by Lauren Rowe
I can barely breathe. “You saw me listen to Bryce’s sister’s music. Ten seconds is all I need—to assess a demo, to be clear. I need much, much longer than ten seconds to do something else.”
She giggles. “Come on. A sexy lap dance ought to get me at least a full-song listen.”
“Okay, time out for a second.” I put both palms on her gorgeous face and her pouty lips part in surprise, begging me to kiss them. “Think, sweetheart. Why would you even want me to listen to a full song, even if you could get me to agree to that?”
She furrows her brow like she doesn’t follow my logic.
“Imagine you get me to agree to a full-song listen. And then, imagine that, ten seconds in, I have the same reaction I had to Bryce’s sister. Hard pass. If I know I’m not impressed after ten seconds of a song, would it really benefit Alessandra if I’m then obligated by the terms of our agreement to keep listening to the same fucking song that doesn’t impress me for another three minutes?”
A light bulb goes off on Georgie’s beautiful face. She gets it. “Ah.”
I drop my hands and grip the couch cushion again, forcing myself not to interact. Not to grab her ass. Not to give in. Not to cave. “See?” I say. “You gotta think a couple moves ahead. Be careful what you ask for in a negotiation, because you don’t want to screw yourself by unexpectedly getting exactly what you’ve asked for.”
She slides her arms around my neck and my cock jolts. “But what if the song isn’t a hard pass? What if you think an artist has potential? You wouldn’t turn off a song after ten seconds in that case, would you?”
“No,” I concede, barely able to breathe through my arousal.
“You’d continue listening to the entire song, right?”
I take a deep breath and collect myself. “Not necessarily. Sometimes, if I like someone’s voice and style, but hate the song, I’ll listen for about thirty seconds and then flip to another song, hoping the next one will click better for me.”
She processes that. “Okay, so... ” She skims her lips across my jawline. “How about I give you one clothed lap dance in exchange for you listening to the first thirty seconds of each of her three songs.”
Georgina looks proud of herself for that suggestion. Hopeful. Fucking adorable. But I shake my head. “You gotta sweeten the pot more than that, Ricci. A clothed lap dance ain’t nearly enough for three songs. What else you got to offer me?”
She twists her mouth. “Two lap dances? A clothed one... plus, a second one in my bra and undies.”
Now, we’re cooking with gas. “You’re getting warmer.” I can’t help touching my palms to her back, and she shudders exquisitely at my touch. I say, “Would you do both lap dances here, in this room?”
Her breathing is labored. She’s begun grinding herself into my hard-on, causing my cock to throb and strain. “No,” she says. She skims her lips across my jawline. “I think we should do the bra-and-undies lap dance in my hotel room. Don’t you? And I’ll throw in a striptease, down to my bra and undies, too.” She’s panting now. Grinding herself enthusiastically into my cock. Getting herself off. And I’m loving it.
“We’ll do the striptease and lap dances at my house tonight,” I say, skimming my lips across her soft cheek. Inhaling her scent. Craving her like I’ve never craved anyone in my life. “Not your hotel.”
She nods effusively, her body grinding against mine, her lips a breath away from mine, begging to be kissed.
“And,” I whisper, on the cusp of pressing my lips against hers, “you’ll stay at my house this week, while you’re ‘shadowing’ and ‘interviewing’ me. In one of my guestrooms, if you want. Or in my room, with me. Either way, you’ll stay at my house this week.”
She lets out the softest of moans as she continues rubbing herself against me. “I suppose it would be easier to follow you around, if I’m staying at your house.”
I’m trembling with arousal. I whisper, “Say yes, Georgina.”
“Yes.”
I skim my lips against hers, desperate to breach her borders and claim her. “We’ve got a deal?” I say softly. “What do you say, baby?”
She grinds herself hard against me. Grabs either side of my head and grips my hair. She’s breathing hard. Dry humping me like her life depends on it. “What do I say?” she murmurs breathlessly, her eyes half-mast. “I say ‘Yes,’ Mr. Rivers.” She smiles. “Actually, no.” Her eyes ignite. “I say, ‘Yes... yes... yesss.’”
Chapter 26
Georgina
With a low growl, Reed smashes his lips into mine. And, I swear, I almost come as his tongue slides inside my mouth. In short order, we’re passionately kissing, both of us on fire. I clutch at him feverishly as I kiss him, grind myself against his steely hard-on beneath me, desperate for him.
“Consider this my first lap dance,” I gasp into Reed’s hungry lips. And in reply, he slides his strong hands down my back, straight to my ass cheeks, and grips me hard. Like I’m a life preserver and he’s a drowning man. Like I’m a drug and he’s the junkie. All of it, making my body jolt and writhe on top of him with pleasure.
I thought I remembered what it felt like to kiss this scorching hot, formidable, sexy asshole of a man. But I was wrong. Before this moment, I rated kisses in my head as good, great, and fire. But, now, I’m being forced to recalibrate as I realize the top rating possible for any kiss, for the rest of my days, won’t be fire any longer. Forevermore, it will always be: Reed Rivers.
I can’t get enough. And, clearly, Reed feels the same way. As he kisses me, he touches me voraciously. My cheeks. Neck. Hair. Ass. And with every touch of his fingertips, palms, lips, and tongue, every grind of his hard-on against my throbbing center, his body confesses the truth: he was never, ever going to let me walk out that door to hook up with Caleb. No fucking way. My body is his, until this thing, whatever it is, has run its course. Exactly like he said.
As our kiss intensifies, Reed lifts my skirt, and I spread my thighs, giving him the access my body so forcefully craves.
I’m vaguely aware the crowd in the arena is roaring as RCR finishes playing a song. But then, the band launches into their next song—their huge smash hit, “Shaynee”—one of my all-time favorites—and I can’t help gasping with added excitement.
“I’ll take you to see the show another night,” Reed growls hoarsely into my lips, apparently reading my body language. “You can pick the city, baby. I’ll fly us wherever you want to go and we’ll sit front-row center. But right now, you’re staying right here. Right now, you’re all mine, baby.” With that, Reed’s fingers breach the crotch of my cotton panties and slide deliciously inside me, making me moan. “You’re so wet,” he growls.
He begins stroking my aching clit with his slick fingers while simultaneously, with his other hand, lifting my shirt and pushing my bra off and away. When my breasts are freed from their entrapment... Reed leans back from kissing me to look at them. And what he sees, clearly, he likes a lot. With an animalistic growl, he leans in and devours me. Sucking. Licking. Reveling. Holy shit, he’s freaking motorboating me! And all the while, he’s continuing to finger-fuck me with zealous expertise.
A sound of pure pleasure lurches out of me. A sound no human has ever manufactured unless they’re dying or coming hard. My eyes roll back into my head... my insides clench and warp in slow motion... my clit zings and aches with a tingling, zinging warning... and then... Bam! A rocket of bliss envelops me as my center and everything connected to it, including the deepest muscles of my core, begin clenching so hard, I’m seeing little white stars.
“Oh, God, Georgina,” Reed says, his breathing labored. “You’re so fucking incredible.” He tilts his lap sharply, sliding me off him, sending me onto my back on the couch. His eyes on fire and his body quaking with lust, Reed yanks up my skirt, and begins peeling off my moistened undies. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the minute I saw you.”
“Reed,” I breathe, feeling swept away by my arousal.
“You want me to eat
your pussy, baby?”
I nod profusely.
“Say it.”
“Yes.” I lick my lips, coming down from my orgasm. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He tosses my undies behind him on the couch. “I’m going to eat your pussy better than it’s ever been done, beautiful girl. You’re going to come harder than you’ve ever come in your life.”
I gasp, simply because, um, I just did. Does he mean he’s going to make me come even harder than that? Holy shit.
With obvious enthusiasm, Reed grabs my thighs with his large hands, spreads me out before him, grabs my ass from underneath, and pulls my center into his waiting lips... where he then proceeds to eat and lick and nibble and suck and finger the living fuck out of me until I’m moaning like I’ve never moaned before.
It’s a shocking whirlwind of pleasure. An overwhelming avalanche of stimulation. Nobody’s ever performed oral on me quite like this before. With so much... expertise. Confidence. Enthusiasm. Passion. The pleasure, right out of the gate, is so extreme, so full-throttle, I’m not sure I can withstand it without losing control of myself, either physically, emotionally, or both...
I clutch at the couch cushion underneath me, feeling like I’m grasping at the last shreds of my self-control. Maybe even my sanity. And soon, the way Reed’s licking and stroking, hitting all the right magical spots, over and over again, methodically, without reprieve or apology, is too much to bear.
“Oh, God,” I choke out, coming like a wrecking ball.
Wave after wave of glorious pleasure slams into me. It’s making my eyes roll back into my head and my entire body seize. Just like Reed promised, it’s the best orgasm of my life. Holy crap.
Finally, when the pleasure subsides, I wipe at my face and realize, to my surprise, I’m more than dripping with sweat. I’m crying. Tears of euphoria. It’s a first for me—bursting into tears at the moment of release. But, then, I’ve never in my life had an orgasm this powerful. This all-encompassing. This heavenly.
When Reed raises his head from my thighs, he looks drugged. Feral. His lips and chin are slathered in me. His dark eyes are burning with desire. At the sight of my sweaty, tear-stained face, a wicked smile spreads across his stunning face. “Good?”
“The best, ever.” I wipe at my face. “Don’t freak out I’m crying. I just lost control—”
“Georgie, it’s totally natural. Believe me, it’s the best feeling in the world for me to take you that high.”
His understanding makes me relax and smile. “Oh, God, Reed, that was so fucking good. I’ve never felt anything that good in my life.”
Reed runs his warm palms over my bare thighs, hiking my dress up even higher onto my belly. “There’s a lot more where that came from, beautiful,” he says. “When I fuck you, I’m gonna make you—”
Without warning, the door to the small room swings open, and a production assistant pokes her head in, making me jump like a cat on a hot tin roof and scramble feverishly to cover my bare breasts and thighs and crotch and—
“Oh my God!” the P.A. blurts, saying the words along with me. She turns her face away. “Caleb sent me to look for someone.”
“I think you found her,” Reed says calmly. “Wait in the hallway for a minute. I want to talk to you.”
“No, I’ll go and—”
“Wait in the hallway for my signal,” Reed commands sharply. “I want to talk to you.”
“Reed, no!” I whisper-shout. “Let her go. Please. Oh my fucking God.”
For some reason, Reed’s not freaking out like I am. In fact, he’s as cool as a cucumber. He calmly hands me my underpants, and when I snatch them from him, shooting him daggers, he says, “She’s already seen me camped between your naked legs with your pussy and tits hanging out. Pretending she didn’t see won’t make her un-see it.”
“Fuck.”
I get my undies on and pull myself together, trembling with embarrassment. Holy fuck! This is worst-case scenario for me. Getting caught with the big boss between my naked thighs with my wahoo and tits hanging out on the first day of my employment. I can’t believe I let this happen. It’s nothing short of a disaster for me.
At Reed’s signal, the young woman sheepishly re-enters the room, her head pointedly turned away. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Rivers.”
“And Miss Ricci,” Reed supplies, making me throw my palms over my face. “You can look at me. We’re just sitting here, having a conversation.”
She slowly turns her head to look at Reed. “Uh. Caleb sent me to find Miss Ricci, and get her phone number for... him. He said Miss Ricci is, uh, coming to tonight’s after-party in his suite... as his... personal guest, and that I should, um, arrange a hotel room for Miss Ricci... at the Ritz... on the same floor as... Caleb’s room?”
To my shock, Reed flashes me a beaming smile. A triumphant, elated one, like he’s the heavy weight champ who just scored a knockout punch in a title fight. And, all of a sudden, I get why Reed called this poor girl back into the room and supplied my name and orchestrated this horrifically humiliating moment. So he could spike the ball in the middle of Caleb’s end zone.
“Change of plans,” Reed says coolly to the PA. “Tell Caleb I’ve decided Miss Ricci isn’t attending his party tonight, after all. Not as his personal guest, or in her official capacity. And she’s not joining the tour this coming week, either, or interviewing him individually. You can tell him I’ve nixed all of it for business reasons. But assure him, please, that Miss Ricci is working on a fresh, new angle for a full-band interview, which we’ll lock down next month after they’re back. This week, however, Miss Ricci will be working on a piece about me, as required by my arrangement with the head of Rock ‘n’ Roll.”
The poor woman looks like she’s going to keel over from stress. “Um,” she says. “Yeah, I really don’t think I can say all that to Caleb.”
“Sure, you can,” Reed says. “Tell him everything I just said, using my exact words. However, do not, under any circumstances, talk to anyone, including Caleb, about what you think you might have seen in this room when you first walked in. Whatever you thought you saw happening between Miss Ricci and me, you were mistaken. We were simply having a conversation.”
The girl grimaces with discomfort. “I’d never say a word about anything. Because I didn’t see anything besides two people talking. But, um, Mr. Rivers, would it be okay if you tell Caleb everything you said?” Her face is pleading. Vulnerable. Panicked. “Please? Because I don’t think I can remember it all. And, also because... ” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I think Caleb is going to get really pissed off when he hears all of that, and I really don’t—”
“What’s your name?”
“Amy O’Brien.”
“Nice to meet you, Amy,” Reed says. “You’re traveling with the tour?”
She nods. “I’m assigned as Caleb’s PA. Whatever he needs... ” She looks at me and blushes. “I mean, as his gofer. You know. Not for... ”
She clamps her lips shut, and again, I bury my face in my palms. Holy crap, this is a nightmare.
“Let me explain something to you, Amy,” Reed says, his tone brimming with condescension. “I’m the reason you get a paycheck every two weeks. Not Caleb. I’m actually Caleb’s boss. Did you know that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which means, if you think about it, I’m your boss. And that means when I tell you to do something, then you’re gonna fucking do it, unless, of course, there are extenuating circumstances. For instance, if you’re feeling scared for your physical safety, you need only tell me that and all bets will be off. Are you feeling scared for your physical safety to go tell Caleb what I said, Amy?”
“Uh... ” She sighs and shakes her head, obviously wishing she were feeling scared for her physical safety right about now.
“Is that a no?” Reed asks.
“That’s a no.” She grimaces, again telegraphing her fervent wish to feel physically threatened rather than have to traipse back to Ca
leb and tell him what Reed said.
“Do you have any religious objections to telling Caleb everything I just said?” Reed asks.
“No, sir.”
“Is there any reason whatsoever you can’t tell Caleb what I just said, other than the fact that you hate confrontation and conflict and maybe don’t want to watch him have a tantrum?”
“Well, also, I can’t really remember what you said. My brain is kind of freaking out right now, to be honest, Mr. Rivers.”
“I understand. Listen carefully, Amy. I’ll repeat it all for you.” Slowly, Reed repeats everything he said earlier, and the poor girl nods and holds back tears the whole time. “Repeat it back to me, Amy O’Brien.”
She does. Not well, but she manages.
“Good. And that’s all you’re going to say. If Caleb asks why Miss Ricci isn’t going to the party, or why I’ve decided the tour and individual interview aren’t happening, you’ll say he can talk to me about it, if he wants clarification.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Amy, do you remember signing an NDA when you accepted this job?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you understand what an NDA is?”
“It’s a non-disclosure agreement.”
“That’s right. It means if you tell anyone about the private things you witness while on tour, you could not only get fired, but also sued for the money set forth in the liquidation clause of the contract. You understand that, right?”
She turns green. “Yes, sir. I won’t say a word about anything to anyone, but what you told me to say.”
“Good. Because if I hear so much as one word of gossip about Miss Ricci and me, I’ll blame you. And I won’t go easy on you, Amy. I’ll not only fire you, but also sic my lawyer on you to get the full extent of our legal remedies.”
Amy nods. She’s physically trembling.
“You can go now, Amy. Good talk.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. Sorry.”
And off she goes, looking like she’s dragging herself to her own execution.
When she’s gone, Reed turns to me, looking triumphant. Turned on. And ready to finish what we started before that poor, poor girl interrupted us.
