Rock Stars Do It Forever (6 page)

Chase lifted his mouth from her nipple and smiled at her, then deliberately slowed his thrust until he was sliding oh so slowly. He pulled nearly all the way out, so only the very tip of his cock remained inside her. He paused then, meeting her eyes, making her wait. She wanted him to crash into her, hard and fast; she also wanted him to go as slow as he could, to draw out this union as long as he could. She decided she didn’t care how he made love to her, as long as she had him there with her.

“You want it harder?” Chase asked.

“Mmm-hmmm.” Jamie caressed his ass gently, stroking his flanks and the hard muscle of cheeks. “I like it hard. But…slow and soft is good, too. Just make love to me. Please…please.”

Chase dipped down to kiss her, still holding himself barely inside her. He pulled away from the kiss to meet her eyes. Jamie searched his face, memorizing his features, absorbing greedily the look of wonder and tenderness and love. Then she felt him move into her. He glided in with deliberate slowness, barely moving at all, and Jamie felt his entire body shivering with the effort to move so slowly. Jamie’s mouth stretched wide in a silent scream as he filled her, and her fingers dug into the flesh of his ass in urgent claws, pulling at him with fierce power.
 

“Chase
…” His name was a plea, a whispered epithet.

He repeated the action, pulling out almost all the way, pausing at her entrance, then sliding in as slowly as he could. Jamie scrabbled at his back with her hands, digging at the bed with her heels. Chase drew a hand back and curled his elbow around the crook of her knee, planting his hand near her hip so her leg was drawn up. Then he did the same with the other hand, and now Jamie was stretched open and her hips lifted up and her body bare for his pleasure.
 

“God!” she shrieked. “Yes!”

Jamie reached up behind her head to grasp the headboard, lifting up to meet his first stroke. He delivered the initial thrust slowly, as he had all the rest, worshipful and prolonged. Jamie waited, quivering, as he drew himself out, and then when he began to glide back in slowly, she lifted herself off the bed to meet him, hard.
 

Chase slumped over her, forehead touching her belly, breath huffing on her navel, his entire body trembling with restrained need.

“I need it, Chase,” Jamie whimpered. “I need you. I
need
you. Please. Don’t hold back anymore. Give me all of you. Hard.”

Chase growled at her words, a primal sound of capitulation. He drew out, shudderingly slow, and then, with an infinitesimal pause, he slammed himself home with nearly savage force. Jamie loosed a scream of rapturous bliss, dragging her nails down his back so hard she knew she’d drawn blood. Chase growled, thrusting again, hard and slow, pulling out and crashing in against her in a rhythm now, and she could only return her hands to cling to the headboard and cry out in euphoric delight as he slammed into her, harder and harder now, faster and faster, feeling her body shaking and trembling with the coiled tension of impending orgasm.
 

Jamie met him thrust for thrust, using the headboard for leverage to get herself off the bed, crushing her folds against him desperately, wanting more even as he gave her more. She was unable to control the sounds emerging from her throat, tiny mewls, shrieks, screams, ragged sobs. Chase grunted and growled with each thrust, moaning with every furious pump of his hips.
 

Chase released Jamie’s legs, and she wrapped them around his waist, clung to his neck with her arms, and pressed her lips to his ear.
 

“I love this, Chase,” she whispered. “I love you. Yes…oh, god, yes.”

They were moving together frantically, desperately.
 

“Jamie. Oh, Jay. I need you... Don’t stop,” Chase said, his voice guttural and thick.

“Come with me, Chase,” Jamie said, feeling the waves begin to roll over her body. “Oh, god, I’m gonna come right now, so hard, so hard.”

Chase lost the rhythm, grinding into her with stuttering, shattering force, groaning every time his body
 
slammed into hers. “Say it again, baby.”

Jamie knew exactly what he wanted her to say. “Come with me.” She clung to him, her hands on the nape of his neck and the back of his head, holding his face against her throat. “Come with me, Chase. Now. Oh. Oh…oh, god, oh, fuck!”
 

Jamie felt lightning strike inside her, a detonation so intense she couldn’t stand it, couldn’t take it. She felt herself coming apart at the seams, shattering, splitting apart, full past bursting with all of Chase, with the infinite potency of his love, of his body inside her, of his arms around her, and all she could do was sob and cling and come, and come again and again while Chase undulated into her, making an incoherent sound in his throat that was part sob, part feral growl, and all man. He pushed and pushed and pushed, his mouth quivering between her breasts as he thrust frantically, arrhythmically. Jamie felt wave after wave of climax wash over her, each one more earth-shattering than the last, until she knew she was experiencing something far beyond mere physical orgasm.
 

Then she felt Chase unleash, felt his body tense and clench, then felt him judder and thrust hard, twice, and go still, lying on top of her, his lips pressing delirious kisses to her throat, chest, shoulders, cheek, and then her lips.
 

Jamie kissed him back, devouring his mouth, his breath, taking his love into her through the contact. Tears slipped out, trickled down her cheek and onto the pillow. She wasn’t sure why she was crying, except perhaps for the sheer overwhelming amount of emotion running through her, from the intensity of her climax.
 

“Jay? Are you crying?” Chase carefully pulled out and rolled over with her, effortlessly shifting her to cradle her in his arms.
 

She nodded. “It’s not sad tears, though. Promise.” She breathed deeply, shuddering involuntarily as an aftershock rippled through her. “I’m just…overwhelmed. In a good way.”

“That was crazy intense, wasn’t it?” Chase said.

Jamie moaned in satisfaction, wriggling against him. “‘Intense’ is an understatement. Like saying the ocean is a little wet.” She felt him softening against her leg. “You’d better take care of that and come back to me. I need cuddles. And shit.”

Chase laughed. “Mock if you will. Real men cuddle.”
 

Jamie agreed, but was too entirely sated to say anything and too fully enjoying the sight Chase’s tight naked ass as he went to the bathroom to clean up. She also enjoyed the view as he returned, and enjoyed even more the feel of his arms curling around her as he drew her into a tangled embrace. She nestled into him, hearing his heart beat beneath her ear, his fingers toying idly with a curl, his breathing slow and steady, his body hard and strong but soft in all the right ways. Jamie closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

She was drowning in a sea of contentment, and nothing had ever been sweeter.

“Okay, baby?” Chase murmured.

“Never, ever been better.”

“Good. Me, neither.”

Jamie felt herself drowsing. She wanted to stay awake, to savor the moment, the feeling of being held and loved, but sleep was stealing over her, an unstoppable force. She shook herself awake and turned her face up to look at Chase.

He rumbled in laughter. “Relax, Jay. Just…relax. We’re together now. Let me hold you.”

Jamie felt like a child fighting sleep. She sighed again and let sleep sweep her away.
 

3

Chase was dreaming. It was a good dream, a pleasant dream. It was more than that—it was a fantasy, a wet dream. It wasn’t real, he didn’t think, because that would be simply too much to bear, too much wonder to contain.
She
was the dream, the one woman of whom he’d dreamed so often lately. The dream had been a long one, hours of ecstasy, it felt like. He’d dreamed of running into her after a show, and discovering she loved him after all, wanted to be with him despite the impossibility of such a thing. They’d gone to his show, and then to a hotel, and they’d made love. In that dream, she had taken Chase to a place he’d never thought possible, beyond sex, beyond climax, beyond anything that had ever been. He hadn’t just come harder than ever before in his life; he’d felt her soul merge with his.
 

They’d fallen asleep together, in the dream.
 

And now, dreaming, he felt her lips on his body. Pressing fiery kisses down his chest, across his nipple, light lip-touches on his ribs, his side, his hip. Oh, god, what a dream. She was kissing his thigh, and her hands were carving hot lines of sensual contact over his arms and inner thighs and now…oh, shit, now she was
touching
him. Holding his aroused flesh in her fists. Stroking him slowly. Running her tongue up the side of his cock, licking his length as if he was a popsicle, taking him in her mouth and sucking hard.
 

“Oh, god,” he heard himself say. In the dream.

It was all a dream. He would wake up alone in the hotel room, hard and aching and ready to burst with no way to release except his own hand.

She fisted him, then feathered her fingers over his shaft in achingly soft caresses, sucked his tip hard, and then moved her lips gently on his crown, so soft, so wet, so delicate and loving and…

“Jamie. Oh, god, Jamie, that feels so good.” He heard the words, and the sound of his voice, in the dream, was ragged, thick and stuttering.
 

It felt so real, though. So real. Too real. But it wasn’t, was it?

He didn’t want to wake up.

“I love the way you taste,” she said, then took him in her mouth again, deep now.

“It feels so good,” Chase heard himself say. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop until the dream’s over.”

He felt her pause. “Do you think you’re dreaming, baby?”

Baby.
The endearment tore at his heart, made it swell and fill.
 

“I’m dreaming. It’s a dream. You’re a dream. I don’t want to wake up and still be alone.” He shouldn’t tell her that, even in a dream.

It sounded almost like she sobbed, then choked it off. “God, Chase. I’m so sorry you woke up alone so often.” She caressed his cock with both hands, fist over fist, fingers trailing up his length, cupping the sensitive swollen flesh of his balls in tender hands, kissing him, deep-throating him, licking him, swirling her tongue around his tip. “What if this isn’t a dream? What if you opened your eyes and it was real?”

Chase squeezed his eyes closed tighter, in the dream. “It’s a dream. If it was real, I would die from happiness. I love you so much, and I don’t want to wake up and not be with you.” He knew he shouldn’t tell her this. Not even in a dream.
 

 
She sobbed again, a sound of joy, he thought. Her voice sounded so real. Her hands on him, her mouth on him, her breath on his skin, it all felt so real. He felt a leg slide across his hip, then her weight settle on him. He felt her moist, hot entrance touching the tip of his cock, and he gasped in need. He wanted to touch her, take her hips in his hands and hold her, slide into her, feel her heavy breasts in his hands. He didn’t dare.
 

He worried if he touched her the dream would pop like a soap bubble.
 

He felt her lips caress his chest, her hands rest on his pectoral muscles, and then she kissed his throat, and Chase couldn’t help arching his back and tipping his head back to let her kiss him there again. He heard himself groan, a long sound of pleasure when her lips touched his adam’s apple, and then his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth, and her breath was so hot on his lips, her mouth so wet and her tongue so demanding on his.

“Wake up, Chase.” Her voice was a breathy whisper in his ear, and then she kissed him again, slow tongue in his mouth driving him wild with desire and heat and wetness and softness. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. I need you. Wake up and make love to me. Touch me.”

Chase heard his voice raise in a moan of need, a raw, low, vulnerable sound of desperation. He wanted to believe the words of the dream-vision. He felt his hands unfisting from the sheet, which he’d been clutching with desperate strength, and drift up to touch the dream-her. She felt real, too. Soft as silk, skin like velvet, like heat and love and softness and sex made flesh. Her thighs under his hands were thick and strong, yet still as soft as down. He was touching her, and the dream continued. He dared to touch more. Her hips, wide and round and intoxicating, curves like deepest fantasy in his hands, under his needy fingers. Her sides, her belly, her padded ribs, her spine and her long, sensual back. He breathed deep, almost panting with the fullness of his love for her, the drunken ecstasy of merely touching her. She was sitting on him, palms resting low on his belly, near his diaphragm, her thighs split wide across his hips, poised above his rigid, throbbing cock. Poised and waiting.
 

He wasn’t ready to be inside her yet, even in this dream so like wonderful reality, like fantasy made truth, this dream he’d dreamed so many times and always woken to the emptiness of a dark hotel room. He slid his dream-palms up her ribs to cup her breasts, and yes, they were every bit as large and heavy and silky-soft as he’d always imagined.
 

Her voice came, like music. “Open your eyes, love.”
 

“No, no. Not yet. I don’t want to wake up yet.” He ran his thumb across her nipple and felt it bead into a hard, stiff nub. “I want to make love to you before I wake. I need you, even if you’re a dream.”

She writhed on top of him, rubbing her wet slit over his tip, and he could’ve come just from that. “I’m not a dream. This is real, Chase. It’s real. I’m real.” She leaned down and kissed him, full and furious and passionate and hungry. “Remember? We’re in Chicago. I watched your show. We made love. And now I want you again. Wake up.”

Chase moaned, running his palms between her breasts, up her collarbone and up farther, cupping her face, her neck. He buried his fingers in her curls.