A Cruel Kind of Beautiful (Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll Series Book 1)

by Michelle Hazen

  “Um, actually, I’m pretty sure you are.”

  I refuse to smile at that. “I’m pretty sure you should shut up, Captain Obvious. And take off your pants.” My hand rises to the zipper of my jacket and I drag it down, spreading open one side of my jacket, and then the other to expose the surprise waiting underneath.

  Jacob bursts out laughing.

  I grin, peeking down at my shirt, which features a picture of a drum and the words, “Let’s Bang.”

  “You’re amazing, you know that?” He kisses my forehead, chuckling. “But as much as I love that pun shirt, I still don’t think our first time should involve ropes. It seems...”

  “Spontaneous?” I fill in. “Kinky? Symbolic? Are any of these things you have objections to?”

  He raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark and soft. “Unnecessary.”

  “It’s not necessary, but it’s...something I want to do. I want you to know that this time, I’m not going to run off on you.” I squeeze his hand. “I trust you, Jacob. I trust us.”

  “Does that mean I finally get to bust out the exotic sex toys?” Jacob waggles his eyebrows, and he’s so obviously trying to get me to laugh that I want to drop to one knee and propose, right there.

  Instead, I poke him in the side. “You’re not that lucky.”

  “I don’t know.” His gaze traces the lines of my face. “I’m feeling pretty lucky.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and my breath stutters as I try to contain all the emotions that leapt to life at his words.

  His lips stroke over my forehead. “You sure you want to close your eyes? You’re going to miss all the fun.”

  My lids pop back open as Jacob pulls off his hoodie and starts unbuttoning his shirt. By the third button, my mouth is utterly dry.

  Positive thinking is suddenly coming so much easier to me.

  Jacob kicks his shoes and pants aside and takes a step toward me. I realize it’s my turn and start to pull my arms out of my jacket, but he stops me with one word.

  “No.”

  I freeze. His voice is different, more commanding, and it sends a tingling thrill through my whole body: excitement dancing right on the line of fear. He doesn’t speak again as he undresses me, setting each piece of clothing aside until I’m only in panties, my nipples peaking in the open air of my room. Jacob hooks his thumbs into the sides of my panties and drags them all the way down my legs, waiting while I lift one foot, then the other to step out of them.

  “I think we need some ground rules.” He stands, resting his fingers on my neck, his thumbs brushing the line of my jaw. My bare breasts tremble a mere inch from his chest.

  I’m little lightheaded at his tone. I want to fold myself into his hug and call a time out, but another part of me thrills darkly to the scream of tension between us.

  “You can call this off at any time,” he says, “including right now. If you get uncomfortable, or scared, or you just don’t like something I’m doing to you, you say the word and it stops. Immediately. Do you understand?”

  I nod quickly. Agreeing ratchets up my nervousness about four notches, which is ridiculous. I know I could speak up right now and we’d get dressed, Jacob would make soup, and we’d be on the couch watching It’s a Wonderful Life within twenty minutes. And unlike Andy, Jacob wouldn’t be all pouty and hurt about it, either.

  “But,” he says, and I take a shaky breath. “You don’t get to tell me what you want.”

  I blink and tip my head up, but he’s still too close for me to see his eyes. He bends so I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead his words whisper across my lips like their own caress. Their own tease.

  “I want you to let go of trying to make it work and worrying if I’m having a good time. I want you to relax and just be here with me. No matter what we do. No matter where it leads.”

  My head whirls, and I think I need to sit down. Possibly get some supplemental oxygen. Instead, I focus on his deep brown eyes. “I think I’d like that.”

  Jacob smiles. “Good.” He picks one of the cuffs up off the bed. It is a wide strip of black fabric with a metal ring attached, and it closes with a long strip of Velcro that my fingers can’t reach once he winds it tightly around my wrist. I bought them because somehow Velcro seemed less intimidating than knots, but as he fastens the cuffs, it’s not helping whatsoever. He may not have been with many people, but I know his sexual repertoire is much broader than mine. Despite everything he just said, I can’t help but be curious. What is he going to do to me?

  Kneeling at my feet, he wraps cuffs around each ankle, the material soft and firm and blaringly difficult to ignore.

  When he stands, he lifts me into his arms without warning, maneuvering my weight with shocking ease as he lays me onto my bed. He leans over me, a whiff of comforting cedar filling my lungs as he stretches my arm over my head. With a click of metal, my right wrist is secured to the headboard. His cock brushes my stomach when he shifts to do my left, and my back arches, thrilling toward every powerful inch of him. But when he snaps my left wrist into the clip on the end of the rope, I flinch a little and realize exactly how firmly my arms are held. My heart gives a panicky leap.

  He moves down toward the foot of the bed and I swallow, my toes squirming. This is kinky, and I’m not entirely sure I know how to pull off kinky. Should I be trying to look sexier? I should have bought lingerie.

  He snaps in my left ankle, then tugs my legs wide apart, his hand firm as he clips in my right. When he moves up next to me, his chest seems too warm and nearly twice as wide as mine. He smoothes my hair away from my face, and I have the totally bizarre thought that if I need to scratch my nose, I can’t.

  “Last night,” he whispers, right next to my sensitive earlobe, “I caught Ben taking duck lips bathroom selfies.”

  Houston, could you repeat that?

  The sheets rustle beneath us as Jacob pulls back and smiles at me, and it’s the smile of the man who bought his sister purple glittery shoes, the smile of the man who attached a flashing safety light to my bicycle for when I ride at night. “When you get nervous, you always change the subject. Thought I’d beat you to it.”

  I exhale a laugh and start to breathe again, and he bends to kiss me. My hands shift automatically to pull him closer, but when I can’t move, awareness runs through my whole body and centers on the slide of his lips over mine, his tongue entering my mouth. I can feel the exact temperature of every place our bodies meet. When he moves away, I swallow a whimper.

  “Do you want me to untie you?”

  “No,” I admit, barely above a whisper.

  He leaves the room.

  The pillow sags as I drop my head back onto it, gasping as I try to catch up with everything that just happened. I am excruciatingly aware of my nakedness as I wait for him to return. This position is pure sex, and something primitive in me knows it. My body softens, preparing for him as if the ropes themselves are all the foreplay I need.

  There’s a soft whoosh as the heater kicks on, and Jacob pads back into the room: gloriously aroused, nude, and utterly unselfconscious. “Better?”

  I consider all the possible meanings of this word. I nod.

  He kneels on the bed next to me, his warmth both a comfort and a tease as I begin to wonder what he’s going to do with me.

  Jacob touches one finger to my forehead. Deliberately, he drags it down the pert, upward curve of my nose, over my slightly kiss-swollen lips. He traces a line down my throat, between my breasts, along the soft skin of my belly, past the quick dip of my naval.

  Is he going to stop? Please, for the love of Gibson guitars and triple chocolate mocha ice cream, do not let him stop. He’s probably going to stop. Jacob never takes a direct line to anywhere when it comes to sex.

  One more inch.

  He’s going to stop. I know he’s going to stop.

  He pauses at the top of the small triangle of manicured hair that points to everywhere I want him to be.

  There’s no way he’s going to
keep going.

  One fingertip smooths downward, my gasp lost to the thick tension of the room as he crosses the tiny bump of the most responsive place on my body and then strokes down to the slick hollow below. He takes a small breath and traces me, circling my entrance with the lightest possible touch.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times, until I’m fatally, uproariously aware of how empty I am inside, how tightly my muscles clench at the very thought of his arousal.

  I’m going to die, tied to my own damned bed, if he doesn’t have sex with me right now.

  “Jacob...” I half-hyperventilate.

  He smiles. “You get to say no, Jera,” he reminds me. “But if you don’t, I get to decide how we say yes.”

  And he does. With the tip of his tongue, and the warm, broad slide of his palm, the cleverness of his long fingers, and the infinitely brilliant contrast between his smooth lips and the rough hint of a five o’clock shadow.

  I hit the first edges of orgasm within five minutes, but he doesn’t untie me. He just soothes me and then starts to build me up all over again. The tension is all but unbearable. I can’t stop tugging, writhing against the ropes, but then something in me shifts, and I realize this is no different from the rest of our relationship. He’s not going to get bored or impatient, because he never does. He’s not going to leave or stop too soon, and I trust him to know exactly what I need.

  I relax.

  Suddenly, every sensation is different. Wider, softer inside my mind. I’m not straining toward an orgasm anymore, I’m just enjoying each time he touches me because it feels good.

  And then it happens.

  It’s almost violent and it slaps into me with no warning. My heels dig into the mattress and I can hear myself gasping but my lungs are empty, crying for air even as I can’t make myself care if I ever breathe again. Black spots dance behind my eyelids while every muscle in my body clamps down. The only thing I’m certain of is Jacob’s hand, splayed across my lower belly, solid and soothing as sheer, electric pleasure bolts through my whole body, again and again and again.

  My moans sharpen to yelps and then almost to screams. When everything finally starts to ease, Jacob pulls himself up next to me, his body steadying mine.

  “You okay?” he murmurs, and the contentment in his face only heightens the clench of urgency in me.

  “Jacob, please. Please.”

  He dives to my mouth, kissing me with such ferocity that the relief pours like cool water over my overheated skin. Except then he pulls back, resting his forehead against mine as he grimaces. “We can’t, not tonight. I didn’t—I don’t have a—”

  “Bedside drawer,” I interrupt.

  He moves with satisfying speed and pulls out the un-opened box, a smile touching his lips as he turns it to read the words, “Ultra Thin.”

  The muscle in my neck kinks as I try to turn my head far enough to watch while he rolls on the condom. He digs in the drawer and rips the plastic off a bottle of lube, and I actually laugh. “Yeah, I think we can do without that.”

  “It’s been a long time for you, Jera. And with condoms...it’s just better this way.”

  My lashes flutter as he smoothes lube over himself. God, that stuff is worth the sticker price just to watch him put it on.

  He comes back to my side and unclips both my legs, leaving the cuffs on. I stretch and bring my knees up, enjoying the exotic feeling of the bands around my ankles.

  Jacob settles himself over me, leaving my arms tied and spread wide. I am utterly vulnerable and absolutely safe as his chest settles against my bare breasts.

  “Is this all right?” he whispers into my neck.

  I love you.

  The words flow through my mind over and over again, and all I can manage in response is an inhaling moan of assent.

  He rolls his hips, rubbing slickly against me, waiting until I’m panting and straining up toward him before he eases my knee a little wider and presses inside.

  Oh God.

  Even just the tip of him is so thick and it feels amazing, but my body is resisting and I can’t quite take him in. I pull against the cuffs, wanting to brace myself against his shoulders. He pauses and reaches between us, laying his fingers over the top of my sex.

  There’s something comforting about how unhurried the motion is; I relax and he slides in another inch. The arm that braces him is so tight it’s quivering, his legs heavy and tensed against my inner thighs. He drops his head and kisses my forehead, breathing three words so low that at first, I think I’m still hearing the echo of my own thoughts.

  I whimper, my body curling up toward his fingers, toward him.

  He starts to push deeper, whispering soothing words within the kisses he leaves beside my ear. I can’t make out a thing over the sprinting of my own heartbeat, but I think he needs the reassurance as much as I do. Maybe more.

  “Please,” I manage, at last.

  His hips jerk in automatic response to my plea, and then he stops dead, gasping as he checks my face. In response, I close my eyes, my head falling back as I widen my knees a little more. He sinks all the way into me, his whole body trembling.

  There is something sacred about this moment, and I want desperately for him to untie me so I can hold him. He makes a small movement, retreating and then curling his hips sharply. The burst of pleasure erases every word from my mind. He does it again, cradling me to his chest and anchoring me against the short, jagged thrusts that hit like a detonation button, every single one a feeling I have no name for and have never known before.

  There’s a tug, and a release of pressure and I wonder if I’ve fainted, or possibly died.

  “Breathe, sweetheart,” Jacob whispers, and I realize he’s freed my wrists. I open my eyes, and he’s smiling as he pulls out of me. I make a wordless noise of disappointment. His smile widens before he rolls me over onto my stomach. Bright, small kisses melt across my shoulders and nestle into the secret curve of my neck beneath my hair.

  He bends one of my knees up before he enters me from behind, stroking velvety shivers all the way up my spine. He keeps adjusting, tipping me a little up, then to the side and then sweet mother of—

  I cry out as he finds the right spot and it’s even more intense than before so that my mind bends around the blast of it. Jacob nibbles at my shoulder, driving into me with deep, commanding thrusts. His hand caresses its way around my side until I’m caught between his hips and the heel of his palm and I know I’m making sounds, possibly loud sounds, but I don’t know what they are. I don’t know where we are.

  I know I don’t want him to stop.

  He shifts me onto my side, one of my legs beneath him and one bent up against his chest. In this position, he can put the full force of his back and legs into pleasuring me and when his thumb dips to press my clit, I claw at the sheets, my back bowing and my mouth opening for a cry that never finds its way to sound.

  I clamp down around him and he groans through his teeth. I can feel his cock so exquisitely now and even the tiniest movement sets me off again, so I don’t know if I’m beginning to orgasm or finishing, or possibly just falling apart altogether.

  “Jera,” he gasps, his hips jerking. “Jera, please, I don’t think I can...” Except I have no idea what he can’t do because a growl rips from his chest, and he finally loses control. My whole body jolts under one rough, incredibly powerful thrust, and then two. His abs clench and his shoulders begin to shake. I want to watch him like this for hours, decades. I want this on an endless high definition loop in my brain every day for the rest of my life.

  He falls a little forward, catching himself on one shaking hand. I pull him down until all his weight relaxes into me and I can wrap my arms and legs around him, holding his damp forehead into my neck as his breath saws in and out, tickling my shoulder.

  An almost unbearable tenderness spreads through me, its sharpness only tempered by the weight of him. I tilt my head a little so I can kiss his temple.
<
br />   The house is quiet around us, a chill seeping through the windows and kept at bay by the heat blowing from the vent above the bed. I close my eyes and pretend it’s snowing even though it’s freaking Portland, so it probably isn’t. It’s just that the peaceful silence in my mind is just the right match for the fall of snow on grass, white flakes drifting through darkness and coming to rest, crystalline and perfect, on the ground.

  Eventually Jacob sits up to get rid of the condom, but he’s back before my skin has a chance to cool from the loss of him. He lies down and pulls me onto his chest, my arms draped around him as he reaches up to massage my back.

  “Are your muscles sore? Did I leave you tied up for too long?”

  I shake my head, hiding my blush in his neck. His fingers knead their way down the sides of my spine, and tears prickle at the backs of my eyes even though I’m still smiling. I squeeze him tighter as he kisses the top of my head.

  “What?”

  “I love you, just, so insanely much,” I breathe.

  The hint of a chuckle rumbles in his chest. “That sounds like a line you feed a guy who just gave you two orgasms, hoping for an encore.”

  I pull back so I can meet his eyes. “It sounds like something I think every time I look at you.”

  He pulls me close, his hold suddenly fierce. “I have been in love with you,” he whispers, “since the day you made me tell you about my parents, one fact for every bite of ice cream while you pretended not to notice when I got tears in my eyes, and you laughed off the ones you got in yours.”

  I smile at the memory of the day he’s talking about. It was so hard not to reach for him as we lay side by side on my living room carpet, letting old records fill the air around us with love songs that spoke all the words we didn’t yet dare to say.

  I’m still trying to figure out how to fit air around the lump in my throat when his phone rings with my raw, urgent drum solo from “Out Of Order.” I tense as I remember that he set it as his older sister’s ringtone weeks ago.

  “You should probably get that.”

  At the exact same time he says, “It’s kind of late for her to be—”