Heavy Metal Heart (6 page)

A long pause. Then his mouth again covered her pussy. She called out. Her voice soaked into the bed and echoed off the windows. The flat of his tongue rubbed slow over her clit. And she broke apart.

The climax shook through her. All the tension released. She clutched the blanket, dragging it to collect around her. Her body bucked, while he stayed strong against her. She ground her hips, moving her pearl against him for every last bit of the orgasm.

Gasping, twisting, shaking. Breath brought her back together. She opened her eyes. The ceiling was paneled in black-lacquered wood. Trevor pulled away and filled her vision. His grin gave her aftershocks.

His kiss was laced with her sex. More aftershocks.

He moved back, standing again at the foot of the bed. “Tastes good, doesn’t it? Like a storm at sea.”

Words were elusive. She tried to collect them. “You’re...some kind of magic.”

A look of surprise flashed across his face. “You know?”

“Making me come like that...” And still her body wanted more. She writhed on the bed. “What other tricks do you have?”

The dark of his eyes went on forever. “No tricks.”

She gestured him toward her. If she had shattered, then she had been rebuilt clean. None of the extra pieces and rust that had collected over the years. New. And ready to discover more. “Then give me the real you.”

* * *

How much did she want? The real him was moss-covered stone, sea spray, ancient oak, the festival fire. Cloven hooves and the horns of a demon. But did she know? Misty might not even recognize the glimmers of magic within her. There must be some sort of sorcery. It was the only explanation for how his hunger grew the more he tasted her. Every touch and lick increased his need. If the legend of the Muse was real, he would gladly spend an eternity of hunger and feasting with her.

If
it was real. As real as him. Whichever part he revealed. There were still no answers. She had her secrets too. Sorceress or Muse. Too many questions clouded the night. Hunger for her gnawed at him. Let her kill him. Let her bring him life forever. It had to happen now.

He trailed his fingers down her leg, then strode away from the bed. As quick as he could, he retrieved a condom from his wallet and put it on. Returning, he found her lithe body stretched out over the rumpled sheets. That beautiful mouth that had welcomed his cock smiled devilishly. He still felt the force of her as she came with his tongue against her. To be inside her, wrapped completely in her flesh, would that end this hunger?

No more questions. He died to have her.

Her sleek legs parted. He took her ankles in his hands and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. She bit her lower lip and flashed her own thirst in her eyes. With the backs of her legs against his chest, he eased his cock along her folds. Not entering her, but soaking up her heat. Collecting her moisture, drawing it along her slick pussy.

She moaned, writhing. Reaching down, she guided him to slide harder against her clit. Each push forward, she arched her back. Breath raced faster through her. His own pace increased. The song he’d started earlier was true. Her body would crush him. Her skin would turn him to steam.

It was welcome destruction. He pulled back and lined up his head with her opening. They both paused. Held breath.

He sank into her. Her heat surrounded him. Deeper. Until he was at the base of his shaft. He was lost in her. Tight. Yielding and strong. Amazing to look down and see himself disappear into her body. Her hand rested on her lower belly. Her breasts rose and fell with her breath. Her gaze remained on his face.

She understood his hunger. It was in her look. The smallest grind of her hips asked for more. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

Drawing out, thrusting forward. Harder. Gripping her ankles. Feeling her flesh against him. Hearing her pleasure.

His own song lyrics echoed back to him.

Feeling the disappear

Inside you

Hair fanned out around her head in a dark red halo. Clever and long, her fingers rubbed against her clit as he took her. He let go of one of her ankles. She hooked her leg around his hip, urging him faster and deeper. Adding his thumb to her fingers, they both ground against her wet pearl.

His hunger turned. For the first time, he fed from one person. He drew more power from her louder cries of ecstasy than any raging audience. And her heat and energy and strength. In all his years, he’d never known sustenance like her. Everything he’d experienced was stripped away. Years of memory seemed so distant. The power of the crowd dimmed. Their swirling elements were no match for the charge Misty sent through him. One person to another. The electricity held in a singular gaze. His eyes on hers. Or the waves of energy that pulsed from her body into his. They were joined together, the force ebbing and flowing between them. He’d never seen anything like this shimmering light. Gold and red, with shining black veins. It was a new life. Shared only between him and Misty.

His breath caught. He wasn’t dreaming, or caught in a fantasy. He had never felt so alive. His limbs burned with the new essence as his mind burned with the truth.

She was the Muse.

His
. Only his. Wrapped around him. Moaning and grinding and racing toward another climax.

“Come,” he told her. “With me in you. Give it all to me and I’ll give you everything.”

She let her voice go. It swirled through the room like a storm, pushing the glowing power in waves. He breathed it in, feeding, feeling the life as the red-and-gold light washed through him. And he felt the life of her body as she bucked, coming. The orgasm shook her. He slowed his thrusts so she could savor it. After a series of racing heartbeats, she moved her hand from her clit and scratched at his belly.

“Give me,” she whispered.

If they were to crash together, he needed more force. Together, they might knock the walls down, but it would be worth it. He withdrew and crawled onto the bed, gathering her in his arms. She was soft and strong against him. Her nails raked his back as he took the two of them to the head of the bed. He set her down and turned her back to him. With his hands on hers, he made her grip the curved wood headboard.

Kneeling, she looked back at him. More priestess than sacrifice. He ran his hands over her smooth ass. She spread her legs a bit, opening herself to him. Standing behind her, he leaned so his hands gripped next to hers.

“Hold on.”

A toss of her head brushed the hair away from her neck. He kissed her there, bit the flesh. Her small moan of approval was inspiration enough. More energy flowed between them. Vague inspirations through the years were now real. Better than any dream, Misty was flesh and muscle and breath. Crouching a little lower, he brought his cock to her. Heat guided him. Then her wetness wrapped around his shaft and drew him inside.

Control slipped away. They shook the bed. He thrust in and out. She pushed back to meet him. The hunger rose all over again, driving him deeper. The only answer was there, beneath him, around him.

It was Misty. His Muse. Harder and harder. Sweat on their bodies. Their cries filling the room.

His climax built, then crashed into him. He shook, frozen deep inside her. Wave after wave racked his body as he spent. She stayed still, arms braced against the headboard, pushed against him.

“Yes, yes, yes...” spilled from her lips and danced into the room like stones from a broken necklace.

Energy pulsed from her body. The shining black veins in the light struck like electricity through his own blood. He fed on it, learning new hunger. New heights of power. He could shape mountains with his songs, carving valleys and forcing peaks into the air.

Hot heartbeats slowed, replaced by a deep glow. Slowly, he pulled out of her. He shucked the condom, throwing it on the floor. They curled down onto the scattered pillows. She lay on her side, him behind her.

They faced the window. The city still glittered. He’d watched its evolution, just like hundreds of other places across the globe. But in all that time, he hadn’t changed. Until this night. Because of this woman.

He kissed the back of her neck. She took a long breath, completely relaxed. His limbs were heavy too. The sex had thrown a thick blanket over both of them. But another energy burned in him. Inspiration. To learn more of Misty. And write her songs. Maybe to discover how the legend of the Muse was real when no one had seen it before.

Because it had to be real. If it wasn’t, and she could just slip out of his life, he would never find his voice again, withering to die.

* * *

The more she thought about it, the crazier the night seemed. No one would believe it. Kim would call bullshit if she tried to tell her she lay in a hotel bed with Trevor Sand high above Los Angeles. Misty could hardly wrap her mind around it. The more she tried to put all the pieces together, the more it all slipped from her fingers.

So she let her mind go, staying in her body. She’d never had sex so intense. Raw power. Total abandon. Was it because of trust? A real connection with the man who had once been just a rock star? Her breath had finally returned. The racing pulse had slowed. Each heartbeat pushed a satisfying throb in her pussy. How many orgasms? Math eluded her. All she knew was how calm her body sank into the pillows and twisted sheets.

With Trevor behind her, his arms surrounded her. Could she feel his tattoos? She ran her hand along his forearm, but couldn’t detect the shapes on the skin. It was too dark to see them. Night still covered the city outside. What the hell time was it, anyway? It had been at least two lifetimes since she last slept. The sun could rise any second for all she knew. And the spell would be broken, sending her back to the real world.

“Are you a priestess?” His voice rasped, hoarse from a night of performing and sex growls.

She laughed. “Just a girl from KC, came out to LA to work in Hollywood. Another ordinary tale of big dreams and disillusionment.”

His lips moved against her shoulder as he spoke. “Nothing ordinary about you, Misty.”

Maybe the spell was already breaking. If she could just stop thinking, she could hold on to the impossible night. But who was she to ever stop thinking? “I bet you tell—”

“Not any.”

Thankfully, he cut her off. She didn’t even want to say it. Not when she still glowed from the sex and wanted to hold on to the fantasy that something real had just happened.

He slipped his hand around hers, lacing their fingers. “You don’t have to worry about anything like that. Not anymore. This changes so much. Knowing you’re real...changes everything.”

“I’ve been real as long as I can remember.”

“But not for me.” His intensity grew. “Remember what you said earlier?”

“Don’t actually remember much talking.”

He laughed a little, then took a long breath.

“You were right, I
have
been writing songs about you.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “For longer than you know, Geen Eyes. Not that I knew you. It took years of fantasy, of waiting. You were on the way, though. And now you’re here.”

“How can you think and talk so much after...” What was the best way to describe it? “Fucking like a god.”

“I’m inspired.” He placed a kiss, then a bite on her neck. “By you.” The energy that had been growing in him suddenly stopped. His body was absolutely still. Grave and reverent, he confessed, “You’re my muse.”

A fantasy she wanted to believe. But she wasn’t so swept up by his passion and his sex that she’d be taken for a fool. “You already got me in bed, you don’t need a line.”

“I thought you understood. The legend. The fate.” He was no longer still, His breath came fast. Was he on something? His limbs nearly shook behind her. “You felt it. You had to.”

“I felt a lot of things. But I don’t know if it was the same—”

“Red and gold. And the black veins, like a leafless tree after a rain. But it’s not the wood that we know. It was blood. Ours.”

Now he sounded crazy. The lush afterglow of the sex turned bitter. The connection she’d felt with Trevor, starting with the song, thinned to brittle plastic. She didn’t want to feel cheap. Was it fake? Was she just part of the show? The realness of everything she’d experienced started to slip through her fingers. Shame and anger began to burn.

“Maybe you could write that into your next song.” She tried to keep her voice even, counterpoint to his building energy. “But we could just lie here and you could talk to me normally.”

“Normal? We’ve lost normal now.” He tightened his hand around hers. “You, you’re not human anymore. The elements are in you. Like me. I can feel it. You have to feel it.”

There was nothing to salvage. It had all rusted away. Maybe she could hide in her old life and forget this happened. It didn’t seem possible. But she couldn’t stay here after it had shattered. She moved out of his fingers, slid out from his arms and off the bed. Dammit, she had to take off her shoes before she could get her pants back on. She struggled with the buckles as she collected her clothes. Trevor sat up on the bed, watching her with shock.

“You really didn’t know?” he demanded.

“I know that I’m just going to edit this part out.” Shoes off, she got her jeans on. The panties were too bunched to be comfortable, so they went in the back pocket. “We’ll roll credits while we’re still in bed, but before the talking.” Bra and top fell into place. The fabric was cold and stale. Shoes back on. A return to the real world. Far too real.

“Misty, you have to listen to me.”

After this, she wondered if she could ever listen to his music again. He was crazy, or drugged. Or he thought her so feeble minded that he could use his bizarre poetry to keep her in bed. Either way, the betrayal was a cold slap. Getting out of this room was one thing, it wasn’t feeling safe. But it broke her heart that from now on his music would take her right back to this moment.

He continued. “I’m not what you think I am. Few know. I’m only telling you because you changed everything.”

“For a guy who’s so good with poetry, you’re laying it on a little thick.” Fuck, things had fallen apart fast. She wanted to cry. Or punch him. Just a shower and her own apartment would be some kind of sanity. “Save it for your groupies.” Saying the word covered her in a cheap sweat. “Because I’m not a damn groupie. I’m... This was...”