Beat (Life on Stage 2)

The full-of-myself part of me thinks if I pushed, there’s a good chance we’d wind up clawing each other’s clothes off. But I don’t want to be the other guy. She’s inside me, I want to be inside her. And, for a change, not just my cock.

A few minutes later, the knock comes and I open the door to find her standing there. She’s wearing white shorts and a tight white tank top that has the Rolling Stones’ iconic mouth made from crystals of some sort. I step aside for her to enter, and light from the tall windows streams in and hits her at just the right angle so her glossed lips sparkle as much as her shirt. Fuck. Definitely a bad idea.

Chapter Nineteen

Lucky

I told myself I was being silly for being nervous about coming to his room. It’s my job, I reasoned, and Flynn is a friend. We both just got caught up in the moment that day on the stage. I was emotional. It was a moment of weakness. That’s all.

The door clicks closed behind me. The room is…all bed. I turn around, and Flynn hasn’t moved. He looks at me, his gaze dipping to my breasts, then down over my bare legs, before his eyes return to meet mine.

He stares.

Really stares.

Like he wants to eat me.

Shit. We may be having another moment.

My heart thumps.

His eyes once more sweep over my body and devour me.

I watch his throat work as he swallows.

I’m trying to keep my cool, but I have some serious flips going on in my stomach.

Then he groans. The sound is a haunting mix of pain and frustration, but goddamn if it’s not sexy as all hell. Suddenly, I’m aware of how many nerve endings must be inside the human body. Because I feel every one of them abruptly zap to life. I seriously wouldn’t be surprised if I was lit up like a Christmas tree.

He paces back and forth a few times. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Why?” The reason is obvious, but I ask anyway.

He stops pacing and looks at me. “You want me to say it?”

Swallowing hard, without saying a word, I hold his gaze and nod. My body trembles as he stalks in my direction. Invading my personal space, our bodies just shy of touching, he looks down at me, the height difference between us making me tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.

“I’ll tell you why. Because if we’re alone in this room for another minute, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” He pauses and I watch as his pupils dilate and his chest rises and falls. “Because I want to pin you against that wall behind you and hold your hands over your head while I suck on those nipples that I’ve been staring at every morning while I was forced to drink coffee instead of you. Because I want to keep you pressed up against that wall while my face is buried between your thighs and your legs are dangling down my back. Because I want to make you soaking wet so when I bury myself into you hard and deep, I won’t have to go easy. Because it won’t be easy. Because I won’t be able to take my time with you like you deserve the first time. Because I won’t be able to control myself when I’m buried so far inside of you that I’ll literally explode when you explode around me. Because I want to feel you tremble from the inside out while my mouth is crushed to yours until you can barely breathe.”

I’m shocked I’m still even standing. I’m breathless and dizzy and never in my life have felt as desired as I do in this moment. I hate to do it, but I have to break our gaze just to catch my breath and slow my spinning mind.

His warm fingers lift my chin to meet his eyes. “You should go,” he whispers in warning, his voice strained.

“But what if I want to stay?”

We stare at each other for a long time. His eyes challenging me, mine daring him. His gaze burns into mine. Fire. Passion. And maybe even a little anger pulses through his veins.

“I told you to go,” he growls. Narrowing the distance between us, he moves in so our bodies aren’t quite touching, but I can feel the heat emanating from his. I take one step back, bumping into the wall behind me. He takes a step again, arms caging me in on both sides of my head. His eyes blaze so hot, I think I might melt. The muscle in his jaw flexes and I know he’s hanging by a thread. “Is this what you want?” He searches my eyes as one hand moves to gather both my hands and he lifts them over my head. “Tell me. Is this what you want?”

I nod. “I—”

The words are lost as his mouth crushes down over mine. I completely forget everything else except this kiss.

This kiss.

It’s the most consuming thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I feel it everywhere. My mouth, my nipples, the wetness responding between my legs, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It’s as if my entire body has been asleep for the last few years and suddenly…this kiss…has awakened it.

One hand glides down the side of my body, caressing slowly as it comes to slide along the back of my thigh and lifts. I whimper when I feel the hard length of him through his jeans for the first time.

Instinctively, I reach for him, wanting to urge him closer, dig my fingers into his hair, but I forget he has my hands bound together. I attempt to pull away, but it only makes him tighten his grip.

Oh, lord. I’ve never been subdued before, but the feeling could only be described as decadent. My body hums and I kiss him harder, wild with need. His free hand wraps into my hair and he tugs, giving him better access to my neck. He sucks and bites his way from one ear to the opposite collar bone, then back up to the other ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he groans.

He makes me feel that way. Beautiful. Like it’s an honor for him to have me, instead of the other way around.

My nipples harden as his thumb brushes over my breast through the soft cotton of my shirt.

“These things,” he confesses, pinching one and then the other. “These things have been taunting me every goddamn morning.”

I gasp when he pinches again, much harder this time, shooting a jolt of fire directly from their stiffened peaks down to between my legs.

Desire races through me as he lowers his head, lifts my shirt, and his thumb slips down the cup of my bra so he can blow on my already pebbled nipples. He alternates between licking and blowing, teasing me into a frenzy. By the time he catches the swell of my nipple between his teeth, I’m thinking I might finish before we even start. A soft moan billows from my lips.

I need more. Just more. So I lift my other leg and wrap it around his waist, locking my ankles together. Arching my back from the wall, legs spread wide around him, I get the friction I desperately need. His jeans, hard with his straining bulge, rubs against my sensitive skin—the thin fabric of my shorts doing little to impede me from feeling every inch of him. Every. Many. Inches.

Flynn keeps me pinned against the wall, ravaging my mouth, inflicting sweet torture on my breasts, until I’m a panting mess. Then he lets go of my hands, my legs drop, and he takes a step back. For a second I think he’s going to put an end to this recklessness, but then he smiles. It’s a slow, devilish smile, with so much intensity in his eyes it almost sweeps my breath away.

“Flynn…”

“Take off your shorts.”

Mr. Nice Guy has a bit of a bossy edge to him. I like it. A lot. Turns out I’m finding out a lot about myself today, things I wasn’t aware could be so ridiculously hot.