Billy Jeffers: Rockers of Steel (13 page)

He shakes his head.

“Good, because I decided that, as stressed out as you seem to be, I have a perfect idea of how to take you away from it.”

“Madison, I don’t …” He stops talking when I pull out the can of whipped cream.

“We’re buddies, right?

“Yeah,” he says, staring at the can of cream.

“Well, I think you promised me secrets all night long.”

“And I’m pretty sure you overheard some already.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” I wink. “All I know is it’s been a long day, and I wanna get off on you again before I go back to Jersey.”

“Christ,” he says before dropping the bags, grabbing my face, slamming me against the corner, and smashing his lips to mine.

My hands work his buttons as he kisses me stupid. His lips are greedy, hungry, and oh, so exquisitely working me over. I have never been kissed like this, and I know I never will again.

I shove my hand down his jeans and grab his cock. It’s hard as hell and silky smooth.

“Mmm,” he moans into my mouth as his hips thrust into my hand.

The elevator stops, but somehow, neither of us notice until we hear, “Oh! Oh, my.”

He starts to pull away, but I hold him securely. “Fuck them.”

His eyes narrow, and then he nods. “Fuck them.” Then he kisses me harder.

The elevator stops again, and this time, there are no spectator gasps.

I pull my hand away regretfully. “Take me to bed, Jeffers. I’m craving whipped cream.”

He grabs the bags and pulls his room key from his pocket. I walk past him and out into the hallway. Then I look back as he stands in the doorway, watching me walk away.

His look, albeit heated, is regretful, and I cannot have that.

I turn around, pull my shirt over my head, and toss it at him. Then I reach behind me and unhook my bra.

I hear laughter in the distance, and his look changes.

“I know you have no regard for public shows of sexual displays, but I have a great disdain for the pussy I’m about to own being displayed.”

“Well, then you better pick up the pace, Billy. Right now, all that’s on display is …” I slowly pull my left arm out of my bra strap.

“You better stop now,” he says as he walks quickly toward me.

“If I don’t, will you spank me?” I tease, stepping back quickly.

“Sweet girl, I’ll do more than spank you.” He drops the bags and pins me against the wall. “I’m gonna wreck you.”

He slides the key through the lock.

“This the room?”

He kicks the door open, scoops up the bags, and tosses them in. “Mmm.” He nods, his eyes heavy-lidded and sexy.

“The stars have aligned.”

“Not yet, they haven’t.” He grabs my hips, hoists me high, and bites my breast almost painfully hard through my bra.

“Damn you!” I cry out.

He effortlessly throws me over his shoulder and smacks my ass as he walks into the hotel room then throws me on the bed.

“Pants off.”

I watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, unbuttons his pants, and shoves them down all in seconds. He looks at me the entire time.

“The opening act is over. I’m ready to take the stage, and you’re not ready.” He walks over and grabs the can of whipped cream.

“You just talked rock star to me.” I smile as I watch him walk back.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.” I shove my yoga pants down. “You on stage”—I slowly run my hand down my throat then between my breasts—“is such a tease.” I let my hand slide slowly down between my legs. “But you in bed”—I rub my finger between my folds—“is beyond what I imagined. I am soaked.”

He grabs my hand and pins it above my head against the mattress. “I will never”—he grabs my other hand and pulls it above me before taking both my wrists in one hand—“be able to erase the image of you making yourself come, but I can promise you that will never happen when I am in the same fucking room as you are again.”

“No?”

“No. I nearly licked the keyboard bench where you dripped.”

Crouched between my legs, he bites his lip as he looks at me—bare, exposed, soaked. He pulls my legs apart and shakes the can then pulls the cap off and squirts the whipped cream between my legs.

“Mmm, my sweet girl is gonna be even sweeter,” he says before burying his face between my legs.

“Oh, Billy!” I cry out.

An hour later, we are sweat-drenched and sated, lying side by side on a bed, looking at each other. His eyes look nearly drugged and so relaxed.

“You wanna sleep, shower, and fuck again?”

“I think maybe we need to chat,” he says, linking his fingers with mine.

“We don’t have to,” I say, rubbing the side of his face.

“Yes. Yes, we do.”

I don’t know how I’m going to tell him about Secret Escape, but I know I have to.

Madison has no clue who the investors are. There is no way in hell she would be lying calmly next to me if she did. I am a total asshole for fucking her before having this conversation. It wasn’t my plan to do that, but she made it nearly impossible not to.

I wish I could just lie here and look at her. I knew she was wild, but I never expected she was also so damn caring or that she would be so open about her self-discovery on why she is, the way she is.

I have never lived in anyone’s shadow like she did Memphis’s, so I can’t say I would have been any different from her.

I tear my eyes off her and sit up. “I am sticky as hell from the whipped cream. Let me run us a bath, and we can soak while we talk.”

She smiles. “Sounds good.”

I walk into the bathroom and realize for the first time she didn’t book us an upgraded room. The bathtub might fit her comfortably, but it will be nearly impossible for the both of us. The damn thing is small.

I start the water and turn to find the complimentary hotel body wash. Then I look in the mirror and see her standing completely naked. Her pale skin is such a contrast to her raven black hair. Her blue eyes are framed by dark lashes that make them stand out and sparkle even more. Her plump, pouty, little lips that I have just learned are naturally red.

She holds up a black bottle. “Always prepared.”

“Is that what you have in that little suitcase of yours?” I ask, reaching out for it.

“I wouldn’t wanna be stuck without hygiene products.”

“I quite adore that about you,” I say as I twist off the top and pour some in the bath.

“Not too much; it’s highly concentrated.”

I nod. “What I don’t understand is how we’re both gonna fit in this tiny tub.”

She looks down at my dick as I turn around. “We’ll figure it out.” When she walks by, she lets her hand brush against my semi as she steps into the tub. “How about you get in and sit down. Then I will nuzzle between your legs for once.” She looks over her shoulder. “I promise to try to be gentler than you were.”

“Opposite ends, Madison, or I won’t get through this.”

She nods and sits down, drawing her knees up tightly to her chest.

I sit down, my knees bent and feet on either side of her ass, looking at her.

“I’m not sure what part of the conversation you overheard.”

“Where he sold a house without your consent that you paid off.” She looks down. “I know Angel has something to do with it, and that”—she swallows hard—“you mentioned investors and a scheme.”

“All right, then,” I grumble, she knows everything. I am so fucked.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.” She cups water in her hand and pours it over her body.

“I know that.” I laugh uncomfortably. “Well, I know that now. Two days ago, I would have thought otherwise.”

Fuck, this is not as easy as I thought.

“Fuck buddies and secrets, Billy,” she says as she rubs both hands up and down my shins.

“Noted. But this … This is horrible.”

“You can tell me anything.” She shrugs. “Anything.”

I open my mouth, and it all falls out. “After college, they almost lost the house. They lost one before, and then we lost everything.”

“What do you mean everything?”

I shake my head, some things I would and could never tell. “The house they just sold … It was almost foreclosed on. I paid it off in full. I didn’t want them to lose everything again. He worked hard; he gave me everything, fucking everything.”

She scoots up closer, and I grab her around the knees to stop her. “Billy, you did the right thing. You always do.”

“I did what was expected of me; that’s what I always do. I have spent years feeling like I owed them, and what does he do? He fucking sells a house that is paid for. He could have retired, Madison.” I slam my fist down on the side of the tub in anger, and she jumps. “Shit, I’m sorry. I am so—”

“No. It’s okay, Billy. Please, just talk to me.”

“He re-mortgaged the damn house so he could invest the money, which is code for fucking blow it. I signed papers so that couldn’t happen again. I told him I would never do it again. He promised I would never have to. The papers I signed weren’t to a deed. I actually signed partnership papers for Jeffers Investment Company. He fucking screwed me hard. Used me. Then he stepped over a line and collected one million dollars in investments that he can’t return, and it’s a bullshit scheme—I know it is. ‘
Trust me, Billy boy,’
he said.” I look at her. She’s looking at me with pity, which rubs me the wrong fucking way. “I don’t want your pity, Madison. He didn’t just fuck me; he fucked Memphis, Finn, River, and about three others to the tune of one million dollars.”

“Wait … what?”

I turn away. I can’t even look at her. I stand up and step out of the tub.

“I only ask that you honor the promise.”

She doesn’t respond, so I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, and walk out.

I have no clean clothes, and I know not a damn thing is open right now.

I throw on my jeans, grab my phone, and sit at the desk. I open up Google and try to login to my investment accounts. The fucking internet is slow.

I hear her get out of the tub, and then she walks out wrapped in a towel.

“Billy? I think you need to know something else.”

“I would like to be the one to tell them if you could just see to keep it to yourself.”

“Will you look at me?”

I turn the swivel chair around to see her pulling a sweatshirt out of the suitcase and putting it on over her towel. It speaks volumes that she is keeping herself covered.

“The bungalow is not really a bungalow,” she says, pulling on a pair of pajama pants. She turns around and grabs one of the bags I carried in and pulls a shirt and warm up pants out of them then brings them over to me. “I’m pretty sure you can get more than one million dollars for the sale of the estate they are calling a bungalow. If you can get him to sell, I’m sure you can get the money and maybe get—”

“Do you have the address?” I ask, throwing on the shirt and pants.

“It’s in your navigation system.”

I throw on my Vans before heading to the door. She follows me.

“Don’t leave angry.”

“I’m not leaving angry. I’m leaving pissed off.”

How the hell can she not be pissed at me? Fuck I’m pissed at me. I need to get the hell away from here, from her. This should never have happened. But it keeps happening. When this all blows up, nothing will ever be the same. I am so pissed at myself.

She stands in front of the door and grabs my shirt. “Don’t leave.”

“How can you even look at me after what I did?” I ask, pulling her hands off me.

“
He
did it. Your father, not you,” she replies.

“I’m not talking about that. I wanna know how you can look at me knowing you and I would have never happened if I wasn’t sure my world is falling apart?”

I take her shoulders, move her from in front of the door, and walk out.

When I get off the elevator, I realize I didn’t grab my keys or my damn wallet. Straight ahead is the hotel bar, and even though I’m not dressed for this type of atmosphere, I head toward the neon sign, like a moth to a flame.

I order a Manhattan and have it charged to my room. I am not ready to face her. What I said was completely fucking wrong, yet it wasn’t untrue.

“Would you like another?” the bleached out bartender with too much lipstick asks.