by Adele Hart
Cara and he both shook their heads ‘no’ at the same time, and when they stopped he really wanted to kiss her.
He waited until Gary said what he had to say.
“So that’s a ‘no’ on getting her back. But Gary, I want you to listen to me. Don’t you ever, not ever call this beautiful woman a whore again. Sure, she’s a lady in the living room and a beast in the bedroom, but gentlemen never tell.”
David adored that he could feel her blush.
“Are we good, Gary?” David disconnected the call. “Alrighty then.”
“I bet your wife will love you for that.”
“My wife? You got that wrong. Not married.”
“But you said the family car.”
“It would make a nice one, don’t you think?” He cupped her cheeks with his palms. “Super high safety rating.” He was going to use all his strength to not kiss her, but she grabbed him first. Before he knew it, her tongue was in his mouth and he was kissing her back.
They were all over each other, dancing around the entry of his house for minutes. While Tommy and Marissa were raiding his kitchen, David was making out with their friend. He broke the kiss and looked at her with complete and total surprise.
“I think I need you,” he rasped.
“I think I need you back,” she said.
“Tommy, Marissa, we’re going to bed.”
Chapter Five
Cara
The stairs up to the second floor curved into a grand staircase. They ended on a landing where Cara guessed the bedrooms were. She followed David left and passed two smaller bedrooms before they stopped at the end of the hallway.
He turned to Cara and took her face in his hands, kissing her again like he could no longer control himself. They were steps from the bedroom, but didn’t make it that far. His tongue swept her mouth, tasting, tagging every bit.
“Mmm,” he said. “You’re delicious.”
He stroked her hair away from her face and regarded her with a gentle adoration before pressing his lips to hers again. He swept her up off of her feet like she weighed nothing, which wasn’t true. She was a curvy girl, but felt light as a feather in his strong arms. He was a big, powerful man with arms that were hard and ripped. She guessed it must be from the drumming. His muscles had little give as she laid her head against them.
“Jiminy,” she murmured.
“No,” he said plainly, in a tender voice. “Jiminy is for make believe. This stuff is real. It’s about to get a lot more real if that’s what you want.”
He was asking her if she was clear about his intentions. She was super clear.
“Yes,” she said, tracing his lips with the tip of her finger and admiring their shape. So full and perfectly drawn.
He turned just right so that he could reach underneath her and turn the knob of his bedroom door. The light from the hallway spilled into the room. He walked forward and rested her on the bed. A quick glance around showed the room was decorated with rich espresso stained woods and white accents.
The bed spread was chenille, almost like etched terry cloth, soft and comfortable. He pressed his palms on either side of her, just stopping short of landing on top of her. He smiled down as she gazed up. So damn handsome. So compelling. This was one for the memory scrap book.
He ran his fingers through her hair while she threaded hers through his, which was soft and lovely to touch.
He tipped to his left so they were side by side. The hem of her dress was up around her waist, leaving her silk stockings and scrap of underwear open for viewing. She saw his eyes drop to check them out.
He ran his fingertips over her lace thong from her navel to her hip like he was fascinated.
She hooked her thumbs over the lace edge of her thigh-highs and began to roll them off.
He helped. He was gentle, careful not to tear them, but he clearly wanted them off her. He rolled off the bed and slipped them from her legs.
His breath sped up as he drew the lace panties off of her, leaving her naked from the waist down. He made quick work of removing her dress, then reached beneath her back, he found the clasp of her bra on the first try. She wondered if he was aware that he was a little too efficient at this. This thought almost instantly disappeared when his lips touched her skin.
Once she was completely nude, he bathed her body with his full and perfect lips. His kisses released a current of electricity each time they pressed against her skin.
Her breath was high and tight in her chest as the tension extended to her belly and to her very core. She ached for him. Needed him like the very oxygen she sucked in.
Fully clothed, he studied her body, stroking it, tasting it. Suckling her breasts until her nipples drew hard and pointed under his touch.
“Absolutely beautiful,” he said.
He bent over her, his long hair falling to tickle her skin. He flicked his tongue around her stone-like pebbles, teasing and sucking until she was breathless.
He kissed the valley between her breasts before he pulled his T-shirt off. He had such an incredibly powerful torso. Hard muscles sculpted from years of exercise.
Cara guessed he worked out, but the drumming must have created the magnificent effect. He was so handsome. She reached and touched him. Pressed her palm to his pecs which were sparsely covered in coarse black hair.
He resumed kissing her belly. His whiskers tickled and abraded her skin. He hunched, moving towards the center of her legs. He was bold, snaking his tongue to touch her most sensitive and reactive spot. He stroked her, delving into her intimate folds.
Cara instinctively lifted her hips against his mouth, working her pussy against the rhythm of his soft tongue. He penetrated her as he lapped up her juices. She pressed her back hard against the mattress as if to brace herself against the escalating pleasure.
Moans escaped in whispery, high pitched whimpers, the pressure of the sweetness was so intense. And then he pulled back and spoke to her in that smooth, rich voice.
“Like that?” he asked with a husky laugh.
He rose up, kissing parts of her along the way. He kissed the inside of her pelvis bone and nearly sent her through the ceiling. He showed her erogenous parts of her she never knew she had.
He guided her legs up and around his hips with a gentle caress. He swept down her sides to her back, over the curves of her bottom to the backs of her thighs, encouraging her to raise up and over him so he could nestle between her.
His hardness nudged and grazed her as he found his position. He reached for something on his nightstand—a condom.
Cara tore it open and put it on him, closing her hand around him, feeling him, sensing him. Their physical connection was so electric, it was like she’d touched an ungrounded cord.
Cara eased David into her body. She clutched the muscles that flared up his back like wings and lifted to take him fully inside her.
He groaned his pleasure. She found the sound a mix of animal and warrior. So male. So primal and hot. She raised her head to his and kissed him with everything she had. She was unleashed and expressed her passion, whipping her tongue around, mating hers with his. Her hips pumped against him, thrusting hard and deep.
He pulled back with gentleness.
“Slow down,” he said in a slow sexy drawl. “We’ll get there. Let’s enjoy the ride.”
Her eyelids were heavy with passion.
He turned her face to look squarely at him. They gazed into each other’s eyes as their bodies moved into one another. He drew her leg up, kissing it, releasing electric pulses that traveled straight to her core, causing her to draw up tight around him. He rested her legs on his massive shoulders and drove deeper.
David seemed to drink in the sigh of her body. She knew he was pleased with the sight of her by the way his eyes constantly swept over her and focused on the movement of her breasts as they bobbed with the rhythm of their motion.
He moved slightly, adjusting their position, and that was all it took for her. Something in t
he shift aligned all the elements—the pressure, the timing, the heat—it sent her rushing toward the edge.
Cara was a little surprised it was that easy. It never had been before. She silently cursed herself for comparing him to her ex, but for a fleeting second, she did. She thought she loved Gary, that he was the be-all and end-all of sexual attraction and satisfaction for her, but never had she achieved spontaneous pleasure. She tried to not spoil this good fortune by over thinking. She relaxed and let the moment take its course.
David groaned again. She wondered if his worldly, sexual prowess gave him the ability to sense that she was close. Her body revved, and her mind raced. All the forces rose and rushed through her, putting every cell on high alert.
Her breaths were like ocean waves, floating over her and crashing forward. Cara looked into his knowing eyes. He touched her where their bodies joined, massaging little circles around and around. Her thighs shook, her body tensed, and she fell over the edge of bliss.
Cara called to the gods as she was slowly but definitely consumed with rolling spasms of pleasure. Her belly clutched, the hardness in her nipples renewed. Wetness flowed from her as she experienced ecstasy for the first time.
He picked up his pace. His rhythm changed into firm and purposeful thrusts. He was chasing his pleasure now, catching up with her. His powerful body stiffened and then he cried out. Her name on his lips was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
Somewhere in the mix, Cara caught the titters of Marissa and Tommy, laughing at the sexual noise. It brought David and her back to earth. She was still overcome with passion, but he touched his forehead to hers and they laughed.
“Mm, mm, mm,” he proclaimed.
They disconnected and flopped back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling with huge smiles on their faces as they enjoyed the fleeting moment.
Chapter Six
David
Cara slept in the car all the way home. David reclined the passenger seat for her and drew a throw he kept in the car, over her. Her sleep was real and deep. Tommy and Marissa huddled to one side, which was fine for them because they were inseparable.
From years of a life in clubs, David had developed the ability to function like he had a full eight hours sleep when he only had a few. Tommy and Marissa were sort of the same, but his sweet Cara was wiped out.
He decided she didn’t need to go to work and that she really needed to have a day to recover. A day to spend with him. Selfish? Yes, but sometimes being selfish was okay.
“Where does she work?” he asked his friends in the backseat.
“The Peppermill in Sunnyvale,” answered Tommy.
“Oh, like that place in Vegas?”
“Yep, you went with us once,” Tommy reminded him. “It’s that twenty-four-hour joint that we went to after a show.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said replying. “Cara?” He tried to wake her.
“Mmm?” she replied sleepily.
“Mind if I get you the night off?” he asked. “Can I go to your work and get you some time off?”
“Yeah, sure,” she replied, though he wasn’t quite sure she was fully awake.
“After hearing you two last night, I think she’d say yes to just about anything,” said Tommy.
David flashed a look of mischief in the rearview mirror.
“Maybe we should test that out.”
He and Tommy laughed.
“What can I say? She’s a cutie,” said David.
Without traffic, Pacific Heights, where he lived, was only forty minutes away from Sunnyvale. On the way to San Jose and the recording studio, David asked his voice activated GPS for directions to the Peppermill.
They pulled off the highway a few exits before San Jose and slammed into the Saturday morning bustle of Silicon Valley. It took them a half an hour to move four miles. When the Peppermill was in view, Tommy and Marissa pointed it out.
“There it is,” they said in unison.
David parked and rolled down the windows.
“Now, no barking at strangers,” he joked to his friends. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He entered the restaurant with his head purposely focused down. He was a multimillion dollar musician voted number twenty of rock’s all-time best drummers by Rolling Stone Magazine. His celebrity was bittersweet because he got famous with a band that reached cult adoration when the front man committed suicide.
He might get mauled in the restaurant or might slip in and out without incident. He never knew what to expect. He only wanted one person to recognize him and that was Cara’s manager when he explained to him or her that she was not coming into work today.
He stood at the counter waiting for assistance. Familiar whispers came from the nearby diners. He pretended not to notice. A hostess arrived at her podium.
“One?”
“No. I’m not eating. May I speak to a manager?” he asked politely.
She picked up the phone to summon someone. A guy in his late twenties approached. David watched the guy’s face transform from stern to giddy. This guy recognized him. David inwardly smiled because his ploy would work.
“Hey,” David said bumping fists with the man. “You have an employee named Cara Blomquist?”
“Yeah,” stuttered the manager. “I think so. I mean, yeah. Are you? Are you…?”
“Yes, I am,” he said plainly. “I need her for an album I’m recording. I know she’s scheduled today. Can you give her tonight off?”
“She can have the week off,” the manager said quickly.
David enjoyed a rich laugh.
“We’ll get back to you on that, but she only wants tonight off,” he said. “Are we cool? Do I need to sign something?”
A smile as wide as a canyon spread across his face. “If you don’t mind,” the entranced manager replied.
“Sure.”
The manager pulled a pen from his pocket and had David sign a child’s paper coloring menu. A small crowd formed behind him.
“Morning everyone,” He just wanted to get out of there.
He shook hands and took a few selfies trying to move to the door.
“Let me out,” he whispered to the manager. “And the lock the door for like a minute. I just want to be on my way.”
The manager obliged, and David made it to the car. He quickly rolled up his tinted windows but not before people spilled out of the restaurant. He rolled down his window one more time, stuck his hand out and waved.
They made great time to the studio because instead of the highway, they used the original thoroughfare which got replaced by a boulevard and then a highway. No one used it so they were there within a few minutes.
The studio was in the industrial section of San Jose slated for gentrification. For now, it was the address to a recording studio that had the reputation for creating the best sound in the industry. Something about the old settled building provided tremendous acoustics.
David helped Cara’s sleepy form into the studio. He wanted to pick her up, but he thought it was over the top. She brought out something in him. Something that made him want to please her, protect her, keep her.
He dispatched one of the assistants, an apprentice sound man, with a hundred-dollar bill to make a run for orange juice, fruit and granola bars. They had coffee and trail mix—his favorite breakfast—but his stomach was growling. After last night, he needed something more substantial.
The studio, while run down looking on the outside, was richly remodeled on the inside, except for the studio itself. The room where Cara would stay and listen had wide upholstered benches that were meant to double as beds. David grabbed her pillows and blankets so she could lounge and listen.
“Good news,” he announced to Cara. “I don’t know if you were awake for all of it, but you have the night off. Is that still okay with you?”
“Yes,” she said with a drowsy smile. “I’m not made for all-nighters.”
“Could have fooled me,” he said wickedly. He pressed his li
ps to hers before departing into the studio.
They took a bit to get started. Tommy was already wearing his guitar, tuning up for his part. Marissa stood next to her man bass in hand. They would play both rhythm and lead. David planned to play guitar and drum and sing.
Stan the producer arrived and wasn’t happy about Jay’s absence after learning that David axed him from the project.
“So what?” argued David. “I’m paying for it. This is my album, and these are my tunes.”
“But it also belongs to the investors,” Stan countered. “They’re paying for it too. They bought in because of you and because of him.”
“They might have to bail him out of jail to make it happen. He was rippin’ and roarin’. He was doping girls’ drinks last night at Barney’s. He drugged Nina.”
“Nina is a dope,” muttered Stan.
“She’s a human being,” reminded David. “Anyway, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t in jail. I don’t have time for that shit. I want to make music, not trouble.”
“You can’t make music without a singer,” said Stan.
“He’s a name. I can sing. Do you want me to list all the albums I sang on?” David’s question was sarcastic.
Stan gave him a look.
“What we’re doing today are mostly ballads,” David countered. “Jay wails. I think it will be better this way. Let’s see how it sounds before you make faces.”
They laid the underlying tracks so they could play while David sang. He and Tommy belted out the lyrics, but Stan wasn’t happy.
David agreed. Something was missing, but it wasn’t Jay. Marissa stepped in and her voice was what did it. It needed her bluesy rock tone to finish it off.
He looked into the room where Cara was, just to see if she was paying attention and she was mesmerized. He knew that look when he glanced into the audience to see if his stuff was reaching them. He’d connected with her on a deep level with his words and music.
He winked.
She gave a little wave.
“Those are keepers,” said David. “See, we don’t need a strung-out, over-sexed, pompous narcissist to make a good sound.”
