Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction #2)

by Olivia Thorne

  “It’s me,” a deep, dark, powerful voice said.

  Derek.

  OH MY GOD.

  I looked through the peephole just to confirm that it was him – and that he didn’t have any of his little hoes along with him, looking for a threesome.

  No, he was alone in the hallway, and still wearing his sunglasses. He looked pretty tense.

  My heart pounded as I undid the chain, the lock, and opened the door.

  There he was, chest and arms delicious under his tight-fitting tee.

  Well, well, looks like one of his bitches gave his shirt back to him.

  “Do you know what time it is?” I asked angrily, the image of him half-naked on the dance floor fueling my ire.

  He looked at me from head to toe, a little surprised.

  I was suddenly aware that I had no makeup on – and that the only thing I was wearing was an oversized t-shirt that barely reached halfway down my thighs.

  He hadn’t seen me without makeup since, oh, the very first time we’d met.

  And he hadn’t seen me in this little clothing since the night we’d spent together.

  I suddenly felt very vulnerable and a little self-conscious…

  …until he pulled off his sunglasses and smiled, turning the full force of those emerald green eyes on me.

  “You know, you look great with makeup on… but you’re absolutely stunning without it.”

  Heat rose up inside me, and the iceberg inside my chest thawed a little.

  But he wasn’t getting off that easy.

  “I said, do you know what time it is?” I repeated, annoyed.

  “Yeah. It’s time to talk,” he said, and pushed past me into my room.

  “Hey!” I almost yelled, but dialed it down when I realized my neighbors next door were probably sleeping. “I didn’t say you could come in here!”

  He looked around the room, peeked in the bathroom – almost like he was searching for someone. When he turned around, he looked a lot more relaxed. Relieved, almost.

  “What the fuck are you doing, barging in here at two in the morning?” I demanded.

  “I saw you talking to Ryan.”

  I shrugged like, Yeah – AND?

  “What did he say?”

  “Stuff,” I snapped. “What the fuck do you care?”

  “I want to know.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I want to know, what did all of those little hoochie mamas out on the dance floor say to you, exactly?”

  He waved my words off impatiently. “That didn’t mean anything.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad to know that a bunch of naked women throwing themselves at you doesn’t mean any– ”

  “What did Ryan say?” he said, almost angry now.

  “None of your business! Maybe if you hadn’t been dancing with your skanky groupies you could’ve stuck around and heard for yourself – ”

  He stood there and listened to me talk, but I could tell his impatience was building – and then the dam broke.

  “Fuck this,” he growled, and stepped forward and kissed me.

  Slammed me up against the wall and just owned me.

  I was so stunned at first that I didn’t even realize what was happening – I was just overwhelmed by the adrenaline rush, the smack of my back and ass against the wall, his warm, hard body against my curves, his lips pressing insistently against mine, no tongue yet, but his mouth feverishly moving over my own –

  After the shock passed, my first reaction was… complicated.

  Part of me was going YES!

  My heart was racing, my blood was boiling, my insides were fluttering with joy and desire.

  But part of me was yelling NO!

  Not in a ‘feeling threatened’ way – more like an outraged way. Like, You think you can just waltz in and have me this easily?

  So I fought back. I wriggled against him, pushed my hands against his chest –

  He grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the wall next to me.

  And he kept on kissing me, his tongue slipping softly between my lips.

  Ohhhh DAMN.

  I wanted this.

  I wanted it so bad.

  So I opened my mouth and let him in.

  Ohhhhhhhh God.

  He slipped inside me, kissing me passionately, our tongues caressing. He pressed his pelvis against me, and I could feel him, thick and large and getting harder, his cock quickly growing, getting longer and bigger, pressing forcefully through his jeans against my belly.

  If I wasn’t wet before, I was now.

  Damn I wanted him inside me so bad.

  He let go of my left wrist and dropped his hand down to my thigh, reaching up under the hem of my t-shirt. I felt his fingers clutch at my bare ass, squeezing me, gripping me. His fingertips brushed lightly against my pussy, sending my desire soaring even higher. He moved his hand down my ass cheek, the tips of his fingers caressing the wetness of my lips, toying with them, stroking them.

  I gasped with pleasure when he did that –

  And immediately breathed in the cloying smell of perfume.

  Women’s perfume.

  Lots of it. A whole barrage of different scents.

  The image of him on the dance floor suddenly leapt back into my mind, with those women writhing all over him – except now, in my imagination, they were naked, and he was naked, and they were servicing him and laughing at me, all of them, even Derek.

  Everything inside me went cold and angry all at once.

  I started struggling and squirming, trying to turn my face away from his – but he just forced himself on me more, maybe thinking it was all still fun and games –

  “Get OFF of me!” I yelled. I slammed my free hand against his chest, breaking contact, sending him spinning away at an angle with a stunned look on his face.

  “What the hell?!” he asked, more surprised than angry.

  I turned away from him. I didn’t want to look at him – I couldn’t. Because of the horrible images in my head… and maybe because my body was still incredibly turned on, and I was afraid of how easily I might still give in.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding concerned.

  Anger gave me the power to look at him, just briefly. “If you want to sleep with me, maybe you shouldn’t come up here smelling like your whores.”

  His jaw set, his expression darkened, and for a second I was actually a little afraid. He was far more powerful than I was – we were alone – he could do whatever he wanted to me –

  And then one side of his mouth pulled up in amusement.

  “I don’t fuckin’ believe this,” he muttered.

  Now I wasn’t afraid, I was just pissed.

  “Believe what? That I’m not happy to be your second or third fuck in a row tonight?”

  He sighed heavily. “You know what that was down there? That was to make you jealous. That’s it. Seems it worked a little too well.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Ryan had been right.

  Derek stepped closer to me and put a hand tenderly to my face. I flinched, but he kept it there, gently cupping my cheek.

  “I don’t want them. I want you. You were playing so hard to get this afternoon… down in the bar, then in the locker room… I’ve always wanted YOU, Kaitlyn. Just you.”

  I was breathing harder, my heart was pounding, and he moved in to kiss me –

  Maybe it was the perfume, which I could still smell on the air.

  Maybe it was my famous boneheaded stubbornness.

  Either way, I turned my face away from him.

  He paused, his lips a millimeter away from my cheek. I could feel his breath on my skin, hot and ticklish.

  Then his hand fell away, and he stepped back.

  “Okay, this is the way it’s going to be from now on,” he said. His voice wasn’t exactly cold, but all the passion was gone. It was more like he was being… firm. Stern.

  I glanced over at him. He still looked vaguely amused, but he looked a little pissed, too
.

  “If you want me, you make the first move. I’m not going to make another one. If you don’t want me, then fine. I’ll be the rock star, you’ll be the journalist, and it’ll be cool. No harm, no foul. But no passive-aggressive bullshit from you about how I live my life. No snarky little comments or hateful stares just because other women are into me.

  “You want me? I’m yours. But you let me know.”

  And with that, he strode across the room, opened the door, and was gone before I could even answer.

  22

  It was a long-ass night.

  A long-ass, frustrating night.

  I laid awake, fitfully turning in bed for over an hour, replaying the scene over and over in my head.

  Fuck this.

  Him slamming me against the wall, kissing me, stroking me, tantalizing me –

  The stench of a dozen other women’s perfume –

  I’ve always wanted YOU, Kaitlyn. Just you.

  My final refusal –

  You want me? I’m yours. But YOU let me know.

  It all seemed like a dream.

  An incredibly hot, but incredibly disturbing dream.

  Why did I have to say ‘no’? Wasn’t that exactly the thing I’d fantasized about for years – him forcefully pinning me against the wall, taking me, ravishing me?

  I knew why I’d said ‘no,’ of course. The smell. The perfume. I couldn’t get past it.

  Why did he have to dance with those women? Why?

  Why did he have to flaunt it in my face?

  Why couldn’t we have just left immediately after the concert and come here?

  He could have been in my arms right now.

  He could have been inside me RIGHT NOW.

  I was so hot and bothered I wanted to cry.

  I relived our night together in college – his fingers creeping down to my panties… slowly slipping beneath my underwear…

  As I imagined it for the fifth time, I finally let my own hand drift down between my legs and pretend it was his.

  Imagined it was his fingertip gently touching my clit… stroking… circling… caressing…

  I remembered the feel of his body against mine… his lips kissing my ear, my neck…

  And as I got higher, as I felt my orgasm build, I remembered his cock… I remembered holding it hot and long and thick in my hand, stroking it… using his own pre-come to make him wet and slick… my fingers slipping over the head, circling the shaft. I remembered the passion in our kisses, the look on his face, the ecstasy and the surprise as he cried out and his cock suddenly exploded beneath my fingers, the hot wet spurting over my hand as he called out my name –

  And I came.

  I cried out, a tiny little whimper, as the contractions raced through me. When it was finished, I rolled over on my side. The pain was still there in my heart, but the tension was lessened. For a few brief seconds I had forgotten how much I hurt.

  It still took me another hour to get to sleep.

  23

  I awoke to a light knocking on my door.

  Tok tok tok.

  “Unnnhhh…” I moaned.

  Jesus, didn’t they know what TIME it was?

  …wait… what time WAS it?

  I lifted my head and looked blearily at the clock.

  10:07 AM.

  Holy shit.

  I never slept this late. Not only that, but my body was supposed to be three hours ahead because of the time zone difference. Back in New York, it was one o’clock in the afternoon.

  Adrenaline rushed through me. I jumped out of bed and staggered over to the door.

  Was it the hotel coming to throw me out?

  Was it Miles come to scream at me to be in the limo in two minutes, no exceptions?

  Was it Derek, back for round two?

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that last one.

  I opened the door the slightest crack and peered out through swollen eyes.

  It was a maid in a pristine white uniform, next to a rolling cart of towels and cleaning supplies.

  “Cleaning service,” she said.

  “Um… can you come back later?” I mumbled.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “There was no ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door.”

  “Um… no worries… my bad…”

  “Alright. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  “Okay…”

  She pushed the cart down the hall, the wheels barely whispering over the thick carpet. A few seconds later I heard another low knock about 20 feet away.

  I found the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on my side and fumbled it out through the crack, hung it on the doorknob, and then closed my door.

  24

  First thing I did was call Miles’s cell phone. It was the only number that Glen, my editor at Rolling Stone, had given me before I left New York.

  “Miles ‘ere,” he answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, Miles, it’s Kaitlyn.”

  I was expecting something like, Hello, or Good morning, or any of a number of possible pleasantries.

  What I got instead was a brusque, “What do you want?”

  “Um… I just wanted to make sure you guys hadn’t left without me.”

  “Left without you?” he asked, almost incredulous.

  “Yeah… isn’t there another concert in another city tonight?” I asked, recalling one of the few other pieces of information I’d gotten from Glen.

  “Irvine – but it’s only an hour away. Bus won’t even be ready till three.”

  “Oh. Um… okay… that’s good… are the guys practicing now?”

  He gave a short, barking laugh. “PRACTICING? Those lazy sods aren’t even UP yet.”

  Suddenly I felt a whole lot better.

  “Oh… okay… what time should I come by, then?”

  “Whenever,” he snapped, then hung up the phone.

  Asshole.

  But at least I had time to take a shower.

  25

  Actually, I had time to take a shower, get dressed, and go down and have a quick breakfast at the restaurant in the lobby. I didn’t eat much – A, the prices were astronomical, even by New York City standards, and B, I didn’t relish hanging out in the place where I’d seen Derek get mauled by a bunch of half-clothed hoochies. But I stayed long enough to eat some toast, a side order of fruit, and drink some coffee. Everything was excellent, especially the coffee. At eight dollars for a ‘bottomless cup,’ it had better be. By the second cup I was feeling halfway human again.

  I went over to the penthouse elevator at 12:30 but found out I couldn’t get it to go anywhere without a special keycard. I went to the front desk and explained who I was, but the Ms. Universe contestant on duty said that I had to get authorization from the inhabitants. So I reluctantly called Miles again. He answered again on the first ring.

  “What?” he snapped.

  I explained the situation.

  “Christ,” he snarled, then hung up.

  A second later the reception desk phone rang. Ms. Universe picked up, said, “Right away, sir,” pleasantly, and then smiled at me. “You can go on up.”

  I thanked her and headed over to the elevator.

  26

  I was nervous all the way up to the penthouse.

  I kept wondering how it was going to be seeing Derek. If the sexual tension was going to be as uncomfortable as it was last night. If he was really going to stick to ‘I’m not going to make a move, you’re going to have to make a move,’ or if he was going to go back to hitting on me.

  But when I got up to the penthouse, I realized something else I should have been worrying about but had completely forgotten:

  Ryan.

  He answered the door when I knocked – showered, styled, and neatly dressed in jeans, brown oxfords, and a royal blue button-up shirt with a brown leather jacket.

  “Good morning,” he smiled at me.

  Suddenly all the discomfort of last night’s conversation came racing back
.

  “Uh… hey,” I said, my legs frozen where I stood.

  He gave me a weird look – probably because of how uncomfortable I was acting – and then stepped aside. “Come on in, we ordered breakfast.”

  I was about to say ‘no thanks,’ but then the smell of bacon, eggs, and pancake syrup wafted through the air.

  Mixed with the stink of marijuana.

  It was a measure of how hungry I still was that I didn’t even mind the pot smell.

  But there was something I had to say first.

  “Um… about last night…”

  Ryan winced good-naturedly, like I was bringing up a disastrous ‘let’s just be friends’ prom date back in high school. “Can we just pretend that never happened?”

  Relief flooded through me. “Yeah… sure. Are you okay with that?”

  “Believe me, I’m more than okay with it,” he said, and smiled, putting me instantly at ease. “You hungry?”

  “I could eat,” I said, and walked in.

  Immediately my old discomfort returned as I remembered about Derek – but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Miles was on the other side of the humongous penthouse, pacing in and out of an open bedroom door, snapping occasionally at whomever was on the other line.

  Killian sat in the middle of the room next to a couple of room service tables loaded with silver platters of food. He was dressed in black silk pajamas, which I never would have expected. Black, yes; not the silk part. For once, he didn’t have a joint in his mouth – just a piece of bacon. He did have the guitar in his lap, though he was only fingering chords, not strumming it. His free hand clutched a cup of coffee.

  “Mornin’, luv,” he said amiably. I could tell he’d already hit the ganja from the mellow way he said it. That, and the invisible herbal cloud rising off him, like a pothead Pig Pen in the Charlie Brown cartoons.

  “Good morning. Where’s Derek?”

  “Um… haven’t seen him yet,” Ryan said a little hesitantly as he sat back down to his plate of food. I wondered with a tiny bit of panic if he knew about Derek’s late-night visit to me. Then I realized that, no, he was probably under the impression that Derek was still in bed with a girl or two he’d picked up from the dance floor.

  Speaking of which –

  “How did you make out last night?” I asked.