European Tour (Rocking the Pop Star Book 1) (7 page)

BRODY

DAY NINE

Monday is busy because it’s the day before we fly out to London, but the team manages to complete all the tasks required of the day and Sky dismisses us all early. In an effort to be discreet, I also leave when everyone else does, but return half an hour later as we planned.

Greetings unnecessary, Sky pulls me into the door by the edge of my t-shirt and kisses me, her soft hands roaming through my scalp as my hands cup her firm, round ass. I certainly appreciate what her discipline for exercise and dancing has done for her muscle tone.

“I’ve missed your lips,” she murmurs. “It was all I could do not to kiss you while everyone else was still here.”

I hold myself in check, because Sky has a candid way about her that makes me feel like the little boy in grade school with his first crush on a girl. The sex between us is good enough to make me want to say dirty things to her all the time, but acknowledging my crush by putting sweet words to my thoughts could be dangerous.

“Is this our appetizer before dinner?” I say before I kiss her back, opting for a benign response so as not to give her any ideas that I can’t back up with action. Of course, romancing her wouldn’t do either of us any good in this situation, because we would part ways after the tour.

She drags her lips away from mine with a bit of reluctance, and I stop waging the internal war with myself over how to proceed without becoming a horny moron over by boss.

“Actually, Della has that covered. We have about fifteen minutes before dinner is served, then we’ll have the house to ourselves again.”

Sky takes my hand and we move into the kitchen where I get the privilege again, of smelling some of the best home cooking I never had.

“Hi Brody.” Della smiles, flashing even white teeth, and speaking to me as if I didn’t just leave the premises a half an hour ago.

“Hi Della,” I say with a grin.

“I’ll set the table in a few minutes,” she says to Sky, then busies herself putting the final touches on dinner.

“Why don’t we set the table?” I suggest.

Sky is all for it and we get everything together in half the time it would’ve taken Della. By the time, we’re done, she’s bringing out the first of her delectable courses to the table, where I’m having a chilled Pellegrino and Sky’s sipping wine.

This time Della doesn’t leave immediately after serving us. “I’ll get everything cleaned up before I leave tonight. I’ll be leaving for Seaside tomorrow.”

Della’s family lives in that quaint California town, and now that Sky will be away for six weeks, she’s going for an extended visit.

“Thanks, Della,” Sky says. She stands to give the woman who I’d guess has been like a real mother to her than her own, a long hug. “I’m going to miss you…and your cooking while I’m on the road.”

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Ms. Skylar,” the older woman says.

“Let us help you,” Sky says as they part.

“You’ll just get underfoot in my kitchen. Now go on and entertain Mr. Brody.”

No matter how much I’ve told her to call me only by my given name, she’s old school in the matter of respecting what she considers authority. Della winks at me, and I’m not altogether sure whether it means she knows what we’re about to be up to before we leave for London, or she’s rooting for Sky and me over the long haul. Either way, it makes me a bit uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Sky says.

We leave Della to her tasks and meander to the stairs. When we get to the foot of them, Sky turns to me with a mischievous grin. “Winner’s choice for whoever gets to the top first,” she says, then takes off.

It takes me a few seconds to get my ass in gear and run after her. My legs are longer and I could’ve overtaken her at any moment, but I give her the advantage and she laughs when she reaches the landing just one step before me.

We’re both winded, but not too much to kiss and laugh at ourselves through our labored breathing.

“What did I lose?” I ask with a fake pout.

She giggles, “Just the right to decide what we’re going to do when we get in my bedroom.” She backs toward said bedroom as I advance, loosely embracing her, our legs entangled and lips engaged all the way to the door.

Once inside, we quickly discard our outer wear, but then we slow down when we’re in our underwear. I hoist her up around my waist and carry her to the bed where I unceremoniously drop her there.

Fuck, she looks gorgeous lying there, dark hair splayed out on the duvet.

“So, what’s the winner’s choice?” I say, as I work her panties off, drawing the lace down her legs, inch by inch. As I reach her ankles, she answers.

“Oral,” she says.

I lean down and take her lacy underwear in my teeth and rip them off her feet. In the same motion, I spread her knees wide. The glistening perfection before me is the best dessert ever.

“You want me to fuck you with my mouth?”

Before she can answer I press my hands on the inside of her thighs, hold her open and drag my tongue from back to front, landing on her clit where I circle it with my tongue, then suck it as if I’m going to eat her up.

She gasps, then whimpers, grasping my hair and yanking it hard, holding my head as if she fears I’ll let go. “Brody,” she says on an exhale.

The way she tugs my hair breathes my name galvanizes me and I lap her up like a delicacy. When I dive deep, she yanks my hair again. “Oh, that feels good…”

The raspy tone of her voice turns me on and I feel that tugging on my hair in my balls. I like it rough, too, and Sky gets that with no urging from me.

I partly disengage my mouth and tease her slick, wet flesh with a finger all the while nibbling at her clit with lips covering my teeth. When I circle her clit with the stiff tip of my tongue again, she shatters. Her entire body trembles and then shakes as if she’s detonating like a bomb.

She cries my name in a staccato fashion as she simultaneous draws me closer and pushes me away. Orgasms will do that to you sometimes—make you want more when you can’t handle it. A knot of lust, envious of her release, has built up in my stomach and my cock throbs and my balls ache, eager to be inside Sky now.

Her beauty is enhanced as she comes down from her orgasmic high. She grins up at me as I hover over her, then she scrambles up onto her knees as I reach out to bring her up to face me. We kneel on the bed sharing a kiss that mingles vestiges of her essence between us. I gasp and look down as she frees my cock from the constraints of my underwear.

I hiss when her soft hand grips the base and squeezes. She deliberately slides her palm up and down my shaft, all the while watching, enraptured, and licking her gorgeous lips. Finally she sweeps her tongue out and licks the slit, then closes her lips around the bulbous head.

Jerking involuntarily from contact, I bury my fingers in her hair as she draws me in deeper into her hot mouth. Once she gets going, it kind of goes downhill from there.

It takes a couple of times of her fumbling through it and asking me how it feels every second or two, before I realize she has severe performance anxiety for some reason.

I stop her mid-blow to get to the bottom of this—cock throbbing for release, blue balls and all.

“Why do you question every move you make?” I ask gently.

She ducks her head. “I’m afraid I’m doing it all wrong, and you’ll secretly think I’m horrible at fellatio, but won’t tell me, and you’ll be at a party or something without me, and a groupie or two will offer to blow you. And you’ll be like, sure why not, because my fuckbuddy-slash-boss sucks at giving head.”
She takes a deep breath after that spontaneous outburst, and I laugh.

She leaps off the bed and runs to the bathroom.

“What the fuck?” I realize I’ve made light of something that is really bothering her, so I jump off the bed and follow her into the bathroom.

“Don’t come in here, Brody,” she yells.

I glimpse her sitting on the toilet before I quickly back out and close the door. When she doesn’t emerge for twenty minutes or so, I get dressed to leave. I’m at the threshold when I change my mind. Leaving things like this will probably make it as awkward as fuck on the plane tomorrow.

I go back to the door and knock. Even if she is having digestive issues, it shouldn’t take her this long in the bathroom.

There is no answer, so I try the door, but it’s locked. I find something to jimmy the lock and go in anyway. I figure, fuck, she’ll have to fire me if I’m out of line
.

She’s in the shower where I join her to find her huddled in the corner, crying. I get wet going in after her, but I have more clothes.

I dry her with a towel and lead her back into the bedroom, still crying. That’s when she tells me about country Connor Weatherby, her ex-boyfriend. After her mother had mentioned him, I should’ve Googled his ass, but I felt as if I haven’t told Sky everything about my past, so I shouldn’t go snooping around in hers.

I lay her on the bed and hold her. We’re getting her bedding as wet as fuck, but I have to get to the bottom of her meltdown.

“What did that bastard do to you?” I ask after she calms down a little.

“He was caught on tape having sex in a pool with two groupies,” she cries, “And when I confronted him about it, he said I could really blow on stage, but in bed, I couldn’t blow my way out of a paper bag.” Then she truly begins to sob.

If I weren’t so mad at that stupid fucker for undermining her confidence in that way, I might laugh at what sounds like a clichéd joke.

“If he hadn’t been such a selfish prick, he could’ve coached you with your technique rather than going out to get it somewhere else,” I say.

“Can you coach me on my technique?” she asks. “I’ll stop asking questions in the middle of it, and just listen to you. I promise.”

“I’d be happy to coach you,” I say. “If you do what comes naturally, and concentrate on enhancing the feeling, not messing up, you’ll do fine.”

By the time she hits her stride in oral skills, we’re both spent, and I end up spending the night, or what little of the morning we have left before we leave in Sky’s limo for the airport.

BRODY

DAY TEN

Skylar rips her earpiece out.

“I can’t hear my sound properly out in the room,” she says with a frown.

Sound check in London is a disaster from the word go. The venue has recently undergone massive renovations but failed to take into account the acoustics. I could leave it to the sound engineers to figure out later, but I didn’t want to see her crash and burn right out the gate.

I also have an ulterior motive for getting shit done. She’s agreed to be a tourist with me in all the cities we visit—contingent on her work being done first.

I approach the guys in the booth.

They’re scratching their heads and asses in confusion, but look askance at me.

“Hey, the reverb times are for shit in here, giving this entire venue an equally shitty quality of presence. Until the builder can get in here and undo some of the improper acoustical treatments, I say you just fix it with active acoustic technology. That should create a virtual acoustic space to achieve a workable musical environment.”

A lightbulb seems to go off in all their heads simultaneously. 

“Bollocks,” one of them exclaims under his breath.

I wink at them and walk away. “Thank you very much, gentlemen,” I say over my shoulder. “Skylar will return for final soundcheck an hour before practice tomorrow.”

Skylar bats her eyelashes at me theatrically as I return to the stage. “My hero!”

“That remains to be seen.” I offer her my arm like a proper English gentleman.

I nod to Malik. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

We exit to the waiting, hired limo. Malik, aided by venue security, clears a path for us through the fans hoping to get a glimpse at Skylar.

She rewards a few of them with outstretched hands by signing their CD cases, magazines, and T-Shirts.

While rabid, her fans are for the most part well behaved. The Savages and I got underwear, boobs, and sometimes bare asses for autographs. Of course, Skylar’s fanbase is younger, given that she just graduated from bubblegum pop a couple of years ago.

Safely in the limo on one bench seat with Malik on another, we breathe a collective sigh of relief. While musicians appreciate their fans, they can never know if a psycho prepared to do harm is in their midst. Malik is exceptional at keeping his body in front of Skylar. I know without a doubt that much like a Secret Service agent for the president of the United States, he’d take a bullet for her.

I’d sparred with him once in LA. He’d wanted, to paraphrase, to see what I was working with. He’s a very skilled fighter. I must not have been too shabby, because he’s asked me to spar with him a couple of times a week during the tour. I hope my ribs and I don’t live to regret this decision.

“Back to the hotel,” Malik barks to the driver.

“You’re not going sightseeing with us?” Sky asks with a pout.

“Nothing to see here but old-assed buildings and ruins I’ve seen already,” Malik says. “Wash off that makeup and go low-key with Brody.”

Looks like I’ve just gotten the seal of approval from the former Special Forces Marine. “Were you stationed here while you were in the Marines?”

Malik grunts something that sounds like a yes.

“And he’s still just a big old teddy bear,” Sky teases.

A teddy bear that will turn into a grizzly in a heartbeat if anyone steps incorrectly toward his client. Yet Sky is not just his client. In the seven years he’s been in her employ, they have become friends. In many ways he’s like the uncle she never had. He may be old enough to have fathered her, but I don’t think even
he
is brave enough to bed the barracuda.

I shake off that visual and turn to Sky. “So, where to first, My Lady?” I ask in my best English accent.

“We’re in modern-day London,” she reminds me. “What century is that accent from?”

“Hell, I don’t know. I probably heard it on Game of Thrones.”

She laughs. “Get it straight, Kent. These Brits won’t stand for you mucking up their vernacular.”

“Bloody hell,” I say and pounce on her, tickling. “Can’t a man talk however he bloody well pleases in this day and age?”

She’s screaming with laughter. “Stop it, Brody… Oh, God, please stop!”

“You’d better stop, dude,” Malik says as calmly as you please. “If you make Sky fuck up her vocal cords again, Mrs. Samuelson is going to geld you.”

I stop immediately.

Damn, I’d forgotten about her vocal cord issues just that quickly.

Malik laughs, cackling like a fucking hyena almost all the way to the hotel. Like Malik, I haven’t gotten it twisted. I know exactly who’s in charge.

Sky and I have connecting hotel suites, and this solves one very significant potential problem. At least here in London, neither her entourage nor the paparazzi will get any shots of me visiting her room after hours.

We are lounging in my soaker tub after a grueling six hours of sightseeing, trying to soak the soreness out of muscles that hikes on cobbled streets, up countless sets of stairs, and through craggy terrain surrounding Stonehenge have caused.

Her head is against one end of the tub, and mine is at the other. I relax with my eyes closed in the companionable silence.

“I have a suggestion,” Sky murmurs.

“Hmm. Such as?”

“Let’s stretch out some of the sightseeing at our next location, mm-kay?”

“I’ll make a note of that,” I say and close my eyes again.

“And let’s do room service tonight, ’kay?”

This time, I don’t open my eyes. “Okay.”

Sky and I are acting like Kim and me in the early days. It’s scary to think that I’m going through a similar phase with someone else, but it’s exhilarating, too.

We stuff our faces with a selection of items from the hotel menu. I’m somewhat recovered from the busy day, but Sky is nodding off like a junkie.

“Ready to turn in?” I ask.

She jumps at the sound of my voice and shakes off her impending slumber. “Nope. We’re gonna finish watching this movie.”

I smile at her immediate insistence that she’s doing anything other than catnapping on my shoulder. “Sky, the movie has been watching you for half an hour.”

“Okay, let’s go to bed then,” she agrees, standing and stretching like a feline.

I pick up the remote off the coffee table and turn off the television.

As I expected, she walks toward the bedroom in my suite, not her own.

“You’ve got a full day of rehearsal tomorrow,” I warn.

“So?” She stifles a yawn.

“You sure you want to sleep in there and not over there?” I point from my bedroom toward her empty suite for emphasis.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She continues walking, stripping out of her clothes as she goes, and I just shake my head and follow her.

A good night kiss sparks the embers, and a hot and heavy make-out session kindles a roaring flame. I have eaten her out to one orgasm, and now she’s returning the favor. It’s only taken a couple of days with my instruction for her to become adept at giving a spectacular blowjob.

Now she was giving head like a champ, and she was excellent at relaxing her throat muscles so she wouldn’t repeatedly gag through the process like some chicks do. It had to be connected to her singing, or breathing, or maybe she was just a fucking natural. I don’t know, but I’m getting the benefit of it.

Sky doubles down on the massaging of my cock with her tongue, and my eyes roll back into my head from the sensation.

She sucks hard, releases slightly, and squeezes my balls. Repeating this sequence causes me to thrust into her mouth. I can’t help it, and she doesn’t protest.

She continues to fellate me until I shoot my load into the condom, which I’ve insisted on wearing to give her some semblance of safety.

She hadn’t had sex in seven months and assured me she was clean. I’d last been with the toe-sucker and I’d had an examination after, but I didn’t get the results prior to leaving LA. I promised Sky I would share my results when I received them. In the meantime, we’re okay using condoms.

I make sure Sky is still wet for me by teasing her slit with the tip of my cock, smearing the broad head of it against her clit. She moans loudly and I push just the tip of me into her. Stretching her. My cock throbs with the anticipation of being buried in her. She is so tight. I love making love to her, and I don’t think I will ever tire of fucking her. She is responsive and likes it a little rough—my personal preference—so I might be good for the duration. I slow my movements, almost to stopping, at that thought.

“What’s wrong?” Sky pulls her lips away, nipping my bottom lip with her teeth in the process. She squeezes me with her pelvic muscles as if to prevent me from moving away.

My cock throbs with the need to be buried in her, despite my thoughts taking some weird segue as I’m fucking her.

“Nothing.” I begin to move again in earnest.

She meets me thrust for thrust, rolling her body the way I like, working me deeper and deeper into her snug, wet, tightness.

She begins to tremble beneath me, and I know she’s almost there. I arch my back filling her yet further. I reach between us to circle her clit with my fingers—to bring her release closer to my own.

I continue to move in a staccato fashion.

“Come with me, Sky.” My voice is guttural, frantic. I speed up yet again.

“Oh—fuck—yes!” Sky screams her orgasm.

She falls apart beneath me, gripping the sheets. The look of raw unadulterated pleasure lingers on her face.

“Brody—” she gasps and her body writhes.

“Shit, Sky. I’m with you, baby, I’m oh
fuck
…”

My blood is like fire and my muscles contract and quiver. My orgasm rips through me the same way it has done every time I’m with Sky.

Sky milks me, grabbing my ass and rolling her hot body beneath me.

The aftershocks hit me like mini earthquakes.

I pull out of her slowly and collapse by her side when the earthquakes finally stop.

“You
are
a rock star,” she says. This strikes me as funny as hell, then Sky laughs too, and I roll off the bed to find the wastebasket.

I quickly discard the condom so I can get back into bed with her. I gather her slippery body against me and kiss her. We lay on our sides. I’m unable to make my muscles work right just yet, and I imagine she feels the same.

“Jesus, Sky. Is it always going to be like this? I came so hard my cock hurts.”

She giggles and curls into me and presses her lips to my throat. “Wait, let me catch my breath. Do you feel how fast my heart is beating?”

I touch her neck near her carotid. “Whoa, girl. Slow it down. Deep breaths.”

She takes a few deep breaths and giggles again. Her heaving chest slows. “I’m at a loss for words for how good it’s been for us. Connor never…”

I can tell by the rapid change in her skin temperature, she’s likely blushing. “Connor was an asshole,” I finish.

She laughs outright. “Yes, he was.”

“You’re an incredible lover, Sky. Don’t let Connor, or anyone else—even me—try to tell you anything different.”

I don’t just think she needs that boost of confidence. I really fucking mean that she’s incredible.

I feel contentment in the quiet aftermath of our lovemaking. We’re holding each other, breathing in tandem, heartbeats syncing up like metronomes.

And I am scared shitless for what this all may mean.