Backstage Pass: V.I.P. (6 page)

The drive home was uneventful and we settled into an easy routine of school and hanging out at my house in the evenings. We’d become quite the little four-pack and I liked the easy camaraderie. Axel and Jesse got along nearly as well as Kerri and I did. We spent time studying or sometimes Axel took Kerri back to her place to stay the night. Everything felt easy and right.

Weeks flew by. My cast finally came off as the days took on a new constancy. Peculiarly, Jesse didn’t push or ask about what Mom and I had talked about that night in the hospital cafeteria, or a single thing about my rock star dad, though he was probably dying to know what it was like to live with a legend. Instead, he sang me songs, took me to band practice, and invited me to his concerts. I never went to the concerts, but eagerly anticipated hearing his new songs and he was putting them out at an alarming rate. When I asked him about it, he said he’d been
inspired
. That made me blush, but I had to admit I liked being someone’s muse.

Something was eating at me, though. Even with all the happiness and contentedness, a hidden spot was festering and I couldn’t figure out exactly what was making me feel that way.

The day before break, Jesse burst through the door while I was tossing clothes in the hamper and trying to do some last minute tidying up before we took off. He gasped for breath like he’d sprinted here and I paused at the kitchen sink with an armload of last night’s dishes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s finally done.”

I quirked an eyebrow. He seriously looked like he’d won the Lego building championship for his age division. I half-expected a toothless grin. Instead of a trophy, he held up a CD and I frowned. “What’s that?”

He planted a huge kiss on my lips and let me set the dishes down, then hugged me tight. “Demo tape for your mom’s friend, Ainsley. The one we met in the hospital. I didn’t get her address, so I wanted to see if you had it.” He kissed me again and made my hips sway side to side. “Or you could mail it.”

Alarm bells rang in my head. I had really hoped he’d forgotten—not that there was any likelihood in that happening, but he hadn’t once mentioned it since we’d come home.

But all the new songs . . . my shoulders sagged. They hadn’t been for me. They’d been for Ainsley. I forced a smile and took the CD. “I’ll do it. I meant to send her a thank you anyway for being there for Mom.”

His grin widened and he scooped me up and headed toward the bedroom, ready to celebrate his victory. His warm breath bathed my neck and I pushed the worry and fear away and leaned into the heat and excitement thrumming through his body. “I barely slept at all last night and we finished early this morning. Classes took forever today.”

This chattiness was new. I wasn’t sure I liked it. I mumbled against his ear and hoped he wasn’t going to talk about it the entire weekend with his parents. Nerves bubbled up in my stomach and I quenched them, fascinating myself instead with the new beard on his cheeks. I rasped my fingernails across the furry growth. “How long has it been since you shaved?”

He rubbed his face against my neck and I squealed. “Dunno. A week?”

My heart pounded and every emotion I had got tangled with each other. Right now, I needed to dump them all and focus on the physical to get me through the ride. He bumped my door closed with his hip and carried me to the bed, lowering me gently on the rumpled covers. His gaze grew serious and he peeled off his t-shirt. The muscles of his chest rippled and bunched as he lifted my thighs and angled me higher on the bed. He lifted my ankle to his lips and nibbled the skin at my instep. I arched back on the bed. Such a stupid place for a G-zone, but ohmigod it rocked me every time he did it and made my insides clench. I grasped for him, but he caught my hand and trapped it against his thigh and wove our fingers together, then rubbed his prickled jaw along the entire length of my foot, curling my toes and making me wet with a carnal wanting. Tonight I needed rough and taking, not gentle and loving. I curled my free leg behind his hips and jerked him forward, but he only wobbled and drew my toe into his mouth, pleasuring it with long strokes and nibbles.

My nipples tightened at the fresh wave of need.

His hands moved briskly over my thighs, rubbing the seam of my jeans into my skin and lighting me on fire. Jolts of lust shattered across my skin in every direction.

“Yes.” I growled the word and ground against the front of his thigh.

His eyes darkened and he lifted my other ankle to his shoulder, then unbuttoned my pants and slid them over my hips, but stopped when they reached my knees. Cool air raced over my belly and down through my hot curls. I needed him now. I whimpered, but he ignored my pleas and lowered his callused hands to my thighs, pressing deep into the flesh, just this side of pain. Sparks tripped down my spine and shot out my fingers and toes like he’d hooked me up to his amp. His fingers spanned my hips and he leaned back, out of the opening of my trapped legs, then flipped me over onto my stomach.

I pressed against the mattress, wiggling my hips. He smacked the meat of my ass and I gasped, twisting my head around.

“How bad do you want me?”

I whimpered again and tried to reach for him, but my arms weren’t long enough and he stayed just out of reach.

“How bad, Sasha?”

“Bad. Oh, God, so bad.” I bit my lip and watched him. There’d been no shortage of making love since that first night in my bed, but tonight he felt supercharged and dominant and I loved every minute of it. Tonight, I needed to be claimed. Hard. Fast.

Fucked.

“Take me, Jesse.”

He flinched, then a wide grin spread across his lips. “Jesus, Sasha. I always think I’m ready for you, and then you go and do something like that.” He slapped my ass again, reddening the other cheek. The slap stung, but only enough to heighten my raging need. “You’re so hot.”

I couldn’t move my legs with them still trapped in my jeans, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to wiggle my way to another spanking. He nudged both his knees into the backs of mine and pushed out, tightening the fabric and trapping me. I lifted my ass into the air, needing, begging. He rubbed his palm against the stinging handprint, then dipped his thumb into the crack and down into my damp curls. I twisted my face into the mattress as he slipped inside me and made me clench around him. I tried to lift higher, but my jeans trapped me.

His breath skated across my bare ass and up my spine as he kissed first one cheek, then the other. His thumb moved to the front and flicked my clit, then rubbed either side, making me buck against the restraint of my jeans. I couldn’t get my ass any higher into the air, but I craved him inside me again. His tongue dipped into the crack and embarrassment flooded my cheeks, but only for a second, then I ground backward into him. His hands skimmed my skin, backward, forward, in, out. Everywhere. I let go of everything, lived like a blind, deaf mute, knowing and experiencing only through touch.

Lights exploded behind my lids and his zipper slid down. Naked thighs replaced empty air and then his warm cock pressed into me. I sighed as he filled me and my body took all of him, clenching and adjusting until he buried himself. I pushed back into him, still hampered by my jeans, still at his mercy as he withdrew with an aching slowness. Then he grabbed the sides of my ass and thrust deep inside me and withdrew slowly again. Over and over, he thrust himself home and then tortured us both with a slow retreat. I cried out every time and struggled against my stupid jeans holding me down. I wanted to rocket backward against him and speed us both to our release, but he refused every attempt to change the pace.

My orgasm built and built until I thought it would crack me in two, then he’d withdraw and wait just long enough for it to ebb before filling me again. No matter how much I pleaded for him to keep going, he stroked long and slow and deep. His teeth nipped and tasted my shoulder and neck as I rocked back against him, desperate for the pressure to ease.

When I couldn’t stand it one second longer, he growled, threw his head back and quickened the pace, plunging deep into me until the world exploded.

He jerked against me, pressing the length of our thighs together, then twisted and brought me crashing onto his chest as he fell onto the bed and released my legs. I kicked off my pants and burrowed into the warmth of his body, sated and unable to think.

His lips pressed to my ear and his arms snaked around my chest, holding me tight against him as we drifted into the space of dreams.

***

Morning filtered through my blinds, striping the bed with shadows and light. I stretched and curled on my side, expecting a warm body, but found only empty sheets. I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, vaguely remembering that Jesse had left in the early morning to gas the car and throw a bag together.

I buried my face in the crook of my arm. I was so not ready to meet his parents. He’d caught me on a soft day when he’d asked me to go home for break with him and now I was regretting it. I didn’t know the first thing about being around siblings, let alone a cohesive family unit. This had disaster written all over it. Besides, I was sure he’d already told them who my dad was, that I couldn’t step off a curb without breaking my foot, and who knows what else.

A blush crept up my face.

Dear God, hopefully not that.

If his mom had any idea what he did to my body—what we’d done last night—she’d never let me in the house, let alone at the dinner table.

I yanked the covers back and bolted out of bed before I could lament the trip any longer. We were only going for three days, so I packed light, tossing everything in a duffle. Fresh off the trip home, I was feeling the Mom guilt and took the time to search for a light jacket. Rummaging through a pile in the bottom of my closet, I unearthed a windbreaker and my runners. I hooked my fingers through the laces and straightened. My foot felt good, but I hadn’t tested it. Maybe if I started running again my brain would shut the hell up about all this internal conflict. I shrugged and jammed them into the end of my bag.

My phone chirped with a text.
Ready? Be there in 10.

Crap.

I gave my phone a haphazard toss and it spun across the desk, dislodging his demo tape. I’d completely forgot about writing the thank you note. The sunlight played off the surface, shooting prisms around the room. I stretched my fingers and caught the edge and sat heavily on the bed, tapping the disk lightly against my thigh.

I really did want his success. Deep down, I did.

This could launch him. There was absolutely no question about his talent, and he was hot, and not a dickwad. The veritable trifecta of the kind of person a label turns into a rock God.

I should know.

Only a true ass would stall him out . . . stand in his way . . . keep him from living his dream.

But only someone who’d lived that life could truly understand the cost. The heartbreak, the desolation, the loneliness of a life on the road.

Who was I?

For now, I was an ass. I stood and buried the CD beneath my notebook. We’d only be gone for three days. Three days that wouldn’t drastically alter his trajectory.

Or my assness.

I raced through the shower and pulled my damp hair into a pony as Jesse pulled in with the car. He bounded up the stairs and swung into the bathroom with a grin. He tipped my chin up and kissed me lightly. “This is going to be great.”

I forced a smile and pushed him down the hallway. “Then let’s get to it.”

At the door, he paused and drew me forward into the circle of his arms. “Baby, I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.” His breath tickled my hair and I relaxed into the feeling. This was why I didn’t want to give Ainsley the demo, this feeling right now. I was safe, protected, cherished, loved. I’d send the demo after this weekend, but only if I gave my everything to who he needed me to be. I was his girlfriend.

His cheek pressed into the top of my head and I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my fingertips into his warm flesh. He’d become my anchor and I owed him that in return. No, didn’t owe him . . . that wasn’t the right word . . . honor. That was the word I’d been searching for. And the reason it stung so badly. Burying that demo wasn’t honorable, it was despicable, and yet I wanted him to honor me, not ask about my dad, honor my wishes on a one-way road.