My Heart's Bliss (Hard Love & Dark Rock #3) (5 page)

Chapter 8

Anne

"Anne," Trace said.  "Anne, lovely girl, wait."

I opened my eyes, looked down at his face.  He looked up at me with those deep, dark eyes, brimming with love.  He raised his hand, brushing my hair back, tucking a stray lock behind my ear.

I realized I was holding my breath again.  I let it go, blinking the tears away.

His fingers threaded into my hair, drawing my face down to his.  He kissed me, deeply, passionately, and I felt my tension melting away, my muscles turning to jelly.

Trace pulled me down against his chest, still kissing me, his hand still moving in my hair.  He rolled to the side, holding me against him, so that he was on top, his strong body above me, anchoring me.  He worked his hips between my knees, and I opened my legs to him, giving myself over to him, inviting him in.

With his lips moving gently on mine, his tongue dipping in to touch against my teeth, I felt him shifting his hips above me, bringing the head of his cock back toward my tight entrance.  He pressed it against me, gentle but firm, sliding his bulbous tip back and forth between my soft, slippery folds, coating the tip of his prick with my juices.

It felt so good it made me sigh into his open mouth.

And then—slowly, gently—he began to dip the tip of his cock into my pussy, just a little at a time, easing his way in, opening me up.  His mouth kept moving on mine, his thumb brushing over my cheek, caressing me.  I let my head fall back on the pillow—feeling that growing pleasure in my core, washing through me, taking my breath away—and he began to lightly kiss and nip at my chin, at my neck.

He stiffened his lower back, pushing a little deeper into me.  I felt the bulbous head of his cock stretching me, stretching my tight entrance.  A hint of pain tingled behind the pleasure, my muscles tensing slightly. Before it grew any stronger, he eased back slightly.

His hand slipped behind my head, tilting my face forward, bringing my mouth back to his.  He kissed me, deeply, passionately.

"Are you ready?" he asked in a whisper.

I opened my eyes, looked up into his.  I could see the love in his gaze.  I could feel it, glowing in my heart.

I nodded my head yes.

He bowed his head toward mine again, kissing me, and then pressed forward with his hips, slipping his entire length into me in a series of deepening thrusts.  The pain was there, but it was layered in amongst so much pleasure that I hardly noticed it.  And then he was fully, completely inside of me.  Filling me up.  Stretching me to my limits.  I was brimming with him, so full that I could hardly draw a breath.

"Oh my god, Anne," he said, his voice husky and ragged.  "Oh my god, it feels so good."

I wanted to tell him that I thought so too, but my brain couldn't seem to manage a simple sentence.  I moaned instead, long and low, speaking my pleasure without using words.

He began to move in me once more, slipping that huge cock out of me, and then filling me with it all over again.  His hips rolling, his shoulders bracing against the mattress on either side of me, his dick plunging into my core, deeper with every stroke.  I felt the pleasure expanding within me, filling my pelvis and then spreading up through my belly toward my heart, making my whole body sing.

"Anne," he said.  "Oh, Anne."

I opened my eyes, seeing him watching me, his own eyes clouded with pleasure.

"Trace," I said.  "Trace."

I was teetering on the brink on ecstasy.  And then, as he slipped that delicious length into me again, even deeper, I felt myself toppling over that edge.

I cried out, my pussy clenching down on him, the orgasm storming through me.

"Trace!  Oh!"

He kept plunging that thick cock into me, riding me through my climax, making it stretch on and on.  I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling my hips bucking up against him, my chest shaking and quivering.

"Aaahhh!"

The pleasure reached its peak, and then passed, leaving me exhausted.  All of the tension I’d felt, all of the stiffness in my body, had been purged by that tremendous orgasm, leaving every muscle slack.  I felt heat dancing along my bare skin, my whole body full of joy.

Trace had stilled above me.  I opened my eyes, looking up at him in wonder.

"You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met," he said, his eyes shining.  "
Especially
when you’re coming."

"More," I said, still a little breathless.  "More, Trace.  Please."

He grinned.  He kissed me.

And then he started moving his hips again, bringing me back up to another peak.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels pressing against his muscular ass, pushing him into me more forcefully, wanting more of him, ravenous for it.  He stiffened his back, his knees finding purchase on the mattress, and he began to plunge his dick into me more quickly, more deeply.

I could feel the power in his tightly coiled body, could feel him holding it in check.  But I wanted more of it.  I wanted
all
of it.  I wanted him to ravish me, to overwhelm me with the pleasure, until pleasure was the only thing I knew.

"More, Trace," I gasped.  "More!"

His kissed me again, his lips mashing against mine so hard it nearly bruised.  He hooked my legs with his arms, the back of my thighs caught in the crook of his elbows, pushing my knees up toward my chest, folding me over and opening me up.

A tremendous, aching pressure bloomed deep inside of me with his every thrust.  It was so strong that I didn't know if it was pleasure or pain, but I knew I wanted more of it.

"Fuck me, Trace," I gasped.  "Fuck me harder!"

He raised himself up onto his toes, driving his dick down into me, our bodies clapping together so loudly that the sound rang against the concrete walls of the room.  Every jolting force seemed to vibrate my pelvis, threatening to knock another orgasm loose.  My clit buzzed with that vibration, sparks of pleasure arcing through me with his every stroke.  I heard a whimpering, keening sound beneath that loud clapping and realized, a moment later, that the whimpering was me.

"Oh fuck, Anne," Trace said.  "Oh god.  Your pussy feels so fucking good!  I'm going to come!"

His words made my muscles clench down, my pussy gripping his plunging length.  I could hardly draw enough air into my lungs to breath, but I gasped at him.  "Yes, Trace.  Do it!  Come inside of me!"

And then he froze, his dick plunged to the hilt inside of me—it seemed to swell even thicker.  I could feel his balls pressed against me, drawing tight.  His head stretched back so that I saw the cords in his neck, and every muscle in his body went rigid.

He cried out "Aahhh!"  I felt his dick start to pulse inside of my tight cunt, pumping sperm, and the feel of it pushed me right over the edge.

"Ohhhh!" I moaned, another orgasm taking hold of me, my pussy clenching down on him, milking his pulsing cock of every drop of his cum.  "Ohhhh!"  My hips and shoulders quivering, my chest shimmering with pleasure.  "Fuck!"

He collapsed against me, both of us completely spent.  Our bodies motionless save for our hearts beating in our chests.  I could feel my heart thumping, and I could feel his, pulsing against me.

And in that moment, something seemed to glow within me, filling me with warmth and light and love.

Chapter 9

Trace

Anne beneath me, dragging me down against her.  Anne around me, gripping me with her body.  Anne within me, her tongue teasing into my mouth, her eyes piercing into mine.

I'd only met her the day before, but somehow that seemed impossible.  I felt like I'd known her forever.

Since the moment I'd first seen her, something inside of me had changed.  And now that we'd made love to each other, now that we'd given ourselves to each other, had consummated the relationship—and for the first time I thought I understood the meaning of that phrase—I knew that things would never be the same for me again.

"Anne," I said, looking down into her eyes.

"Yes, Trace," she said, running her fingers through the hair at my temple.

"I love you."

Her eyes shocked wide, ringed in white.  Deep and dark and beautiful, but not overjoyed.

If anything, she looked overwhelmed.

I felt her legs shifting beneath mine, squirming as if she felt trapped. I moved my body off of hers, lying down on the mattress at her side.

I'd said the wrong thing.  Even if I knew it was true, even if I had no doubt, she wasn't ready to hear it.

She'd gone quiet, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above her.  She was drawing into herself.  She was shutting me out.

"Are you okay, Anne?" I said.

She nodded her head, but then her eyes started to shine, filling with tears, and she closed them.

"Trace, you hardly know me."

"I haven't known you long," I said.  "But I know you."

"How can you say that?  How can you think that you know me?  We only met last night!"

"You don't believe in love at first sight?"

"No!"  She looked over at me.  "I mean, I'd like to.  I'd like to believe in it.  But in a rational sense, I just can't."

"Love isn't a rational thing.  It's not from the territory of the mind.  It's something you feel in your heart.  And I feel it now, because of you."

She looked back at the ceiling, her eyes blinking.

"You don't believe me?" I said.

"I just… I don't know.  Nobody has ever said it to me before.  At least, no
man
has said it to me, meaning it like you do.  I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Anne.  I didn't say it because I wanted to you to do something in response.  I said it because I felt it.  That's what I do—I express the things I feel."  I looked up at the Belletrist poster she had on the wall.  "It's why I write my music.  It's how I live my life."

She followed my glance, looking up at the poster.  She didn't say anything for a while.  And then she rolled toward me, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers tracing over a tattoo on my chest.

"I still don't know what to say," she murmured.

"You don't have to say anything, Anne."  I kissed her forehead gently, stroking my hand through her hair.  "You don't have to say anything.  I just wanted to tell you.  I wanted to say it aloud.  And not just for you, but for me, too."

The thought of Lucy came into my mind, the memory of her lifeless body beside me in my bed.  For a year, I'd been tortured by that memory, haunted by it.  I thought that a part of me had died when I saw her like that.

And maybe a part of me
had
died.  But now I knew, finally, that the part of me that loved was still alive.

I pulled in a deep breath, feeling Anne's fingers stroking against my chest.  I blew the breath out.  And as my chest fell, as my lungs let go of that air, I felt as if some long-harbored hurt was flowing out of me, too.

I could live, and I could love.

I was free.

-

Anne drifted off, her head on my shoulder, her hand on my chest.  I let my eyes roam around the room as she slept, learning about her by reading my surroundings.  A bookshelf at the foot of the bed was filled with battered paperbacks—Sylvia Plath, Diane di Prima, Anne Sexton—and a stack of journals with dates written on the spine.  Her desk was piled high with school books and papers, a calendar hanging on the wall had notes written in on nearly every day, weekends included.  A framed picture of Anne arm-in-arm with a woman who looked much like her—her mother, perhaps—was on her nightstand, as well as a red-numbered digital clock.

The clock said 1:17 p.m.  I had to be back at the hotel by three in order to ride with the band to the airport.  Bernstein was probably already freaking out.

Just before 1:30, she roused, her head wobbling slightly as she pushed herself up on her elbow.

"I fell asleep," she said.

I nodded.  "Just for a little while."

She glanced over at the clock, and then sat up quickly.

"You have to catch a flight to L.A. today?" she said.

"I do.  Bernstein's got interviews scheduled for this evening, and a show at The Snake Pit tomorrow night.  I've got to get going soon."

Her face fell, her mouth going small.  "Oh."

I reached up for her, brushing a lock of hair back from her face.  "You could come with me.  It's a chartered flight.  There'd be room for one more."

Her eyes got big, her mouth even smaller.

"When you asked me to come with you, last night," she said, "I wasn't sure that you meant it."

"I don't say things I don't mean," I said.  "I'd like you to come.  I really would."

Her eyes dropped to my chest, and then glanced at the crowded calendar on her wall.

She shook her head no.  I felt a little ache in my heart at that.

"I wish… I wish I could," she said.  "But I can't."

And then those beautiful eyes started to shine, tears filling them.

I sat up quickly, pulling her into my arms, my hands caressing her back.  I heard her breath shuddering.

"Don't cry, Anne.  It hurts me to see it."

She wiped her face, turning away.  She reached for her clothes and started to dress.

Following her lead, I reached for mine.  When I'd finished tying my boots, I stood up and went to her desk.  I pulled a sheet of paper out of her printer, folded it in half, and started to write on it.

I turned back to her.  She was sitting on the bed, fully dressed, her hands folded in her lap, her head bowed.

"This is my contact info, my phone number and my email," I said, holding up the paper.  "I'll keep my phone on me.  I normally don't, but I will.  And I'll make sure to check my email, too."

I put the paper on top of a stack of books on the desk.  Her eyes were watching her hands.  She was pulling away from me again.

"I would love to see you again, Anne," I said.  "The thought of not seeing you…"  I felt my throat go tight, my eyes starting to sting.  I shook my head and took a breath.  No need to make it worse.

"But I'm going to leave it up to you," I said.  "Please, if you want to give it a try, if you want to come see me or want me to come back to see you, let me know.  The tour goes for two more weeks, and we're due in the studio in New York after that, but I can find a way to get back here.  Or I can get you a ticket to come out."

I saw her dark eyes close, tears running down both cheeks.  I wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but I worried that if I touched her again, I wouldn't be able to let her go.

I walked to the door, put my hand on the handle, and stood there.  A moment ago I'd felt free for the first time in ages.  Now I felt like I was drowning.

How had things gone so wrong so quickly?

I turned the handle.  I heard the bedsprings creak.

"Trace."

I turned.  She threw herself into my arms, her mouth smashing against mine in a desperate kiss.  I could taste the salt of her tears, could feel her heart beating against my chest.  I kissed her with all of the love and the passion I felt blazing inside of me.

And then she broke away from me with a sob, turning back toward the bed.

I slipped out the door, and I left.