Rock Me Deep

by Nora Flite

  Messing with her hair, Lola squinted up at me. “It feels like something else is going on. What's wrong, Drez?”

  Everything is wrong. I can't decide what I want from you, from this, and it's giving me a fucking ulcer. Normally I wanted to gaze on her sweet face and intoxicating eyes. Now, I regretted that no matter where I turned, her reflection waited for me in the elevator.

  I asked, "What if something is wrong? In fact, I think you know what's on my mind.”

  Her sigh cut into my ears. “Drezden, look. All of that stuff with us yesterday...”

  Stuff. She calls it stuff, like it's so meaningless.

  “...And the stuff from the night before that...”

  My fingers choked the handles of the bags.

  “It can't happen, we can't happen. I was serious when I said I won't risk this chance. I want to make a name for myself, being in this band is a once in a lifetime thing for me.” I saw her look at her feet in the mirrors. “Seeing that stage today, I just—I knew I had to stay firm, to focus. I'm sorry.”

  Having her apologize to me was worse than being stabbed. My insides balled up, knotting until they overwhelmed my mind. She's right. Hooking up with me—getting close to me—will put her career in danger.

  Why don't I care about that?

  Like a man hanging below the surface, inches from the air he needed not to drown, I lifted my head high. In the mirror, I saw my eyes; the green was the color of acid, but it was my mouth that was ready to dissolve.

  All around me was Lola. The molecules in the air were crafted from her energy, her scent. I felt her on me even though we weren't touching. My lips ached to crash onto hers. In that elevator ride that never seemed to end, I made my choice.

  I couldn't hold back any longer.

  So I wouldn't try.

  Lola wasn't looking at me, not at first. The sound of me dropping the bags changed that. For a second, I saw her wide blue eyes focus on me. I glimpsed her fear—I spotted the lust she kept trying to hide from me.

  Then I was on her, my long fingers trapping her against the hard wall. Dizzy with the need that had haunted me since the night we'd rubbed together in the tub, I let myself go. My lips turned her mouth into a landing zone; she was ground zero for me.

  Lola tasted like caramel and salt and nightshade. I'd let her poison me if it came to that. If she wouldn't let me into her life, death was on my horizon, anyway. She filled my lungs with her high pitched whimper—how could a man breathe when he was denied such sweet air?

  My nostrils flared to claim her scent. In my ears, her moan was a mixture of surprise and delight. She wanted this. Wanted it. She'd called being with me a risk. I'm no more a risk than she is.

  I lost my hands in her thick brunette locks. My ribs screamed, telling me I needed oxygen. Ignoring them, my mouth pressed on her even harder. Lola wrapped her perfect hands, her fucking perfectly magical hands, around my waist. It was an aphrodisiac.

  The 'ding' of the elevator ended the moment.

  Lola's seeking touch become rough; a shove, aiming to push me away. I gasped when our lip-lock shattered. Her creamy cheeks were hot as fire. So was her voice. “Get off of me, Drezden.”

  It took everything I had to step backwards. My hands slid through her hair, the strands silken and buttery. We were both breathing hard. I saw the hint of her nipples straining through her shirt. Each heave of her lungs taunted me.

  Lola's gaze darted down. I knew she'd spotted my raging hard-on. I'd never been so stiff, so thick. My cock desperately needed to be inside of her. She moved towards me; I inhaled sharply.

  When she just grabbed her bag and guitar, fleeing out into the hall, I felt the first cold prickles of disappointment.

  Lola was running away from me.

  Giving into my burst of desire hadn't changed a fucking thing between us. She stumbled down the hall, stopping in front of a door, and I did nothing. When she fumbled for her keycard, dropping it then picking it up again, I still did nothing.

  It wasn't until she vanished from my sight that I acted.

  Lifting my bags, I stomped out of the elevator. That mirrored box was cloying with her scent. I wanted to laugh until my throat was ruined. Fuck, did I mess that up.

  My erratic behavior had been something a teenager would have done. She's the nineteen-year-old. I should fucking know better. Lola had resisted me—she was stronger than I thought. But I had a bigger problem: I'd given up my cards and shown her my hand.

  Lola now knew I'd put her career at risk just to be with her.

  Digging into my pocket, I revealed my keycard. It said room 504. Looking up, I stared blankly at the door Lola had entered: 505.

  We were right next to each other.

  - Chapter Twelve -

  Lola

  I couldn't get my breathing under control.

  Leaning on the inside of my hotel room door, I buried my palm on my chest and hyperventilated.

  Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit.

  Drezden had kissed me. Kissed me.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Reaching up, I dragged my fingers over my lips. His taste remained; cinnamon and tobacco. I should have hated it, but it was exotic and it made my head foggy.

  He fucking kissed me. Now what was I supposed to do?

  Every inch of my body was vibrating. Even the backs of my ears felt like someone had run a static roller over them. Waves of heat ricocheted from head to toe, settling into my lower belly until I had to scissor my thighs helplessly.

  Each time Drezden had gotten close to me, fate had intervened before he could act. The tub, the practice room, outside the car... But this time, he'd gotten a taste in before the elevator could reach our floor and interrupt us.

  He kissed me!

  I couldn't get that image out of my head. At my feet, my bag and case lay in a heap. I'd dropped them unceremoniously as soon as I'd escaped Drezden's molten stare. The way he'd looked at me when I shoved him off had cut into my soul.

  He didn't expect me to stop him. Running my fingers over my eyebrows, I smoothed them repetitively; nervously. Well, too fucking bad! I told him we couldn't, we shouldn't, and he fucking has the balls to try anyway.

  I hated that he'd pushed himself onto me.

  I loved it, too.

  What do I even want anymore? I was supposed to be thinking about how I'd be playing in front of thousands of people tonight. Instead, I was getting swept up in my growing obsession with Drezden Halifax.

  Drezden and his velvety mouth.

  Drezden and his dexterous fingers and searing heat and fuck could he kiss.

  I banged the back of my skull on the door. Out, thoughts! Out! They remained like ticks, burrowed and bloated in my flesh.

  I wanted Drezden. Wanted him in a way I'd never known was possible. Being a virgin became increasingly more frightening to me. Was it normal to be so hot, so hungry for someone?

  A guy couldn't kiss like that, hold me like that, if he wasn't experienced. The wildfire in his eyes had turned my strength into ash. If the elevator hadn't opened, ruining the spell, I might have let him go all the way.

  I didn't need that. What I needed was a shower.

  Preferably a cold one.

  ****

  Sweet and blacker than pitch. Whatever I was hearing pulled me from my dream. It was a sound I'd heard before, during a time when I needed to feel like someone understood me. At the tender age of seventeen, it's impossible to feel anyone does.

  In my case, with bullies and the tantalizing kiss of a blade, even harder.

  Cracking open my eyes showed me a white wall. Right, my hotel room. The shower had stolen all the strength from my muscles. With my thick, wet hair wrapped in a towel, I'd crashed onto my bed and promptly passed out.

  The sound came again; words through the walls. I caught snippets and clung to them.

  “You fight me,” the familiar voice sang.

  Drezden. It was Drezden singing through the plaster.

  “Bac
ked into a corner with your hands, and I can't keep my feet beneath me...” He wasn't screaming the lyrics. It was a low rumble, baritone and shaking with constraint.

  He's singing to me, was my initial, throat gripping thought. No. Impossible. He's just practicing for tonight. Sitting up, the towel fell from my head. Damp strands tickled my bare shoulders while I ripped my cell phone off the side-table. It was already three in the afternoon.

  I slept that long? Shit. Tugging at the snarls in my hair, I tuned into Drezden's soft murmur. Even with a wall between us, his music filled my soul. He was connected to me in a way he could never know.

  My arm throbbed sympathetically. I rubbed my tattoo, soothing the phantom wounds.

  He sang, “One more night until we fall. Fight me with curled nails and wicked teeth...”

  Closing my eyes, I let myself drift under his trance. There was comfort there among the passion, the fear. In my room, I was safe. Drezden couldn't see or hear my reactions.

  It was like I was seventeen again, chasing his lyrics down into the soft belly of my mind. Back then, I'd never imagined I'd talk to Drezden Halifax in person.

  I'd dreamed about playing on a big stage, but that was pretty optimistic. I knew I was good. Being good wasn't enough for breaking out in this industry. If I'd needed proof of that, I only had to look at my older brother.

  Sean had struggled for years to get to where he was, and I knew it still paled next to what he desired. Even so, if I could have gotten into a position as glorious as my brother's, that would have been enough.

  And now I'm soaring above him.

  Opening my eyes, I stared down at my bare feet. He'll see me tonight. He'll cheer me on, be so proud of me. Remembering standing in the Fillmore with Drezden, my mouth twisted into a bitter frown. Too bad my parents will never come. Drez actually offered to fly them out.

  It was sweet, but a useless effort. My parents couldn't be coaxed to believe in what I was doing. They'd hated it from the start.

  Only Sean has been there for me. Clasping my phone, I called him. It rang several times, each one dampening my mood. His voice mail beeped. “Hey,” I whispered, afraid Drez would hear me in his room. “Uh, just calling to say I can't wait to see you tonight.” I wanted to say so much more. Thanks for everything, thank you for pushing me.

  Thanks for being more of a parent than either of them.

  “Okay. Bye.” That was all I had left in me. Hanging up, I hid my face in my waterfall of hair. He's probably getting ready right now. He goes on at five, it makes sense that he wouldn't answer his phone. Logic wasn't the best for quelling my frustration. I needed to talk to someone.

  “You fight me...” Drezden sang, tormenting me. “And I can't keep my feet beneath.”

  Vigorously I scrubbed at my cheeks. Two can play this game. My guitar case thunked, clasps snapping open from my quick fingers. I spent the barest time tuning, one ear aware of the next song Drezden was prepping for.

  “Sticky sweetness,” he crooned. My pulse jolted, the stiff pick between my fingers tickling my strings. Behind the cloak of my strums, I heard him falter.

  He hadn't expected me to reply like this.

  “Burning fast.” He was louder; stronger. Had he moved closer to my wall? “My love, my dear, this will be your last.”

  Standing smoothly, I didn't miss a note while I walked towards the painted barrier. With everything and nothing between us, Drezden and I played together. We were perfection. Without needing to see, we sensed the tempo and followed the trail. As we sped up, my heart did, too.

  There was an echo in his lyrics; like his cheek was pressed against the wall's surface. “If I take you from the grave, you'll be mine.”

  Clenching my molars, a tremble boiled through my cells. Before, he'd been singing for himself. A shift had happened.

  He was singing for me.

  “You'll be mine...”

  Swallowing over my swollen tongue, I pressed my knees together. The heat was back. It clawed at me, steam that needed to be vented. I was fucking ready for Drezden. That was what this feeling was. An emotion that bent me to his will, held me prisoner as much as my dark singer's voice did.

  I wondered what it would be like to kiss him again.

  Groaning, I endured a hot ripple in my pussy. Just the memory was making me wet. He was so insistent, so primal. He smelled so good, too. If I got close to him again... Before I realized what I was doing, I placed my puckered lips on the wall. It was stupid; I knew that. If someone saw me they'd think I was insane.

  There was no one to spy on me. Right then, with our music mixing, there might as well have been no wall at all. I was kissing cold paint, but his gritty tone vibrated through the material. It numbed my mouth, brushed my lungs, my spine, and beyond.

  With my eyes closed, I played the ending of Velvet Lost. The last of the music melted like snowflakes on my scalding skin.

  I thought of his honey tongue, his magnetic gaze. When I looked up, the blank wall left me dejected. Fighting Drezden was too hard. Everything was too fucking hard.

  Just like him. Everything about him is hard, too. Several times I'd seen his massive erection in his pants. He was brazen about it; he had no shame. Drez wanted me to see how much he wanted to fuck me.

  I turned beet red, grateful again that no one could see.

  “Lola.”

  Startled, I jumped back from the wall. Oh, shit. What else had I expected but for Drez to speak to me? “Hey,” I said lamely, hearing the cracks in my voice.

  Something slid over the wall. I didn't know if it was his hand or something else. My eyes went to where I'd kissed, imagining him copying me. “Lola,” he said again, metallic. “We should get the guys and head to the Fillmore.”

  I was nodding, knowing it was invisible to him. “Alright. Let me get changed.”

  “They'll have clothes for you there.”

  Crinkling my mouth, I laughed. “Seriously? Fine. Most of my stuff is dirty anyway.”

  He said no more, so I scrambled to my feet and slid on the cleanest things I had left—some jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

  Tying my hair back in a tail, I let my neck breathe. I was sweltering from our private jam session, and not because of the effort. When he sings, I feel like he's sliding through my skull and into my heart. Thinking about Drezden sliding himself into any part of me was making me wilt.

  For a long moment, I stood with my hand on the brass handle of my door. I was counting the seconds. Each one was a bit of existence where a solid barrier stood between Drezden and me. I needed that protection; willing my body to calm the fuck down wasn't working.

  Okay, I told myself. I'm ready. I can do this.

  Tensing my jaw, I pushed out into the hall. Drezden was waiting for me.

  His ankles were crossed where he leaned on the far wall, his fingers in his pockets. He reminded me of a cowboy from an old western; he even had an unlit cigarette in his teeth. The heavy cloak of tobacco was hanging all over him. Was he smoking in his room?

  Drez pushed the cigarette to the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “I need a quick smoke before we head out. That alright?”

  Shrugging, I propped my case on my hip. “It's whatever you want.”

  He crooked an eyebrow but made no comment. I actually hesitated when he entered the elevator. The mirrored surface threw my bloodless face back at me. “You coming?” he asked nonchalantly.

  Is he pretending nothing happened in here? Biting my tongue, I dragged myself inside. I guess that's the best way to handle this. I did reject him, it's only fair. If it was fair, why were my palms so clammy?

  I knew the answer.

  I told him to get off of me, told him this couldn't happen between us, and here I am lamenting his aloof fucking attitude. My head was throbbing. I started wishing for some Advil just to get through the next few hours.

  When we landed in the lobby after our tense ride, Drezden marched through the doors. It was hard to keep up with him, his long legs gave
him an advantage. We'd barely made it outside, his hands cupping around his lit cigarette, when a car pulled up in front of us. In the back seat, Porter and Colt waved.

  “Hey!” The bassist looked quite proud. “Perfect! We were going to head out and send the car back for you two, but you're here, so just pile in.”

  The end of Drez's cigarette smoldered; smoke billowed from his lips. “I need to finish this, first.”

  Colt stretched over Porter, scowling wildly. “Man! Don't fucking smoke before you sing! I keep telling you this.”

  It was a good point. For a man so obsessed with how the band sounded, it was out of place to see him openly indulging in his lung-ruining addiction. “Can't you just smoke after?” I asked softly.

  His glare was so sharp I stepped backwards. “Are you giving me fucking advice on singing?”

  “I'm only saying—”

  “She's only saying what we're all saying,” Porter growled. Leaning out of the car, he took a swipe at Drezden's cigarette. Sidestepping, Drez avoided the attempt with ease. “Come on! Just get in the car!”

  He faced away from all of us, inhaling deeply; his response was flat. “Send the car back for me.” Then he was gone, strolling around the building without looking back.

  I took a single step after him before Porter reached out, grabbing me gently. I wasn't as slick as Drez; I couldn't avoid him. “Forget it, Lola. Let's just go.”

  I asked, “Shouldn't we make sure he's okay? That he's coming?”

  “He'll come.” Colt rubbed his shaved head roughly. “That guy just gets into a black fucking mood sometimes.”

  In the evening sun, Porter's eyes looked like melting chocolate. “It's fine," he said. "Remember who we're talking about. Drezden won't abandon a show. Not ever.”

  That word—abandon. It made my stomach contort like I'd swallowed rotten milk. Once, I would have believed Porter. The Drezden I thought I knew wouldn't walk away from a show, it wasn't in his blood.

  But he wasn't the same man any longer.

  Somewhere along the way, something had changed him. Something that had allowed him to think risking Four and a Half Headstones was worth it.