Sexy Lies and Rock & Roll

by Sawyer Bennett

  He holds or touches me in no way except with palms to the side of my head and his lips and tongue battling with mine. I strain to press into him, but he holds our bodies at a distance, letting this kiss occur with only what God blessed us with from the neck up.

  And because of that, I become acutely aware of every sensation inherent in that kiss. The stubble on his chin as it grazes mine, the heat of his mouth, and the strength of his tongue. His taste... warm cinnamon.

  Oh, God... I'm drowning.

  My eyes flutter closed and a bubbling groan warbles out of me as my hands wrap around his wrists to hold him in place.

  And then... his mouth is gone and the cool air coats my lips.

  I blink my eyes and look at him in the gloom of this area between two curtains. I want to launch myself back at him, but he releases me with a reluctant smile.

  "I have to go back out... do an encore song," he explains softly.

  "Oh," I say as my fingers come up and dazedly stroke over my lips, which are still tingling from his kiss.

  "You look amazing," he says softly. "So fucking sexy that if I didn't have to do this encore, I'm quite sure we'd be looking for an empty coat closet or something I could fuck you in."

  My face flames, as only Evan can make it do, and for the first time since he's tried to embarrass me, I'm not disgusted by his crude words. Instead, I want to go look for a closet and have it at the ready for when he comes back off that stage.

  Oh, God Emma... you are so turning into a tramp.

  "You're going to the after party, okay?" Evan asks as he pinches my chin in between his thumb and forefinger.

  I don't respond, because I'm still in somewhat of a daze, his ability to render me speechless almost an art form.

  "Okay, Emma?" he asks as he peers down at me.

  "Okay," I whisper in agreement, completely caught up in this moment with him.

  "And then," he says in a low growl that sounds ominous as he releases his hold on me. "We'll see what happens after that."

  And for the first time in my life, something happens to my body just from mere words hitting my ears. A low, throbbing cramp hits me square between my legs, and I have the sudden urge to hump Evan's leg or something.

  Tramp.

  I don't care, I tell my conscience.

  "You seriously do not have to do this," I say with a giggle as I wrap my arms more securely around Evan's shoulders. My head is spinning and I'm not sure if it's from the alcohol or the fact that I'm in Evan Scott's arms as he walks across the parking lot toward our bus.

  He gives me a squeeze as he mutters, "You would have broken your neck walking across this lot in those heels. You're not the best in them."

  "Too true," I say with a laugh and tilt my head back to look at the stars. I feel fabulous, except for the fact I suck at walking in high heels when I'm tipsy.

  Or drunk.

  I may be drunk, but I'm not sure.

  Evan reaches the bus and gives the door a slight kick. In moments, Red is there opening it up from the inside, his eyes taking in Evan standing there holding me. Sirius sits calmly by his side, head tilted in curiosity. Red's been working with him on manners, and he's done a far better job than I have apparently.

  "She's drunk," Evan says by way of explanation.

  "Tipsy," I clarify. "And, apparently, I can't walk in high heels."

  Red grins. Or at least I think he does as his eyes do that crinkle thing and his beard shifts slightly in the vicinity of his mouth.

  Evan makes a jerking motion with his head to Red, indicating he should come out of the bus. Red issues a curt, "Stay" to Sirius and trots down, giving me a nod as he passes by.

  "Thanks for hanging with Sirius tonight," I call back at Red as Evan starts mounting the steps.

  "My pleasure," he mutters as he heads toward the other bus.

  When we reach the top of the stairs and turn into the living area, I ask Evan playfully, "I thought we were all staying at a hotel tonight since you have another show in Miami?"

  "We were," he says in a sexy purr as he looks down at me. "Until you started driving me crazy at that after-party. Now I can't wait and so the hotel is out."

  I giggle again and lay my head on his shoulder. Evan and I had engaged in some heavy duty flirting all night. While he had to mix and mingle with guests and people with VIP passes, he kept his eyes on me most of the night. Occasionally, he'd come over to me and talk in low murmurs with his lips near my ear.

  It seems I was never without a glass of champagne in my hand, and as I got more buzzed, I think I got a little too handsy with him. Each conversation we had, my hand would be on his chest, or tugging playfully on his belt loops. This made Evan's eyes get darker and darker until almost all the green and gold were gone.

  Finally, by about my third glass of champagne, when he complimented me on my outfit again, I shamefully admitted to him that I was wearing some of the lingerie he bought me.

  Evan's eyes flashed in such a way that I felt it down between my legs again, and before I knew it, he was dragging me out of the party.

  Through the bowels of the arena.

  And out into the warm Miami air where we had about a hundred yards of parking lot to cross to the bus. He was pulling me so fast, I stumbled in those heels, but then I was immediately in his strong arms and he was practically running for the bus.

  And privacy.

  Evan takes me straight back to the bedroom. Without any ceremony, buildup, or foreplay, he lays me on the mattress and covers my body with his.

  I'm tipsy and I like it, and like the drunken tramp that I am, I spread my legs slightly so he can settle in between them. When his erection presses up against me, I gasp and arch into him, my arms coming to wrap around his neck.

  "So fucking sexy," Evan growls before he starts to kiss me.

  Then it's all hands and lips and teeth and tongue. My head spins, more from Evan than the champagne, and I can't seem to stop my body from undulating underneath him. Desperate for more contact.

  I drop my arms, push my hands onto his lower back, and try to press him further into me.

  Evan growls and responds by putting a large hand over my breast. I make this weird sort of mewling sound that embarrasses me with how needy it comes out.

  "Christ, Emma," Evan groans when he pulls his mouth from mine. "I knew you had fire inside of you. Just knew it."

  This pleases me.

  This compliment.

  No one has ever praised me for being a passionate person, and while I never felt that was lacking in me, it feels quite heady knowing Evan thinks it.

  Bending his head down, Evan rises up slightly and looks down between our bodies. With one hand, he deftly pops the button of my skinny pants before looking back up at me.

  His eyes so serious... intense.

  He looks starved and I'm the meal.

  This makes me bold, so I ask coyly, "Are you going to make love to me, Evan?"

  Lips curl upward in a feral smile as his fingers pull the zipper down on my pants. "No, Emma... I'm not. But I am going to fuck you and trust me... you'll prefer it that way."

  CHAPTER 11

  Evan

  My hand shakes as I pull her zipper down and as if she's falling prey to the thick, sexual vibe in this room, Emma's eyelids lower right along with it.

  "No, Emma... I'm not. But I am going to fuck you and trust me... you'll prefer it that way."

  Her beautiful brown eyes go round and her nostrils flare over my dirty words. It's not completely dark in the room as the glow from the arena lights filters in, but I can imagine her cheeks are red.

  They're always red when I tell her something dirty.

  I shift to the side so my hip rests on the mattress and nudge Emma's legs apart a bit further. To my surprise, they move easily and a crowbar is most certainly not needed. I lean over, running my lips up her neck at the same time I put my palm on her stomach with my fingertips right at the edge of her panties.

  When my mouth r
eaches her ear, I whisper to her, "Are you wet for me, Emma?"

  She moans in response and that makes my dick start to ache. I inch my fingers into her underwear, brushing against the curls, and her hips arch hungrily upward.

  My tongue darts out, touching the shell of her ear briefly before I say, "Let's find out, shall we?"

  Pushing my hand down further, I find the top of her slit covered with damp curls.

  Emma moans again, twisting her hips, and she says in a throaty whisper, "I'm so glad I'm drunk. I would have never had the guts to do this otherwise."

  I immediately go stock-still, my hand freezing in place. I push up onto my elbow and lean over her face, taking in the glaze of her eyes in the dim light. "Are you really drunk?"

  She gives me a happy grin and nods. "I think so. Or just really tipsy."

  My head drops in frustration, and I let out a long sigh as I start to pull my hand out. I'm surprised stupid when her own hand wraps around my wrist with surprising strength as she cries out, "No. Don't stop what you were doing."

  I lift my eyes up and murmur to her, "Emma... you're drunk."

  "Tipsy," she asserts.

  "Regardless," I cut her off. "You said it yourself... you wouldn't be doing this with me otherwise."

  "I would," she says desperately, trying to push my hand back down to her core, and I groan over the need in her plea. "I swear I would. Please... you said you'd fuck me."

  I groan again, because hearing Emma drop an "F" bomb is sexy as hell coming out of those sweet, holier-than-thou lips. "You're not making this easy."

  "Please," she begs, and my dick starts thumping with need. "I want this, Evan. With you. I promise. Please show me."

  "Emma..." I try vainly to get her to see reason, even as my hand slips an inch downward to where I can feel her wet curls again. "This is not a good idea when you're like this. I am not looking forward to the guilt on your face or the guilt I'll be feeling come morning."

  "Evan," she says softly... plaintively. "I need you."

  Fuck. Just... fuck.

  My cock is aching, my balls are tingling, I have hot, sweet pussy millimeters from my fingers, and my conscience is telling me to back the fuck off.

  "Not tonight," I say gently and lean down to brush my lips against hers.

  When I pull back, I see her eyes shimmering. If I were standing, she'd have knocked my legs out from under me when she says, "I need it, Evan. I've never needed it, but I need it now."

  With a muttered curse, I have absolutely no control over my actions. I slip my finger right into her, curling it hard before pulling it out to drag over her clit.

  Emma gives a startled cry of pleasure and thrusts her hips upward for more. "Please," she begs.

  "Shhh," I say before brushing my lips against hers again. "I'm going to give you what you need."

  "Okay," she huffs out in appreciation.

  "Pull your shirt up," I tell her gruffly. "And open up that bra. I want to see your tits."

  I know damn well that's making her blush, but she doesn't hesitate, giving me what I want. The minute she bares those beautiful breasts to me, I lean over and circle my tongue around a pert nipple. Emma's hands come to the back of my head and she arches her back, offering me more.

  So I take it, drawing her nipple into my mouth to suck at the same time my finger starts circling her clit.

  I dip my finger in and out, gather more of her wetness, and massage her in slow, gliding patterns. My teeth bite gently into her nipple before laving my tongue softly over it.

  All the while, Emma moans and gyrates her hips, her breath ragged and uneven. I give her two fingers, pumping them in and out of her slick channel, which is flooded, and move my mouth to her neck again. I kiss and lick her, move upward to her ear, and then I tell her all the dirty things I wish I could do to her tonight but won't.

  "Your pussy is so hot," I murmur to her as I press against her clit. "Wet and tight. It was built for my cock."

  Emma moans in agreement and starts to chant, "Yes, yes, yes."

  "When I finally fuck you, sweet Emma," I tell her slyly. "You're going to come so hard. Come all over my dick."

  "Yes," she breathes out before sucking in another labored breath.

  "But right now, you're going to come on my fingers," I promise her.

  "Oh, God... yes."

  I massage her harder and she starts to thrash. "Tell me that, Emma. Tell me you're going to come all over my hand."

  "I'm... I'm..." she stammers, and I'd normally find her shyness adorable, but right now, it's fucking sexy as hell.

  "Say it, Emma," I tell her as I circle her clit. "Say it to me and I'll let you come."

  "I'm... I'm..."

  I push three fingers into her up to my third knuckle, pull them out, and press them down hard onto her, rubbing in tight, quick circles. "Say it, baby."

  "I'm going to come on your fingers," she wails as she bares her neck to me and her hips shoot off the bed. I shove a finger back in her, and holy fuck, her pussy grips it so hard as she starts to orgasm, it sucks me in deeper.

  "Fuck, that's hot," I mutter in fascination as her hips push and circle against me, drawing out every tremor of pleasure.

  This prim, reserved, and oh-so-proper woman who blushes when she hears curse words just fucked my hand like a fucking porn goddess.

  Emma's body flops back down to the mattress and her channel relaxes against my finger. I pull it gently out as I lean down and nuzzle my cheek against her bare breast.

  "That was amazing," she murmurs drunkenly.

  I lift my head up and look down at her. Her eyes are bright and sparkling in the ambient light, but she's shy when she hesitantly says, "It's your turn now."

  My head is shaking in denial even as my cock starts doing a happy dance. "Not tonight."

  I pull her zipper up and fasten her button before lying down on the mattress beside her. Gathering Emma in my arms, I pull her into my side, where she rolls into me, putting her head on my chest. Her arm goes around my waist and she squeezes me.

  "Why aren't you... you know... going to..." she stammers. "I mean, I thought you wanted me."

  "I do," I assure her, angling my head slightly to press my lips onto her soft hair. "But not when you're drunk."

  "I'm tipsy," she chirps, and although I can't see her face, I can clearly hear her satiated smile in those words.

  "You're going to be stone-cold sober when you take my cock, Emma," I tell her boldly. Because she will take it, and she'll take all of it.

  Soon.

  She snuggles in deeper against me, and I have to admit, it feels nice. I like cuddling. I like the intimacy of touch. Of murmured words and promises of what's to come.

  Haven't had it in a good long while, and I might have even forgotten what it feels like, but this is super fucking nice I have to say.

  My dick jumps a little, pouting that it's not getting any action tonight, but it's had drier spells. It'll get over it.

  "Evan," Emma whispers, and her breath feels amazing as it floats across my throat.

  "Yeah?"

  "Why did you really want me to work for you?" she asks hesitantly.

  Truth or lie?

  "Because I wanted you," I tell her. "You intrigue me and you turn me on, and I wanted you. Simple as that."

  No sense in lying.

  "Oh," she says with a slight tinge of disappointment in her voice. I'm guessing no woman wants to be desired just for sex.

  "I also did need an attorney, Emma," I assure her. "And you really impressed me. You were a good choice to handle this stuff for me."

  "Oh," she says again, this time with a little bit of pride in her voice.

  We're silent for a moment, just lying there in each other's arms, and I'm wondering if I'll sleep in bed with her tonight. It's totally preferable over the couch, but I'm not sure I can take her body pressed up against me all night.

  "What's your story, Evan?" she asks, her sweet voice breaking the silence.

&
nbsp; "What do you mean?"

  "I mean... here you are, sudden fame and fortune thrust upon you, people vying to get a piece of you, and yet... I don't know... you still seem so normal and untouched by all of it."

  A feeling of elation sweeps through my body, and I realize Emma may have just paid me the highest compliment I've ever been given in my life. I've been handed thousands of accolades from fans and music executives and women begging for my dick, but none of them really see me for who I am.

  I am always just going to be a normal man who happened to step into a very abnormal kind of existence. But the one lesson Midge drilled into me during my formative years is that you have to stay genuine. Humility is one of the strongest character traits you can ever have and will serve you far better than egoism.

  "Thank you for saying that," I murmur.

  "How do you do it?" she asks almost wondrously.

  "Do what?"

  "Stay so normal... so touchable," she clarifies.

  "Midge taught me that."

  "I know she's your aunt, but you two are really close," she observes, her fingers skimming idly over my ribs. "Why's that?"

  "My parents are kind of absent," I say with brutal honesty. "They're wealthy and not really the parental types. They travel a lot, and early on, Midge just sort of stepped in. She was the one who came to see my soccer and football games, and encouraged me to play music. She was the one I went to when I got my first broken heart--"

  "Your heart has been broken?" Emma asks with pure sympathy as she rises up to look down at me. Her eyes are awash with concern.

  I chuckle and bring a hand to the back of her head, pushing her back down on me. "Of course it has. That's life. Hasn't yours?"

  Emma shakes her head and admits, "Not really. I dated someone for a really long time, and it just sort of... I don't know... fizzled."

  "Everyone needs their heart broken once," I tell her thoughtfully. "It makes you appreciate the frailty of love."

  With a deep sigh, Emma says, "That should be a song."

  "Totally should be a song," I agree, and commit it to memory so I can jot some notes down later. "At any rate, Midge is always the one that kept me grounded. Would never let me forget who I am."

  "Midge scares the hell out of me," Emma admits, and I chuckle in response. Midge can be intimidating.

  "She likes you," I tell her truthfully. I mean, Midge has never said those exact words to me, but I can tell by the tone in which she talks about Emma.