All that mattered was the applause.
Then there was the time when I was crowned homecoming queen.
I was the favorite going in, so it never really occurred to me that I might lose. Still, having the previous year’s queen place that plastic and rhinestone tiara on my head gave me a high I’ll never forget.
And then…the first time I sang with Jesse and the band. I had just gotten back from an audition trip to New York a couple of weeks before, and I hadn’t gotten one single callback. In fact, I had gotten some pretty bad reviews from the judges. I didn’t think I’d ever sing again, and I’m pretty sure Jesse only asked me to sing with the band because my mom asked him to. She thought it would be good for me.
Of course I told him no.
But my brother wouldn’t take no for an answer. He had written a few songs for female vocalists, and he asked me to rehearse with them.
When I stepped up on the stage at the venue in Grand Junction, clad in tight jeans and a black tank top, my hair flowing over my shoulders, black leather thigh-high boots hugging my legs, and sang into the mic, to thundering applause, I felt elated. Like stars were lifting me up to the heavens.
Of all those times that stand out, that made me feel as if I were walking on air, it had to do with applause, with the thrill of attention.
But this time?
A kiss. A kiss from Brock Steel.
I’m getting the feeling. That amazing feeling of endorphins pumping through my body, floating above everything, of feeling happy in the most amazing way.
I’ve kissed a lot of people, male and female. I love kissing, and I’ve been kissed by some really good kissers.
And yes, I’ve been turned on. I’ve gotten wet from kissing, super wet.
Right now, I’m wetter than I’ve ever been, and I swear to God, it’s better than the best applause I’ve ever gotten. It’s better than being on the stage, with people clapping, shouting brava.
Brock Steel’s kiss is better than all that.
Which means…
If his kiss is that good? Damn, the actual act itself is going to blow my mind.
I’m not on the pill. And he doesn’t want to father my child. Which means he’s going to have to use a condom.
I’m not a big fan of condoms. That’s another thing I like about being with a woman. No condoms. No worry about an unwanted pregnancy. Of course, right now I want a pregnancy.
But not like this. Not when Brock is unwilling.
Definitely need a condom. No worries. This is Brock Steel. He will have condoms.
“Are you going to answer me?” he says.
Take me to bed.
I part my lips, ready to say the words, but they don’t come.
“All right,” Brock says. “I can take a hint.”
“No!” I shout.
He lifts his eyebrows.
“That’s not what I mean. I can’t believe how much I want you, Brock. This isn’t like me. I don’t move this quickly.”
“Asking me to father your child is moving pretty quickly, Rory.”
“Yeah, that’s a new one for me. My last two relationships were with women, so I couldn’t really ask them that.”
“So you only move quickly with men?”
I shake my head vehemently. “Absolutely not. I probably move more slowly with men.”
He lifts his eyebrows once more.
“I don’t understand this,” I say. “I don’t understand this at all.”
“We want each other.” He strokes my cheek. “It’s not so difficult to understand from where I’m standing.”
“No, I don’t deny that. It’s just…very unlike me.”
“Maybe,” he says, “doing what isn’t like you is a good thing.”
“But—”
He kisses me then. Hard.
His tongue is in my mouth, tangling with my own, and I squirm against the tickle between my legs. I’m so hot, so bothered, so freaking wet. He could slide right into me now, no foreplay required.
And you know what? I feel okay with that. I want him inside me. I want his hard cock inside me, pumping and pumping and pumping, easing the emptiness and the ache.
I could kiss Brock Steel forever, I’m planning to, until—
He breaks the kiss and pulls me into his arms. I gasp as he carries me out of the kitchen.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my heart racing.
“To the bedroom.”
Chapter Thirty
Brock
She’s like feathers in my arms. Or maybe my adrenaline has kicked in, and she’s become weightless to me.
All I know is I can’t get to my bed fast enough.
I power through, hoping against hope that she won’t tell me to stop.
We reach the master bedroom.
And she hasn’t told me to stop.
But I want this to go somewhere. I don’t want this to be a fuck and nothing else. So I put her down gently, her feet touching my carpeted floor.
“This is my bedroom,” I say.
She swallows. “I figured as much.”
“If we go in there, we’re going to m— have sex.” I almost said make love, but I caught myself.