Trouble in the Making (7 page)

For now, she was kneeling on his bed, her body held and controlled by him inside her, his hands on her, his thumb inside her incredibly tight behind. Her inner muscles clutched at him and he nearly emptied himself. “Damn, woman,” he breathed, sliding his thumb out, running the tip in a circle around her opening, and she moaned, long and low. She liked it. She might be afraid of anal sex or not sure she should want it, but she definitely liked him playing with her ass.

“I know, baby. You’re so tight, but it feels good, yeah? On your elbows, baby, head down. Yes, that’s it.” Johnny released her hair and leaned in, sliding his free hand down to her breasts. He fit his palm around one and caressed the tender skin. Liz hummed her pleasure, but that wasn’t exactly what he was going for and soon took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He applied pressure, increasing the amount until Liz’s hums were bordering on screams. “Good girl. It’s okay to make noise. Cry. Yell. I want you to yell your pleasure. I want you to call out my name. I want to be the only name you remember, the only one to cross your lips when you come from now on…”

She’d asked him to show her, to teach her, to take her, and that’s exactly what he planned to do. He pushed his thumb into her ass again, maintained the pressure on her nipple and drove his hips forward, digging his dick deep into her cunt until his balls released the cum they’d been holding for just this moment. His growl echoed around the room, louder than intended.

He pulled out only when he was empty of every last drop, and before she could fall to the bed, before she could collapse, he removed his thumb and eased his fingers from her nipple. He flipped her over onto her back.

“Johnny, what—”

But he didn’t give her a chance to finish her question before he positioned his mouth over her clit and slid his middle finger deep in her ass. “Pinch your nipples for me, Liz. Just as I was doing.” As he talked to her, his breath puffed out against her sex and her scent wafted back into his face. Sweet Jesus, she was delicious all spread out for him.

He watched her from under his lids as she slowly, almost reluctantly, lifted her hands to her breasts and took hold of her nipples the way he’d instructed her. She looked hot, fondling herself for him. He’d always loved when a woman touched her body, but Liz… This was different because she was such a shy person in general. That she would do this, not only touch herself, but be with him at all…

“Squeeze them hard, baby. Yes. Yes, just like that.” She was beginning to pant and twist the sensitive tissue. He kept his gaze riveted on her ministrations, but opened his mouth on her clit and suckled.

In an instant, she bucked against his face and spread her legs wider, bent her knees and pressed her toes into the duvet. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh. God, Johnny!”

The last was squealed as her shoulders lifted from the bed. She was wet, oh so wet and not just from his cum, but from the two times she’d come before. She was going to do so again too. Any second.

He added another finger to her ass, easing it in beside the first, rotating both until he could smoothly slide them in and out, fucking her. He flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit, humming around the little bundle of nerve endings. She rocked her hips and ass, seeking, reaching for the orgasm. She was sweet, salty, spicy.

He’d longed to have her with her defenses down, spread open and giving everything. She was the good girl, the sweet innocent girl, the one who lived inside her head and inside her own world. She was the one every man wanted. They may be with the brash and outspoken ones, the let-it-all-hang-out ones, but women like Liz? Most men would kill to have her attention. The woman, the girl, the lady. Passion bottled up just waiting to be tapped, to be opened, to be explored, to be discovered.

He tugged on her clit with his teeth and she broke apart, her cry of his name on her lips the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. She rode his face until she was spent and fell against the bed. Her hands drifted away from her breasts to rest at her sides.

Johnny soothed her with his tongue and slowly extracted his fingers from her ass, even as the muscles were still clenching. He crawled up her body and cupped her face in one hand. He kissed her with an open mouth, sharing the mix of wetness with her. She sucked his tongue and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He wouldn’t trade this moment, this intimacy, for all the money or platinum records in the world.

They lay together like that after the kiss and he buried his face against her neck. She was sweet, warm, silky smooth like cream. When he lifted his head, her eyes were closed and a small smile played at her lips. “What’s that for?” he whispered with a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I’m starving,” she answered with a blush.

“Me too. Why don’t you stay here and think about what you want? I’ll grab a quick shower and then we’ll eat.” He lifted away from her, and shucked his leathers at the foot of the bed. They’d need to be dry cleaned as soon as he got back to L.A., but the stains were so fucking worth it. And much as he preferred leather to any other type of fabric, it turned him on that Liz still adored it as much now as she had years before. Good leather molded to his body like a second skin. It wasn’t just a costume or part of his persona as the guitarist and lead man of a rock band. It was part of him. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t wear leather of some sort, be it jackets, vests or pants.

Naked, he padded into the bathroom, discarded the condom and grabbed a washcloth. He doused it with warm water, took it back to the bed and cleaned between Liz’s legs and ass cheeks. She was still smiling, but blushing again. “You wanna shower with me?”

“Mmm. In a minute.”

“All right. I’ll get it nice and steamy.” He left the side of the bed. “Don’t fall asleep,” he called around the bathroom doorway after he’d turned the water on. If she said anything, he didn’t hear it.

He’d also meant what he said too about a quick shower. He didn’t want to waste what little time they had together by lingering in showers alone. He’d have brought her in with him if she hadn’t been so bone limp. He wanted to give her a few minutes to recover,
needed
to give her a few minutes to recover, otherwise, she’d be in no shape to continue. If he’d pulled her into the shower now, he’d have had her on her knees sucking his cock or he’d have had her bent over or… “Shit,” he chuckled to himself as he looked south toward his dick. “Can’t keep the damn thing down.”

He washed his hair and soaped his body, trying not to pay any attention to his jutting hardness. He’d always been a good rebounder, even as he’d gotten older, but he wasn’t going to squander it on masturbating either. Not today. He’d spent too many nights and weekends and years masturbating about the woman in the other room.

After rinsing the soap away, Johnny stepped out and grabbed a towel. “Hey, Lizzie girl,” he said from the bathroom doorway as he dried off. No response, but he continued. “Why don’t we head into Jacksonville and grab some pancakes from that little place over in San Marco? We could get some of those blackberry…” His voice trailed off when he saw her curled up on her side, sleeping.

Goose bumps traveled her bare skin, so he pulled the duvet up over the side of the bed. In her sleep, she smiled and nestled her face into a pillow she’d pulled from where it had been against the headboard. Johnny smiled. “Terrible. Can’t follow the simplest of instructions.” Three orgasms had worn her out. With a grin, he wondered if maybe he should withhold some next time.

While Liz was out like a light, Johnny grabbed a pair of jeans from his overnight bag and slid into them. He also grabbed the handful of condoms he’d tossed in before leaving home.

She’d brought condoms. He’d brought condoms. Damn. They could have all the monkey sex, protected monkey sex they wanted. She’d brought regular, no frills rubbers and him, well, she was going to be very surprised at the rainbow of colors he brought.

He combed out his hair, then set up his laptop on the small side table beside the chair in the corner. As it booted up, he took his cell out into the hallway and placed a couple of calls. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Liz’s face when she woke up to see what he’d done while she was sleeping. She was going to be completely surprised. There likely weren’t enough surprises in her life, enough people to do things for her, nice things, out of the ordinary things, but he could, he had and he intended to do more. He wanted to spoil her, treat her like the most important woman in the world, because to him, she was.

She was unassuming. She could hold her own against him, she wasn’t intimidated by him. He liked her sharp tongue and quick wit. He liked that she was quieter than he was, that she was a thinker before being a doer. He liked that the one impulsive, or seemingly impulsive, thing she’d done recently was ask him to have sex with her.

His calls concluded and his smile permanently in place, he set the phone to vibrate and went back inside the room. He left the door cracked with the locking bar facing out in case he didn’t hear the knock he was expecting.

The soft snuffling noise from the bed drew his attention. Liz was snoring. Every so often her breath would catch before being released in a huff of air. Johnny took a seat in the overstuffed chair in the corner after trailing his fingers over Liz’s hair. He picked up the pad of paper he always kept with his computer. If he worked as she slept, he might be able to gain a little extra time with her.

He hated to turn around and leave in the morning. Waking her up seemed the thing to do so they could play as much as possible; after all, this was her gig. That idea made him laugh. Who the hell was he kidding? He wanted this as much as she did. She just happened to be the one who got it out first. He was actually glad she did, glad she was able to ask him for this before he could ask her. He’d picked women up, asked women out, made the first move many times and never had qualms or concerns. But Liz? He was always unsure of how she would react, if she would freak out, if she would say no out of fear, if she would say yes out of fantasy. He had been seeing her as a man, as Johnny, as just simply another person. Today he showed up as the rock star, the fantasy so many woman saw. It was important Liz see both sides of him. She needed to interact with him as both men because he didn’t intend to let her go. He had her sleeping in what was, for the moment, his bed. She was naked, wet, sated and his thought process in saying yes to her was that he would keep her this way, keep her for himself.

But going back to L.A. so soon sucked. His internal clock would be pitching a fit by the time he landed in California and it would take several days for it to catch up. He had hoped for more time with her on this trip, but if he had his way, he’d have all the time in the world with her after tomorrow. His plans were in place, he just had to talk to her, just had to let her know and he had to brace himself for her argument and objections.

It was a little odd to think of himself bracing for her. He was over six foot tall, had people falling all over themselves to be and do whatever he wanted, and he was bracing himself for a confrontation with a five foot five, curvy, sexier than hell homebody with an iron will.

Liz.

Headphones on, staff paper in hand, his favorite pencil and the melody he’d set down earlier playing in his ears, he got to work on the last of the lyrics he’d started on during his flight. He was co-writing part of an album with a friend for a new group. Whatever happened to bands or a couple of guys who could write their own lyrics and their own music, was beyond him. This was for a crossover band, one moving from bubble gum pop to rock. He wasn’t even sure they’d be able to carry it off, but they were the hottest on the charts and the number of musicians Johnny’s age vying for a chance to work with them, to have their names associated with their band, was longer than he was tall. He personally could have cared less about it, but his friend TJ wanted this gig and the only way the band would take TJ was if Johnny agreed to work on the project as well.

That the pop kids were in demand determined Johnny’s schedule for the next few months to come and had for the previous few months past.

He got into a rhythm with his writing, erasing, rewriting, erasing again that he didn’t hear the door knock or see his phone light up that he had a call. It was only when the hotel room door opened and he saw a guy holding a couple of brown paper sacks that he set his work down and rushed forward out of the chair.

He took the largest bag first, then the smaller one. “Sorry, man,” he whispered, not wanting to wake Liz just yet. “How much do I owe you?”

“T-thirty.”

Johnny nodded and set the bags down on the dresser and retrieved his wallet. He glanced at Liz, thankful she was still covered. He didn’t know if the other man had seen her or not, but Johnny didn’t want to take any chances that parts of her were visible that shouldn’t be to anyone but him. He knew many of his ilk who shared their women among friends and strangers. He wasn’t one of them. It was one of the reasons he and his ex couldn’t make things work. She wanted to bed-hop among his friends and bandmates and he wanted her only for himself.

He took the thirty, plus a twenty, out of his wallet and handed it over. “Here you go, man. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, surprised at the money. He looked up. “Hey, you’re Johnny Trouble.”

Johnny nodded and ushered himself and the man out the door. “Yeah.”

“Oh man, I listened to you all the time in high school. I was sorry to hear the band was breaking up and wouldn’t be recording. You could smoke a six-string like nobody’s business, man.”