Rock Rebel

by Tara Leigh

She blinked up at me now, fidgeting self-consciously beneath my steady gaze. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do I have something on my face?” She opened her purse, pulled out a compact. “Something in my teeth?”

  I slid my hand over hers. “No. You’re beautiful.”

  She brushed off the compliment with a disparaging roll of her eyes. “No, really. What is it?”

  I thought about how to answer her for a moment, deciding between an easy lie or a brush-off. What came out instead was the truth. “I haven’t wanted anything but music in a long time.” A deep groan wrenched from me as I roughed fingers through my hair. “Never planned on wanting another woman—not any one in particular. But I want you, Verity. So fucking badly.”

  Verity didn’t stare at me like I’d lost my mind. Instead she looked away, down at the fingers twisting together in her lap. When her voice finally emerged, it was quiet but firm. “You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to sleep with.”

  My heart stuttered to a stop, then jumped back into action, frantically trying to catch up with itself. “Wh—”

  “That came out wrong. I’ve had sex before—I’ve just never had moments where it was something I genuinely wanted. It just kind of…” Verity paused, streetlights illuminating her face in quick streaks of light interspersed with moments of darkness. I read her expression in pulses. Brief impressions of sadness and confusion. Rawness. Vulnerability. An openness that ate at my defenses like acid. “Sex is something I’ve done, something that’s happened to me. It’s never been something I’ve craved, something I’ve initiated.”

  I tried to read between the lines, to understand exactly what she was saying. Were the rumors about Verity and Jack Lester true? There were too many shades of gray in her words. Was Verity talking about bad sex? Or sex she regretted the morning after? Had she been forced?

  The first two possibilities made my hands curl into fists at my sides, my muscles itching from anger. The last one, though, sent fury streaking through my veins, a desire to grab whatever man had hurt her by the throat and not let go.

  “Verity.” Her name was a groan. And a plea for truth.

  She slid her hand over mine, squeezing my fingers. “You make me want to know what it’s like to want, just as much as I’m wanted. To take, just as much as I’m giving.”

  Her unease filled the car, burning the back of my throat with each breath. How had this gorgeous girl, who could command a stage with nothing more than a microphone in her hands, never owned her sexuality? “You haven’t been with a man, then. Not one worth a damn.”

  She glanced at me, her tongue darting across full lips, want etched into her finely drawn features. “Show me how it can be, Dax. How it should be.”

  My dick swelled, eager to fulfill Verity’s every wish. But there was a sliver of my soul that held back, not wanting to be just another asshole who took advantage of someone who deserved a hell of a lot more respect than she’d been given.

  “You would still be settling, Verity. I need you to know that. I’ll fuck you so good, no one else will live up to my standards.” In my head, the words were sarcastic and playful. But as soon as I said them, I realized I was dead serious. My eyes skimmed luminous skin I was dying to touch. “And then where would that leave you?”

  Verity dragged in a breath, her emerald eyes holding mine. “I guess if you’re as good as you say you are, it would leave me pretty damn satisfied.”

  I barked out a laugh. Jesus. “Our tour starts in a few months—whatever we are to each other has to end by then.”

  “So you’re already thinking about more than just one night?” She arched an eyebrow, a teasing pout on her mouth.

  I slipped my hands beneath Verity’s thighs, gathering her peach of an ass in my hands and sweeping her onto my lap. “One night wouldn’t be enough.”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, touching her forehead to mine. “The one who broke your heart—she was a musician, wasn’t she? Someone you performed with?”

  I gave a brusque nod. “She was. Until some schmuck filled her head with all kinds of crap about moving to Hollywood and becoming a star. Then the life we had wasn’t good enough for her anymore. I followed her to L.A., wanting to win her back. Instead I found Shane, Landon, and Jett. Never returned to New York, or to the kind of music I’d grown up playing,”

  “So when you lost her, you lost your love of classical music?”

  “For me they were intertwined.”

  Verity’s bright eyes dimmed with sadness, and I could see she was struggling for a response. When it came, her words were soft, tentative. “And you’re worried that if we blow up while we’re on the road together, it will sour the band, or at least the entire tour, for you.”

  I winced at the truth, reluctant to stare it in the face right now. “We’ve got better things to do with our mouths than talk.”

  Verity

  The air-conditioning in the car was on full blast, but that wasn’t what was making my skin feel paper thin and hypersensitive. Every word, every breath Dax and I had shared was pressing on me, sharp and heavy.

  I wanted to wrap myself in his embrace, lose myself in his kisses. Let the heat of our lust incinerate our doubts and resistance until there was nothing left but charred embers. Unrecognizable. Inconsequential.

  Was it possible?

  I had no idea, but damn it, I wanted to try.

  And in the second before our mouths met, before I felt the slide of his tongue along mine, I almost pulled back.

  I barely knew Dax. He barely knew me. But this invisible thread between us—I knew it deep in my soul. It was universal, primal, powerful.

  There was a chance, a slim chance, that thread would make us stronger. Better together than apart. But was it worth the risk?

  Dax growled, a gritty, possessive sound that traveled straight to the pulsing heat between my thighs, the flare completely destroying my capacity for rational thought. I didn’t even realize the car had stopped until the driver pulled the door open.

  Dax gently helped me off his lap and out of the car, his hand holding mine. And before I could ask the question, he lowered his mouth to my ear. “This time I’m coming inside.”

  My stomach executed an elaborate triple flip before plummeting entirely. Summoning the last of my willpower, I glanced up at Dax’s strong profile, his five-o’clock shadow making his chiseled jaw look as if it had been dusted with black sand. “Good. Because I’d rather not give the driver a show.”

  His lips parted in an amused grin, exposing a straight line of white teeth that had nibbled on my earlobe just a minute ago. “I’m only interested in my audience of one.”

  I was silent as we continued up the walkway to my front door, both of us looking at it and remembering exactly what had happened last time. I took a quick breath, feeling both vulnerable and strong. “If we were standing at your front door, would you invite me inside?”

  Tension thrummed between us, as conspicuous as the chirping of the cicadas. Neither of our stares wavered as we sized each other up like opponents on a field. What were we battling for?

  Beneath the glow of the lantern hanging above our heads, Dax’s expression was inscrutable, his bone structure carved by a deft hand, all strong lines and aggressive angles, offset by the full curve of his lips and high arc of his cheekbones. Masculinity tempered by passion and empathy.

  My eyes dropped to follow the heavy bob of Dax’s throat as he swallowed, then darted back to his face. “Tonight? Yes.”

  “And tomorrow?” I asked, hating that my breathless voice sounded so hopeful.

  “I can’t promise there will be a tomorrow, Verity. I can’t promise anything.”

  I wanted to reach out and smooth away the frown crawling across Dax’s forehead, lay my hand along his clenched jaw, sweep my thumb over the throbbing vein at his temple. To reassure him. To comfort him. I was a big girl. He didn’t need to worry about me. I could take care of myself. “I don’t need promis
es, Dax. I need proof. Proof that I’m not the only one of us who wants more than a make-out session at my front door.”

  The gold specks in his eyes lit up, overshadowing the darkness within. “Open the door. I’ll prove it to you all goddamn night long.”

  My breath hitched as I punched a code into the security panel. The sound of the lock disengaging shattered the suburban silence. Chills feathered down my spine as I stepped over the threshold and turned around, nearly eye to eye with Dax as he slipped a hand along the curve of my waist, the heat from his palm burning me through the thin fabric of my dress. “I need you to be sure, Verity. Right now I can still leave, pretend we just shared a ride. No harm, no foul.” His voice was gritty and rough, almost a plea. The look on his face making it clear that my answer would determine whether he followed me inside or walked back to his car. Letting me know the choice was entirely mine.

  A breeze gusted through the door, my hair sliding across my neck in a caress I wanted to come from Dax. “I don’t want to pretend.” I reached for his elbow and gave a tug. “I just want you.”

  It was like throwing a brick through a window. There was no going back.

  In one movement, Dax stepped inside and hoisted me into his arms, kicking the door closed with the back of his heel. A light from the upstairs hall illuminated the wide curving staircase, and Dax carried me as if I were Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind, my favorite movie of all time.

  I didn’t have a chance to revel in the moment though. His mouth was on mine, stealing my breath, biting my lips, his tongue slipping through the gate of my teeth. God, he was good.

  At the upstairs landing, Dax entered the first open door. A guest room I’d rarely set foot in. But it had a bed, and that was all that mattered. He set me down, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of my thighs as he cupped my face in his hands, our mouths barely a breath apart. His stare awakening parts of me I thought long since destroyed. “You weren’t supposed to be so fucking irresistible,” he rasped.

  And then we were kissing again. This time harder, deeper. Licking, sucking, biting. My moans. His groans. Our panting breaths as if we couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t get enough of each other. And yet I wanted more. So much more.

  Dax’s hands were everywhere. Mine were wrapped around his neck, my fingers threading into his scalp and holding on for dear life as he took my body on the ride of its life.

  The sound of my designer dress tearing, ripping in two, should have broken the spell, should have horrified me—it was thousands of dollars and on loan only for the night—but it didn’t. The sound of shredding fabric was an appropriate accompaniment to the angry act of passion we were engaged in. I didn’t care about anything but Dax’s hands on my skin, his kisses that were trailing sparks down my throat, then lower. Dax’s lips closed over my breast, his teeth grazing my nipple, his tongue flicking the needy peak. My head lolled back as I arched my hips, rocking against him, my nails digging into shoulders still covered by his shirt. “Off,” I muttered, frustrated by the barrier between us.

  A low chuckle rumbled from Dax’s lungs as he pulled away from me, the cold air making my wet skin tingle in protest. “Your wish is my command.”

  I pushed up on my elbows, a rapt audience as Dax unbuttoned his shirt, muscles bulking and flexing as he shrugged his shoulders and pulled out of the sleeves, the white cotton whispering to the floor. Then the metallic ping of his belt buckle, the whisper of it sliding through the loops, falling soundlessly on top of his discarded shirt. Dax’s thumbs disappeared behind the band of his pants, long fingers working the button, then the zipper. All the while the corded muscles of his abdomen tensed and rippled.

  Every part of this man was perfectly defined strength. He was skill and discipline and ambition and restraint.

  That restraint had been kicked aside just for me. Just for tonight.

  If tonight was all I’d get, I would take it. Eagerly.

  Which was why I slipped off the bed and onto my knees, falling at Dax’s feet like a sinner before a priest.

  Would this man be my salvation?

  No. Never.

  But for tonight I would worship at the altar of Dax Hughes.

  And I was going to enjoy every damned moment.

  Encased in black boxer briefs, the bulge between Dax’s thighs was enormous. I rubbed the side of my cheek against it, my hands gripping his quads as I breathed him in, a smile stealing onto my lips at his ragged groan. When I glanced up, my chin sliding along the cotton covering his hardened length, the raw desire radiating from his expression made my head spin. Holding his gaze, I pulled at his waistband, edging the fabric down until he finally sprang free. Thick and heavy, Dax’s cock bobbed in front of my face, a creamy bead already gracing the crown.

  I couldn’t help it—I leaned forward, my tongue outstretched, desperate for a taste. Salty and tart. I moaned, wanting more.

  Dax’s fingers plunged into my hair, curving around my scalp. “Christ, Verity. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

  Anther milky drop leaked out, and this time I spread it across my lips like gloss, licking it off with a swipe of my tongue as Dax watched, rapt. He cursed, his voice straining with need, a tremor running down his arms and through his fingertips.

  Before Dax could lift me up and throw me back on the bed, I leaned forward and took him into my mouth, the silky head pushing beyond my teeth as I ran my tongue over the crown.

  God, I could make a meal out of this man.

  Lust spiked, threading its way between my thighs, expanding and swelling. I slid forward, inch by inch, filling my mouth as I pressed my legs together, craving friction. Craving fullness. Craving Dax.

  I fluttered my tongue along the underside of Dax’s cock, the crown sliding along the roof of my mouth, going deeper, my mouth stretched wide around his shaft. Dax was muttering to himself, guttural sounds and incomprehensible words. Trying to hang on to the last bit of control that kept him from thrusting down my throat. But that last bit was getting thinner and weaker by the second. I reveled in it, taunting and teasing, moaning my pleasure.

  Finally Dax snapped with a hiss, rocking forward as he buried his fingers in my hair, cradling my scalp with his hands. “Fuck, Verity, I can’t—I can’t hold back anymore.”

  His words had been stripped bare of any pretense at consideration or restraint, but his hold was loose enough that I could escape if I needed to. If he was too much for me.

  Dax was definitely too much. But the last thing I wanted was escape.

  Unable to take him all in, I gripped his shaft at the base. Dax’s hands slid forward, his palms against my cheeks, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His groan was raw, tortured, as he took in the sight of me with my mouth still wrapped around him, lashes wet and spiky from that brief moment when he’d slipped past my gag reflex.

  “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” There was a tenderness to his expression that hadn’t been there a moment ago. A softening, just slightly, of all those hard edges and rough words.

  I moaned again, the vibrations traveling through my tongue as he jerked inside my mouth. His eyes flashed, tenderness giving way to the purest lust. So deep and dark and bold I had to close my eyes from the intensity of it.

  Dax’s hips rocked forward, his shaft plunging down my throat, stopping just shy of my limit and setting up a rhythm that was forceful but not brutish. Needy and reverent. So fucking hot.

  My hand wanted to creep between my thighs, but I stopped myself, wanting to keep my focus entirely on Dax. He was making all sorts of sounds, as close to out of control as I’d ever seen him.

  And yet entirely in control—of me. Of my mouth, of my body, and—as much as it terrified me—he’d staked a claim on my heart, too. Just a small piece, but his territory kept expanding. As many times as Dax had warned me off, I’d ignored him. The man was too enticing. Too tempting.

  And now, taking him in my mouth, reveling in the taste and feel and
even the implied submission of being on my knees before him, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Oral sex was an act I’d performed with other men in the past—begrudgingly and without any enjoyment. An act that had made me feel used and degraded. Violated.

  But not now. Not with Dax. This act wasn’t an act at all. And it wasn’t one-sided, either. I welcomed every thrust and groan, grateful for the chance to prove to Dax that we were worth more than just one night. Wanting to give him a memory he couldn’t resist coming back to.

  Maybe it was ridiculous—tonight wasn’t even over—but I already knew I wanted more.

  Dax’s pace quickened, his thrusts turning frantic. Desperate for relief. My name fell from his mouth, grunts of one syllable at a time. My jaw was aching, but I opened my mouth further, took him in deeper, welcoming that moment at the end of each thrust when I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, when I was speared by Dax, held captive by his hands and his thighs and his pulsing, leaking cock, which seemed to grow thicker and longer and harder with each passing second.

  The energy picked up, Dax’s muscles trembling with strain. With one last bellowed curse, his hands clamped down on my skull. His back arched, his body a rigid, powerful statue, still except for the part of him that was jerking and spurting against my tongue, emptying itself deep inside my throat.

  I watched it all in awe, my eyes open, my mouth too full for the smile beating within my heart.

  Dax Hughes, succumbing to an orgasm I’d given him, was the most beautiful creature on earth.

  But if I thought it would weaken him, even for a moment, I was wrong. As the last pulse echoed against my tongue, he was already pulling out, his thumb sweeping over my swollen lips as he stared at me, a riotous world I was sorely incapable of deciphering visible behind his eyes. Before a single word could be exchanged, Dax picked me up and lay me back on the bed, tossing my legs over his shoulders, my feet still strapped into glittering sandals, his head diving between my thighs.

  Stars blazed at his first lick, explosions of light that obliterated everything in my field of vision. There was only the sweep of Dax’s tongue, the pull of his lips, the press of his fingers.