Bent not Broken (362 page)

“I need you right now, Salem. I wish you were here so I could rub my hands all over your body, kissing and tasting every inch of you.”

“Chris,” I stammered. “I…I need…”

“I know what you need, baby,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, a sultry tone that awakened the kaleidoscope of butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

At that moment, I knew the mattress was no match against the fluttering quiver of my desire. I needed something else…something
more
. In the past year since I’d been divorced, I’d experienced a few mind-blowing orgasms in my sleep. I’d woken up several times in the past few months, sweating and panting, still relishing the tremors from deep within of the overwhelming climax I’d experienced in my dream. I’d never done anything like that while I was awake, alone, or better yet,
on purpose
. I wasn’t even sure I knew how. It just wasn’t something I’d ever had to do before.

The delicious craving that I felt needed a release or something…anything to pacify it. I slipped my hand down the front of my panties, and slid one finger across my swollen bundle of nerves, immediately jolting me with a gratifying pulse of pure bliss. The pressure of my finger hitting the sweet spot provided a burst of pleasure that radiated to my toes. That’s it, I thought, as I clenched my muscles in response and strained against the tension of my hand.

Chris whispered through the phone, “I’m so fucking hard right now, Salem. I can’t help it. All I can think about is your naked body pressed against mine, your soft skin as I kiss every inch of it. I want to touch every part of you. I want to make you feel so good, baby. Will you touch yourself for me?”

Oh crap!
I’m not sure I can go through with this. I pulled my hand out from under myself and flopped it out to the side, sighing into the phone.

“Go ahead, baby. Touch yourself.”

The minute he said it again, the white hot rush of my libido demanded satisfaction. I immediately slipped my hand back under the sheets and found the source that would relieve my burning appetite.

“I already am,” I whispered as I rocked harder and faster against my fingers, experiencing thrilling spasms of impending euphoria with every thrust.

“Oh god, Salem, that’s so fucking hot.” The panting sound of his voice drove me crazy with need. “Are you making yourself feel good right now?” he asked, his voice gravelly with desire.

I felt a little embarrassed and self-conscious, but I was too far gone. My moment of intensity was quickly approaching, and I couldn’t stop. The imminent surge of pleasure I knew I was about to experience kept me from caring anything about embarrassment. “Yes, so good,” I was breathless, panting as I glided my finger across my swollen nub, rubbing and circling in a repeated pattern. Over and over, I manipulated myself as the wave of my climax ebbed and flowed within me.

“Do it, baby. Make yourself come. I want to hear you.” The deep, sensual tone of his voice drove me wild, reminding me of the night he hovered over me, filling me, satisfying me.

I found myself closing my eyes, imagining a naked Chris in the bed with me. I imagined kissing him deeply, our tangled tongues delving for a deeper connection. I fantasized about him rocking his hips against me, driving me to the edge of ecstasy. I imagined the intense throb of his erection as he thrust himself into me.

Hearing his staggering breaths through the phone, I knew he was just as close to toppling over the pinnacle as I was. “That’s it, baby,” he moaned.

The sultry sound of his voice and the heaving sound of his breath as he reached the apex of his own pleasure was enough to push me over the edge. One final thrust of my fingers against my pulsating center sent me barreling over the cliff. A heavenly quaking of ecstasy surged through my body, followed by blissful, billowing shockwaves. The endorphins coursing through my body made me feel intoxicated, relaxed and content. I fell limp against my mattress, enjoying the moment of sublime tranquility.

A quiet sigh escaped my lips. I felt sure the sound of my satisfied moan sent Chris over the edge because he groaned in response, a deeply satisfied and exhilarating sound, followed peaceful, subdued breaths.

“That was amazing, Salem,” he breathed.

I stirred from my semi-lucid state. “Mmhmm.” It was all I could muster.

“Sleep well, baby,” he whispered.

I think I said goodnight. I wasn’t sure.

All I knew was that I woke up the next morning with my phone on my pillow. “Whoa. That was intense,” I whispered as I grabbed my phone and plugged it into its charger in a rush to get to the shower.

****

I was scrolling through posts on my favorite social networking website when a picture leapt off the screen and sucker-punched me in the gut.

The caption read:

Watch out, ladies! By the looks of it, Chris King is on the prowl!!!

I could have brushed it off if it weren’t for the picture of a half-naked girl on Chris’s lap with her tongue down his throat juxtaposed by pictures of them entering a hotel room together. My chest tightened, and my stomach clenched. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My brain couldn’t remember how to tell my lungs to inhale. I felt dizzy.

What? Why?

I immediately slammed my laptop closed, staring at the wall. Numb.

I should have known better. I knew the lifestyle he led. I knew that every girl was vying for an opportunity to pounce on him. His endless access to alcohol and drugs…
Dammit...I knew better!

The heat of my anger shot through me like a rocket launching into orbit. Sucking a breath, my nostrils flared and my chest tightened.
How could I have been so stupid?!

****

Chris called later that night. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, the sound of his voice nearly caused me to lose my nerve.

Strengthening my resolve, I chose to skip the charades. My voice was hoarse from all the crying I’d done all day. “Tell me what the pictures didn’t say.”

There was a hesitation in his voice before he spoke. “Salem, I…I don’t know what you’re—”

“Chris, tell me what the pictures didn’t say,” I demanded, praying for an explanation, anything other than the obvious.

Chris was silent for several seconds.

The lump in my throat grew too big to swallow and tears sprang to my eyes. “Please, Chris,” I pleaded, sounding more desperate than angry. “Please tell me what those pictures didn’t say.”

“Nothing,” he said quietly.

And there it was—the knife to my heart. “I didn’t think so,” I barely whispered. My body felt numb. My mind went blank. The weight on my chest was so heavy that I could barely breathe.

He sighed, “I’m sorry, Salem.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said sharply
. This is my fault. He’s a freaking rock star. I knew better!
I knew better than to get this close to him. It was only a matter of time before he’d get drunk one night and start thinking with the head in his pants instead.

Pleading desperation filled his voice. “Please, let me explain—”

“What’s there to explain?” I replied bitterly, hating that I sounded like the jealous girlfriend when we hadn’t even established what we were. I guess I just assumed when he told me he loved me that I meant something to him. “You said it yourself. The pictures tell it all.”

Groveling, he begged, “Oh god, Salem, I’m so sorry. Please, Salem, hear me out. I was so fucked up. Please understand…This isn’t easy for me, you know—this life.”

My seething anger got the best of me. “No, I can’t imagine life as one big ass party every minute of every day.”

Just then, as if I’d flipped a switch, his desperation turned to frustration. “You’re wrong about that,” he barked back. “And because you have no fucking clue, I won’t waste any time explaining it.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “Go get wasted and fuck someone else. Enjoy your rock star life. Goodbye, Chris.”

Chris sighed as if he knew I’d never understand. “Whatever, Salem,” he said quietly, withholding something. I couldn’t tell if it was anger, regret, or sadness.

I ended the call and clutched the phone to me as heaving sobs stole my breath.

Chapter Twenty-Four

CHRIS

“Dammit!” I yelled, throwing the phone with all my might against the sofa. I paced the floor, back and forth, cursing under my breath.
You potentially lost one of the most amazing women you’ve ever known over a one-night-fucking-stand! Dumbass!

“Why the
hell
did I do something so
stupid
?!” I screamed, punching the wall. Then I crumbled, falling to my knees and burying my face in my hands. That’s when the tears came. Cries of remorse and frustration escaped me, and I was bombarded by the self-loathing that always happened after I fucked things up royally.

This is all my fault. I do this. Every. Damn. Time.

No matter how hard I tried, I always managed to screw things up for myself. Just when things were going great and starting to look up for me, I always fell into this self-sabotaging bullshit and did something stupid to ruin it all. Half the time, I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was over. I was always blinded by my impulses, and I didn't know how to overcome them.

I thought about how I got myself thrown into juvie the first time. I’d finally moved to a school where I actually fit in. And what the hell did I do? Something idiotic that caused me to lose all that. Then I met Kaitlyn. And rather than handle the situation with Trevor the way it should have been dealt with, by alerting the authorities, I beat the shit out of him and threatened to slit his throat. He deserved it, of course, but I landed myself right back at Fairbanks and ultimately lost Kaitlyn forever.

And here I was again, finally opening myself up and letting myself find love again, and what did I do? Fucked everything up, just like I’d always done. Just when I found someone who made me feel alive again, I had to go and hook up with some chick who meant absolutely nothing to me.

Why? Why do I always screw everything up!

How would I ever get Salem to forgive me? I should have known better. Covering my face with my hands, I plopped down on the sofa. Taking a few cleansing breaths, I tried desperately to recall everything that had happened that night.

What the hell was I thinking?

That’s just it. I wasn’t thinking. I was so messed up…

“Time to get wasted, bro,” Tommy said, cracking open a can of beer.

We’d been on the road for weeks. Four cities in six nights. I was exhausted. I needed the break.

“Hell yeah!” I said, twisting the top off of a bottle of Jager.

Jeremy downed his own shot of Gentleman Jack. “Later, we’ll hit the club.”

“Lotsa bitches gonna freak when they see us tonight,” Tommy said with a wink.

I chuckled. “Yeah,” I said, although I could hear the uneasiness in my own voice.

I didn’t want to sound like a pansy, but damn, I missed Salem something fierce. I threw back a shot of Jager, the best soothing agent for a weary heart.

Four shots and three Jager bombs later, my mind was spinning and I was thoroughly numb to the ache of missing Salem.

“How goes it for a little white widow?” Tommy dangled the baggie of weed in front of me, taunting me.

Everything inside of me screamed ‘No!’ while I took the bag from him and smiled. “Damn, Preacher, you got the hook up!” I hadn’t smoked it in years, but I knew good weed when I saw it, especially when I opened the bag and took a whiff. Damn, that was some good shit.

Many puffs later, I was flying high.

And somehow we made it to the club.

Tommy was right. Girls were all over us.

“Oh my god, it’s Chris King!” I think I heard that at least a thousand times. On any other day, their high-pitched squeals would have gotten on my nerves, but I was too stoned to care. I hadn’t been that fucked up since high school. We were offered body shots all night, which we gladly accepted.

I was sitting down when a beautiful, blonde bombshell plopped down on my lap, straddling me. “Hey baby,” she cooed into my ear. “I’m Jill, your biggest fan.”

All I saw was her cleavage in my face while the world spun around me. The scent of her perfume was fucking sensational.

Damn, I missed Salem. The softness of her hair on my face. The subtle hint of vanilla on her skin. I closed my eyes, remembering that amazing night when we made love in her bed. She’s got me so messed up inside. One minute I’d be thinking about juvie and how she was there for me through it all, how she came through the door that night I fucking lost it and sat on the floor with me until I pulled myself together, how she gave me that guitar and told me she believed in me, how she hugged me on the sidewalk the day I walked away…how all I ever wanted to do was make her proud. And the next minute I’d be thinking about the way she’d smile at me when she tucked that same damn strand of hair behind her ear, the way she’d spent all afternoon teaching herself to make biscuits from scratch just to please me…the way she’d looked at me the night I made her lose control underneath me. My heart was a fucking mess.

Jessica’s…I mean…shit, what was her name again? Anyway, that chick’s mouth was on my neck, jarring me from my thoughts.

“You’re so sexy,” she whispered against my skin.

Adrenaline pumped through my body and resonated in my cock. I couldn’t stop the response my body gave her.

Jennifer—ugh, whatever—grinded against me, teasing me with her tongue on my neck.

Fuck…It’d been too long.

Tommy sat down beside us, pulling the girl he’d been dancing with onto his lap. “Hell yeah, bro,” he said, glancing at ‘what’s her name’ as if I needed his approval.

He slammed two bottles of Yuengling on the table and slid one in my direction. I grabbed the beer, guzzling it in just a few big gulps.