Random on Tour: Los Angeles (Random Series #7) (26 page)

I just wanted to feel pleasure.

His tongue teased layer after layer from my willing body, my hands uncertain. I finally threaded my fingers through his short hair as he gave, moving with me and stroking with tenderness and thought. The moment was so bare and intimate. So much about giving and accepting. Blood pounded through me, my skin flush with the heat of the bath and the fevered touch of his mouth and hands on my body.  

My fingers tightened, then I moved my hands to his shoulders, pulling my legs up and feeling the scratch of his beard against my inner thighs, the sensation so alluring it made me blossom, unfolding before him, baring myself emotionally as well as physically in ways that were uncharted territory. His tongue moved with erotic precision and yet his hands roamed over me like a man spellbound. Bewitched. He wasn’t just on a mission to make me come.

He was on a journey to come
with
me.

My breath hitched and a wave of pure lust washed over me, making my legs quiver and my mind move as he rode with me, following my gasps and writhing, the soft interplay between my body’s instincts and his need to give growing stronger as the intensity of what Tyler gave spiraled ever higher.

I knew the wall was there. Could sense it before I even came close to it. That barricade was erected seven years ago, made of pain and vulnerability, of attack and violation. This time, though, it was weaker. It wavered. It shimmered like a mirage, and as I moved my hands to each side of me, desperately pawing for something to grab as Tyler’s touch drove me to crest, the wall moved.

It...folded, fading to nothing at the exact moment I cried out his name and tipped over into a nothingness that was pure energy and sultry release.

“Oh, my God,” I rasped. “I’m...oh, Tyler!” I began to shake from within, a vibration without origin, a feeling of deep frequency that felt like I was a stone thrown into a pond, my skin and bones the ripples on the water, my pleasure riding out in concentric circles as Tyler made love to my body with a deep determination and a soulful need to make my orgasm a reality, as if he’d conjured it by sheer will alone. 

And he had.

We
had.

Pulsing with the extraordinary, feral climax, I groaned and moaned, twitched and twisted, the sensation too much to be contained in my body, crying out from my throat. I shattered over and over, as if all the porcelain and glass that people had thought I was made of needed to be broken by this ecstasy.  

Tyler rose, breaking his mouth’s touch, and crawled up my body, giving me a kiss filled with my own taste. I reached for the condom I’d placed, this time, on the nightstand, and quickly dispensed with the ritual.

He moved me, gently, so that he rested on his back, then reached for one of my legs, pulling me on top.

“You’re in control,” he whispered, my hand guiding him in me, the feeling exquisite after the enigmatic emptiness of my orgasm. “You.” His eyes traced my body, the moon peeking in and shrouding us in a grey glow that gave an ethereal feel to the moment.  

I was transcendent, a goddess, and Tyler made me feel like we were the only people in the world.

We were.

Instinct drove me to move against him, my thighs still shaking from his ministrations moments ago, his palms on my hips, urging me through a rhythm. His hands reached up, cupping my breasts, and I leaned over him, now moving faster, feeling the deep clench of muscles that came from that core where I’d been vibrating earlier.

“What is this?” I hissed in his ear, my hair dragging over his shoulder and neck.

He kissed me, open-mouthed and with a groan, the sound of a man about to lose control. “Whatever it is, go with it. Lose yourself in it. I’m right here. You can grab me when you fall.”

“When I fall?” Those were the last words I could say or think as I did, indeed, fall. Floating in a space where my body and his stopped having boundaries, where our hearts no longer beat separately, where  skin brushed against skin and it felt so good, so hot, so uncontrolled and frantic that I soon lost my words once more, finding solace in his breath, his cries, his taut athleticism and a rhythm that carried us through our separate climaxes, the joint push of so much want turning into something sweeter than love. 

Hours passed.

Maybe just minutes.

My breath came into focus first, then the brush of hair on his chest against my cheek, my eyes opening, lashes fluttering against his ribs. I’d gone completely limp, crashing into his body with the abandon of someone who...well....

Who
falls
.

He stroked my hair and whispered, “You okay?”

I laughed. “Better than okay.”

His palm cradled the back of my neck, moving down to follow the lines of my ribs, my torso. “I don’t even have to ask my other question.”

I lifted my head and moved up his body to taste him with a kiss that made arousal stir in me once more. “No. You don’t.” He nuzzled my neck and brushed my mussed hair away from my damp cheek. We were enshrined in sweat, the air redolent with sex and fun.

“Good.” His single word rang out like a victory cry.

He reached over to the bedside and casually poured a glass of wine, handing it to me as I sat up. The other glass was across the room and he shook the bottle, peering at it with one eye.

And then he took the bottle and held it up to me.

“A toast.”

“To...?”

“To breaking down walls,” he said.

I dinged my glass against the bottle. We finished our respective wine in a few gulps, then set the glass and bottle on the nightstand. I had to lean over him and as he pivoted, he took my overhanging breast in his mouth, the cold from the wine lingering on his tongue.

I yelped.

He laughed.

We both sighed.

“That was amazing,” I said, over him and peering into his eyes.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Thank
you
.” My body had lost its normal tension. I was loose and free, and as I bent down for another kiss, I realized: 

I was ready for more.

I reached down and found him wearing the condom.

“Let me take care of that,” he announced, moving me off him and striding to the bathroom. I stretched, blood pouring into muscles that seemed to accept it faster. Sex—my orgasms—had changed my body.

For the good.

I heard the toilet flush. Then the water faucet. Then Tyler, humming one of the band’s songs.

By the time he came back, I had taken up the whole bed.

“Room for me in there?” he joked.

“How about round three?”

His eyebrows flew up and his smile turned seductive. “Again? Already?”

“Didn’t you say you could go again thirty seconds later?”

“Yeah, but...”

I looked at his cock, which stirred in return.

He looked down. “Huh. I guess I was telling the truth.”

“You guess?”

He bit his lower lip and looked up at me under his lashes. “I was pretty sure.”

I threw a pillow at him and said, “But we have a problem.”

“What?”

“We’re out of condoms.”

“You’re serious,” he choked out. “Now?”

“Now.”

Tyler

When a woman makes an offer like that, you jump. I had my pants on and room key in my hand before Maggie could finish her sentence. I was the king of the world, man.

I’d made her come. She’d let me.

And she was asking me to do it
again
.

I knocked on Trevor’s door. He answered.

Completely naked and high as a kite.

And wearing a “Service, Please” door tag on his
very
erect cock.

“Hey! It’s Frown! Frown!” Before I could step back, he had me in a hug. I could feel how excited he was.

Very excited.

I jumped back as fast as I could.

“Dude.”

“What’s up?”

“Your cock.”

He looked down and laughed. “Hah! Yeah. That was Darla’s idea.”

“Who’s there?” she shouted from the darkened room.

And then:

Bawk bawk bawk

“Is that...a chicken?” I asked. I shouldn’t have asked. I really shouldn’t.

“Mavis is in here,” Trevor explained.

“She’s...what?”

“You here to party with the three of us?”

“No.
No
.”

“Then what?”

“You got any condoms?”

He reached out for another hug. I didn’t need to feel his sword again.

A blue box came flying through the air, nearly clipping my head. It bounced against the wall behind me in the hallway. A twelve pack, unopened.

“You and Maggie have fun!” Darla shouted from behind Trevor.

“Did you save enough for us?” Trev pouted, spinning around, the hang tag flying like a little petticoat. I tried so hard not to look, really I did, but the fluttering of that ridiculous white tag drew my eye when he spun around.  

“Yep. Got three boxes like that.” Her voice was suggestive and Trevor just sighed.

“I fucking
love you
.”

He slammed the door in my face.

I bent down, got the box, and raced back to Maggie.

Who was sound asleep in the bed, a smile gracing her lovely lips, her body slack with sleep and, I hoped, the joy of sex.

I looked at the clock. Just past midnight.

I got naked again, pulled the covers off the second double bed, and climbed in with her, snuggling up.

We had all night, a twelve pack of condoms—

and the rest of our lives.

The End

W
ANT MORE?

There are FIVE other full-length books about the band! Learn more about the Random series here:

Random Acts of Crazy
—A New York Times bestseller
 

Random Acts of Trust

Random Acts of Fantasy

Random Acts of Hope

Random Acts of Love

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

She loves to hear from her readers by email at [email protected], on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor .

Visit her website at http://jkentauthor.com

Join her reader newsletter for emails about new releases and sales at: eepurl.com/uxB4r

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Random on Tour: Los Angeles

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Want more?

About the Author