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

by Olivia Thorne

  I soooo wanted to touch it.

  Derek leaned his head back against the headrest and let out a tortured sigh. “Oh my God… I thought it was going to snap off…”

  “Poor baby… you want me to make it feel better?” I cooed.

  Before he could answer, I reached over and put my hand around his cock, feeling his skin hot and wet and slick against my palm.

  He gasped and looked at me. I was sure his eyes were wide, though they were hidden behind his sunglasses.

  I formed an ‘O’ with my thumb and fingers and slowly moved it over his bulging head, spreading his wetness down his thick shaft, then slowly stroking back up. His cock pulsed in my hand, contracting once, hard, in a mini-orgasm – and another bead of clear liquid welled up from the slit in the tip.

  He groaned in agonized ecstasy as I slid my thumb through the pre-cum and circled it over his head, back and forth, getting him wetter and wetter. I could feel the ridge of his crown under my thumb, nice and firm. I eased my hand down his entire shaft again, feeling the veins and the contours, until I touched the soft thatch of his hair. I slowly went up, then down, once, twice, three times, until his cock was as wet as if he’d just withdrawn it from my pussy.

  Actually, no, his cock would have been a lot wetter if he’d done that, because I was drenched.

  “Maybe you should drive,” I whispered as I moved my hand slowly up his cock… then back down… my wet, slick skin gently gliding over his.

  “Uh-huh,” he grunted, and took his foot off the brake. We started down the road again, and passed far enough away from the guardhouse that no one could see us at all.

  I kept stroking him, and he kept having little one-off contractions, his swollen head getting just a little bit bigger, and more pre-cum leaking out. I went slow as before, though – and held him even looser, just barely making contact with my fingers, letting his wetness be the sensual bond between his skin and mine.

  “Take off your seatbelt and get closer,” he ordered, though his voice still sounded like a croak.

  “Why?” I smiled, stroking him slowly up… letting my fingers and thumb expand over his huge head… then pausing… before slowly moving back down.

  “Just do it,” he said, his voice ragged with desire.

  I used my free hand to undo the buckle, then scooted over as far as I could. The car had bucket seats, so it wasn’t like I could get too close – but I apparently got close enough.

  He reached over, pulled my blouse out of my skirt, then feverishly slid his hand between the waistline and my stomach. Then he pushed down further, into my bikini bottom.

  I gasped as he slid through my landing strip, then found the wetness between my thighs. The tip of his middle finger began rubbing up and down over my hood, around my clit, slipping and sliding over my soaked flesh. I tried to keep enough presence of mind to continue massaging his cock, which strained and bucked in my hand – but I would invariably stop stroking as waves of pleasure and desire rolled over me, across me, through me. Then I would come to my senses and slide up and down his shaft again, until I was overcome by ecstasy once more.

  The tip of his finger slid inside me – just a centimeter or two – and I moaned. Loud.

  As soon as I did, he growled, “I have to fuck you.”

  “How… far to the island?” I gasped. It seemed like forever: the guardhouse had long since disappeared in the distance, and the road seemed to stretch on eternally between the salt flats. I didn’t know if I could wait that long. I wanted him inside me now.

  “Fuck the island,” he said as he moved the wheel to the right, and suddenly we were rattling and bumping down the incline and through the scrub brush.

  I screamed – this time from fright, not from pleasure – as we zoomed down the slope, then finally leveled off and hit the salt flats.

  “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, what are you doing?!” I screamed.

  “Driving it like it’s stolen,” he grinned.

  “Where are you going?!”

  “Someplace private.”

  “We can’t do this!”

  “Yeah we can. I’m doing it.”

  I looked behind us as the road receded in the distance. Behind us, our tires carved out parallel lines in the salt and sand.

  “You can’t – unnnnhhhhhh,” I moaned as his wet finger slipped once, twice, three times over my swollen clit. When my thighs had stopped quivering, I snapped, “That’s not fair!”

  “You can go back to what you were doing any time you want.”

  “You’re going to – unnnhhh – ” (more wet firmness sliding over my clit) “ – get us arrested!”

  “Do you see any cops?”

  I looked back behind us. The road was no longer visible, much less any cars.

  “…no…”

  I could barely speak, let alone think, he was stroking me so wetly, so softly, underneath my bikini bottom.

  “Then we’re good.”

  “…they could still see our tracks… somebody could tell the park ranger…”

  “Then we’re going to have to hurry, aren’t we?”

  “Hurry what?”

  “Fucking each other’s brains out,” he growled.

  I know I said before that I missed tenderness and sensuality…

  …but right then, fucking his brains out sounded like the most wonderful thing in the universe.

  Still, though, my law-abiding terror wouldn’t let up.

  “Well, somebody will see us! Oh God…” (more slipping and sliding over my clit)

  “I didn’t see anybody for miles.”

  “But… but…”

  I stopped talking and just whimpered as he stroked me, slid inside me, caressed me, made my pussy throb with need. “…you’re not playing fair…”

  “I never said I did.”

  “…I can’t think when you’re doing that…”

  “So quit thinking.”

  As he kept making me shudder with ecstasy, I looked down at his pants. His cock was still jutting straight up… it looked so gorgeous… so big and thick and pink…

  So he doesn’t care about getting arrested?

  Fine. Neither do I.

  I reached down and started stroking him again. Slowly. Then a little faster. Feeling how thick he was in my hand, between my fingers.

  “Oh God,” he groaned, and I felt his fingers quiver over my clit.

  I leaned over and whispered in his ear:

  “When are you going to fuck my brains out?”

  “Now,” he grunted, and slowed the car to a stop.

  Then he reached over, grabbed my waist, and hauled me like a rag doll through the air, me shrieking and giggling, until I was straddled on top of him.

  “Wait, wait – ”

  “I know, I know – condom,” he said, his voice darkly humorous as he took his hands off my waist and dug in his jeans pocket.

  While I waited, I took off his sunglasses and threw them on the dash. I wanted to see his eyes while we were fucking each other’s brains out.

  Then I reached down and stroked his cock – and watched, slightly nervous, for any signs of flashing blue lights in the distance.

  But there was nothing. The road itself was nothing more than a tiny line in the distance.

  I heard the tearing of paper, and I looked down in time to see him place the latex circle over the tip of his head. I took my hand away and watched, mesmerized, as he rolled it down the length of his shaft, all the way to the base.

  “Okay,” he grunted, and then he reached up, shoved my skirt up around my waist, moved the bikini to the side (just like before, in the hotel room) and then put his hands on my hips to force me down on him – quick, deep, wet, and thick.

  “Oh my GOD!” I screamed – this time from pleasure, not panic, as he filled me up so quickly I almost came just from his tremendous girth sliding deep inside me.

  Five seconds later, we went at it like we were insane.

  He grunted like a beast as he bucked his hips up
under me, sliding in and out, filling me up. I started moaning like an animal, too, as he fucked me, hard, slamming into me, rocking, stroking me deep inside – and then I started fucking him back, using him like a fucktoy, a thing for my own pleasure and nothing else. I rotated my hips, feeling him swirl inside me, feeling his cock hard and wet against my lips, slipping up his entire length and then pounding back down, over and over. I rubbed my clit against his abs, grinding it against his muscular body, angling myself so that I could feel the most intensity, his cock straining and pressing deep inside me as my clit buzzed and throbbed with pleasure.

  Then, suddenly, he was ripping apart my blouse.

  Buttons popped and went everywhere as he tore it open.

  “HEY!” I yelled, momentarily taken out of my bliss.

  “I’ll buy you another one,” he rumbled, and then he was pulling aside the triangle of fabric over my left breast, and his mouth found my nipple and sucked on it, hard, and I couldn’t have given a damn about my blouse anymore. Or my bikini bottom when he ripped that off, too.

  I wanted more skin on skin, though, and so I reached down and pulled his t-shirt off, then flung it in the back seat. I broke his rhythm the tiniest bit, but then he was back at it, rocking deep inside me, and now I could run my hands over his muscled shoulders, his incredible chest.

  I flung my head back, my hair whipping behind me, as I arched my chest towards him. He tore the bikini top off, switching wetly from one nipple to the other, yet still fucking me hard, and deep, and thick, his hands clutching powerfully at my ass, his palms cupping my cheeks, his fingertips touching me, pressing against my drenched lips, my asshole, the soaked skin between, and he was so thick and so hard and so big inside me and I was so totally out of control, so alive, so on fire that suddenly I was coming, shrieking and not even aware of the sound I was making, as my whole body slammed down on him again and again. I heard him bellow, and for a split second his cock was even bigger and thicker, and then I felt it bigger and thicker again, and I was so tight and wet around him as we came together, his swollen bursts filling me up even more, doubling my pleasure, my insanity, until he gradually stopped rocking inside me.

  I collapsed against his chest, my hair draped over him, our sweaty bodies pressed tight together, our breathing heavy and gasping and matched with each other. I still felt him inside me, the last pulses of his orgasm dying out with my own, his cock still hard and thick and wonderful. Then we both lay still in each other’s arms, my legs straddling him, my breasts against his bare chest, his breath against my skin, and nothing else existing in the world but the two of us.

  We sat like that for a few moments, me straddling him, our bodies pressed together, slowly coming back to reality. Far beyond us, the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the sky on fire – the way we had been on fire.

  “Holy shit,” Derek breathed out, barely above a whisper. “I think you almost killed me, that was so good.”

  My only answer was to kiss him.

  After a few minutes we disentangled ourselves, and I sat back in my seat. For some reason, I felt a sadness I had never experienced before. It wasn’t deep or intense, but almost… nostalgic. For a few seconds, I had felt like a live wire – I had experienced what it was like to be truly alive –

  …and now it was gone.

  I ached to have it back.

  Despite my sexual epiphany, though, I hadn’t become some entirely different person. I made Derek wait until it was dark until we drove back to the road, with our lights off, until we made it to the incline and up onto the asphalt.

  We never got caught. Never even saw another car the entire time.

  But we never made it to our destination, either.

  No, that’s wrong; we never made it to the island.

  But I think we hit the destination we were both aiming for – the one we had been searching for going on four years. Something beyond just ordinary sex.

  Something transcendental.

  Unfortunately, we never made it back there again, either.

  After all was said and done, I’m glad I didn’t know that was the end of the road for us. Not the end end, but the end of whatever we’d had up until that point. If I’d known what lay ahead, I might have been so upset I couldn’t have enjoyed that moment with him, that instant of being totally, completely alive.

  Or, who knows… I might have savored it even more.

  102

  It all came crashing to an end ten days later in Vegas.

  The last two concerts of the tour took place there, at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. The first show was an incredible success.

  At least something about those last few days was.

  Things really started to go south during the last band meeting, just hours before the final performance.

  I didn’t know it until everyone was assembled in the penthouse suite, but everybody was planning to go their separate ways after Vegas. Take some time off, then join back up two months later to begin recording their third album.

  It was strange to me. I thought of them as a tightly-knit family. I mean, they had lived together for over a year in a run-down house in one of the crappiest neighborhoods in Athens. And here they were about to split apart, even if only for a while.

  I sat between Derek and Ryan, with Killian and Riley opposite us. Miles was standing at the front of the room and currently running the show.

  “Alright, Killian, you’re going back to London, correct?”

  The guitarist nodded serenely. “Might pop over to Amsterdam for a bit, too.”

  Every single person in the room looked at him in surprise.

  He noticed, and held out his joint as though to say, For the WEED, people. For the WEED.

  Everyone settled back in their chairs – except Riley. “You should bang a coupla hookers while you’re there, K.”

  “What, to relax him even more?” Ryan asked.

  “Come visit me, luv,” Killian said to Riley, “and you can frolic in the red light district all you want.”

  “Maybe I’ll come, too,” Derek joked.

  I gave him an icy stare.

  Now, granted, he was joking. (I think.) But we were having more and more frequent fights – at least once every day, it seemed. In fact, we were in the midst of one right then: about how he kept paying more and more attention to the half-naked groupies at his shows, and flirting with them more and more brazenly.

  My jealousy had been in overdrive for a week.

  So, no, his joke didn’t go over so well with me.

  The rest of the band looked away uncomfortably. Except, of course, for Riley.

  “You should get Blondie to bang a coupla hookers, too, D,” she hooted. “Get her to relax.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Derek muttered under his breath.

  My glare just became colder.

  “If the soap opera can be temporarily adjourned until the end of the meeting,” Miles barked, then turned to Riley. “Alright, what are your plans?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No thank you. What are your plans?”

  “Why do you wanna know?”

  “I happen to be the person who looks out for your career, though by your repeated attempts to sabotage it, I can certainly understand your not comprehending that fact,” Miles snapped. “If something happens, or an opportunity arises, I need to know where you can all be reached.”

  “Maybe I don’t wanna be reached.”

  “RILEY.”

  “Jesus, FINE. New York. I’m gonna go to New York and hang out with my sister for a while.”

  “Make sure I have her number before you leave.”

  “You’ve already got my cell!”

  “And we all know how reliable you are. Ryan?”

  “I’m going to Athens first, visit the family, then I’m going to go spend a couple of months in South Dakota.”

  I looked at him questioningly. This was the first I’d heard of South Dakota.

  He gave me a mysterious smile in
return.

  “Out in the middle of nowhere?” Miles asked.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Make sure I can get in contact with you.”

  “I’ll be reachable by cell, and I’ll have internet, but I’ll get you the house number, too.”

  “That sounds nice,” I whispered.

  Ryan nodded. “It should be relaxing.”

  “Where are you stay– ”

  “AHEM,” Miles cleared his throat loudly as he stared me down.

  I shrank in my seat like a chastened first-grader.

  “Thank you,” he growled, then turned to Derek. “Well, what about you, then?”

  “No idea.”

  I frowned and looked at him.

  He just kept staring at Miles and didn’t return my gaze.

  “No plans,” Miles said. “Really.”

  “Nope.”

  “You must have some idea,” Miles said. “I’m sure you’ve discussed it with your far, far better half.”

  Even though he said it sarcastically, it was practically a declaration of love – coming from Miles, anyway.

  “Nope.”

  Which was true. We hadn’t discussed it at all.

  I hadn’t even known the band was separating.

  And suddenly my jealousy and anger were overwhelmed by fear.

  “Then we’ll just have to outfit you with one of those GPS bracelets for convicts,” Miles said, with no indication he was joking. Then he turned back to the group. “We reconvene in Athens in two months, people. Show up ready to work.” Finally he looked specifically at me. “Ms. Reynolds, I assume this will be the last I’ll be seeing you?”

  I glanced at Derek.

  He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me.

  “I… guess…” I said hesitantly.

  Miles’s eyes flicked over to Derek, then came back to me.

  Was it an illusion, or did his gaze soften slightly?

  “Then let me take the opportunity to say that, on most occasions, you were less of a pain in my arse than half the members of this band. For which I am moderately grateful.”

  The corner of my mouth couldn’t help but curl up the tiniest bit. “Thank you, Miles.”

  “Well, now that we’ve had our emotional moment, CHRIST, you people,” he barked at the entire group, and launched into a diatribe on some business-related matter.