Rock Stars Do It Dirty Page 5

  Tess was wiggling and arching and undulating as he drew out the process, working his pinky inward with careful, delicate pushes, timing them with thrusts of his tongue against the straining nerves of her clit. When he was inside her to the second knuckle, he began to work his finger in and out, once again synced with the rhythm of his tongue against her folds and his fingers on her breasts.

  Tess began to buck into his finger, driving him deeper, her voice raised in a keening shriek. He felt her pussy muscles clench and quiver; her back arched and her heels dug into the bed. He pushed his finger and pulled it, licking furiously until his jaw ached and his tongue was on fire, pinching her nipple until he was sure the twinge of pain was adding to the pleasure.

  She came with a cry, bowed upward in an arched bridge, only her heels, head, and neck touching the bed. Wave after wave crushed through her, shaking her, ripping shuddering sobs from her as she lowered her body to the bed. Chase relented then, and kissed his way up her flat, taut belly, kissed each breast, then her neck, then her mouth, tasting the salt of sweat and tears on her mouth and cheeks. Tess clung to his neck, shaking uncontrollably.

  He kissed her neck and shoulder as he fished a condom from the bedside table drawer, ripped it open with his teeth and rolled it over his straining cock. Tess was oblivious to this, gasping for breath.

  "Ready for number three, sweetness?" Chase said.

  "What? Oh, god. Oh, god...I can't--I'm not ready. I'm not ready." Tess was barely able to whisper, the words mumbled drunkenly. "It's too much."

  "You asked for it, babe." Chase probed her entrance with the tip of his cock, working himself slowly inside. "Too much? Want me to stop?"

  Tess's fingers scrabbled at his back as he filled her, stretched. She was tight, so tight, almost too tight. He went as slow as was humanly possible, working himself in an inch, then pausing to let her adjust before pushing gradually farther in. He watched her face work through a myriad of emotions, surprise, delight, even fear.

  He paused again before he was fully inside her. "Seriously, Tess. I don't want to hurt you. You're so fucking tight. Should I stop?"

  She shook her head, the snake-tip tail of her braid jiggling near one of her breasts. "No...god, no. Please don't stop. Just...like you are. Slow."

  "Slow," Chase agreed, thrusting incrementally.

  He'd been straining with need to release for what felt like forever, turned on by the noises Tess made as she came, the sight of her tan skin and rounded curves, but still he held back, squeezing his eyes shut in concentration as he felt himself drive in to the hilt, almost too big to fit inside her tiny channel. He had to be careful with her, he knew, even after she'd adjusted to him, even after climax had her loose and pliant.

  He moved into her in sinuous thrusts, barely moving still, but enough for her to feel it, enough for him to feel it. Tess began to whimper again, mewling noises in the back of her throat, moving her hips with his now, meeting him careful thrust for thrust. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her legs circled his waist, holding him deep inside her.

  Chase decided to give her the illusion of control for a while; he flipped her so he was on the bottom, and she readily adjusted to ride him, knees wide to straddle his hips, palms flat on his broad chest. Her braid dangled over her shoulder to tickle his throat. He grabbed the braid and tugged gently until she was sitting upright, and then he held her in place with his hands on her hips. His middle fingers were mere inches apart on her belly, and he began to lift her, guiding her motions. She arched her spine inward, tipping her head back and moving on her own, now, finding her rhythm on top of him.

  Chase was barely thrusting, letting her do the work while he held himself back. He had to give her a break, let her recover before he brought her to climax again. She wasn't ready yet. He let her move on top of him, surging up and down now, impaling herself on him, driving herself deeper than he'd imagined she'd be able to take him. She collapsed forward after a few minutes, writhing with increasingly desperate movements.

  Now.

  He lifted her off him, bodily removing her, ignoring her frantic moans of protest. He put his lips to her ear and whispered, "You didn't think I'd forgotten my promise back in the gym, did you?"

  She shook her head. "No...what? What promise?"

  He slid off the bed and drew her after him, flipping her onto her stomach and pulling her toward him by her ankles. "I'm going to bend you over this bed and fuck you from behind."

  "Oh, my god, Chase. I can't take that. I could barely handle your finger." Real fear was evident in her voice.

  He settled her on the bed's edge so her feet didn't quite touch the floor, so she was at his mercy. He carved his palms over her arched spine and to her ass, tiny and taut. He gently caressed each cheek, then teased her anus with a finger. Tess whimpered, pushing into his questing finger even as he could feel her shivering with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Chase spat saliva onto his hand and smeared it onto the knot of muscles and worked his ring finger around the circle of muscles, while with his other hand he gripped his shaft at the base and probed her pussy with the tip. He hadn't inserted his finger into her yet, and he gently, carefully pushed in as he thrust into her wet, ready folds with his cock.

  "Oh, god," Tess whispered, relief in her voice.

  Chase leaned over her. "I would never do that. I would never hurt you," he murmured. "The tip of my pinky finger is one thing. That is something else entirely."

  He was telling her the truth, in that he would never push a woman past what she wanted and what she was capable of doing with enjoyment, but he didn't mention how much he wanted to take her like that. He was riding a knife-edge of control, his ring finger now in her to the first knuckle, his shaft moving into her sex in small, shivering thrusts. He wanted to plunge hard and fast, but he held back, riding gently into her pussy, her fine, firm ass quivering gently with each thrust.

  He was learning her noises. She began to mewl again, a kitten-like noise high the back of her throat, a sound that he now knew signaled her impending orgasm.

  Chase allowed himself one concession to the fury pounding through him: He wrapped her braid twice around his fist and gently but firmly tugged until her back was arched and her head lifted off the bed. She planted her fists on the bed and undulated her body into him. She was still unable to reach the floor, and Chase began to plunge up into her, lifting her up with each driving plunge, still holding back, still restraining himself from crushing into her with the kind of intensity he desired.

  Tess took all of him, though, and gave back with everything she had, losing herself in the delirium of sexual abandon. She lifted herself up with her torso muscles and back, then let herself crash down onto him, spreading her thighs farther apart and wiggling to get his finger deeper into her asshole. Chase gave her what she wanted, more of his finger, pushing in until his other fingers were splayed against the muscular flesh of her ass, until his finger was impaled inside her as far as it would go, and he began to thrust his cock into her harder and harder, never fully penetrating, knowing he might hurt her if he did so. He held on to her braid and let himself drive into her, and now, finally, she began to lose the rhythm in the frenetic frenzy of orgasm.

  Chase felt her muscles clamp down, squeezing his finger as she came. He finally let himself loose then, coming with her, driving as deep as he dared in slow but powerful thrusts. Tess was wild, thrashing beneath him, shrieking and writhing and sobbing. Chase came hard, desperate from having held back for so long, from having gone so long without sex.

  After nearly a minute of body-wracking climax, Tess went still, but for her ragged breathing. Chase withdrew from her, lifted her to the middle of the bed and drew the blankets over her. He went into his en suite bathroom and discarded the condom before washing his hands twice. When he approached the bed again, Tess was snoring.

  He smiled to himself, then slipped on a pair of gym shorts and got himself a beer from the fridge. He hiked himself up onto the kitchen c
ounter and drank his beer, head slumped back against the counter, lost in thought. After a trackless amount of time, he finished his beer, and then a second, and then a third, his mind and heart a muddle of half-formed desires and fears and worries.

  Foremost in his mind was the knowledge that he was far, far from sated. He'd ravaged Tess and left her passed out in his bed. She really was a fiery, spirited little thing, but he'd simply wrung every last drop from her. He didn't think she'd be complaining come morning, but he knew for as much fun as he'd have with her, eventually it would end.

  He, however, was still burning with need, adrenaline, desire, and pent-up frustration.

  Tess simply couldn't give him what he needed. It was through no fault of hers, though, and that was the part that left him sad. Throughout their dinner conversation, he'd come to like and respect her, and the fact that she could kick his ass in the ring turned him on something fierce. He wished they were more compatible in bed.

  He drained his fourth beer and then slipped into bed next to Tess. She moved against him, instinctively spooning with him.

  She half-turned to face him, opening one eye. "You lose the bet, Chase."

  "What? No way. I'm not done yet."

  Tess laughed. "I hate to say this, but I am. I can't take any more. I really can't. I'll be sore as hell in the morning as it is. I cannot physically handle another orgasm. The bet was four in three hours, and that's not happening. Therefore, you lose."

  Chase laughed. "Fine. I concede."

  "You would. Bitch."

  He laughed again, and Tess smiled sleepily at him, then turned back over and was soon asleep once more.

  Chase fell asleep thinking of green eyes. Only, these green eyes were framed by red curls as fiery as the woman beneath them.

  CHAPTER 3

  A fall wind blew hard down the corridor of Michigan Avenue in Chicago. The sidewalks were full of pedestrians burdened with shopping bags and the streets jammed with taxis and buses and private cars. The sky overhead between the towers was gray and heavy. Flecks of something cold and wet--possibly snow, or rain, or a mix of the two--spattered against Jamie's face as she bustled from the door of the high-rise condo building. She had her phone in her hand, an iMessage in the gray bubble: Meet me at the corner, babe. Dinner reservations in twenty. Her response, in blue: K. B right there.

  She flipped the collar of black pea coat up and hunched her shoulders, hustling through the post-Thanksgiving shopping crowd to meet Ian. His mother had relocated to Chicago, and Ian had ended up moving to Chicago with her. He didn't live with his mother, but nearby. Laura Collins, his mother, was a short, sweet woman with iron-gray hair and steely blue eyes. She adored Jamie, but had hinted in more than one conversation that she didn't think Jamie was entirely happy.

  Which was true, of course. She'd put everything she had into making things with Ian work. She commuted to Chicago every Thursday after her last shift and spent Friday and Saturday with Ian and his mother, then made the four-hour drive back for work Sunday afternoon. Ian met her in Detroit a few times a month as well, and overall, things worked. They worked.

  But...Jamie was restless. She spent most of the four-hour trip twice a week trying not to think about how much longer she could pretend she was okay.

  Ian knew. She saw the knowledge in his eyes at times, in the way she'd catch him gazing sadly at her, expectantly. Waiting.

  Ian had something planned for today. He'd made reservations, which was unlike him. Usually they did burgers and beers at a local pub, or ate in. This was an event. He had something to say to her, and she knew it. It was probably a preemptive strike. His way of sparing her feelings, in an odd manner.

  She found Ian waiting at the street corner, watching her approach. The sad look was in eyes again, distant and semi-hollow.

  "Hello, love," he said, with false cheer.

  She kissed him, a brief touch of the lips. They pulled away at the same time. "Hey, yourself."

  "Hungry?" Ian took her hand, and they walked through the crowd together.

  "Famished. Traffic into the city was hellish."

  "Sorry to hear it, darling. I worry about you making the drive so often in that dodgy old auto of yours. I'm always afraid it's going to go tits up on you halfway here."

  Jamie chuckled at his turn of phrase. "Yeah, it's definitely a possibility, I guess. But it's fine for now. Besides, if it does go tits up, I'll just call you, and you'll rescue me." Out of habit, she nudged closer and smirked at him. "And then as a reward, I'll go tits up for you."

  Ian laughed. "Oh, god, I really don't think that phrase means what you think it means."

  Jamie shoved him with her hip. "Oh, shut up. I know exactly what it means, I was just using it in another context."

  "And I know that. I was just teasing you."

  They had a long, leisurely dinner, filled with the idle conversation of a couple familiar and comfortable with each other. It was laced with tension, though. Jamie felt it, and she saw it in Ian's eyes.

  Finally, she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "Out with it, Ian."

  He shifted uncomfortably. "I--I'm not sure where to start."

  "Just start with the truth." She flagged the waiter and held up her wine glass.

  Ian sipped from his own wine and then set it aside. "You aren't happy. With me, I mean."

  Jamie pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, it's not that. Not really. It's...complicated."

  "Un-complicate it."

  "God. That's a lot easier to say than to do. As cliche as this is, and as much as I hate how it's going to sound...it's not you, it's me."

  "That's fucking bollocks, Jamie."

  "I know, I know. But it's true." The server arrived to pour Jamie another measure of cabernet, and she sipped it greedily. "There's just--"

  "Someone else?"

  "Yes. No. Sort of. There isn't anyone else in the sense you're thinking. I haven't been seeing anyone else. I promise. But my heart is...I just can't--" Jamie cut herself off with a huff. "Shit. I'm making a mess of this."

  "Sorry, darling, but you kind of are making a bit of a muddle of it. Just spit it out. You're in love with someone else. I get it."

  "It's not that simple, though. It's just one of those things that won't go away, you know? No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to let go."

  Ian scratched his jaw and then fiddled with the cloth napkin on the table. "I do remember that conversation we had. In my hotel room in Buttfuck, Michigan. You said some rot about forbidden love. You said you were over him."

  "It wasn't rot, Ian."

  "It's just a word, Jamie. I know it wasn't. I just meant I remember you mentioning this other guy. And you're still not over him enough to be happy with me."

  "It's not like I don't want to be over him, Ian. I do. I really, really do want to be over him. But I just...can't seem to do it."

  "And I can't do this with you if you're not." Ian tossed back the rest of his wine and watched Jamie's reaction.

  She only nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry to have wasted so much of your time." She stood up, leaving her half-full wine glass, and turned to walk away.

  "Jamie, wait. You didn't waste--shit." He cut himself off when he realized Jamie wasn't listening.

  She was already out the door and into the flurries of hard, stinging snow. She wasn't crying. Not again. Her eyes were stinging from the wind, was all. There was no reason to be upset. She knew it was coming. She would have done it herself soon. She wasn't being fair to Ian, or to herself.

  It still didn't explain why the hole in her heart ached so badly.

  *

  Chase flopped over onto his back, and Tess let out a long, contented sigh.

  "Chase, baby. I don't know how you do that to me every time," Tess said.

  Forcing a smile onto his face, Chase turned over and kissed her. "I'm just that good," he said.

  Tess pinched his thigh. "And you're just that arrogant."

  "It's not arrogance, it's c
onfidence."

  "Same thing, babe." Tess scooted out of bed and gathered her clothes, tossed them in her suitcase, then dug out a clean pair of panties and a bra. Her uniform was already pressed and hanging on the rack near the hotel door.

  Chase watched her diminutive form as she moved around the room, gathering the rest of her things and packing them away, then hopped in the shower. He was every bit as attracted to her as the day he'd met her three months ago, but his ability to pretend she satisfied him was waning. He hated the pretense. Hated feeling like shit when he had to paste on a smile and act exhausted after a vigorous session in bed with her, when the truth was he was always holding back and was usually just getting started when she was finished, left partially sated and entirely frustrated.

  He had an inkling she knew, but he hadn't had the courage to broach the subject. She had a flight to Boston in a few hours, so he doubted the discussion would happen right then. He had a gig himself in a while, headlining at the Mayne Stage here in Chicago.

  He liked Tess, a lot. He had a good time with her.

  But...it just wasn't enough.

  Tess emerged from the shower to find Chase standing naked at the eleventh-floor window, staring out at the swirling snow. She stood next to him in silence for a while, then looked up at him.

  "This isn't working, Chase."

  He glanced down at her. Serious green eyes gazed back up at him, calm and collected. "No, I guess not." He turned back to the view of downtown Chicago. "I'm sorry."

  "Why are you sorry?"

  "I don't know. It's...I'm just sorry this didn't work. You're an amazing girl, and I wish--"