Seduction by Song (13 page)

I’m almost too distracted to notice the luxurious nature of his dressing room—a huge mirror set on the vanity to our left and a wardrobe practically the size of my closet at home to our right. Then, behind him, was a gorgeous queen sized bed that the crew must have put there for rehearsals. It seemed like a second home to Romeo, and it was almost absurdly romantic for a dressing room—so intimate with its dark lighting that it didn’t feel like a semi-public location at all.

“Damn straight,” he mumbles against my skin, bringing me back to his mouth and his hands on my body. “This is slow, babe. Nice and slow and easy—just like the way you sing.”

I feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks again and let go of him only when I feel his hands pulling up at the hem of my shirt. Without needing to be asked, I lift my arms so he can pull it up over my head and drop it to the floor at our feet. He pulls me back the last few steps, kissing lower and lower, until we reach the bed.

With his hands curls possessively at my hips, Romeo sits himself down at the edge of the bed. His mouth leaves lines of heat streaking down my body as he continues following the bath of my skin with his mouth until he pauses at my belly, finally opening his mouth and licking a slow stripe over my bellybutton.

I groan, the sound of it almost embarrassingly loud to my ears.

“Strip,” he says, the simple word sending shivers shooting down my spine. His eyes are fixed on my bra, and I know exactly what he means by the command. Trying not to appear too over-eager, I take a deep breath and unhook my bra, letting it drop to the floor.

As soon as the article of clothing falls away, someone’s pounding at the door. I jump and cover my breasts instinctively, but Romeo jerks my hands down with an annoyed look coming over his face all of a sudden.

“Fuck off!” he shouts, pulling me closer. “You’re fired if you touch that door again!”

His mouth is on me as soon as those words are out of his mouth, silencing the knocks at the door. My nipples, already hard, feel like they’re straining towards him, aching to get closer. He takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, before moving to give the other the same attention. It pulls that desperate, needy sound out of my mouth again from somewhere deep within me—somewhere that no man has ever reached before.

I had heard, from bits of whispered conversation with the girls, about what a rough lover Romeo was rumored to be. Nerves start to flutter in my stomach again as he grips my hips. He’s been nothing but gentle with me since pulling me into his dressing room—why? Doesn’t he
like
me?

Or does he simply want to show me I’m special?

While he lavishes attention on me with his mouth, he lets go of me to shrug out of his own shirt. Once his chest is bare, he takes my hands and places them on his skin before dragging me down onto the bed with him. My legs fall on either side of his hips and my worries fade from my mind, our close proximity flooding my senses once more. He tilts my head down to kiss me again, licking like he’s trying to entice more of those sounds I’m making to come out and play.

“
Dios
, your voice,” he says as he presses a kiss to the shell of my ear. “Do you know what your voice did to me, angel?”

I shiver at the power of
his
voice, shaking my head.

“You sing like you were sent to me from God.” He tucks my hair back behind my ears so that he can look into my eyes, our gazes locking as he rolls his hips up to let me feel just how aroused he’s become. “You move like you know every inch of your body. You drive me
mad
. You make me want to take my time with you.”

I gasp as my hips press down against his, instinctively wanting to feel more of him. He seems to know exactly what I need, too, as he tightens his hands around my thighs and flips me over onto the bed. The sheets are soft, probably more expensive than anything I’d touched in my life, but I barely notice them on my skin as Romeo cups one of my breasts with his hands and kisses down the line of my body again.

With his other hand, he makes short work of the button of my jeans and slides them down my hips. I feel my cheeks explode with color as he gives me a smoldering, lingering look before pulling my panties—a delicate red bikini bottom; I had chosen them to feel a bit sexier next to the girls, never expecting they would be seen—down to join the rest of our clothes on the floor.

He leaves my shoes on.

I’m already soaking wet by the time he exposes me to the cool air around us. When he finally touches me, licking slow at my clit, I could swear I almost
scream
. His hand still massages my breasts, as though to reassure me, as he takes my breath away with his mouth on me.

There’s no reservations in the way he touches me. Just as he focused every ounce of his passion on me when he sang, he licks at my folds with reckless abandon—but somehow, it isn’t reckless at all. It’s the right touch in the right place at
just
the right time. His tongue enters me briefly before returning to my clit, flicking and lapping as he works me loose with one finger—then two.

“Oh,
God
,” I hear myself breathing into the air, mixed in with the keening sounds his hands and mouth keep me making.

The combination of the constant arousal I felt throughout his concert and the expert way he pleasures me now has me reaching the brink of climax within
minutes
. I gasp his name again and again as my fingers go tight in his hair. He lets me pull him in closer as I drop my head back, arching my back up high.

When I win the struggle to push myself up and look at him again, his eyes are still on me. They’re commanding me from there—to do what? To keep groaning, which I do, and to keep writhing, which I do. Maybe to let go—.

And I do that, too, my orgasm hitting me hard and pulling another wrecked scream out of my mouth.

I feel the curve of his mouth, that same familiar smile that I recognize without even seeing, as he presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh. He kisses his way back up to me until he reaches my mouth again, letting me taste myself on him.

“I want to take you, Erin,” he says, his breath ghosting hotly over my mouth. “I want you to take me in. You’re going to do that for me, babe.”

I groan. I’m exhausted and aching for more all at once. I wrap one arm around his shoulders to pull him down closer and work open his belt with my other hand.

“
God
, yes. I want that more than anything in the world,” I tell him breathlessly. It sounds clichéd even to me, but it’s so
true
that I can’t bring myself to care.

He lets me push his jeans off, taking his boxers with them. Once he’s kicked out of his clothes, he spreads my legs to settle between them. With that impish grin gracing his lips again, he tweaks my nipples before reaching out to something—the nightstand, maybe—and coming back with a condom. His erection strains against his belly as he slips the condom on, and I groan at just the sight of it, overwhelmed by new desires all of a sudden. I want it touching my skin, fucking my mouth, but most of all—I want it right where he’s pointing it now.

“Please,
please
,” I whisper to him.

The plea drags a quiet groan out of him and he grabs my thighs to spread my legs a bit more as he enters me in one sure stroke. We both groan, then, almost in harmony. Our sounds of need and pleasure keep mixing in a beautiful song as he begins to move, quick and rhythm. The slick sound of our bodies meeting joins in with the melody of our gasps. He catches some of the sounds I make in his mouth when he kisses me, the slip-slide of our lips wet and dangerously hot.

His hands roam the planes of my body once he’s wrapped my legs around his waist. My hips are lifted off the bed with the force of each trust. Soon enough, his passion fills me with so much warmth that I feel those familiar spasms of climax approaching once more.

“Come for me,” he whispers, the demand filthy and sexy all at once. “Come around me, Erin. Let me
feel
it.”

His kiss swallows my gasps as he slants his mouth over mine again. He thrusts in deeply, reaching a spot inside of me that sends me flying over the edge just as he says, dark and low, “
Now
, Erin.”

I come a second time, the incredible feeling of it shocking through the numb ache of my first orgasm. He groans as he feels me tighten around him, and it only takes another thrust or two before he reaches his own climax with a throaty shout.

For a long while, he holds me in his arms and traps the heat of sex between our bodies. Reluctantly, he rolls onto his side when we both realize we need some space to breath. He keeps his arms around my waist, though, and presses slow, lazy kisses to the crook of my neck.

“
Dios
. You’re amazing,” he whispers against my hair.

Silently, with a pleased smile on my lips and our legs still twisted together, I have to agree.
Amazing
.

Chapter
Sixteen

As the heat coiled between us fades, Romeo’s fingers tracing light patterns into the skin of my back, I can’t help the doubts that creep back in. He had been assertive, passionate, and most of all—skilled.

Not that there’s anything
wrong
with skill—God only knows how much a girl wants skill in a man—but it’s a sort of skill that could only come with practice. I bite at my bottom lip, a dark worry mounting at the back of my head, something that I never even thought about before.

What if this was every other night for Romeo Ortiz? A new girl on a new bed in a city, moaning his name and thrashing wildly against him. I squeeze my eyes shut, not able to bear the thought of it.

I don’t even notice it when his hand stills against my back until he says, “Something’s wrong.”

“No—,” I start to say, cut off when he tilts my head back to make me look straight into his eyes. Somehow, I feel like a groupie who just had sex with him after a concert. I shut my mouth, immediately.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

He knows damn well I did. Hell, he probably even knows it was the best I’ve ever had. I don’t feel the need to answer him and lower my eyes to stare at a spot on the sheets instead.

“Please,
please
, you said,” he says, whispering my words into my ear.

I breathe in a bit shakily. “Romeo—don’t. Please. I just—need to think.”

He pulls back a bit, blinking, when he seems to realize that I’m not playing some sort of post-coital hard to get game here. “What is it then? You were fine before but now you seem like a different person.You didn’t enjoy that?”

“No!” I say, very quickly. “I mean—no, of
course
I enjoyed it. I just—.”

He frowns at me for a moment, the twist of his lips severe and almost dangerous, before he tilts my head up again, more gently this time. “What’s the problem, then?”

“Do you do this with all the girls?” I blurt out all in one breath, eyes shying away from his as I wait for the inevitable
well, duh
answer.

That answer doesn’t come. Instead, a flash of hurt chased by a flash of anger pass like storm clouds over his face before he curls a hand at my cheek to keep my eyes on his.

“You’re one of a kind, Erin,” he says.

I shiver at the words, desperately wanting them to be true. “
How many times have you said those same words to other girls?”

He makes an almost frustrated sound before he shakes his head and pulls me in close, burying his face in my shoulder. “Erin,
Erin
, doll. You think I’m some kind of whore?”

Well, when he puts it like
that
—I shake my head. “No, I just—it’d be understandable. All these girls, throwing themselves at you. I get it. You’re only human.”

With a heavy sigh, he tilts his head up to nose at the underside of my jaw. “You. Are. Special. Erin—.”

I let him push me back a little, adjusting his arms around me until he can hold me in a comfortable embrace while still looking down at me. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for him to finish.

“—I’m only going to say this once: I’ve never fucked a groupie.
Well, maybe once or twice. Take that as you will.”

I’ve never fucked a groupie
.
Once or twice?

The declaration is crass and firm, and it makes a strange warmth spread like wildfire through my belly. I search his eyes for any hint of deception and find nothing but true emotion.

“Why me?” I ask in a hushed tone, cringing as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Stupid, stupid
, I think to myself.
Why can’t you just take a good thing for what it is?

I half expect him to answer me with this very question, but instead he shrugs and rolls onto his back, pulling me over with him to keep me tucked against his side.

“Look at the pieces of our body. Look at your breasts, fitted against my chest,” he says.