Rock Starred: Love My Way

by Karen Booth

  I lowered my leg as I caught my breath and he stood, kissing me with craving lips. I reached for his cock again, which was impossibly hard. "Your turn," I said, eager to have him in my mouth.

  My fingers dragged against the ripples of his back as I knelt on one knee and then the other. I grasped his muscular ass, licking my lips as I studied his impressive, steely length. The water pounded against his stomach, dark curls of hair dripping with moisture. I wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and lowered the tip to my mouth.

  Pressing my lips together, I kissed the silky skin of his head. I circled my tongue around him gracefully, using a light touch as my lips clung to him, moving until I reached the supersensitive ridge. I took his head in my mouth, sucking while my tongue swept against his pulsing skin. I retreated to the tip, flicking my tongue at the slit before I enveloped his head again. His groan was enough approval for me to repeat the action dozens of times as I firmly pumped at the base with my hand. I looked up to see him drop his chin, eyes half closed.

  I loosened my grip, claiming more of his length with my mouth. My lips rode along his thick and rigid cock, my cheeks suctioning. I caressed and cupped his balls with my fingertips while my thumb rubbed the bulging vein running along the underside. Peter dug his hands into my hair and gripped my scalp, his breaths growing shorter. He then reached down, grasping my upper arms and urging me back up to him.

  I stood and he swept the twists of hair from his forehead before he brushed his lips along my jaw, his nose below my ear. "That was mind-blowing but I want to be inside you." He turned off the water. "Come here."

  He clutched his hands beneath my butt and hoisted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders as he maneuvered our slippery bodies through the bathroom and to the bed. He laid me down gently, stopping to kiss my chest and one of my breasts before he stole away for an instant, returning with a condom. He rolled it on while he watched me, his dark hair still dripping water into his face. Beads of water collected on his chest and in the tempting curves of his hipbones. Looking at the intensity in his face, I knew that any hesitation I'd had about sleeping with him a second time had been time and effort wasted.

  He slid his hands beneath my hips, lifting them off the bed, pulling me closer as he remained standing, teasing me apart with the head of his cock, in total control. He claimed me with one long thrust, his eyes clamping shut as I locked my ankles around his waist. Everything about him was irresistible at that moment—the way he took charge, the way he turned me on all over again every time he touched me, the way he tended to my pleasure before his own. Even details like the fringe of his wonderfully long eyelashes made me want to stay.

  He pumped slow but hard, cradling my ass with his hands and I braced for another wave. Pleasurable moans escaped his lips as he increased his pace. I could feel the boil coming from his groin, hear it in his voice as his breaths grew shorter and he muttered my name. I loved hearing him say "Katie", especially when it was coupled with words like "yes" and "more". His thumbs dug into my hipbone as he drew out every thrust and his full length rode in and out of me. I tried to hang on for as long as possible, but it was too much, and I called out several times before he pulsed inside me, dropping his head farther with every ripple of his release.

  He set my hips on the bed and stepped away to the bathroom. I was so wonderfully spent that I couldn't do much more than close my eyes and smile. When he returned, he climbed onto the bed next to me and pulled me close. I settled my head against his shoulder.

  "That was worth the torture of the limo," he mumbled, his lips pressed to my temple.

  I laughed softly. If I could've melted into him, I would have. "Yes. Every minute."

  "I should probably call the front desk and ask housekeeping to change the sheets," he said. "The bed is pretty wet."

  "Maybe next time we should towel off a little after getting out of the shower."

  "Sorry. I was feeling a little eager."

  I curled closer to him and he traced his fingers over the contours of my hip. "Don't call housekeeping. They'll just ruin the moment. Plus, I have a hard time sleeping in a hotel anyway. I'll probably be up most of the night, wet sheets or not."

  "Sounds like a challenge. Is that your way of saying you want me to wear you out some more?"

  I smiled and smoothed my hand over his stomach, playing with his bellybutton. "I just can't sleep in a strange place. That's why I left last night."

  "We're in a hotel. Your room is just as strange as mine. Is that really the reason?"

  I suddenly found my voice caught in my throat. "It's not all of it."

  "Do you want to tell me why you have your one-night rule?"

  I propped myself up on my elbow and studied him. How had the feeling that I could trust him come so soon? Or was it just because his pull on me was so strong? "I was engaged once. He left me a week before our wedding, for another woman."

  He reached for my hand, which was still parked on his stomach. His eyes brimmed with concern. "I'm so sorry, Katie. No wonder." He turned onto his side to face me. "I had a really bad breakup once. I know it's hard to get over that sort of thing." He combed my hair behind my ear with his fingers. "Guys can be jerks."

  I admired his face, getting lost in the beautiful parts of him and the way he'd laid his caring nature bare. I didn't share my past with most men, figuring they wouldn't care or even worse, they'd think there must be something wrong with me. After all, a guy who supposedly loved me had left me right before our wedding. Peter seemed to understand how badly I'd been hurt. Perhaps it was because he'd been hurt badly, too.

  I sat up and pulled the duvet over us, settling in. "Don't worry," I said. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."

  Chapter Six

  I woke to the smell of breakfast and Peter's tempting stubble-covered face, complete with a new feature—dark-rimmed, damn sexy, nerdy glasses.

  "Wake up, sleepyhead," he said, caressing my arm.

  I stretched and squinted as a sliver of sunlight beamed through a crack between the hotel room curtains. "What time is it?"

  "Nine. I hope you're hungry. I ordered enough breakfast for a hockey team."

  I sat up, clutching the duvet to my naked chest. "Nine o'clock? Seriously?"

  "Yeah, I don't really believe your whole thing about not being able to sleep in a hotel room. You were out like a light last night." He stood at the edge of the bed, wearing only a baggy pair of pajama pants that hung low around his hips. He tugged on my hand. "Come on. Time to eat."

  "I have to pee. Are my clothes still in the bathroom?"

  "Here." He tossed me a gray t-shirt. "You can wear that."

  I threaded my arms through the sleeves, noticing how immodest the garment was when I stood. "Got anything longer?"

  "For you? No." He glanced over his shoulder while making his way to the room service cart. "You look perfect as far as I'm concerned."

  I shuffled into the bathroom, shocked that I'd been able to sleep so well. My hair was a kinky mess from going to bed with a wet head. I combed through it with my fingers, giving up when it only bounced back in disarray. I gathered my clothes from the floor and put on my panties.

  Breakfast was set up on the table at the far end of his suite. We uncovered plates of waffles and sausage, bacon and eggs, potatoes, fruit and toast. He poured me a cup of coffee as I stared at the food, unsure where to start. There would definitely be leftovers.

  "You're taking the breakfast is the most important meal of the day thing a bit far," I said.

  "I couldn't bear to wake you up to ask what you wanted. You were so peaceful and you have a very sexy droop to your lower lip when you're sleeping."

  "I do?" I rubbed my mouth with my hand, feeling my cheeks flush. "Oh well, thanks for all of this. It looks great."

  He scooted his chair closer to mine and began heaping food onto his plate. "I'm starving anyway. I usually eat after the show." He shook a heavy dusting of black pepper on his eggs and
dug in.

  I helped myself to half of the waffle, adding strawberries. "I didn't know you wore glasses." I took a bite, crispy and golden on the outside, fluffy and soft within.

  "I wear contacts. I can go put them in if the glasses are bothering you."

  The contrast of his masculine rock star persona and dreamy bare chest with the geeky glasses was almost more than I could take. I considered asking if we could do it right then and there between the maple syrup and the marmalade. "No. I think you look cute."

  He took a drink of orange juice. "I wasn't really going for cute."

  "Sorry. Would sexy be better?"

  "Better, but I'd venture to say incorrect."

  I sipped my coffee, in awe of how at ease I felt with him. "Have you had glasses for a long time?"

  "Since junior high. They didn't exactly make me a babe magnet."

  "I'm sure you did better than most guys."

  His cheeks turned an adorable shade of crimson. "I, uh, no..." He squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never mind."

  "What? Tell me." I gently rubbed his forearm. "I'm dying of curiosity now."

  He shook his head and smiled. "I didn't get my first girlfriend until I got contacts. That wasn't until after high school. I was nineteen."

  "No way."

  "Believe me, I would not make up such a pathetic story. It doesn't really help with the whole rock star image. I probably shouldn't have even told you."

  I gathered my napkin in my lap and peered into his electric blue eyes. "Maybe you trust me."

  "I suppose I do." Peter reached in front of me for the sausage, putting his arm around my shoulder and stopping to peck me on the temple. "What about you? I'm guessing you had the entire football team fighting each other in the school parking lot."

  "Uh, no." I smiled wide and pointed to my teeth. "Not even close. Braces. Retainer. Headgear. I was an orthodontic nightmare." I dished bacon and eggs onto my plate. "I've made up for it since."

  "I have no doubt about that."

  Out of nowhere, a pang of uncertainty rolled over me. The morning after was normally my time to escape. I'd usually formulated my plan by now, but all I wanted to do was stay with Peter, even when everything was up in the air. With the hurdle of the second time sleeping together behind me, I still had no clue if he thought of this as the end. He would be continuing with his tour, me returning to New York and work. I only knew that I wasn't ready to be done, exactly the feeling I had feared most.

  Someone even more pessimistic than me could argue that if this was the end, it was for the best. Peter's life was in Chicago. It would never work. And what would "work" even mean? Surely not a relationship, although a long distance one could be a good way for me to ease into it. The differing circumstances of our lives left me a little empty and sad.

  "When do you have to leave?" he asked.

  I hadn't eaten much, but the thought of our time together coming to an end had dampened my appetite. "A few hours. Our flight leaves at two."

  He smoothed his hand across my thigh. "Any chance you can take a later flight? Next show is in Atlanta tomorrow night. The bus doesn't leave Miami until midnight tonight."

  Dammit. What an offer. I would've paid a hundred-dollar re-ticketing charge for even five more minutes with him, but I had responsibilities waiting for me at home. "I wish I could. I have a big shoot on Tuesday that I need to prepare for and my neighbor is taking care of my cat. She doesn't like to do it for more than a few days."

  He frowned. "Hmmm. Okay. That's too bad." He poured himself another cup of coffee and topped off mine as well. "Well, we should make a plan for a week from Saturday then."

  I blinked in rapid fire. "A week from Saturday?"

  "We talked about it last night. Remember? The band is playing in New York?" His eyes narrowed, as he seemed to realize that I had no idea what he was talking about. "Huh. Maybe you'd already konked out at that point. You fell asleep on me, you know."

  "I did?"

  "You did. Maybe you can come to Philadelphia the night before. It's a quick train ride or I could send a car for you."

  My brain reminded me that making plans was just another way to get attached, but my heart stepped in and insisted that everything would be okay, at least for a little while longer. Peter leaned closer, his heavenly face pulling me in and ushering away any remaining shred of nervous thought.

  "I'll have to see about Philly and how that plays out with my work schedule," I said, "but I wouldn't miss the New York show for anything." I took his hand, weaving my fingers between his. "It sounds great." My heart thumped like a puppy wags its tail, happy for the attention.

  "I hate the thought of being away from you for two whole weeks. We're just getting to know each other. I guess the phone will have to make up for it." He moved even closer and kissed me softly. "I really like you, Katie."

  My heart now felt as if it was doing a tumbling routine. I welcomed the unavoidable smile on my face and inhaled his intoxicating morning smell. "I really like you, too."

  Chapter Seven

  My neighbor, Mrs. Gunderson, gave me the full report on everything she and Max had done during my weekend away—the number of times he'd hawked up a hairball, the number of times she'd entertained him with his favorite toy, the laser light.

  "Katie, dear, I think he needs to have a different kind of food. He's getting a little pudgy."

  "You think so? I don't know." I scooped up Max and he burrowed his furry head into my neck, purring so loudly that I almost couldn't hear myself think. "He looks like a handsome boy to me."

  "Did you have a nice time on your trip?"

  "I did." I watched as she widened her eyes, plainly asking for more details without a word. "I met a guy. I mean, I ran into a guy I know and we spent some time together. He's coming to the city a week from Saturday."

  She nodded approvingly. "That's nice, dear. It would be good to see you settle down. I had three children by the time I was your age."

  The start of the settle-down speech had a familiar ring to it, the same one I got from my mom at the 4th of July, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Neither she nor Mrs. G knew that I was proud of myself for sleeping with somebody two nights in a row and still speaking to him later. Given my recent history, that was up there with picking out a china pattern.

  "Are we still on for our cookie-baking date on Saturday?" I asked. "I cleared my busy shoe shopping schedule for you."

  "Only if you want to. I don't want to be a burden." Mrs. G took great joy in baking, something she'd often done with her daughter until she'd moved away.

  "Don't be silly. I would never pass up chocolate chip cookies and the chance to catch up on the neighborhood gossip."

  * * * * *

  Before heading to my studio Monday morning, I was puttering around the apartment with the last of the laundry and some bills when I heard the buzzer for the front door. I pressed the button on the intercom. "Yes?"

  "Flowers for Katie Stillman."

  I furrowed my brow. "Come on up," I said into the speaker, holding the button. I glanced down at Max, who was doing figure eights around my ankles. "What do you think, buddy? Somebody sent me flowers. When was the last time that happened?"

  The hall echoed with the sounds of the delivery guy stomping up the stairs. He rounded the corner, a large spray of striking lavender roses disguising his face. "Wow," I said as he handed me the clipboard to sign and I took the vase. "Thank you."

  I carried them inside and plucked the card from the plastic fork.

  Katie,

  Thanks for a perfect weekend. Can't wait to see you again.

  Peter

  I blew my bangs from my forehead. It didn't exactly work out with the last guy who'd given me flowers. Still, it was hard to escape the romanticism. Peter was pushing buttons again—buttons I didn't know I still had.

  My phone sat on the bed. Peter deserved a call or at the very least a text, but my brain felt as if it were rolling around in my head. It was scary n
ot knowing where this was going. When I was in control, with my rules in full effect, I always knew the destination even if it was going to be a very short trip. I sank down on the mattress and Max leapt onto the bed with me as I dialed Peter's number.

  "Katie, hey," he said when he answered. "Whatever did I do to deserve a real phone call?" He asked the question with a distinct air of knowing exactly what I was about to say. "Not that I didn't enjoy our extended text exchange last night."

  The smile prompted by his voice was inevitable. "You know what you did. Thank you for the flowers."

  "They're beautiful. Such an unusual color."

  "I thought they'd match the flecks of purple in your blue eyes."

  My heart made a funny little pitter-pat. "I have flecks of purple in my eyes?"

  "You do. I find them particularly mesmerizing."

  I became so light-headed that I thought I might swoon. "Thank you. That's so sweet. I love them. You couldn't go wrong with the color, but I appreciate the extra effort."

  "Good. I'm trying my hardest to keep from going wrong."

  I heard giggles in the background, a woman's laugh. She sounded close, unpleasantly close, and it was only ten a.m. "What are you up to?" My pulse raced and I took a deep breath, stopping short of digging my fingernails into my thigh.

  "I'm in the lobby of the hotel in Atlanta. Just waiting for our room keys."

  "Who's there?" I was angry with myself the instant the question left my lips—flowers, a promise of a date when he came to New York. It didn't give me a claim on him, even when I was starting to feel as though I wanted one.

  "Two secs," he said. There was a rustling on the line. "Hey. Sorry about that. I had to get away from Stony and the idiotic girl he met Saturday night. She followed us from Miami. She laughs at every fucking thing he says. Luckily we vetoed girlfriends on the bus."