by Nina Levine
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She frowns. “What?”
I bend to whisper in her ear. “Your lips. My dick.”
I hear her suck in her breath and know she’s keen but her eyes betray her tiredness. “Oh, that,” she murmurs. And then her tummy grumbles.
Cupping her chin, I ask, “You hungry?”
A small smile pulls at her lips and she puts her hand to her stomach. “Yeah.”
I nod. “Okay, let’s go get you something to eat.”
“It’s nearly three am. I’m sure you must have stuff planned for today. Don’t you want to get some sleep?”
I grab her hand. “What I want to do is feed you, sweetheart. Sleep can wait.”
She covers the surprise I see on her face with a grin and squeezes my hand. “I know your game, dude. You just want to get me fed so I’ll have the energy to finish that blow job.”
I stifle my laugh so I don’t wake her friend. Dragging her out of the room, I ask, “How is it you know me so well after such a short amount of time?”
“Men… you’re all the same. If there are lips on offer, you’ll do almost anything.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“So, where are you taking me?”
“I know a little café that’s open all night. They make the most amazing food.”
“Oh god, don’t tell me that. I’m trying to lose some weight at the moment, and amazing food is the last thing I need. I don’t know how to stop when the food is that good,” she complains.
I eye her petite frame. She’s got curves, but there’s no way in hell she needs to be on a fucking diet. Scowling, I say, “Do you have any clue how sexy you are? Those curves of yours are every man’s fucking dream.”
Her eyes widen and I’m stunned to think I’ve told her something she should have already known. Something any man in his right mind would tell her. “There’s always room for improvement,” she says quietly, and I want to take a match to those thoughts and burn them from her mind.
I shake my head. “Not for you.” I yank her hand and pull her to me. Her body collides with mine, and the heat between us flares. Running my finger along her lips, I say, “As far as I’m concerned, your sexiness is off the fucking charts. Don’t change a thing.”
A smile eases onto her face. “Every woman needs a Jett. You could singlehandedly fix the mental health of most of the women I know.”
I steal a kiss and then smack her ass. That ass is one I could happily spend hours getting to know and laying my hand on it is something I want to do more of. Pulling away, I boss her around. “Okay, start walking. Food heaven awaits.”
Ten minutes later, we arrive at the café and the owner gives me a huge smile. I’ve been coming here on and off for five years, so they know me well. He gets us settled and takes our order. I’m pleased to see Presley order up big. After the owner leaves us, I say, “I take it you don’t live here due to the fact you’re staying in a hotel. Where are you from?”
“Brisbane. You?”
Inside, I’m cheering like a dickhead. “Brisbane, too.”
“Are you here for work?”
“Yeah, we came to Sydney to do some concerts.” I shift in my seat and lean across the table a little. “You said you were working with models. What do you do?”
“I’m a fashion photographer. However, I’m thinking of swapping to landscape photography,” she says, and I note the sarcasm.
I chuckle. “Had enough of the models?”
“You have no idea. I’ve been working in this industry for seven years, and I think I’ve hit my used by date.”
“So, time for a change?”
She nods, clearly enthusiastic about this idea. “I’ve got three months off, and I’m going to reassess everything.”
I cock my head. “Sounds like you’re about to make a lot of changes, not just work.”
“Yeah, it’s been one of those years, you know?”
“I do. Although for me, it’s been more than one of those years.” Exhaustion pounces on me just thinking about it.
“Oh god, that sucks,” she says, and I’m in complete agreement with her.
“Yeah, it does, because I love making music. It’s just all the other bullshit that goes with it that I hate.”
“Which part?”
“I miss my family and friends. When we started the band ten years ago, I never cared about being away from them, but over the last few years, I’ve really started resenting it. In fact, we’re just about to take some extended time off, something we haven’t done for a long time,” I say, taking in her surprise. “Why do you seem surprised?”
“I’m more impressed than surprised,” she says, softly.
“Why?”
“I’ve met a lot of famous people through my work and other things, even made friends with some of them, and they hardly ever talk about their family. You’ve mentioned yours twice already tonight. So yeah, I’m surprised but impressed.”
A sensation I’ve never felt snakes through me. I’m clueless as to what it is, but I soak it in. It’s the kind of sensation I would pay good money to feel more of. “I know what you mean, sweetheart,” I murmur.
“Do all your band members get on well?”
“Ten years is a long time to work together and practically live together. We’ve hardly stopped touring in that time. But I’m pretty proud to admit we work at it and do get on fairly well still. There have been some bumpy parts, though. I guess it’s like a marriage.”
“You’ve been married?” she asks, seemingly interested in my answer.
“Fuck, no. Besides the fact I haven’t met the right woman, I wouldn’t like to put a marriage through my job. I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever get married, but I’m fairly certain I’d cut my work back.”
And there’s that surprised look on her face again as she says, “Like I said, every woman needs a Jett. Do you know how many friends I have who would kill to have a husband who put them before their work?”
“You know, I’m kinda liking this whole ‘everyone needs a Jett’ thing you’ve got going on but only so long as it’s you who wants a Jett and so long as it’s for more of the lips-on-dick action.” I give her a wicked grin, and she shakes her head in amusement.
It’s refreshing to find a woman with a great sense of humour. As we start laughing, our food arrives and we spend the next hour eating and talking. It’s easy, which is something rare for me. I find most women difficult to talk to. All they want to do is screw me and worm their way into my life by blinding me with sex. I’ll take the sex any day, but what I crave is good conversation and some laughs. So far, Presley has managed both.
She gives me a serious look when we finish eating, and says, “I think you’d better take me back to the hotel now if we’re going to have any hope at finishing what we started. Otherwise, I may fall asleep mid sex.”
Without hesitating, I stand and reach for her hand. “Let’s get going then,” I say as I assess her. It’s obviously been a long week for her because she looks exhausted.
It takes us longer to walk back than it did to get here, and I’m beginning to wonder if I should just carry her, but she makes it on her own. When we enter her room, I pull her to me and kiss her. She kisses me back but there’s even exhaustion in her kiss. I figured that would be the case, and as I end the kiss, I smooth my hand over her hair and murmur, “Let’s get you to bed.”
She looks puzzled. “Don’t you want to have sex? My lips, your dick . . . remember?”
“Beautiful, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you, but I’m thinking that in your current state even my dick won’t keep you awake.”
A tired smile graces her gorgeous face and she nods. “You’re probably right.”
She walks to the bed and grabs the t-shirt that’s under the pillow. I expect her to change in the bathroom, but instead, she strips down to her panties and pulls the t-shirt on. Fuck, her body is spectacular with its curves and a softness I
don’t see on many women. I don’t even pretend not to watch. No, I settle my ass against the table in the corner, fold my arms across my chest, and enjoy the fuck out of the show. Not that she’s turning it into a show, but Presley undressing is a fucking show.
Once she’s changed, she pulls the bed covers back and gets in. I move to the bed and pull them over her before squatting so we’re at the same level. I want to take one last look at her before leaving. Her eyes are already closing and she smiles at me as she fights sleep.
“I’m so glad I went to that club tonight,” I admit.
The smile is still on her face and her voice is sleepy. “I’m glad you went, too.”
“When do you fly home?”
“Tomorrow, late afternoon.” She’s barely awake now.
“I want to see you again, Presley.”
“Yes . . . the sex will be good . . . we need to do that . . . ”
“No, I want to take you on a date.”
“No dates . . . just sex . . . I don’t do rock stars . . . ” she mumbles through a sleepy haze.
“What do you mean you don’t do rock stars?”
“No, don’t want to do it again . . . ”
She’s almost asleep, and I have no clue what she’s talking about, so I decide to finish this conversation when she’s awake. I kiss her on the forehead and stand. “Night, sweetheart.”
There’s no response except for her steady breathing as she sleeps. She looks so peaceful. I consider sitting in the chair and watching her for a while, but it feels wrong, so I don’t do it. Instead, I take one last look at her and then leave. This won’t be the last time I see her. She can try to say no to me all she likes, but I’m not the kind of man who ever takes no for an answer. If I want something, I always find a way to have it.
3
Presley
I hang up the phone from Darla and mutter a swear word. Our flight has been cancelled, and while she’s decided to take the opportunity to stay in Sydney for a couple of extra days, I have to get home. My cat, Urban, has been staying with a friend, and I need to get back to him. I’m just about to call the airline when there’s a knock at my door.
“Hi,” I say, surprised to see Jett.
He holds a coffee out to me and takes a step forward to enter my room. Although I’m not sure I want him here, there’s a sureness in his stride I like. “Morning.” He greets me with a million dollar smile that sets butterflies off in my stomach.
Shit.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I inquire as I take a sip of coffee. Hot damn, it’s good coffee. Just what I need this morning.
He walks further into the room before stopping and turning to face me. “Just checking in on you. You were pretty tired so I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss your flight.”
“Thank you.” I hold the coffee up. “And thank you for this. It’s heaven in a cup.”
“It is, isn’t it? It’s from that same café I took you to.”
“I’ll have to remember that café the next time I visit Sydney.”
“What time’s your flight?”
“It’s been cancelled, so I’m just about to find a new one.”
A thoughtful look crosses his face. “I have a spare seat you can take.”
“Huh?”
“My band’s flying home at seven tonight, and our manager was supposed to fly out with us, but he has to stay another night now, so we have a spare seat.”
I’m not sure why I’m feeling all mushy and excited at his suggestion when my head is screaming to refuse. I don’t fucking do mushy. And yet, my heart and stomach are all mushy.
Shit.
The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “That would be great.”
His face lights up. “I’ll organise it. We’re leaving the hotel at four, though. Sorry about that.”
“I don’t mind, but why so early?”
He sighs. “Our drummer, Hunter, has this thing about always being on time. He hates being late, and we always have to leave for everything hours in advance.”
I shrug because I get that. Totally. It’s something I do. “Well, I guess on the upside, your band must have a reputation for never being late to a concert. I bet your fans love you for it ‘cause I’ve gotta say, there’s nothing worse than when you go to a concert and they can’t even be bothered to start on time.”
He grins again. “Yeah, that’s us, and you’re right, the fans do love it. Thank fuck for Hunter, huh?”
I raise my coffee in the air. “Cheers to Hunter.”
He chuckles, and it warms me. It’s been too long between men for me, and I’m enjoying this more than I want to. “I would ask you to lunch, but I’ve got some meetings to attend before we head out.”
I wave my hand at him. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got editing to do anyway. I’ll see you at four down in the lobby.”
He spends a moment or two looking at me. I’m not sure why, and it flusters me a little. And the fact it flusters me, shits me because I don’t get flustered. A bit like I don’t do mushy. Bloody hell, this man is bringing all kinds of shit out in me.
I’m relieved when he finally speaks. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you then.”
He leaves, and I’m left in a bewildered state. It’s been a long time since a man’s managed that. I’m a little disappointed, though. Jett’s a rock star and I won’t date a rock star ever again. Not after the last one ripped my heart out and left me to bleed tears of heartbreak and regret.
I spot Jett as soon as I enter the lobby later that day. He’s standing near some couches, talking on his phone. Sitting on the couches are three men and they all look fairly bored. Must be his band members.
As I walk over to them, Jett spots me and grins. By the time I get to them, he’s ended his call and gives me his full attention. “You still look tired. You didn’t get to catch up on some sleep?”
“No, I had to get my editing done. Did you get any?”
He shakes his head. “No, we’ve been in meetings all afternoon.”
His band members are all watching me with what looks to be fascination. One of them stands and comes toward us. The grin on his gorgeous face is devious, and I wonder what he plans to say. I rake my gaze over him. He’s tall and muscly, but not in an overly built way. It’s what I call a skinny-muscly look. His dark hair looks good against his tanned skin, and he’s rocking some serious ink, even more so than Jett. I don’t have any tats, but the artist in me loves the idea of decorating my body with meaningful images and words.
“I can see why Jett gave you our spare seat,” he says, appreciative eyes checking me out.
“I see you aren’t the only smooth talker in your band,” I say to Jett.
He grimaces. “Yeah, meet West, he likes to think he’s smooth.”
West shrugs, a lazy grin on his face. “There are a lot of women out there who would agree with me.”
“Yeah, well, unless you want to lose a nut, keep your eyes to yourself,” Jett threatens.
Another one of the band members comes over and introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Hunter, the only sane member of this group,” he says with a friendly smile. If I didn’t know he was in a band, I possibly wouldn’t have suspected it. He seems almost shy and doesn’t have the standard rock star look going. Instead, he has the gorgeous blonde hair, blue eye look that makes him look quite wholesome. I don’t tend to go for blondes, but he’s gorgeous. And while I can’t see any visible tattoos or piercings on him, I wonder what he’s got hidden under his clothes.
I return his smile. “So, what you’re saying is that I should run now, right?”
He laughs, and it lights up his face. Oh god, I bet he has the women falling at his feet. “Nah, Jett’s cool. He loses the plot sometimes, but other than that, he’s a good guy. It’s Van you need to worry about the most out of all of us. He’s a crazy motherfucker. Best to steer clear.”
Van is still lounging on the couch, watching and listening. He doesn’t get up; rather he
just gives me a chin jerk and mutters a greeting I can hardly hear. I nod back, not sure what to make of him. He’s dressed in leather pants, a t-shirt, and chains around his neck – your typical rocker outfit. And he seems to have the attitude to go with it.
“How in the hell did you meet this asshole?” West asks.
“He bought me a drink and then told me I needed a new addiction. Let’s just say the conversation was fascinating.”
“A new addiction? What the fuck?” West was looking between Jett and me for an explanation.
Jett grins but doesn’t say anything so I enlighten him. “He suggested I give up alcohol and take up sex. Much easier to hide a sex addiction.”
West bursts out laughing. “That’s fucking classic, man. You seriously score chicks with that shit?”
“He seriously did,” I say.
“Fuck!” West is clearly impressed, and I feel the need to clarify something.
“That line wouldn’t work for just anyone, though. It worked for me because the minute I saw Jett, I wanted to sleep with him, so pretty much whatever line he came out with would have worked.”
“Every woman he meets wants to sleep with him. Fucking lead singers get all the chicks,” West grumbles.
“She didn’t know who I was,” Jett joins in the conversation.
West is floored, Hunter looks stunned, and even Van leans forward to hear more.
“What the fuck?” West finally mutters.
Jett remains silent, leaving it for me to explain. “Sorry guys, but I’ve never heard of you before now. I don’t really keep up with bands. If I like a song, I’ll check it out, but even then, I don’t tend to remember the name of who sang it.”
Hunter’s mouth has fallen open. I think I’ve really shocked him. “What kind of music do you like?” he asks me.
“I love country. I could listen to that all day. But I do like some rock, just not the heavier stuff.”
“Do you know the names of anyone you like?” he asks.
“Yeah, I like Florida Georgia Line, Carrie Underwood, Blake Shelton . . . ” My mind goes blank for a moment before I exclaim, “Oh, and Keith Urban, I love his stuff.”
