My Heart's Beat (Hard Love & Dark Rock #2) (6 page)

I felt powerful.

I took hold of him—feeling the heat of his cock in my hand, feeling it throbbing against my palm—and I began to stroke.

Trace let out a long groan, his head dropping back, his neck stretching long.

"Oh my god, Anne," he said, his voice low and husky.  "That feels so fucking good."

"Good," I whispered back.

I lowered my mouth to his, kissing him as my hand kept moving, jerking him off.  His mouth opened with a gasp, and I held my mouth over his, breathing in his pleasure, claiming it as mine.

The thought of the conversation I'd had with Becca came back to me:
if you want to make a guy's heart go all gooey, gobble his knob.
  The thought made a new desire flare inside of me, so strong I felt my muscles clench low down in my pussy.

I looked into Trace's eyes, the pupils big and black.  He looked lost in his longing, overwhelmed with what I was making him feel.  I had him in my thrall.

But still I wanted more.

I kissed him again on the lips.  I planted a few more kisses along the line of his jaw, the side of his neck, the ridge of his collar bone.  I pressed my lips to the inked skin of his chest, flicked my tongue over his nipple, brushing my cheek across his ribs and abdomen.

And then I shifted on the bed, moving down past his belly button, bringing my face near his throbbing penis.

There was nothing I wanted more than to taste it.  But caution stopped me.

"Trace," I whispered, still stroking his length.  "Do you have a condom?"

He looked up at me, concern for me showing in his face.

"I don't, Anne," he said.  "I haven't been in a position to need one for a long time now."

A crushing feeling of disappointment took hold of me, surprising me by how strong it felt.  I looked back down at his dick, thick and heavy in my hand.  It seemed strangely beautiful to me, somehow, and suddenly the desire to know it with my mouth was vivid and strong.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Anne," Trace said.

"I want to taste it," I said, my heart racing when I spoke the words aloud. "But… is it safe?"

A tenderness came into his eyes.  He propped himself up on his elbow and reached up to stroke my hair, his fingers combing through it, loosening the tangles.

"I would never want to hurt you, Anne," he said.  "And I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do."

"But I
want
to," I said.  "God, I
really
want to.  I'm just a little scared.  I mean, you're a rock star, and rock stars get around."

"Some do," he nodded.  "But not me.  Well, at least not recently."

He dropped his hand, looking at me.

"About a year ago, I was in the hospital for a few weeks," he said.  "They tested me—for everything—and they did another round of tests just before we started this tour.  I haven't been with anyone during that time.  I'm clean."

The relief came over me, and I couldn't help but smile.  I looked down at the beautiful cock in my hand, desire rushing through me again.

"But that doesn't mean you have to do anything, Anne," he said for the third time.

I looked at him again, feeling the hunger growing inside of me.

"You did it for me.  And besides… I'm curious."  I dropped my voice to a whisper.  "Plus… it kind of turns me on."

And then, before inhibition or shyness could stop me, I bent down and took his cock into my mouth.

Chapter 10

Trace

Her hair falling forward to brush against my belly.  Her fingertips tracing over my skin, skimming over me like touching water's surface, the pleasure rippling through me.  The feel of her hand holding me, pulling me, gripping the throbbing center of my desire.  And then, her mouth—hot, wet, soft—enveloping my cock.  Pulling the air right out of my lungs.

In that moment, she was everything.  The alpha and the omega, the sum total of the world.

In my life, I'd had my share of blowjobs—or more than my share, probably.  I'd slept with women in a dozen countries, sometimes two or three at once.  I loved being sucked, I loved it when women went down on me.  And I loved going down on them, too.

But this was more than a blowjob.  This was more than a merely physical, merely sexual experience.  The way that Anne affected me, the feelings she inspired in me, were unlike anything I'd felt before.  With Lucy I'd had something that, in certain ways, resonated with this.  But it hadn't been the same.

This was more than a blowjob.  This was an act of grace.

Anne's lips drew tight around my shaft.  Her cheeks went hollow as she sucked me up into her mouth.  And then she eased off the suction just slightly, drawing her mouth back up to, her lips sliding and pulling against my throbbing dick.

The pleasure flooded through me, washed over me, so that I felt like I was drowning on dry land.  I dropped my head back to the pillow, pressed both hands against my head, and groaned long and low.  She heard my groan, and echoed it with a moan of her own, soft and deep and sexy, the sound vibrating into my cock.

I raised up on my shoulders again, my head swimming with lust and with pleasure.  She looked up at me, those gorgeous brown eyes drinking me in, those beautiful lips so full and pink on my dick, her face flushed with passion.

With her eyes still fixed on mine, seeming to revel in the look on my face, she bobbed her head up and down.

She took her mouth off of me for a moment, and started licking her way up and down my shaft, washing her tongue over the tip of my cock, working her way down to kiss and suck my swollen balls.  She let out a moan as she did it, squeezing her thighs together, rocking her hips back and forth.  And then she drew me back into her mouth, her tongue and her lips and the insides of her cheeks cradling me, claiming me.  She pulled as she moved, drawing me even firmer, until my pulse seemed to throb in my dick.

"Ohhh, god," I moaned.  "Oh my god, Anne.  It feels incredible."

She pulled her mouth off of me again, her hand still pumping on my spit-slicked length.

"I never knew this could be so… so satisfying," she said.  "Almost intoxicating, like it's making me drunk, or something."  Her eyes went distant for a moment.  "It is kind of like sucking a popsicle."

"Huh?  You never knew…" I said, confused.  "You mean this is the first time… you've never…"

She looked at me, her eyes flashing, her cheeks flushing even pinker.  "I've never…" she paused, a coy look flashing through her eyes, and then a naughty look taking it's place.  "I've never sucked a cock before," she whispered.

"Oh my god," I said, my head falling back onto the pillow.  "I can't believe it."

I craned my neck forward again, looking at her.

"For what it's worth," I said.  "You're doing a really, really,
really
good job."

She gave me a wicked grin, her eyes flashing.

"You think so?" she said.

Her grin went even wider, her lips pulling back to show her white teeth.

"Less talk," she said, almost laughing, "more cock."

And with that she took me back into her mouth.  Her head plunged down again and again.

I dropped my head back on the pillow, my hands clutching at the sheets.  The pleasure was building higher and higher, so intense that it almost frightened me.  My ribs felt tight, my heart thundering.  I couldn't catch my breath.

I hadn't had sex in a year, and now I felt like a year's worth of pleasure was roaring through me all at once, a deluge threatening to wash me away.

"Oh my god, Anne," I said.  "I don't think… ohh… I can last… ahhh… much longer."

I raised my head, looked up at her again.  Her beautiful eyes were watching me, her expression intense.  A mixture of lust and desire and even, perhaps, a touch of fear.  It provoked another rush of emotions in my own chest: lust of my own, and tenderness, and something like love.

I wanted to say something, but the words jumbled in my brain.  Her head bobbed up and down, riding my length, slow and steady and unstoppable.  With each stroke she brought me higher, farther, closer to the sun.  I felt it taking hold of me, shimmering through me like static, growing bigger and bigger until it overwhelmed me entirely.

For a moment I felt suspended in a void, nearly in agony.  My heart seemed to clench in my chest like a fist.

"Ah!"

And then I toppled over the edge, raw bliss flooding over me, all of that incredible tension releasing out of me in a pulsing rush of ecstasy.

Chapter 11

Anne

From the moment I took him into my mouth, a strange sense of instinct took over.  I'd never done anything like this before, and yet I felt like I knew exactly what to do.  And as I sucked him, as my mouth and tongue and lips did their work, I seemed to respond to his needs before he could voice them.  I heard the panting breaths he took, heard the moans and sighs, felt his hips shifting, his abdomen contracting, his body responding.  And I responded to that, reading those sounds and movements, being guided by them.  I fell into a sort of trance, almost, guided by his body, without having to consciously think of what he was doing.

In a strange way, I felt I truly knew him in those moments.  Despite the fact that we'd only spent one night together, when I took his dick into my mouth I knew him in a way that even my years of memorizing his music and reading all his interviews hadn't let me know him.

And when his heartbeat began to race, when his breathing became a panting rush, when every muscle in his body pulled taut and still, pregnant with his eminent release, I felt almost like I was part of him, feeling it too.

His breath caught in his chest.  His shoulders and back pressed against the mattress, lifting his body up in a arch.  His cock seemed to swell in my mouth.

And then his head snapped forward, his eyes looking at me, so wide open he almost looked panicked.

"Ah!" he said, the sound forceful and sudden like a cough.

His dick seemed to burst in my mouth.  Hot jets of thick cream spurted toward my throat, coating my tongue.  I sucked every drop of seed out of that pulsing, throbbing length.

The taste of it was a revelation, both strange and somehow familiar at once.  Hot and thick and briny—it made me think of an oyster pulled hot off the grill.

I gulped it down greedily.

"Oh my god, Anne," Trace said, his chest heaving with his breath.  "That was incredible."

His hand stroked my hair back from my face.  I smiled at him, and he smiled back.  He pulled me toward him and kissed me on the lips.

"I don't think I've ever come like that before," he said.  It was like an earthquake inside of me."  A look of awe was in his eyes.  "There's something about you, Anne.  Nobody has ever made me feel like this."

A warm glow bloomed in my chest: happiness, and pride.  His skin felt warm beneath mine—my chest against his, our heart's beating together.

His hands stroked up and down my back, over the curve of my ass.  I lay my head down on his shoulder, relishing the feel of his touch.

"I liked it," I whispered.

His hand paused mid-stroke, and then slipped down over my ass again, gliding over the silk of my panties, caressing me, reaching between my legs.

"Hmmm," he hummed, the sound vibrating in his chest.  "You did like it, you lovely girl.  You're panties are soaked right through."

He pushed my panties aside, slipping his fingers in, gliding the pad of his middle finger up and down in my slickness.

I gasped in a breath, and moaned it back out.

His finger slipped into me, stroking me from inside.  My pussy clenched down on him, hungry for more of that lovely sensation.  I felt the pleasure radiating up through my pelvis, flowing through me, and I moaned again.

"Ohh.  Ohhh, yes."

He slipped his finger out of my pussy, and replaced it something thicker and blunter—his thumb. His fingers move down to rub little circles over my swollen clitoris.

"Ahh," I said, squeezing my eyes shut.  "Ahhhh, god."

"You like that, you lovely girl?"

"Yes," I sighed, my head nodding up and down.  "Oh, yesss."

"Good," he murmured.  "I like it too."

And I felt his dick began to stir, swelling against my pelvis.

"Oh, my god," I said.

The feelings became more intense, his fingers stroking over my clit, sparking pleasure with each stroke.  I could feel it building in me, pushing me toward orgasm.

And then the orgasm took hold of me, overwhelming me.

"Ohh, Trace, I'm coming… ohh!"

I pressed my cheek against his as my hips started to buck, my pussy clenching down on his thumb.  I heard a whimpering sound, soft and high, and realized I was the one making it.

"Oooohhhh."

And when it finally passed, my head drooped down against the mattress.  My eyes were still closed, and I saw colors shifting beneath my eyelids.  All of sudden, the long night seemed to be catching up to me.  I felt exhausted, my body wringed out.

I could feel his dick, hard again, pressing against my abdomen.  And I wanted to feel it inside of me, filling up my ache.  But I was so tired, I couldn't manage to open my eyes.

His arms were around me, holding me.  His body was warm beneath mine.  He stroked his fingers through my hair, and it seemed to melt away any tension remaining in my body.

I don't know if I'd ever felt so warm and safe and happy.

"Anne," he said, his voice a low murmur.

"Hmm?"

"Tomorrow… I have to leave San Francisco," he said.  "We've got a show in L.A."

I was almost asleep already, but a part of me still heard him.  I didn't know they were leaving San Francisco so soon.  I hadn't even thought of anything beyond this night, but I knew I didn't like the idea of him leaving.

I felt my mouth pulling down in a frown, but I was too tired to lift my head.  The darkness of sleep was dragging me under.

"Anne," he whispered, his hand still stroking through my hair.  "You should come.  You should come with me."

Pleasure washed through me.  My lips arched up in a smile.

Before I could answer—before I could even consider—I'd fallen asleep.

-

I woke with a start, my head jerking up.

At first I felt disoriented.  I didn't know where I was.

And then I realized I was in bed with Trace.

I was lying beside him, my head on his shoulder.  His breaths came deep and even—sound asleep.  His arm wrapped around me, holding me close.

My mind started to race.  Had he said he was leaving?  Had he asked me to come?  Or had I dreamed it?

What if he
had
asked me?  Should I go?

What about my classes?  Maybe I could take a few days off?

A thought came slicing through the others.  I'd gone down on him without protection, without a condom.  I'd let him come in my mouth.

I could almost taste it, even now.

He said he was safe, but what if he'd lied to me?  What if I caught a disease?

The panic started to build in me.  I felt like I needed to get up, to move.

Trace's arm was still wrapped around me, holding me.  It had made me feel warm and safe just a little while ago.  Now it made me feel trapped.

Slowly, I lifted my head, turned to look at him.  Even asleep, he looked beautiful.  His dark eyelashes rested against his cheeks.  His chest swelled with breaths.  He looked peaceful, but even in his slumber, there was a hint of sadness in his expression.

I felt my panic subside, just slightly.  In my heart, I couldn't believe that he would lie to me about being tested, about being clean.  The earnest quality in his songs, in his music, had been one of the things that affected me most, and he'd seemed that way even when I met him in person.

In my heart, I didn't believe he'd put me at risk.

Carefully, I took hold of his hand, lifted it so that I could move, propping myself up on my elbow.  I lowered his hand toward his chest.

But as I did, I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his wrist: Bleed Blessings.  I knew it from pictures, from the poster on the dorm-room wall above my bed.

There'd been something different about it in the pictures I'd seen.

I lifted his arm again, carefully, and looked at the tattoo.

A pale line ran through it, bisecting the end of each word.

I dropped my face down toward the tattoo, my eyes squinting in the dim light.  The skin looked different there, the ink interrupted.

With a sudden shock, I realized what it was.

It was scar tissue, thick and deep and ugly.  A scar from a cut wrist.

In a rush, my conversation with Sara Sounding came back to me.  Trace had woke up in bed next to his dead girlfriend, and he'd tried to kill himself in that same bed beside her.  He'd slit the artery in his wrist, every beat of his heart pumping more of his life's blood into the bed.

A chill went through me, my own blood turning to ice.

Sara had said that he looked at me just like he'd looked at her sister.

And now
I
was in bed with him.

It was bad enough hearing about it.  But seeing the proof of it, carved into Trace's very body, made it even worse.

The panic came rushing back, spiking toward raw terror.

He'd said he'd been tested while he was in the hospital, and again just before this tour started.  He said he hadn't been with anyone during that time.  That meant that I was the first girl to get into bed with Trace since the last one had died in it.

A sudden, crazy thought leapt into my head: what if being in bed with Trace meant something terrible was going to happen to me?

I got up as quickly and quietly as I could. I snatched my clothes off the floor, clutched them to my chest, and backed away from the bed.

All night long I'd been wondering if I was in over my head.  Suddenly, I felt sure that I was.  I felt like I was in the deep end of the ocean, with ten miles of dark water between me and the sunlight and air.

As quietly as I could, I got dressed.

And then I opened the door and slipped out, running from Trace as fast as my legs would carry me.

The story of Anne and Trace concludes

in
My Heart’s Bliss: Hard Love & Dark Rock, Part 3

-

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