Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle 4)

Without pulling out of me, he lays me back on the bed, braces his hands on the mattress at my shoulders, and moves even faster, chasing his own climax.

I reach down between us and circle my clit with my fingers, the zing of electricity spurring my pussy muscles to tighten around him even more. His eyes are pinned to my fingers, to the place where our bodies are joined.

“So beautiful,” he whispers. “Keep touching yourself.”

“You’re bossy,” I mutter with a grin. His hot gray eyes shoot up to mine and he grins at me, wolfishly, possessively.

He leans down to his elbows, trapping my hand between us, buries his hands in my hair and grins against my lips. “Are you complaining?”

“Nope.” I nibble his lips.

“I didn’t think so,” he whispers and brushes my lips, back and forth, lightly kisses down my jawline to my ear and bites my earlobe. “So beautiful,” he whispers.

With the pressure of my fingers against my nub, Leo’s hips moving quickly and his hard cock moving rhythmically inside me, I’m a goner. My body clenches and I can’t help but cry out as my climax moves through me like an earthquake.

Leo’s body stiffens and he cries out as he comes, his hips jerking, his hands tightening against my scalp. He shudders and gasps for air, kisses my cheek and my lips softly and sighs deeply as his gaze catches my own.

“See what you started?” He asks.

“You’re welcome,” I respond with a laugh.

He grins widely. “Let’s take a shower.”

“You’ll get me dirty again,” I pout, teasing him.

“I’ll clean you up too. C’mon, sunshine, let’s get slippery.”

***

“You’re going to need more than that,” Leo tells me with a frown from the bed. After another round in the shower, finally getting clean, and the water running cold, we pulled on some clothes and I am busy packing my bag for the L.A. trip.

“I’m only going for one night,” I remind him.

“No, we’re going to be gone for a few days.” He glances back down at his iPad, missing my scowl.

“We aren’t going anywhere.” I plant my hands on my hips and glare at him.

“I’m coming with you.” He still doesn’t look up from his dumb iPad.

“Why?”

“Makes sense.” He shrugs. “My house is there. We’ll stay there, and I’ve scheduled meetings that I needed to have anyway for while we’re there.”

“When, exactly, were you going to share these plans with me?”

I don’t know why I’m so pissed, but I am. We’ve been together for a few weeks. It’s not his place to make arrangements around me, for me, without talking to me. I’m not his possession.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Look.” I begin but he throws the iPad down on the bed, pulls his long, lean body off the bed and cups my face in his hands.

“I don’t want to be away from you for a few days. I’m not ready for that. I want to have you in my bed. I want to see you in my house. I want to show you my beach. It’s only for a few days, and I didn’t say anything before because I know how fucking stubborn you are and I knew you’d say no.”

“It’s only over night.” I frown at him, part of me completely giddy that he wants to be with me, but wary that neither of us can stand the thought of being apart for just a few hours.

He closes his eyes for a brief second, shakes his head and clenches his jaw as he looks at me again. I’ve hurt his feelings.

“But I’d like to see your house.” I amend thoughtfully. “You live on the beach?”

His body relaxes and his face calms. “I do.”

“Have you ever had sex on the beach?” I ask him. He smirks and his thumbs rub my cheeks softly.

“No.”

“I have.” I shrug and smirk when he narrows his eyes on me. “We’ll need a blanket ‘cause I do not need sand in my bits and pieces.”

“So, you’re assuming we’ll have sex on my beach?”

“I’m pretty sure.” I kiss him quickly and pull out of his embrace, getting back to packing. “Shit, I need more stuff.”

As he laughs, I stomp out of the room to my closet room to choose more clothes for our trip to sunny California. When I return, he’s sitting on the bed again, examining his iPad.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Reading email, setting up appointments.”

“No one is working at this time of night,” I remind him.

“No, but when they get my messages tomorrow, they’ll make it happen.”

“So, you say jump and all of your little followers say ‘how high’?” I ask with a raised brow, fold some khaki capris and lay them in my suitcase.

“Pretty much.” He shrugs.

“Must be rough,” I mutter sarcastically.

“I pay their salaries,” he reminds me. “They can make time to meet with me.”

He has a point. I nod and finish packing my bag as a thought occurs to me. “Holy shit, you’re going to ride in coach with me on the plane tomorrow?”

He snickers and then breaks out into a full on belly laugh. “No, sweetheart. We’ll take Arista’s jet.”

“What?” I sputter.

“Well, one of their jets.” He frowns deeply. “If I get on that plane with you, we’ll have a mess on our hands.”

I nod slowly. “Fans.”

“Yeah.”

I take a deep breath and meet his eyes with my own. “I hate that part.” He scowls, and I feel the need to clarify. “I’m so proud of you, babe.” I climb on the bed and straddle his hips and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love your music, and I am proud that you do what you love.”

“But.” He prompts me, his large hands gliding up and down my back.

“But.” I frown, trying to gather my thoughts. “The fame part makes me nervous.”

“Hell, it makes me nervous.”

“Been there, done that,” I remind him. “Have the baggage to prove it.”

“Look, Sam, I don’t expect you to be a part of the celebrity side of my life. That’s just work. If I worked in an office, I wouldn’t take you there with me. If you want things to be on the down-low, fine, but I won’t lie. You’re mine.” He kisses me and pulls his fingers down my cheek. “But we don’t have to take out a spread in a magazine either.”