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Authors: Stevie J. Cole

Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2) (24 page)

BOOK: Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2)
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I kissed her, placing my mouth possessively over hers. I gripped the back of her head in my palms and forced her lips against mine as hard as I could. Honestly, I couldn’t kiss her hard enough.

Jules started to lift my shirt up, and I quickly tore it over my head as she unfastened my pants and shoved them down.

Every inch of her flesh rolling under my fingers felt like the sweetest form of torture. It was warm, supple, and all mine. I knew that from now on, she would belong to me, and I relished in that thought. When you find someone that you can’t get out of your head, when you find that person that makes all other aspirations in your life seem meaningless, you can’t let them get away.

Pulling her face to mine, I kissed her, my tongue swiping over hers before I moved away to whisper, “I’ve missed you.”

Her nostrils flared and her eyes watered up. “I missed you.”

I walked her back toward James’ bed, slowly pushing the straps of her bra down before unhooking it and freeing her perfect breasts. “Don’t make me miss you again, okay?”

All she did was shake her head and grab each side of my face with her soft palms, forcing my mouth back against hers, mumbling, “Never,” into my mouth as she fell back onto the bed, dragging me down with her.

Her nails scratched down my neck, my shoulders and back, snaking around to my dick and grabbing it. Leaning over her, I stared down into her eyes, and I could see her let go.

I swallowed, then kissed my way down her neck, my tongue taking in the slight saltiness of her skin. My mouth worked its way down to one breast, circling around her tight nipple before pulling it between my teeth. My hand roamed over her body, palming her other breast before skirting down her sides, over the dip of her hip, and sinking between her thighs. I didn’t touch her, only skimmed over her delicate, hot flesh. Her breath caught and I couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh.

“You knew you were mine, huh?”

She didn’t say anything, just turned her head to the side as my hand palmed between her legs. “Jules”—I moved my lips to her ear, purposefully breathing into it—“you know you belong with me.”

Her hands slapped against my back and her nails dug into my flesh as she pulled her legs up and wrapped them around my waist. “Why are you asking me a question you know the answer to?”

I didn’t intend to fuck her at that moment—I wanted to taste her, I wanted to torture her—but instinct took over and I pushed my dick into her.

That feeling—the way she felt surrounding me, pulling me into her—was unlike any other sexual experience I’d ever had. The second I filled her, I opened my eyes and watched her head tilt back and her lips part just enough for a heavy breath to pant through that small slit. Her hands dug into my skin, her legs fell to the sides, and the small of her back lifted from the bed.

I stopped to push just a little harder into her and just admire her like that: naked, vulnerable, completely mine. At that moment, there was nothing else besides her.

Allowing my eyes to shut, my hands gripped her hips and pulled her down on me, and I just held myself there.

On my way to that room I’d imagined fucking her like a savage; I’d intended to break things, but this, the way this felt was too good. Sex, fucking…that wasn’t what I needed, or what I wanted. I wanted love. With her. Like this.

I needed it and I craved it, and she made me feel it.

There is no word to describe the way that moment felt, aside from “spiritual.” I moved, slow and deliberate, taking in every single moment, each movement, each inch of her body. I appreciated the way she made me feel, the void she filled; I finally acknowledged love.

Leaning over her, I kissed her, pushing my cock into her. “I love you,” I panted.

“I love you, too.”

And then I lost it. Something inside of me clicked and I thrust into her. Her body slid across the sheets and a loud moan ruptured from her, her back arching and her breasts rising into the air. I grabbed at her, my hands all over her; hers were all over me, scratching, squeezing.

By the time we were done, I was weak and I doubted that she would be able to walk out of that room without people knowing she’d been ruined by love.

I was done caring. She was done caring. Because, really, we’d both realized that the only thing that mattered was each other. Fame, that’s not essential. It didn’t make me a better person, it didn’t really make me happier…but she did.

Before I let her leave that room, I made her believe that I would never leave her, and that sick rock star part of me wants to say that I finally fucked some sense into her.

*****

I walked into my bathroom. Jules was putting on her makeup, blending that bronzer crap all over her cheeks. I looked at my reflection, roughly combing my fingers through my messy hair.

“So,” she said, tossing her powder puffer thing down on the counter, a dust of brown powder shaking out onto the white marble counter. “You’re gonna tell James?”

I nodded. “Yep. Can’t fucking wait.”

“It’s so sick that Asher was giving him head. No wonder he insisted we sign them. He’s such a manipulative asshole.”

I thought back over the past six years and how much shit he had done. I thought about how he did everything to help himself and nothing to help us, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, one day someone’s gonna beat the shit outta him.”

Jules pulled me to her, kissing me gently. “You’ve already done that twice.”

“Not good enough, though.”

She walked toward the closet and disappeared inside it. “You know, I think it’s absolutely disgusting that you have more clothes than me. And they all look the same. I mean”—she popped her head out, holding one of my shirts up against her body—“how many black v-necks do you need?”

“They’re all a little different.”

“Uh-huh.” She ducked back inside, and I heard her rummaging around.

I made my way to the closet and found her at the far end, sorting through her clothes.

“You know, if I’m really moving in here, you’re gonna have to get rid of some of this shit so I’ll have room for my clothes.”

I glanced around the ridiculously over-sized closet. Now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure it was the size my high school bedroom had been. Running my hand along some of the shirts hung neatly on the wooden shelving, I suggested, “That, or I could just renovate and expand the closet so you’d have more room.”

She turned to me and rolled her eyes. “I don’t have that many clothes.”

“You will. I think it’s a requirement if you’re gonna be a rocker wife.”

Shit. Did that just slip out? I’m such a fucking tool.

“What?” One of Jules’ eyes twitched.

“I mean, I’m just saying eventually, you know. You’re moving in and all. I guess
eventually
we’ll get married. That’s what people do, you know?”

She giggled. “Yeah, Rush. That
is
what people do.” She shook her head. “You surprise me more and more.”

My eyes dropped down to my row of shoes, and I anxiously rubbed my hand over my arm. “Hey, not like I’m gonna ask you anytime soon or anything. I figure I’ll knock you up first, you know, stay true to the rock star code of conduct.”

I kept wanting to shove her away from my Prada boot, because there was a box I’d forced down in one of them housing a pretty expensive 4-carat diamond ring. I didn’t know where else to put it. I figured my smelly-ass boots were the safest place.

I knew I wouldn’t propose to her for a while, but when I’d found that ring, I just had to get it. It gave me a sense of security to know that whenever I felt it, I could just drop to my knee and ask her.

“Uh-huh,” she said, tugging a dress from a hanger and slipping it over her head. “Well, after you talk to James, you may not be a rock star anymore.”

I shrugged. “You gonna get outta the closet?”

She narrowed her eyes on me as she walked past me back into the bathroom. “So, dinner, in public, as a couple, after you talk to James?”

I smiled and nodded. “Yep.” I approached her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her to me. “And you know,” I kissed her, “that I’m gonna shove my tongue down your throat for as many pictures as I can?” I pressed my lips over hers harder, rubbing my hands up her back.

“That a fact?” she whispered behind a soft grin.

“Yep, probably cop a feel in a few of ‘em too. Just don’t want any question that I’m taken, you know?”

“Mm-hmm.”

I left her in my house to finish getting ready, more than excited to be telling James to fucking suck my dick.

*****

James tapped his manicured nails over his desk, staring at me. “What did you need?” Reaching behind him, he twisted the blinds to shut out the sunlight shining across his desk.

“Well, obviously not head as bad as you do.”

“What?” His lip snarled up to the side.

“Asher. You can fuck your clients, but Jules can’t? That’s fucked up.”

He laughed. “My fucking someone helps them, gets them a deal; your fucking Jules will just make her want to quit when you fuck her over. I can’t lose her, she’s a damn good manager.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m fucking her. I love her. And you can either deal with it, or fire her. Doesn’t matter.”

“Really?”

I smirked. “Yeah, really.”

James’ face remained stoic, cold, unaffected by my comment, which floored me. I’d expected him to fly off the handle, but he just sat there, slowly folding his hands and tapping his finger over his knuckles. “Okay, fair enough.”

I shook my head, closing my eyes in disbelief.

“And I’m not gonna fire her.”

I swallowed, wondering what the hell he was about to say, because there was no way James was just going to accept this.

“After all, you’re
just
the bassist. I mean, girls like you, but, let’s be honest, you’re no Jag Steele.”

My pulse sped up, shooting that hot tingling sensation over my extremities. I had prepared myself for the worst case scenario, and although I was fine with giving this life up, although I had enough money to last five people the rest of their lives, the sudden reality of giving up fame hit me hard. Jules was worth it, but it still terrified me.

He cleared his throat, one brow quirking up menacingly. “Jag is the only one that really matters, he’s the one who makes the band. He
is
Pandemic Sorrow. We’ll just make sure that when Roxy is out of the picture, he doesn’t fuck up again.”

I felt every muscle in my face give out. “What?” I huffed.

He shrugged. His face was calm and pleased and smug all at the same time. “I own you boys. Don’t know how many times I have to tell you that before you’ll believe it.”

“You’re a fucking sick piece of shit.”

He laughed, folding his arms behind his head and cupping the base of his skull as he leaned back in his leather chair. “I’m successful. In this industry you have to fuck people, cut people, and sometimes ruin people to make it. I am not a failure, and I refuse to be one.”

My skin heated. My nostrils flared like a stampeding bull. The vein running across my temple throbbed from the surge of blood forcing its way through my arteries.

James rose from his chair, his fists clenching at his sides. “You gonna try to beat my ass again? Because I’m ready for you this time.”

I pushed the chair out and stood up, glaring at him and shaking my head. “You’re not worth it. And you can’t tear them apart. Jag would never let that happen.”

“Jag’s weak. He’s a bitch for fame,” James chuckled.

All I could do was leave. I left his office pissed and worried.

*****

“You would pick one of the most crowded areas, wouldn’t you?” Jules asked as we crossed the street.

“Yep.”

I put my arm around her, holding her snuggly against my side.

“So, what did Jag say about James?” she asked.

“Oh, he said he wasn’t worried. He thinks James is all talk, and besides, they’re having a baby. Jag isn’t stupid, he loves her. James can’t do anything to fuck that up.”

Jules shrugged a shoulder. “I hope not. James is pretty much the devil though, so I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”

“Jag would murder him,” I said with a chuckle. “Jag was actually more shocked about
us
than James.”

“So it seems a lot of people are.”

The sidewalk was littered with people out for the night. There was a long line curling around the corner of a club that I was on the VIP list for. Everyone in that line was dressed up, hoping to get in, and all I would’ve had to do was walk up to the front.

The wind blew, bringing the scent of exhaust over with it. I leaned over and kissed Jules. “Man, that’s so nice. Just being able to kiss you wherever I want.”

She giggled and grabbed my face, bringing my lips to hers for another kiss. I had to stop and grab her, forcing the kiss into a passionate make-out session right in the middle of the sidewalk just because I could.

BOOK: Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2)
12.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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