Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) (11 page)

“I think that’s what the public will like
about it, honestly,” Daniel speaks up. He shrugs his wide
shoulders. “What if we let the audience vote on what song we sing
and it ends each episode? Or we can just wing it from an approved
copyright list. How are we going to be judging these kids if we
can’t do it ourselves, is my thinking.”

Shit, that was a good point. My eyes scan the
room and see several people nodding their heads and taking
notes.

“Alright, we’ll get back to you on that.
Thank you for your input. Now let’s move on to the dress code…”

An eternity later, we’re released for the
day. I stand and raise my arms over my head to stretch. Eight hours
going over each twist and turn of the show was so draining all I
want is a bed.

Why in the hell did I think heels would be a
good idea today? I wasn’t even on my feet and they hurt like I
tried to run a mile. I force myself not to limp and make my way
down the hall to the elevators.

“I noticed Natasha wasn’t there today.” I
hear rumbling behind me. Stalking, more like. I can’t help but
smile and look over my shoulder.

“Nope.”

“Do you think they know about the fact that
you signed an amendment to the contract, and she signed off on it
before this meeting today?”

I step into the elevator and press the down
button before looking at Batty. “Nope.”

Batty steps onto the elevator with me, and
about eight other people. I stand facing forward, while he leans
against the side of the car. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he
smirks, showing me a shallow dimple. God, those are the best. His
eyes sparkle, and track my movements when I swallow. Is it fucking
hot in here?

“Hey, Brennick, do you want to go to dinner
with us? The team needs to rehash a few things,” one of the women
in our group offers, sidling up next to him and leaning on his
arm.

Batty blinks, tearing his eyes away from me.
“No, thank you. I have a plane to catch.”

I’m both relieved that he’s not going out
with them, or specifically the woman trying to bat her eyes like
she wants to take off into flight, and disappointed that our little
showdown doesn’t have an opportunity to escalate.

When the doors finally open, Batty somehow
manages to get behind me as we exit. I feel his hand on the small
of my back and somehow feel reassured. So stupid.

“Where are you parked?” he asks as we exit
the building. I look over at his three piece suit and the same
thought runs through my head, the one I’ve been thinking all. Day.
Long. I want to grab him by that tie and yank him down to me. I
want to tear open his expensive shirt and hear the buttons pinging
on the floor. I blink. What did he ask?

“My car,” I mumble. “I had to park a few
blocks away. Not all of us have designated spots wherever we
go.

“I’ll drive you,” he says simply, grabbing my
arm and pulling me toward his black car.

“Oh, no it’s right over—” the door shutting
cuts off my protest. Damn he moves fast. “There,” I tell the
interior.

Batty starts the car with a roar that has
several heads turning on the street, whipping into traffic without
looking first. I press my thighs together as the vibration of the
powerful engine gets me hotter. Holy fuck. He turns a corner and I
want to yell at him to run the red light so that I can get off.

I thought Batty in a cape and mask made me
hot, but seeing him in a suit causes flashbacks of him bending me
over the conference table. Spending hours in his presence hasn’t
dulled the effect at all. Instead, every shift of his weight, every
tap of his fingers had me in hyperdrive the whole day. I probably
won’t be able to make it home without taking the edge off.

I arch my back as subtlety as possible to get
contact where I need it.

“Fuck,” Batty rumbles quietly, before gunning
the engine. My mouth drops open on a gasp and my eyes fall closed.
I’m about to get off all over his leather seats.

Suddenly the car tilts and my hands fly out
to catch myself. I open my eyes to see brick on either side of the
car and Batty yanking the emergency break. He pops my seatbelt and
yanks on the button of my jeans so hard that my hips lift.

My eyes jump to his face, those grey eyes
watching me as he bites his lip. I want to bite that lip. Why did
he beat me to it? Batty doesn’t even try to push my pants down,
just shoves his hand inside and straight into me. My hand grips the
doorframe and I spread my legs to give him better access.

“You think I don’t know how fucking hot you
are? If they wouldn’t have noticed you probably would have been
under the table sucking me off, wouldn’t you, baby?” he growls,
pressing his stubbled cheek against my forehead as I slide down the
seat to get more of his fingers. They’re moving, circling, plunging
hard, making me gasp and moan in the tiny space.

“Yes, yes, yes. I waited for you to go to the
bathroom but you didn’t. I was going to do it then,” I pant,
yanking his tie like I wanted to and biting that lip when it gets
close enough.

“AH,” he groans, yanking his hand hard while
he curls his fingers inside of me. I shriek and start shaking. I
have to let go of his tie to dig my nails into the forearm that’s
attached to those magic fingers.

“You think you were fooling anyone trying to
get off in my car? You think I would
let
you get off in my
car with me sitting right here?”

I lick my lips and stare at Batty’s mouth, so
close to an orgasm I can feel it starting in my toes. Why do we
always have to talk during sex?

“God, I’m so close. Shut the fuck up,” I
demand.

He smirks an inch from my face as I moan. “If
you want to come, fucking tell me. I’m right fucking here, and I’m
ten times better than anything else you’ll ever get.”

“Shut up shut up shut up,” I mumble, pushing
my head back in the seat and grinding my core into his hand.

“What do you want, Sadie?” he whispers
against my mouth, brushing my lips with his words as his hand rocks
me back and forth.

“I want to come. Harder, harder. It’s been
such a long day.”

He flattens his hand against my clit, curling
his fingers at just the right spot and my hand flies to the window
as my world explodes. My head jerks back, and Batty latches onto my
throat and bites the tendon there, sending more shocks through my
system.

After I stop convulsing, I sink into the
seat, and it’s the best fucking seat I’ve ever sat in, ever. I
swallow, trying to catch my breath, but open my eyes when something
touches my lips. Batty is pressing his glistening fingers to my
mouth, so I lock eyes with him as I open them and swirl my tongue
around and between, licking him clean. His breath hitches and I
clench at the sound, realizing we’re not done yet.

I take him by that tie that’s skewed now and
push him as hard as I can against his seat. He raises his eyebrows
and sits back to watch as I take off my boots and slide one leg of
my pants off. Batty is quick to catch on, sliding his seat back as
far as the two-seater will go—which isn’t a whole hell of a lot—and
pulls out his wallet. I climb into his seat before he’s done and he
throws the wallet into the vacated one.

I watch his pulse as he takes
for-fucking-ever to get the thing out, like there’s no rush. But I
see that little beat under his jaw, tapping hard against the tender
skin. I yank his belt, causing him to grunt and look back at me.
That’s better. I want him to remember me every time he gets in this
car. No matter who gets into this car, no matter where he goes,
he’ll remember this day before I’m done.

When he slides into my hand, all hard steel
and silk, I grip him and squeeze the top, hard.

“Fuck, Sadie.” His hands fumble with the
wrapper so I take it away. He’s taking too long. Ripping it with my
teeth, I keep my grip firm as I slide it down his length. As soon
as he’s properly covered I rise to bring him where he belongs. I
want him to wear me like this, like his own personal cock suit so
that no bitches ever think they have a chance.

With my foot in the passenger seat, and a
knee beside Batty’s thigh, I wiggle my hips to get some friction
before I start moving. Tingles shoot up my spine and I shiver.
Batty pulls at my waist, arching my back as I resist to stay
upright. I want to see his face as I blow his mind. He yanks my
shirt down and latches onto my nipple.

“Oh my God,” I yell, finally moving forward
then back. He lets me go with a pop and I move into him, craving
more.

“There’s my girl. Take it all, baby.”

I expel a breath. God, I love his mouth. I
love his dick. I love . . . no. I growl my thoughts and rise above
him to slam back down.

Now it’s his turn. His breath singes my bare
chest, so I do it again. And again. The horn blares, the car shakes
and I don’t stop. His hands claw at my ass, leaving welts, I know.
I don’t fucking care. I beg him with my body to give me everything
he has. Everything he feels. Everything he needs.

I slam my body onto his as hard as I can, and
still he asks for more, so I try to give it. The windows are
fogged, my head is bruised from hitting the roof but I don’t stop
until I can’t control my movements anymore, because I’m blasting
through everything, locking onto him in a vise he can’t escape.

But he doesn’t want to. No, he grips my hips
hard, leaving bruises I won’t soon be forgetting, until he’s empty
and I’m seeing stars in daylight.

We pant, sucking in each other’s gasps until
all of the windows are too fogged up to see through, from any
angle. My thighs shake as I shift off of him. He grips the condom
with a spent hand, making sure to keep it on as I move into the
seat next. I slowly find my pants, which are only hanging on by an
ankle, and fight them to turn until they’re on again, some minutes
later.

Batty settles himself simply and much faster
than I do, pulling up his pants, throwing the condom in the dirty
alley then redoing his belt. He waits patiently, but I suddenly
feel rushed. He watches me. Is he judging? I shove my feet into my
boots and zip them up in triumph. He silently starts the car and
backs into traffic quickly.

When he pulls into the spot behind my car, I
grab the handle like a lifeline.

“See you Sunday.”

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.

BATTY-

Did she really think I wouldn’t notice her
rubbing all over my seats? This day has been the longest of my
fucking life, having to sit across from her and watch those green
eyes eat me alive. I didn’t leave the room on purpose, because I
know for a fact that if Sadie had followed me our ruse would be up.
Sadie can scream her empty house down, a corporate bathroom didn’t
stand a fucking chance.

I take a deep breath and smirk. Gun my car
into traffic. Who needs the new car smell when sex is an
option?

I visit my shrink. I organize things with
Jacque. I go fucking stir crazy until the show is supposed to come
to my house. I look around, but there’s nothing to organize. I
don’t
have
anything.

The production crew installs their cameras
and select laptops, lighting, and hide their electronic wires in my
spartan abode. Finally, the door rings.

“Sadie, love!” Fandy holds out his arms for a
hug and I give it.

“Fandy, thanks for the booze,” I say,
grabbing the whiskey from his hands. He laughs.

“Anything for you, baby doll.” He’s in
pajamas, like I am. It’s part of the script. We’re supposed to look
over the YouTube videos, like it’s a slumber party or some
shit.

The door rings. I let in a giant and a pack
of Bud. Danny’s pat on the back almost has me exiting my own
house.

“Are we ready to do this?” I ask. They both
take a bite of the pizza I had delivered and mumble their
assent.

I settle on the couch between them with my
own beer and press play.

The first isn’t so bad. We save it and go to
the second. By the fifteenth we’re all chugging our drinks.

“Do they all have to sing that song? Come on,
there’s classics here,” Danny murmurs.

I click on the next.

“They might be good if they didn’t use the
same song,” Fandy decries.

“Let’s see what this one has,” I say with
false enthusiasm.

As soon as it starts the boys groan and I
roll my eyes. “Come on, guys. It’s a good song.”

“But can no one make it their own?” Daniel
cries from the sofa.

“Give it a chance!” I yell as the same melody
comes through the surround sound and we all groan.

“It’s a mockery of the original,” Fandy yells
and covers his ears.

“Only if they can’t sing it. Most of these
people can’t. Maybe they could pull off something if it was their
own, instead of the same,” I admit. I love this song, but after
sixty-two times of the same exact rendition with only a few that
could pull it off, it did suck.

We are all frustrated, but I imagine this is
what happened to everyone on a reality singing competition before
us.

“If I did it, it wouldn’t sound like a
soundtrack,” Fandy mumbled into his beer. I put down my pizza and
dust my fingers off.

“How would it sound, Fandy?” I prompt. He
looks around the room, licking his lips before bounding off of the
couch and jumping over the back to get to the kitchen. Daniel and I
watch as Fandy opens drawers until he finds the silverware. Daniel
moves to my dining room to gesture toward the guitar on the
wall.

“May I?” I nod, so he takes it down.

When the boys were back on the couch on
either side of me, I curl a foot beneath me and watch them set up a
rhythm. Even if they didn’t know the song before tonight, after so
many times, they definitely picked up the lyrics by now.

Fandy starts with his spoons and Daniel comes
in with the guitar. I slap my thighs for lack of anything better,
and we give it our all. The men provide my chorus and I go for
notes I wouldn’t have tried had I not just done it the weekend
prior. The whole time I’m thinking of the ice rink, thinking of
little Ella seeing this on TV in her room and the smile she would
have. At the end I blow a kiss and mouth Ella to the camera.