CRASH & BURN (Rule Breaker) (10 page)

“I want to fuck you. I am
going
to fuck you. How about you tell me what to do? Tell me with that filthy mouth of yours.”

“This is so wrong.”

“No. It’s not. I was wrong. Let me have you. I won’t stop until you say yes.” His lips grazed her cheek, the stubble on his jaw rough against her skin.

God, she wanted to feel his sandpaper whiskers on her breasts and between her thighs. All she had to do was tell him and this torture would stop. For a night.

In twenty-four hours she’d become a junkie in need of a Lansing fix in the form of a rough, hard fuck. Some of the time she wasn’t certain if she even liked him, he frustrated her to no end. Like this second. Pushing and pushing her. What they did bordered on extreme fucking for liberation.

She searched his face. “Is this some sort of an intense escape route we’ve found together?”

“Call it whatever you’d like. I want it. You damned well know you want it too.”

This needling craving for him warped her to the point of being unsure if she wanted to tell him to kiss off, or to kiss her.

“God!” Inhaling, she straightened, and then she shoved him. “You make me so crazy!”

He caught her hands, hauling them behind her back, and forcing her to open to him. His breath washed over her. “And you, me. I could fuck you for hours and hours. I don’t think I’d get my fill.”

His cock pressed against her, reminding her of what she wanted. Needed. Now. With a shaky breath, she whispered, “Hard. Fast. Rough.”

“Absolutely.” He spun her around and pushed her toward the warm front of his car. He placed her palms on the smooth, glossy hood. She heard the zipper of his pants, and the ripping of plastic. “Bend over and spread your legs for me.”

Jon lifted her dress and palmed her ass. She wore a leopard-print lace thong and she hoped he’d not…too late. He’d just ripped it from her hips and tossed it to the ground. “Oh, I liked that one.”

“Alana, I’ll buy you a hundred if you let me rip them before I fuck you.”

He swirled his fingers in circles around her clit, driving her wild. She shimmied her hips, moving against his hand. Her jagged anticipation roared. He pinched her clit and she arched upward from the blast of pleasure. “Jon, you’re teasing me.”

“Baby, is this what you want?” He pushed two of his fingers into her and began pumping his hand and she whimpered, reaching for his cock.

“Yes. More.”

Removing his fingers from inside her, he pressed up against her bottom, his cock sliding between her legs. His hands took hold of her hips, sliding down the seam of her ass, opening her thighs wider. He growled, “I’ve waited all day for this moment.”

She felt the head of his cock press into her. Rivulets of pleasure shot through her body. Without warning, Jon plowed into her in one hard thrust. “Oh God,” she panted.

“You feel amazing wrapped around me. This is how you belong. And what I need.” He leaned forward, draping his muscular torso over her, heat pouring from his body.

Still clothed, lying under him, his admission went beyond erotic. He cupped her breasts and his hot mouth sucked the skin along her neck, releasing a flurry of tingling jolts that burst apart inside her head. Her body was ready to shatter. Time stood still. She turned into pure sensation under him. “Please,” she begged.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, baby. So very, very hard.” His voice came out gravelly.

She held her breath. Falling water mingled with the sound of crickets, and then he began pounding into her. Filling her, and all that she could think about was the pure bliss of his dick. He slammed into her, pulling his shaft nearly all the way out of her, and then he forcefully drove back into her. He owned her. The slapping of his skin against hers had her moaning.

“Baby, is this hard enough?”

“God, yes. So hard. You’re so deep.” He captured her around the waist as he raised one of her legs, thrusting into her deeper than before. So deep, she groaned his name, clenching around his cock.

He hooked his hand over her shoulder, bending her body, finding exactly how they fit best. “And now. How does this feel?”

“Perfect.” She didn’t know how, but he’d found a feverish spot no other man had reached. Each stroke of his cock made her spasm with dark pleasure. Not much longer before he’d have her yelling his name.

“Fuck, baby. Give it to me.” He’d forced her open and a glow began building and building until she neared the cliff, and he right alongside her. He groaned loudly as she exploded, clenching around him. He surged into her, grinding his hips with one last slam. The wave of pleasure crested. Exploded. And bliss rained down her body.

Jon let go of her leg, and they both slumped over the hood of the car, their breaths coming in gulps. His mouth slid over her bare shoulder, ending with a solitary kiss at her neck. She shivered, squeezing him, and he moaned her name.

“Alana, you’re mine.” The message hit her hard.

She murmured, “Looks like we’ve done it again.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked in a low whisper, running his hands down her legs

“Yes. Starved.”

“I’m going to feed you, and then I want you in my bed.”

Slowly, sanity returned, and fleeting ideas trickled into her awareness, until finally fully-formed thoughts began to coalesce. “The contract. You said we needed to talk.”

His fingers lifted her hair, and the night air cooled the perspiration dripping down her neck. His warm lips pressed against her skin and she quivered, her nipples hardening, and she pushed aside the questions crouching on her tongue, to utter a single word, “Please.”

“Please? What?” he traced the edge of her ear, biting down on the shell between his teeth. He pushed into her, vividly reminding her she was still impaled on him. His hands gripped her around the hips. Is there anything he did that didn’t feel mind-blowing? Not to her. She pulled away from him, hoisting her hips up and off him, and then swung around. Without looking down at his erection, she met his gaze.

“Jonathan. We’ve got to talk. Straighten out things. It can’t be sundown fucking and back to the studio with a shit-eating grin.” She pulled her dress down before she crossed her arms over her breasts.

“It could work.” He tried to close the distance she’d put between them, but she raised her palm, laying it against his chest.

“I don’t think so. Not until I know where this is headed.” His heartbeat threaded fast and strong under her fingers, proving he was just as excited as she.
Good!

“Talk. Fine. The contract was set aside,” he said, channeling his fingers through his hair. “You’re serious.”

“Do I need to be screeching mad to prove it?”

“Hell, no. I owe you that. Come on inside.” He held out his hand and let out a gravelly sigh.

“Don’t you think you might want to do something about your condition?” She tilted her head toward his hard-on, hoping he’d give her a fair chance at asking the list of questions that had plagued her since the morning.

He laughed. “Obviously, you make me forget myself.” Distracted or not, he was gorgeous with his cocky grin.

She glanced away from him, taking in the immense manicured grounds, and wondered if he lived alone in this rambling house far up above the city.

Beyond the gate, a drive curved through acres of woods; hard to believe anything like this existed close to Nashville. The lush greenery was dissected with walkways bordered by garden lighting, and alcoves with benches and garden tables gave the place a park-like feel.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked.

“Since I arrived, about ten years ago.”

“Strange. I don’t picture you the type to live in such a place. I’d peg you more as the modern condo kinda guy.”

“I’ve some units in a few cities, but I enjoy the quiet up here. There’s a full studio along with my office away from the hubbub. Easier to think at times.”

“Oh, yeah. I can see all the coming and going as a potential time-waster.”

He pulled her near to him now that he was properly restrained inside his pants. “I think I’ve found a way to have our cake and eat it too.”

“How do you even know I like cake? There you go again, assuming. You do realize what happens when you assume?” He stared at her for a beat, and then she smiled and punched him in the arm. “Gotcha. I’m only pulling your chain.”

“You don’t know how close you just came to being dragged over to the bench and having your rear-end spanked.” He bent over, retrieving her ripped thong, and tucked it into his pocket. After he laced his fingers with hers, he lifted her hand, and brushed his lips against the back of her palm.

This push-and-pull resurrected itself and she stalled her normal reaction to shut down. Her heart was beating as fast, if not faster, than his had been moments ago when she’d pressed her hand against his chest. He’d opened a door, wider each time he’d proposed something a little decadent, and her psyche scandalously leaped. With the other men in her life, sex had been good, but with Jon it was mind-altering to the degree she believed her DNA must have been changed. She was certain she was no longer the same person. How could she go back to sex with another man that didn’t involve the need to be possessed in the way that Jon dominated her?

He led her up the path toward a set of stone steps. The house was set back with a longer-than-usual portico flanked by tall columns. Above the flat roof of the portico she noticed a double set of French doors and a terrace bounded by ornate metal work unlike anything she’d seen before.

“You’ve a thing for metal work?”

“I enjoy the aqua patina that accents the surface of copper.”

They passed by large urns stationed on either side of the walk at the front steps holding tropical-looking palms and colorful bromeliads. A large doorway loomed filled with a set of double-doors stained a dark crimson red.

“Feng shui?” she asked.

“Harvey DeLoni,” he answered. “Landscape designer. I gave him a rough idea and he delivered. I can’t say the door is my favorite, but then again I don’t notice it much anymore.”

He opened it without a key. Her stomach dropped about three feet. “Is there someone here? I mean, after what we just did,” she whispered, a half-sweep of her hands fluttering between them as though she didn’t want to blatantly refer to the hood-top welcome she’d received.

“No one. Just us.” Inside, he stopped her. “I want you to know, I don’t intend on keeping you here with me in this part of the house. Not if you need your privacy. I’ve thought it through and had an idea. Nothing that can’t be altered, if you’ll listen before overreacting.”

“I don’t overreact.”

“My instep says otherwise. Even so, come with me.”

He walked her through his home that included a large comfortable living room with leather couches and a low-slung cocktail table, a stone fireplace, and large pieces of artwork on the walls. Colorful abstracts in the Kandinsky form, reminding her of the prints her parents, or really her father, had framed in his office. Clean lines. All very neat and tidy, and so like the image of Jonathan Lansing.

They walked through the kitchen, another monstrously large room with bay windows and a large, round wooden pedestal table. She could almost imagine him sitting there, but without any companion it seemed heartbreakingly lonely.

He opened a glass-paneled door and held it for her to pass through the doorway first. Outside, a large pool overlooked a natural rock formation with a waterfall cascading into a hot tub on the other side.

On the opposite side of the pool, a guest cottage lay in wait. “I was thinking you could move in there. You’d have your own space, and you’d be free to come and go. This would be where you stay, and practice. The studio is downstairs. Yours to use as you like. No need to feel ashamed of hiding out. This arrangement is perfectly legitimate and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. Roger Altwood stayed there and recorded his double-platinum hit last fall. No one blinked an eye.”

“The man who is now touring Europe with Inkwell as his opening act?”

“Him. The same. He basically laid it all down here. Stayed for a month, at least. What do you say?”

“He’s pretty wild. How did he leave the place?”

Jon smiled. “You’re astute. Dwayne’s been manning a crew all day to get it together. It wasn’t trashed, just more lived-in than you’d appreciate.”

“I’m not saying it’s the greatest idea I’ve heard yet. And a full studio? At my fingertips?” Had he read her Facebook journal and bucket list?
#5 Find studio and record without concerns of time or cost.
At the present moment, each time Orion went into the studio they might as well have a meter on the door. They signed an agreement by the hour. Now, they’d have a place… “Can the rest of the band come here as well? You know, to use the studio.”

He stopped and brushed the hair from his forehead, and the act said more than if he’d laid down a stack of rules. “I imagined that’s what you’d want. So, of course.”

“They wouldn’t come here and throw the furniture into the pool. We didn’t do any of that stuff at the motel. We’re not in high school and don’t plan on having fans come here for a jam session.”

“Did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to. For all your desire to keep yourself under wraps, you say things loud and clear without a word.”

He cupped her chin. “Unlike you, who says things two ways: loud and louder. Let me show you inside and you can tell me if anything is missing.” He slid the pad of his thumb along the edge of her lower lip. “Damn, Alana,” he whispered before he kissed her, separating her lips with a slice of his tongue, and then just as quickly he released her.

“Jon,” she said on a sigh, and didn’t know how to put into words what she felt. Two days…this was crazy.

“Yes. You were saying?”

“Don’t let your head swell as large as before. Okay? This is fine and all. But if we record something here, off-site, who owns it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t keep up with who’s who in this town, but if Altwood recorded his platinum record here, you were probably in the same position as his producer.”

“Fine. I can see, for all your wide-eyed innocence, you’re still concerned I might be a dick in sheep’s clothing. Take a look at the cottage and then I’ll fix something for us to eat while you review the contract. Tomorrow we meet with the band. This agreement isn’t like the one Tyler gave you and an attorney, independent of the Lansing Record label, will be there to represent your interests.”