. He was close, and I was almost there with him.

  Leaning forward, he sucked on my neck and continued pummeling his way inside me from behind, causing an intense clapping noise that only added fuel to his fire. The way he kissed me and the way he ran the palms of his hands all over my body heightened my pleasure. It sent us both over the brink.

  His body locked, and I stilled, tossing my head back. Both of us cried out at once. Gasping, I fell onto the arm of the sofa, and he planted his hands outside my head, panting roughly. His warm breath ran down my spine, causing the droplets of sweat to ignite my skin.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed.

  Holy shit was right. Those were the only words that could really describe that moment.

  He was more than mind-blowing. More than out of this world. He was a sexual beast when it came to pleasing a woman’s body, and I was glad to be a witness.

  That was make-up sex without a doubt, and it was the best damn make-up sex I’d ever had. Montana Delray had officially become my number one when it came down to fucking. The man knew what he was doing, and he knew it all too well.

  Now, all that needed to be mastered was us… this crazy, wild yet scary thing we’d started and fell right into like it was a bottomless pit.

  LAUREN

  Fourteen

  I sighed as the warm water shot down my spine. I tossed my head back, allowing it to consume me. After having my body rocked, it felt nice to have something soothing running along my skin.