Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

He set me down on my bed and we didn’t speak as I pushed his shirt up and over his head. I set him back enough that we could kneel facing one another. I dragged my mouth over his jawline and along the cords of his neck, and down the center to his Adam’s apple. He swallowed hard when I flicked my tongue over the freshly shorn skin.

I followed the whorl of a tiny line of hair he’d missed and then finally to the cross he perpetually wore. I grasped it between my teeth and looked up at him. “We don’t have time for me to properly seduce you, but maybe just enough time for one thing.”

“Nothing about you makes me think of the word proper.”

I grinned as I moved back enough to continue my line of kisses along the tight muscles of his chest. Definitely a little leaner than that first day I saw him. No one else would probably notice, but all the studies I’d done of his body made me a little more in tune with him.

Nerves.

Stress.

Wanting to prove himself.

It showed in the whip-lean muscles knit over bone. I gentled my touch over the bloom of cherry blossoms along his ribs and down the arrow of hair under his belly button.

“Ah, Magic. What are you doing to me?”

I arched my back to lower myself onto my forearm for balance. “If it’s not obvious, I’m not doing a very good job.”

He tipped his head back as I flipped open his button. I reached into the denim. It still had the roughness of new clothes. Not all the way Ian in style, but I knew the stylists and people at Ripper were molding him into their image of a rockstar.

But I wasn’t really worried about his jeans right now. I peeled them open enough to free the long, slightly curved length of him. He tensed as I stroked him firmly in the way I knew he liked. I wanted to show him gentleness, but first, I needed him with me.

Whatever was going on in his head when he’d walked into my studio needed to be exorcised. It was just him and me right now. Soon enough, we’d have people all around us, a studio of designers, his band, fans vying for his attention—being alone would be a trick.

For now, he could take a moment and just be mine.

I wanted to give him a little peace.

He fisted his hands at his sides, his gaze hot on me, his nostrils flaring. Lust crackled off him like a force field. We knew how to do this. The room practically vibrated when we got together.

I lifted his shaft to run my tongue along the underside. I followed the tight vein to the flared head and flicked along the crown of him. He shivered as he leaned back a little to give me room to take him. I wasn’t exactly a novice when it came to blow jobs, but then again, I’d never thought of them as anything other than a necessary evil.

If you wanted a guy to go down on you, you did the same. Quid pro quo and all that, but here it seemed like more. The first night we’d been together, he’d been generous with his time and his attention. He seemed to get off on giving me pleasure. I hadn’t really understood that until just now.

Watching his green eyes go hooded as I took him deep into my mouth let loose a terrifying emotion. I’d said no attachments. I didn’t want anything to derail me from my goals. They seemed almost insignificant right now. Connections created art, and holding him apart from me just because I didn’t want to face how I felt blocked me from so many things.

I relaxed my jaw and throat as I took him deeper.

He groaned and went stone still. His head was thrown back and he was granite under my touch. That wouldn’t do. I pulled away and firmed my hold on the base of his cock. “Ian. Look at me.”

His eyes were a little wild as he looked down at me. He was practically bowed away from me, his thighs shaking with tension. But not the kind that said he was going to come. No, it was as if he was trying to deny himself my touch.

I took him into my mouth again and raked my nails down the trail of hair just above his cock. He dragged in a deep breath then covered my hand, lacing our fingers. He slowly thrusted in and out of my mouth. I forced myself to relax and take as much of him as I could.

He blew out a shaky breath with each thrust until we were in a gentle, liquid rhythm. He went a little deeper each time, and I drifted into a hazy headspace of his taste on my tongue, his heat filling every sense, and then dying for him to do it again.

As the tempo slowly ramped up, I tucked my knees closer to me to change the angle. I knew he was close. The flex of his shaft echoed the sharp groan that strangled its way out of him. My name was a guttural moan and he gripped my hair.

I sucked him deeper into my mouth and accepted all of him. His salty flavor was a sharp tang, but I didn’t let him go. I took all of it and stroked him empty. He sagged against me, his chest heaving as if he’d run for miles. He tangled his fingers in my hair as he dragged me up against him.

I curled my arms around his neck and held him tight as his breathing slowly came back down to normal. He played with the ends of my hair, but there didn’t seem to be any words for what that had been. I pulled away from him gently and cupped his face. I brushed my thumbs over the sharp blades of his cheekbones. “I suppose we have to go be adults.”

He nodded. “Zoe, I—”

I pressed a finger over his mouth. “We’ve got all weekend. This was just the beginning.”

He nipped the pad of my finger. “I’m not sure I’m going to survive.”