Dear Rockstar (22 page)

“No, no,” I whispered when I was naked beneath him, his mouth beginning its delicious travel south. I stopped him at my collarbone. I didn’t want any of that. I just wanted him, inside of me. Now.

He lifted his head, the sight of his dark, disheveled hair, eyes glinting with longing in the lamp light, the gorgeous spread of his shoulders, tapering down to the narrow thrust of his hips, made my ovaries ache deep in my belly.

“Inside me,” I whispered, cupping his face in my hands, sliding them behind his neck and pulling his head to my breasts. “Dale, please.”

He didn’t deny me. We were both ready when he entered me just a moment later, poised above me, eyes locked. His breath exhaled sweetly over my face and I ran my hands up the muscled terrain of his arms, his shoulders, across his back, so in love with him I couldn’t contain it, as if my hands could tell him without words how much I wanted him, needed him, craved him.

Dale bent his head, eyes closing for a moment, then opening again, looking down at where he was buried deep inside of me. The thick, aching throb of him, filling every bit of available space, my thighs open to him, everything open to him, reminding me with every sweet
pulsing drumbeat of his heart, beating with mine, as close to me as my own.

“Come here.” I slid my hands behind his neck, pulling his mouth down for a kiss that wasn’t a kiss at all. It was like completing a circuit, our bodies electrified in an instant. Sparks flew the moment our tongues touched, as if we had caught a livewire between us. Dale moaned into my mouth, beginning to move inside of me, my flesh opening more and more to him with every sweet thrust.

“Oh Dale,” I murmured against his lips, squeezing him tight between my thighs, my legs locked around his waist. I had to tell him. He had to know what he meant to me, what I felt. His cock throbbed when my lips touched his, swelling when my tongue slipped into his mouth. I gasped as he moved faster, deeper, his tongue thrusting with the same smooth, rhythmic motion, and I lost myself in the connection, an endless loop, a delicious, rising spiral.

And there just weren’t words anymore. They didn’t fail me, they just didn’t exist on the plane of existence we had driven ourselves into, clutching and gasping and moving with the gentle purpose of the tide. The world had disappeared. There was only us, the slick circle of our bodies moving together, both of us crying
out, mouths mirroring the sweet, dizzying friction between our legs.

More, more, more.
I begged him silently, rocking up to meet him, holding him in the cradle of my limbs, wrapped tightly around him, as if my world might slip away if I let go. My sex clamped down around his shaft as the first spasm of my climax washed over me. I cried out, nails raking the skin of his shoulders, heels digging into the small of his back, feeling Dale’s sharp intake of breath as he came too, like the sudden flash of a distant star.

We were a galaxy exploding into a million pieces, creating a whole new world, as we crashed against each other on the soft surface of his mattress, a cloud in the darkness, our bodies finally falling together like rain. Dale lowered his head to my chest, letting me cradle his head against my breast, our hearts still racing, off somewhere together without us.

I held him and he held me, words unnecessary, our hearts way ahead of us. They always had been, from the very beginning. We couldn’t do anything but hang on and hope to catch up.

     
CHAPTER TWENTY     

“Are you sure your parents aren’t coming home?” Dale followed me into the apartment as I shut the door behind me.

“I told you, they went to
upstate New York to visit my stepfather’s family. Something about borrowing money. That’s two hours away, so we have the place to ourselves for a while. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure.” He followed me into the little kitchen, sitting on the chair next to the closet.

“We have water, milk, a half a Pepsi.” I frowned, eyeing the sparse fridge contents. “Or we have my father’s stash.”

“Liquor?” Dale raised his eyebrows. 

“Nope.” I opened the closet door and Dale let out a low whistle. “Juice. Orange, grapefruit, apple, you name it.  This is what he used to deliver, before he got fired.”

“He got a discount on it?”

“Yeah,” I said bitterly. “The five-fingered kind. That’s why they fired him.”

“Oh. Right.”

“So, what’s your poison?” I waved my hand toward the boxes stacked five high, four across and three deep.

“Apple’s up top. Let’s split one.”

I pulled out a bottle and got two glasses and some ice, carrying them toward my room.

“Are you excited?” I asked as I opened my bedroom door.

“I really finally get to see it today?” Dale nodded toward the veiled canvas on my easel.

“Today’s the day,” I agreed, setting down our drinks. “You ready?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone do a painting of me. It’s kind of weird,” he said, trying to peek under the cover.

I slapped at his hand.

“Not yet!” I pushed him down on the bed. “I’ll do it. When I’m ready.”

“You’ve only kept me in suspense forever,” he groaned, laying back and pulling me with him. He tried to kiss me but I wouldn’t let him.

“Okay.” I got up. “If you really want to see it, let’s do it.”

I went to the canvas and pulled off the sheet. Dale blinked, staring quietly, studying it carefully. I waited, chewing on my nail until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Well?”

“Well...” He cleared his throat. “It’s not exactly what I was expecting.”

“I know.” I threw up my hands. “But I was experimenting. Every time I tried to put you down in portrait form I couldn’t do it.”

He studied it, frowning, speechless. It made me nervous.

“This,” I nodded toward the abstract. “This is really you.”

“Here...” He pointed as he spoke. “This is my music, right?”

He touched the misshapen music note.

“Is this my father?” He pointed to a shadowy figure. I nodded.

“Everything is here. Even you, over here in the corner right?”

I nodded again.

“Why in the corner?”

I shrugged.

He pulled me back onto the bed, tucking me easily beneath him. “You should be right in the middle.” He kissed my forehead, pressing my hand over his heart. “Right here.”

I smiled.

“Well, I’ve never had anyone do a painting of me before.” He nuzzled my ear. “I’m more than a little flattered.”

I shrugged again, embarrassed. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

“Thank you.” He pulled back to look at me, tracing the outline of my face gently with his finger. His eyes were soft as he touched my lips and whispered, “Sara, sometimes I don’t think you’ll ever know how much you mean to me.”

I kissed him, letting my mouth tell him what I felt, what I wanted. He kissed me back, the feel of him a relief as he let his weight press me into the bed.

His hands moved up under my t-shirt, sliding up my sides, making me squirm.

“Ohhh, ticklish?” he inquired, his fingers finding his way up under my arms. I squealed and writhed and tried desperately to get away.

“Stop, stop, stop!” I cried, laughing too hard to get the words out in anything but a gasp.

But he went on, persistent, tenacious, until I was howling with laughter, trying to buck him off me, off the bed, but having no luck at all.

That’s when my door flew open.

My stepfather’s voice boomed above our heads. “Get the fuck off her!”

I didn’t have the breath to scream, but that’s what my body wanted to do. Instead, I gasped, and Dale was up, protecting me with his body, standing between me and the stepbeast faster than I thought humanly possible.

What is he doing here?

My stepfather loomed, glaring at me over Dale’s shoulder.

“We’re going.” Dale reached back for my hand, not moving out of my stepfather’s path, keeping his body between me and the stepbeast. I stretched out to take his offered hand, my fingers brushing his, when my stepfather shoved Dale aside with enough force to throw him against the desk, knocking the chair over on its side and spilling apple juice onto the floor.

Then the stepbeast gave me a shove, the force of it pushing me back onto the bed, my head hitting the wall so hard the edges of my vision went black, all the breath gone from my lungs. My body was paralyzed, my brain sending all sorts of signals but none of them getting through.

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

I couldn’t see what was happening, not at first. My vision was still too blurry. Dale was bent over as if in pain, gasping, my stepfather standing over him, fists clenched. I found my voice and screamed. No words, just a scream, as loud and long as I could. The sound got Dale moving and he charged forward like a bull, hitting the stepbeast in the midsection with his head, knocking him backward toward the doorway, where I first noticed my mother standing, frozen in place. Dale simultaneously grabbed the backs of the bigger man’s legs and the stepbeast fell like a tree. Then Dale was on him, pounding him with his fists. I couldn’t see anything but Dale’s back, arms flying, hearing the sound of them both panting like animals as they fought, my stepfather getting his legs up and pushing Dale off.

There was blood on my stepfather’s face, and a look of rage darker than I’d ever seen before. He knocked my mother out of the way and I heard a loud thud and then her scream. Dale was after him again, both of them tussling down the hallway. My mother appeared around the corner, looking into my bedroom from the doorway of their room, her cheek bloody.

“Call 911,” I croaked, flying down the hallway after them, passing her. “Mom! Call 911!”

The stepbeast hit Dale with a hard right cross, hard enough I heard the hit, a sick, meaty, crunchy sound, and it knocked him backward. Dale’s hands wheeled out to catch himself, but the bathroom door behind him was open and he tumbled through it.

“Dale!” I cried, reaching out for him, but my stepfather was there, quickly grabbing the door and locking it from the outside. Those doors weren’t supposed to lock that way, but he’d switched the doorknob around years ago, so he could lock her in whenever he felt it was necessary.

My door and the bathroom worked the same way. You could lock someone in, but you couldn’t lock anyone out.

Dale pounded on the bathroom door, rattling the knob, calling for me, but I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of my stepfather’s footsteps as he raged down the hal
lway, eyes red and bleary with anger.

“You fucking little whore.” His words spat over me like a rain of bullets. I winced
.
“In my house.
IN MY HOUSE!”

I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? I closed my eyes and waited for it to come. There was no one to save me. I could scream all I wanted, but no one ever came.

“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!”

THUD

THUD

THUD

Dale was trying to break down the bathroom door.

“Dale, no!” I cried, shrinking against the wall as my stepfather grabbed me by the hair. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Pete…” My mother’s voice, choked, from the floor of their room where she was cradling her busted cheek with her hand. “Don’t…please…”

“Shut up!” He pointed at her, his eyes wild with rage as he slammed my head against the hallway wall again and again, using it as a weapon while he lectured her, until I saw stars. “This little whore needs to be taught a goddamned lesson!”

THUD

THUD

THUD

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!” Dale roared.

The stepbeast ignored the caged tiger in the bathroom, turning his attention to me, his face skewed into a twisted smile as he lifted my face.

“Nice.” He rubbed his thumb through the blood dripping down my chin. “That will make for some good lubrication while you’re sucking my dick, you little whore.”

There was a sound from the bathroom like an oncoming train or a tornado or something even more dangerous. It was an inhuman sound, something from the bowels of the earth, like a demon breaking through to the other side of the world.

THUD

THUD

CRACK!

I heard the door frame giving way, the wood splintering, but I knew it was too late.

I looked up at my stepfather, spitting blood at his face, screaming the words.

“GO TO HELL!”

I knew I was signing my own death warrant, and for once, I really didn’t care. His eyes told me everything I needed to know. This man hated me and was going to kill me. It might be now, it might be someday soon, but it was only a matter of time.

That was when he hit me. His fist connected with my face and my whole cheek lit up. It felt as if the side of my head had exploded. He’d never hit me with a closed fist before, and I had time to marvel at it before he did it again… and again, driving me back into my room. I covered my face with my hands, curling into a ball on the bed, and waited to die.

My mother, screaming, “Stop! Pete, stop it! You’re going to kill her!” was the last thing I heard before everything faded into blackness.

“Your mother
called the police?” Aimee squawked.

“Mmm hmm.” I tried to open my eyes again to look at her, but it was just too painful. I could hardly talk, everything felt so swollen.

“But they arrested them both?”

“Water?” It came out “wa-ar” because my consonants still weren’t so great yet. Aimee lifted the cup to my mouth and I sucked on the straw, wincing at the pain—and they had me drugged up pretty good.

“They took them both to jail to sort it out.” John’s voice. I smiled, and that was painful too, but I didn’t care, holding out my hand. I felt his touch, soft and warm, his hand patting mine gently. “They’d both been fighting, and Sara and her mother were passed out cold by then.”