Flirting With Chaos (26 page)

“It’s kind of sad that you’re questioning why we’re in Atlanta first, instead of my clothes and makeup.”

“I’ve learned to roll with the punches when it comes to you. However, since the elephant in the room has been slammed on his back, legs spread open, and pumped in its anus with no mercy, why don’t you tell me why you’re wearing makeup.”

“Poor little elephant.” He winked at me.

My spirits lifted as I realized he was in a better mood. “Why
are
you wearing lipstick and eye shadow?”

He shook his head, bent over, picked up a bag, and set it next to me. “I’ve been working on a new song while you’ve been asleep. I finished it, and all of a sudden it hit me that Maestro, that rapper you love, would be great for a feature on the song.”

“Wow. Maestro is mega hot. Is the song sexy? You know he’s all about hot and steamy lyrics.”

“Yeah.” A naughty expression covered his face, one with a succulent smile and lust-glazed eyes. “The song is really sensual. It’s called ‘Apple.’”

I formed my mouth into a frown. “‘Apple?’”

He licked his lips. “Yes, and your moaning is all in the background.”

I covered my face. “Please say you’re joking.”

“No, but it’s sexy. Trust me. Think, ‘Pleasure Slave’ by Kings of Metal, but your moans replace the usual climb.”

I sat up and crawled out of bed. “Okay, first of all, I’ve never heard and will never hear a song called ‘Pleasure Slave.’ Second, I have no idea what a ‘climb’ is or why my moans have to be in your song.”

“A climb is the part of the song that differs from the regular verses and comes right before the chorus. It’s the part of the song that gets the people listening and excited because they know the chorus is coming up.” He dug his hands into the bag and pulled out a corset done in crimson pearls. “I bought this for you to wear to Maestro’s party.”

“You bought stuff. How long have I been asleep?”

“For close to eight hours.”

I rubbed my eyes with both of my hands. “Wait a minute. My moans are a climb in your song which apparently is the signaling to people that the chorus is coming?”

“Oh yes.” He winked at me again. “When people hear you coming, they know that the chorus is coming. Get it?”

Oh God.

“Jude, I want to hear the song before I give you my permission.”

“I don’t need your permission. I’m the reason why you’re screaming my name.”

“Oh my God.” I covered my head with the blanket.

He wrenched it back down and tossed me a wicked grin. “It’s true, but if you want royalties—”

“I don’t care about royalties. I’m more embarrassed that millions of people will hear me moaning in a song.”

“It’s not like all of those millions of people will recognize you as the one doing it.” He laughed and handed me the corset. “Okay, so we’ve been invited to Maestro’s video shoot for his song ‘Sex in the Dark.’ It’s being taped at a BDSM club, hence my get-up. I figured you would love to come since you read that stuff all the time.”

“Not all the time, just a few books.” I studied the corset. The entire thing was made with beads. I wasn’t even sure if it could be considered a true corset.

“Maestro said everybody will be in fun costumes. I’ll be doing a cameo on the video.” Jude offered me a pair of fishnet stockings and tiny shorts next. “Well, you know how I love to dress up. I figure we should just go crazy and be master and slave.”

I gestured to his doggy leash. “So, you’re my slave?”

“For tonight.”

“Hmm.” I tried not to grin, but it spread across my face anyway. “Do I get to whip you?”

“Only if you say please.”

“But if I was truly the master, I guess I wouldn’t have to say please.”

“You shouldn’t have to ask either, which shows that I’m truly the master in this relationship.” He took out a pair of ridiculously high-heeled leather boots and put them in front of me. “I went through your things for your clothing and shoe sizes. I didn’t want to wake you up, so sorry if you feel like an invasion of privacy happened. You just looked so sweet snoring under the covers.”

Rolling my eyes, I yanked off his shirt that I’d been sleeping in, and reached for the corset. “I’m cool with you going through my luggage. There wasn’t anything valuable or naughty in there. And it’s not like I’m adventurous with my panties and bras. They’re just plain cuts, styles, and solid colors.”

“That doesn’t really matter to guys. The fact that they’re panties makes most of us excited. Nevertheless, I didn’t stick any of your panties or bras in my pockets.”

“Funny.”

“I try.”

“Also—” he stood up and helped me with putting on my corset “—I was thinking we should probably discuss…us and this party. Due to the whole thing that happened earlier today.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Okay? You sound weird. What are you talking about now?”

He got behind me, fitted the corset around my whole upper body, and placed all of the back hooks in their slots so the top gently squeezed me in place. “Maestro rented the club for the night. After the video, he and I are going to talk about him doing a rap on the song. I may have him come back here and check it out, whatever. But afterward, I was thinking we could party in the club.”

“That’s fine with me. It’ll be as usual. You’ll do your thing, and somehow my little college girl brain will manage on my own. I am an adult, you know.” I tossed him one of his signature winks. “If you’re worried about me, then don’t be. I’ll probably dance all night and have a few drinks.”

A neutral mask spread over his face. Tension etched around his eyes. There was something still on his mind, something bothering him.

“What? I’m fine. I had no nightmares just now, and I’m not seeing any blood.” I put the fishnet stockings on. “There’s no need to hang around, nursing me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He still appeared uncomfortable.

“What now?”

“Well, you know how, generally, we go to a party together, dance, drink a little, and then after a while I do my own thing too, but in the end we always leave together?”

Do his own thing?

He rubbed his face and sighed. “Okay. You know how sometimes I—”

“Are you trying to say that you’ll probably be hooking up with other people?” I battled to keep the annoyance off of my face.

He formed his lips into a straight line and nodded.

Can’t he go a day or two without needing to sleep with other women? Well, who am I to judge. I was kissing his father earlier today.

My stomach bound into knots, but I didn’t let my feeling of unease show on my face. Hadn’t we just said earlier yesterday that we could do whatever we desired? If we wanted to have sex with each other, we could. If we yearned to make love to someone else, we could. We understood the limits now. It made so much sense and sounded so easy in that moment outside the studio. Now, I just felt like vomiting.

Jude is not mine. I am not his. We’ll be fine as long as I remember those two sentences.

“Maybe we should add more limits,” I offered.

“Okay.”

I took my time, figuring out what would be the things that I absolutely couldn’t deal with the most.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you going to have sex with people in this bed?” I pointed to it. “I’d feel icky about sleeping where other girls’ juices and stuff were. It would be insensitive and disgusting. In fact, if you are going to do it, then I’ll sleep in the front with T-Bone.”

“Hell no.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “The last thing I want to do is disrespect you. It’s why I needed to make a clear line between us days ago and not have sex with you at all. But I can’t, ’cause I love having sex with you.”

“You’re babbling. Just tell me. Sex with tramps in the same bed I’m sleeping in, or not?”

“Not. I’ll never bring a female here or anywhere around you. If I sleep with anybody tonight or any other night, it will be out of your view. Okay?”

“Fine.” I sucked my teeth and stepped into the tiny shorts. “And I feel the same way. I won’t bring any guys on the bus or anywhere near you. If I do sleep with or make out with anybody, it will be out of your view too.”

The muscle on his jaw twitched. “Sounds good. It’ll be safer for everybody involved if I don’t see another guy kissing you.”

Well, at least I’m not the only person that’s jealous in this situation.

“It may turn you on,” I joked and held in my laughter. “You may be into voyeurism.”

“I wouldn’t put that to the test, Rainy. Just your talking about kissing someone else is making me want to cover you up in a jogging suit and lock you inside.”

“That’s not happening.” I chewed the inside of my cheeks. A horrible thought slammed into my head. We’d had sex twice with no condom.

What the hell is wrong with me?

If anybody did a Google search for manwhore on their computer, articles about Jude’s conquests would show up. “You and I have to use condoms. If we ever have sex again, we must use them.”

He twisted his lips into an unusual expression. “How about I use condoms with other women like I’m already doing, but with you—”

“No.”

He gritted his teeth. “Rainy, it feels so damn good when I’m inside you without a—”

“No way.” I waved my hand. “I can just kick myself for not making sure we didn’t use them already.”

“I don’t have anything. I get checked once a month.”

“We’re still using them. We don’t need babies either. I might be on the pill, but that’s not always a hundred percent effective. And just because you haven’t caught anything yet doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“I always use condoms when I have sex.”

“You haven’t with me.”

“You’re bloody different.”

“We use condoms from now on.” I stepped to the mirror and studied myself. My hair had transformed from silky curls to a fuzzy mess.

“Is that it?”

“Yes,” I replied. “What about you? Do you have any more limits?”

“No. I’m good.” His gaze washed over me. “You look captivating, as usual. Are you almost ready?”

“Just give me an hour to get my hair and face together.”

He headed to the front of the bus and called back to me, “You’ve got thirty minutes at the most, then I’m returning here, picking you up, and carrying you into the club.”

“Oh, spare me.”

My makeup bag sat on the small dresser, not that the bag held a lot. My mom had bought most of the stuff, filled it herself, and provided instructions and “helpful” color suggestions. In the end, I’d ignored all of her suggestions and, to her horror, winged it. I’d smeared lipstick on my eyes if I didn’t have the color in eye shadows.

I never wore foundation or eyeliner. Personally, I applauded women who could apply a black line directly on their eyelid and not poke themselves in the eye. They were simply on another level than me. I’d stabbed myself in the eye so many times that I decided I would just never wear the stuff again.

What Jude had said earlier rushed into my mind. He claimed he didn’t want to disrespect me.

Good. I don’t fancy you disrespecting me either.

Yet, the problem remained that it could happen. One of us could be hurt in the future if we didn’t make sure to not cross any lines. Keeping his other females out of my view seemed to be the best solution for now. I hoped it would be enough.

This is just for the summer anyway. Then, when I go back to art school, things may change for the both of us. We’ll probably figure out that we’re not interested in sleeping with each other anymore.

I would try dating again if I met someone I liked. Jude, no doubt, would be touring all over the world, partying it up and sleeping with any women he could find.

This is just for the summer and then we’ll figure out a way to only be friends.

I centered all of my attention on my reflection. “He’s not mine and I’m not his.”

It’s such a simple concept. Let’s see if we can put that to the test. The mind is the creator of everything around me. What I choose to see, is what occurs.

Chapter 19

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G
EORGIA
P
OSSESSED
A D
IFFERENT
F
EEL
than Miami. It could have been all the hilly roads in the state—which had made me wonder what was on the other side of the hill as we’d ridden up—whereas Miami was spread out pretty flat everywhere. I always knew what was in front of me from miles away.

Lots of people strolled Atlanta’s streets, wearing clubwear. None of them had on flip-flops, miniskirts, or other things that were what I was used to seeing on South Beach.

Atlantans boasted a sleek style as they prowled around in leather and denim, dripping with exotic accessories and sporting hair styles that made me look twice and yearn to take a picture. The newness excited me. And a lot of the people I spotted were African American. I loved that part the most. Miami had a lot of Cubans, Jamaicans, Haitians, Bahamians, and tons of other people whose ancestors descended from the southern island countries under Florida. But a deeper African American culture existed in Atlanta. At times it didn’t seem like a big difference to me, being half Jamaican. We all had different tints to our skin which gave us a kinship as black people. However, when heritage and culture entered the mix, a divide definitely formed. I enjoyed exploring that divide whenever I could, especially when it came to the different types of art that stemmed from various ethnic groups.