Trouble in the Making (5 page)

“Ooohhh.” She gripped the leather tighter and tried to fight the shudder that threatened to rack her body there in the hotel hallway.

“Don’t fight it. Give it to me, Lizzie.”

“Johnny,” she whimpered, knowing the battle was a losing one. She hadn’t been touched by a man in such a long time and no one had ever turned her on quite like this man. She was on the edge before she could catch her next breath.

“This is the price of admission to my room, baby.” His lips trailed down her nose to nibble at her mouth, to suck at her chin.

Up on her toes, she thrust her hips forward and back, riding the diddling, calloused fingers of a rock star. Her rock star. She laid her forehead against his chest and moaned as she shuddered through the orgasm he demanded from her.

He kissed the top of her head, cradling her. “What a good girl you are,” he whispered.

Liz couldn’t help but smile at the warmth and pleasure in his voice. When he gripped the front of her mound in his hand and tugged, light but insistent, she lurched forward and the smile was gone. He walked her into the room, leading her by her pussy. There was something about that action that turned her on more than it probably should have, but she liked his hand on her, pulling her, urging her to his desires.

He’d had a reputation for having a very dirty mind back in high school and it seemed he’d grown into his full potential as the years had passed. When he let her go, he did it so slowly, so erotically, that his wet fingers trailed up her stomach and between her breasts, ending inside her mouth.

“Suck them clean for me, Lizzie. You know you want to.”

The ice of his eyes had warmed to a soft silvery blue and he was right. She wanted to suck her juices from his fingers, his tongue, his cock. She wanted every chance to taste him, fill herself and her senses to overflowing with him. She needed to memorize what he felt like against her, inside her like this.

She slid her tongue between each of the two digits, savoring the salt of his skin and the salty, clean taste of her come. He shifted between watching her mouth work and watching her eyes. She never felt an ounce of the embarrassment she’d been so afraid of earlier. There was only desire, lust and unimaginable hunger for him and the things they would do together. When he pulled his fingers free, she tried not to moan in protest.

“I think we need to get the robe off. I need to see your body, I need to touch you, and I don’t need anything in my way.” As he talked, he’d been smoothing his hands over her arms and down over her hips. He paused and pressed against one of the pockets. “What’s this?”

Oh God. “I… I brought… I mean we didn’t—”

“Condoms? You brought condoms?” He held the two foil packs in his hand and framed her face. “My beautiful, sweet Lizzie,” he whispered before he once again kissed her breath away. It was hot and insistent and all encompassing, as though he couldn’t get enough, as though he hadn’t just kissed her mere moments ago. He edged the robe from her shoulders until it pooled at her feet. He lifted his head slowly, but didn’t release her face from between his hands. “Only two, though?”

“I didn’t know… There are more in my room.” She was so embarrassed, but with the look in his eyes, tender and heated all at once, maybe she didn’t have a reason to be.

“I’d never put you in danger, baby. I’m clean. But I get it too. We won’t be needing to get more from your room, though.” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips once more, then stepped back. “God, baby. You’re the most incredible woman.” From her head to her toes, he traced her features with nothing more than his gaze. Goose bumps flew across her flesh, chilling her on the outside, yet she was scalding hot on the inside. “Turn around.” It was little more than a murmur, but she heard it.

She didn’t turn immediately, though. She was caught up in giving him the same overt head-to-toe perusal. She hadn’t seen him without his shirt before. “You’ve added a few tattoos.” She stated the obvious, but couldn’t help it. Through the years, his arms had been covered bit by bit in colorful inked designs. His fingers had been dotted with music notes. The sides of his neck had several spiraling tendrils of black ink leading around to the back. But his chest and rib cage and stomach were breathtaking. She reached toward him, wanting to touch and trace the outlines of roses, of thorny vines, of guitars and black dragons, but she stopped herself.

“There are a few new ones, yes,” he admitted into the quiet of the room. “Though I’m not sure which you’ve seen in pictures and which you haven’t.”

“I like them, you know, as much as I like the leather.”

“Touch me, baby. It’s okay. I’m yours.”

His words slid through her like warm honey, thick and rich. She couldn’t deny her desire to do exactly what he’d just invited her to do. She touched him, lightly, tentatively. His muscles clenched under her fingers and he sucked in air between his teeth, but he let her explore.

His skin was smooth, unblemished by anything but time and the pictures that told stories of different moods, parts of his life, desires. “What’s this one? It’s unusual.” She traced a design on his upper left arm.

“White ink. It’s the newest tat. A scroll of sheet music. I saw my artist doing a white ink rose on a girl’s back one day and thought it was so unique and delicate in a way that black ink isn’t. I told him I wanted one, but not the rose, and I designed the staff paper roll in the shape of a J.”

“It’s lovely.” Delicate was a good word to describe it as well, but it didn’t diminish the fact that Johnny was all man and masculine. In a strange way, it seemed to enhance those parts about him. “You look incredible. Better now, I think, than when you were younger.”

“I feel better. No more drugs, smoking or drinking. I had to change, get rid of it all. It was killing me.”

“I’m glad you did. You didn’t need it all to make a name for yourself. I read all the magazines and newspapers. I know it wasn’t always the truth and that most was elaborated, but…” She couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop making him quiver or draw in a deep breath. She wanted to commit every nuance about his body to memory.

“Some of it was exaggerated. Some of it wasn’t.”

She wouldn’t ask for details. None of it mattered. Not to her. “Either way, the extra ink you’ve had added, the new ink, it’s all beautiful. Is your back done too?”

“Yes.” He turned around and she tried to take it all in. Most of it was in black, outlines and edges, but there was a sundial on his right shoulder with a series of roman numerals under it. A purple orchid was on his left shoulder. “The dragon isn’t finished yet. It still needs smoke and flames across the middle of my back.”

“The outline is so stark, so beautiful though. And the waves…” The shades of blue and aquamarine were stunning, rising up, reaching toward his spine. When the flames were shaded in, the two would meet and clash, and she could only imagine what it would look like in color. “You’ve spent hours getting these done.”

“Yes. Every time I’m home, I can be found in the parlor either having something finished or getting something new.”

“I suppose they’re as addicting as I have heard.”

“Yes, they are. I am running out of space on the parts of my body above the hips…”

He left the words dangling and she could only imagine what parts below his hips he was referring to, and when he turned back to face her, she couldn’t help her eyes straying to the snap of his leather pants and lower still. He was hard, the outline of which was very clear and left little to the imagination. That he would be inside her soon left her a little breathless. “You’re a walking canvas. Priceless bits of art.”

She slowly lifted her gaze to his face. His smile was nothing less than indulgent. Johnny inclined his head toward her. “I thank you. Now what say we get back to the task at hand, hmm? Enough stalling. Turn around.”

She trailed her fingers down, let them linger at the snap of his pants, and then turned around as he said. She tried to ignore her knocking knees and the trembling throughout her body. “The door closed,” she remarked, more to herself than to him.

“That typically does happen, baby. You’re nervous,” he whispered against her neck, his breath warm against her chilled skin before he kissed the sensitive area.

She knew she was blushing, could feel the heat traveling up her legs and she clenched her ass a few times, only to have him lightly swat her behind. She expected more, waited for more, but when he didn’t touch her again, she started to fidget.

“Naughty girl.” He gave her another swat. “You want my hands on you. I like that. Bend over and spread your legs. Good girl. Now grab your ankles.”

Okay, there was the embarrassment, but it was quickly replaced with another punch of arousal as he trailed one finger from the opening of her sex to the small and very tight opening of her ass.

“Just as pretty as I knew it would be.”

Liz tried not to groan at the odd compliment. Her asshole, pretty? Really? She’d never thought of one being pretty. “Tight and all mine.” He pushed against the tight hole and she tensed. “Don’t worry, Lizzie.” He leaned in close. “If we go there at all this time, it won’t be with anything more than my finger.”

She tried to relax at those words. She really did, but the thought of him invading her bottom like that… She shifted and he took that opportunity to slide his fingers back inside her, deep and all at once. Had it not been for the fact he gripped her hip when she started to lose her balance, the force of his thrusting might have toppled her over.

He was there, though, holding her steady as he explored her depths. The pads of his fingers scraped over her G-spot, and not for the first time, she was so glad for a very responsive and sensitive pussy. She loved the feel of being invaded, of being filled and fucked. She wasn’t a prude by any stretch, and the more he touched her, the more he aroused and fondled her, the more she forgot about her shyness outside the bedroom.

She didn’t care if it was fingers, tongue, cock or toys. She loved it all, and it had been a really long time.

Add to it that it was Johnny Trouble touching her…

Wiggling her ass, she silently asked for more, unable to find her voice among the maelstrom of sensations flooding her. She was overwhelmed with it all; overwhelmed with the way things had shifted from the coffee shop to the second he’d opened his hotel room door. He’d gone from sweet and kind to…to… She wasn’t even sure what to think of him as now. Hot? Sexual? Her every fantasy come to life?

His fingers pushed inside her, fucked her with certain force, certain power. “You can’t hide from me. You can’t hide from this. You can’t beat around the bush about why we’re both here. And you can’t get off without me.”

Maybe it was all the blood rushing to her head, but she was ready for another orgasm and this one would be as strong and powerful as the first one. Every word he said was punctuated with a pointed, sure thrust. He wanted to make sure she understood, that she faced the truth.

“Johnny,” she panted, pressing back into his thrusting hand.

“Go on, Liz. Come again.”

He teased that spot inside her, focusing on it, giving it his full attention, and she exploded. She gripped her ankles tightly and bent her knees only a little and he just kept rubbing his fingers over that incredibly sensitive bit of tissue on the front wall of her pussy. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t do more than rock forward on the balls of her feet and dig her toes into the plush hotel room carpet.

He wouldn’t let her fall and she knew it, and though her balance was usually top notch, with this, with him, she had none, physically or mentally. She had to depend on him to keep her steady and that was something she hadn’t had to or wanted to do in more years that she could count. She hadn’t leaned on anyone not since college, not since her parents’ marriage had fallen apart several months after she graduated and she was left as the collateral damage, not since her own marriage had fallen apart a year before she’d seen Johnny again in person for the first time since high school.

But leaning on him? She’d like to try that.

Johnny wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed himself against her ass, the leather of his pants soft against her skin. He helped her to stand, then held her firmly, her back to his chest, with his chin resting on top of her head.

“I believe you’re already up, rock star.”

For moments, they stood in silence, and it wasn’t the uncomfortable silence she’d expected, but rather a peaceful one, calm, sated. He was rock hard against her behind, but he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding. He just held her naked flesh against his leather-clad body. And if she wasn’t experiencing it herself right then, she’d have sworn it was impossible for her to become aroused again so soon, but damn…

“What are you thinking about?” he whispered as he lowered one hand down the front of her body to rest on her lower belly. He let the other hand drift upward to her breasts, drawing lazy circles back and forth between them and every so often, teasing her nipples.

She fought not to moan, but couldn’t help the squirming or the words that came out of her mouth. “The leather. And the ink.”

“Mmm, yes. The leather. The ink on my skin. You’ve always had a thing for it. Glad to know that hasn’t changed.”

Liz didn’t know until she saw him again that indeed no, her fascination with leather and tattoos hadn’t changed. Or rather, her fascination with long-haired men in leather with loads of colorful tattoos hadn’t changed. Especially her fascination with this particular long-haired man.