We stand next to the king-sized bed and watch one another for a moment. My heart hurts, she’s so beautiful, and bits and pieces of our first time together begin to flutter through my mind like a flock of birds scattering into the sky.
"Thank you," I begin. "For coming here with me."
She smiles. "I have to admit something—"
"At least I know it’s not that you’re a virgin."
She puts her head back and laughs, and it brings a smile to my face. Beautiful girl.
"No, but if you could actually get that back, I might be a candidate. It’s uh…been a while. A really long while."
I blink at her as the first thought that flies through my mind is, what the fuck is the matter with the men of Grove City?
"I find that hard to believe," I say as I reach behind her and slowly drag down the zipper of her dress.
She begins unknotting my tie—thank God—concentration furrowing her brow. "Well, believe it. For a lot of years, I didn’t think men hanging around were the best thing for my son."
"And now?" This shouldn’t matter to me, we’re only here for one night, I’ll never even meet the kid, but I don’t like to think of Carly alone forever. She deserves to have a man who will stand by her side, support the things she does, have her back.
She pulls the tie free at the same time her dress slides to the floor. I nearly lose my breath at the sight of her in heels, a black lacy bra, and a thong. Fuck. Me.
My hands begin to roam over her smooth skin as she gets to work on my shirt. She’s all focus and concentration, but I’d rather just rip the buttons off and be done with it. I want her hands on me so badly.
"Now? I haven’t met the right guy, I guess," she answers, pushing the shirt from my shoulders and down my arms. I shake it off and let it drop to the floor as she steps out of the dress at her feet.
When she starts to bend down to pick up our clothes, I draw her attention back to me. "I think you forgot something," I say, my voice filled with gravel.
I pull her hands to the waistband of my dress pants and she grins.
"Sorry," she murmurs with a smile. "I’ve been a mom too long."
"You don’t remind me of any mother I’ve ever known," I tell her, dipping a hand under the clasp at the back of her bra. I unhook it in a hot second and pull it off her arms before she begins working at removing my pants.
A few moments later, I’m crawling over her as she lays sprawled on the bed, her luscious breasts free of their constraints, her long hair spread in a silky mass around her head. I’m naked, she’s in nothing but a thong, and my night is steadily getting better and better.
I softly kiss her hipbone, then her belly button, then her lowest rib. She sighs and I know I’m doing something right.
"God, you’re beautiful," I tell her as her hands find my hair and dig in. She tugs just enough to make it sting, and my dick nearly explodes from the pleasure.
"I bet you say that to all the models and actresses," she jokes.
I lay down on my side and gently arrange her so we’re facing one another. Her hands drift over my chest and it’s the single most soothing yet arousing thing I’ve ever felt. It’s like anything angsty or tense in my life just floats away at the tips of her fingers.
"Now I have a confession to make to you."
She waits patiently as I gather my thoughts.
"I won’t lie. There have been models and actresses. But there hasn’t been anyone in a long time, and I haven’t been interested in anyone in a long time. At some point in the last few years, that part of being a rockstar really lost its shine."
"So, there wasn’t a twenty-five-year-old singer last night and a thirty-year-old Netflix star the night before that?" She laughs softly, but I don’t, because even though this is just for one night, I want her know that she isn’t one of a million, she’s one in a million.
"No. It’s been months, and the last one was thirty-five, and a flight attendant, and someone I’ve known for quite a while. A friend of a friend."
I pause, trying to find a way to tell her that she’s special, without sounding like I’ve lost my mind in the last four hours.
"I don’t give a shit about models and actresses anymore, Carly. I’m a lot more interested in real."
There. Hopefully that did it.
Her hand wraps around my cock and I lose the ability to speak, or even breathe, then.
"How’s this for real?" she asks.
I groan. "Baby, if you get any more real, I’m going to embarrass myself."
Then, I lean down and press my lips to hers for the first time in twenty-five years. And it’s like coming home.
6
Carly
I’m naked in bed with Ross Macalester, and he’s nothing like I would have expected. He’s everything like he was at eighteen—authentic, kind, funny. But while he was sweet and considerate then, he’s incredibly sexy now. Blow my mind sexy. Just the way he slowly pumps into my hand as I have it wrapped around his cock is pure, adult heat.
His lips slide over mine and every thought in my head goes full tilt out the window. He groans and moves in my hand again, and I press closer to him as his fingers find my nipples. Our tongues tangle and I tilt my head to deepen the kiss. He tastes like the whiskey he was drinking all night, and smells like heaven—salt and lemon and man.
Our breathing quickens, and soon his mouth has slid down to my breast. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and little sparks of arousal shoot through me. Once upon a time, I could nearly come from that alone, but nursing a giant baby boy deadened nerve endings in there for good.
I feel his fingers as they slide along my core, and I gasp at the sensation.
"So wet," he whispers into the dark. "When was the last time someone licked you here?" he asks.
I feel my face heat. My ex-husband and I never really talked about things like that. We weren’t totally uptight, but we weren’t verbal. You just did it—or not.
"Too long," I say, my voice thready with desire.
He chuckles, then, and slides off the bed onto his knees before pulling me to the edge. He drapes my legs over his shoulders, spreads me open with his fingers, and touches his tongue to my clit.
I can’t help but cry out.
"God, Carly." His voice is a growl, and my hips tip up to meet the next stroke of his tongue. "I want to make you come like this," he tells me. "Do you think I can?"
My back arches off the bed and my legs tremble. "Oh yeah," I reassure him. "No worries…there."
Then, there aren’t more words, just the sounds of a man doing his utmost to make a woman scream his name. And God, do I scream his name. I scream it as he thrusts two fingers inside me and pushes on my g-spot at the same time the flat of his tongue presses against my clit. I scream his name as my hips tilt right off the bed and waves of glorious release flow through me. I scream his name as he moans and licks me like I’m a goddam ice cream cone.
Then, in a flash, he’s gone, and everything is cold and I’m still throbbing, about to sob in anguish, but I hear the crackle of a condom wrapper and relief washes over me.
"I might not last more than about ten seconds," he warns as he climbs over me. I wrap my legs around his hips and take a moment to hold his face between my hands, relishing the feel of his big beard. It’s so much softer than I would have guessed. Smooth and thick.
We stare into each other’s eyes then, able to make out the basics in the nearly darkened room. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he leans in and kisses me softly, instead.
As he slides into me, I forget anything but the feel of him. I’m not a mother or an ex-wife, not a friend or a sister. There is no world outside of this room, no sensation outside of this man deeper inside me than anyone has ever been before.
"Carly." His voice is a whisper in the air around us as he begins to slide in and out, his chest brushing mine, his breath coasting over my cheeks. I work my fingers through his hair, and just feel him. Feel us. A rhythm tog
ether, in tune, perfection.
I’m already so aroused from the first orgasm, that the second chases it like a runaway train. Within moments, I’m clinging to him, gasping my release, digging my nails into his broad back.
He gives a sharp grunt, then pushes into me harder and deeper than I thought possible, before I feel him shake as he comes, his thrusting becoming short and quick, until he finally collapses on top of me, his head in the crook between my shoulder and neck.
I stroke his back as he catches his breath.
"I think I may have died and gone to heaven," his muffled voice says.
I burst into laughter because it’s the cheesiest, dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me after sex.
He lifts his head, one brow raised, and he looks more like the rockstar online than he does the boy I once knew. It steals my breath.
"You don’t believe me?" he asks.
I grin. "I’m not sure, but you have to admit, it was pretty corny."
He rolls his eyes before pulling out and sitting up. "Damn, you give a woman a compliment and she ridicules you for it."
He disposes of the condom and comes right back to bed. "What the hell is a guy supposed to say after an experience like that?" he asks. But he’s grinning, so I know he’s not actually offended.
I pretend to think about it for a moment. "Maybe, 'thanks, that was great’?"
He scoots under the covers next to me and arranges me how he wants, his arms around me as my head rests on his shoulder. I wrap my arm around his waist, noticing that there isn’t a single ounce of spare flesh there. I guess all those personal trainers really do work. I also can’t help but notice how comfortable it feels, and how much I like when he manhandles me just a touch. He’s gentle, but confident. It’s sexy as hell.
"Babe, 'thanks, that was great' doesn’t even begin to cover what we just did. That was…" He pauses, searching for the right words.
"It was fucking incredible," I offer.
He gives me a deep belly laugh that vibrates to my very soul. It’s like the feeling you get when you hear a baby laughing. Pure joy.
"It was absolutely fucking incredible," he agrees. "And if you give me a few minutes to recover, we can do it again. But you know, a few minutes might actually be an hour because I’m an old guy."
I pinch him playfully. "If you’re old than I am, too, so I resent that remark."
Then, he kisses the top of my head, his voice growing quieter, his embrace warm and safe. "You’re nowhere near old, baby. You’re perfect. This night is perfect. We’re perfect."
And as his breathing becomes rhythmic, and I begin to slide into slumber myself, all I can think is, nothing perfect ever lasts.
7
Ross
It’s nearly eight a.m. when I wake to find Carly putting on her clothes. She must be as exhausted as me, but damn was it worth it. The last time I made her come was at four thirty, when I slid into her from behind, her breasts filling both my hands, my mouth buried in the nape of her neck as she convulsed around my throbbing cock. The memories alone are making me hard as nails.
And honestly, I can’t believe I’m capable of being this hard after all the sex we had. You’d think, at my age, the equipment would be pretty exhausted by now, but apparently, I'm just getting started. Only problem is, Carly is nearly out the door, and our one night is over.
Suddenly, I’m desperate to make her stay. Do or say something that will stop her from leaving. It’s totally irrational, but I’m nearly in a panic as I sit up and watch her pulling on her high heels.
"Hey," I say softly.
She looks at me over her shoulder and smiles. "Hi there. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you."
"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" It’s ridiculous how much that thought wounds me. I’m a fool.
She blushes a touch. Her hair is messy, she has makeup smeared under her eyes, and she’s so gorgeous it hurts my heart.
"I guess I was." She shrugs in embarrassment. "I’ve never really done this before. I don’t know the protocol."
I climb out of bed and see her gaze shoot to my morning wood, that’s a raging hard-on at this point. Then, I walk to the end of the bed and sit next to her.
"Just ignore this," I say, waving at my dick.
She snort-laughs. "It’s pretty big to just ignore."
"Well, try to focus." I wave my finger around my face, and she smirks at me.
"Yes?"
"There isn’t a protocol," I tell her. "And even if there was, it wouldn’t apply to us. This is…not just some one-night stand."
Her brow wrinkles. "Um, I think that’s exactly what it is. We even made the rules last night. Same as last time. Remember?"
My chest tightens. "What I mean is, we’re not strangers, and no one needs to go slinking off at dawn like we did something bad with the wrong person and now we have to be ashamed."
She smiles sweetly. "It’s way past dawn."
I can’t help but lean in and rest my forehead against hers. "Why don’t you come back to bed? Just for a little while?" I whisper, a smile on my face that has been described as devilish by People magazine. I didn’t know it was devilish, but hell, if they say so, I’ll take their word for it.
She smiles back at me and I think I’ve won, but then she kisses me softly on the lips and says, "Thanks for a wonderful night, Ross," before she pulls away. Something inside me pulls loose at the same time.
I clear my throat, wishing now that I wasn’t stark naked. "I guess that’s a ‘no’ then?"
She stands and moves toward the door to the living room. "I need to get home before Quinn does. Doing the walk of shame in front of your sixteen-year-old isn’t the best parenting."
Ah. The kid. Of course. I get that.
I nod and grab a pair of sweats, pulling them on commando before I follow her out to the living area.
As we stand by the front door, I have this desperate need to say something that will keep this from ending right here, right now.
"What about tonight?" I ask. "You free for dinner?"
She looks at me warily. "That’s not sounding like part of our agreement."
"I know, but I’m only here one more night, and I really enjoyed spending time with you. It doesn’t have to be more than dinner. Just a meal. Just friends, if you want." I bat my eyelashes at her like a teenage girl, and she laughs.
"Fine. Dinner. But Quinn is with me tonight since it’s school tomorrow, so I really can’t do a repeat of—" she waves her hand around my hotel suite, "all this."
I put my hands up in surrender. "Totally understand. I like you in your clothes almost as much as I like you out of them. Just dinner. Can I pick you up?"
She seems to consider that. "I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…"
"Babe," I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her body flush to mine. I see her eyes dilate and I cheer deep inside. "We went to school together, we’re friends. Your son isn’t going to think anything, except possibly it’s cool you’re going to dinner with a rockstar, although, Odyssey doesn’t poll super well with the under twenty-five demographic, so he might not know who I am."
"Trust me," she says, "he knows who you are."
That makes me inordinately happy, because it most likely means she’s been listening to my music and or talking about me over the years. I’d like her to be my number one fan. And I have no idea where that thought has come from, but I also don’t really care because I’m about to kiss her gorgeous lips, yet again.
After a couple minutes of hot and heavy making out, she finally peels herself off me and we agree to dinner at seven. I do a little fist-pump after she’s closed the door behind her. It’s ridiculous, but I haven’t felt this good in years.
Carly Ellis just gave me an encore.
8
Carly
When I get to my car, I finally look at my phone, which Ali has been blowing up with messages since six a.m. She has her own tone, just like Quinn, so I knew it was her,
and I also knew I’d need to turn the sound off or it would be chiming every two minutes.
Ali: OMG, you left with ROSS!
Ali: Holy shit, you HAVE to CALL ME!
Ali: Are you doing it with him RIGHT NOW?
I nod as I read it. I probably was doing it with him right at that moment. My God, I haven’t had that much sex since I was twenty. I’m not sure he’s human. I’ve always assumed men slowed down over forty, but since I haven’t been in a real relationship in eight years, I didn’t have any personal evidence. If Ross is typical, they don’t.
Thank God.
Because wow.
I can’t help the grin that’s covering my face as I start up the car. I’ll deal with Ali’s need to live vicariously through me later. Right now, I’m just going to bask in the glory of the single best night of sex I’ve ever had. Who’d have thought I’d have it at this point in my life? I sort of assumed that kind of experience was in my past. But Ross has definitely opened my eyes.
Maybe I need to look harder for Mr. Right so I can get that part of myself back. The part that feels like a goddess and has multiple orgasms a night. Because, surely, if it was that great with Ross—who I know I can’t have feelings for since his life is totally incompatible with mine—it would be incredible with someone I loved, who could be my life partner.
I feel a twinge of something approximating disappointment, when I consider that person being someone other than Ross. It was more than physical, if I’m being honest with myself, which I have a strict rule about. I don’t have to reveal everything to the rest of the world, but I never hide things from myself.
No, the thing with Ross was genuine. I liked talking to him, I liked watching his hands while he held a tumbler of scotch in them. I liked the way he made sure to ask questions of other people instead of just talking about his rockstar life the whole night.
Encore: A Standalone Rockstar Novel Page 4
