Heart of Rock (8 page)

"Bloody stunning. I knew they would be."

His mouth clamped on one of her nipples, and she cried out. His tongue swirled, his lips sucked, and her spine arched upward. Her hands tunneled through his silken black and white hair. Oh, God, she was so turned on. She wanted to be fucked, hard and deep. One of Byrne's hands cupped her breast and squeezed as he bit on her nipple. The electric sensations sparked her lust to even greater heights. Carly had never been this damned horny. She spread her legs as far apart as she could in invitation.

"Fuck me, Byrne. Fuck me." She didn't recognize her own voice. It was harsh and raspy like the possessed kid in the
Exorcist
movie. She crossed her legs tightly behind his ass with her high heels pressed into his lower back. She was seconds away from begging and pleading. She would do anything to have his cock pound her fast and furiously. She moved her own hips and moaned her frustration.

Byrne took one last lick of her red, swollen nipple, and then gazed into her eyes. "No, I don't want to fuck. I want to make love—to you."

He kissed her hard with a possessive claiming. His hips moved in a sensual rhythm, and she could feel every thick, long inch of his prick pressed against her core. His tongue was magical, its thrusts matching the movement of his slim, muscular hips. They were both panting and moaning.

"Oh, Jaysus!" he groaned. He pulled back and gazed down at her. "Do you want to go further?"

Did she? Hell, yeah, she'd said so. Wait a second—VD. "Do you have a rubber?"

"Aye, in my wallet. Are you sure, Carly?" His voice was husky, sexy, and turning her to liquid.

"Aye," she smiled.

Byrne laughed. Even his laugh sounded sexy as hell. She had never seen a man move so fast. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out through his fly. She couldn't keep the gasp from escaping her lips. Okay, it was a slight exaggeration he could strap his prick to his leg but it was damned close. Seeing his dick up close aroused her further. He rolled on the condom.

Carly laid back and closed her eyes. She expected to be fucked. Instead, Byrne again kissed her. The result was molten, blood-boiling ecstasy. The head of his cock teased her soaking wet folds. Still, he didn't enter her. Slowly and languidly he caressed her body and senses. She opened her eyes. He was beautiful. No, Byrne was not fucking her. He was making love to her, just as he'd said. Carly blinked back her gathering tears. She did not expect this tender, thorough lovemaking from Brogan Byrne, the rock monster. His cock moved aside the slim piece of silk covering her wetness, pushed into her folds a couple of inches, and then he pulled back. Next he moved in a little deeper and then back out again. It was torture—agonizing, sweet torment. She wriggled her hips impatiently. Carly could feel the smile in his kiss. His tongue plunged deeper, and at the exact same moment his cock pushed in to the hilt.

She cried out, not from pain but from pure raw pleasure. His tongue thrusts matched the movement of his cock. She dug her heels into his back even more, angling her hips for a slick, solid stroke. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Her hands grasped the muscular globes of his jean-clad ass. Carly pulled Byrne in as tight as she could. He pulled away from the kiss and nuzzled her neck again before he traced passionate kisses down to her collarbone, then up to her neck. His tongue whorled her ear and he bit down on her earlobe. Oh, hell, the sensations. Still, his cock continued his desirous pumping. He never broke his stride.

* * * *

Brogan didn't plan this—not today, anyway. He halted his movements and looked down into her flushed face. Perhaps Carly was interested in him a little. He never thought it would be enough to consent to sex. Okay, maybe he had an inkling she might be game for a toss in the sheets. This was beyond some quick shag on the sofa, even though every indication stated this is just what it was.

He stared deeply into her glorious hazel eyes. For once he hid nothing, and for once neither did Carly. Something passed between them beyond the physical.
A joining of souls
. His hands cupped her blushing cheeks. "Do you feel it?"

Carly bit her lower lip. She nodded in agreement as she understood his meaning. Brogan brushed his thumb past her full, swollen lips. Aye, this was more than sex. He moved his hips, and Carly moaned. He increased the power of his thrusts. He wanted to savor every touch and every slide of his cock. His thoughts were interrupted by Carly's moans growing more intense. She was going to come. He captured her lips in his and swallowed her cry of desire as she shook and shuddered under him. Feckin' hell, he was going to black out from the intensity of his own building orgasm. His head lifted, and he growled through his clenched teeth as his climax followed hers. The spasms went on for several minutes. Carly clasped his body and rode the wave with him. Brogan lowered his forehead to hers.

"Carly—Jaysus."

"Aye," she whispered, cupping his cheek.

Brogan heard heavy boot steps in the hall. He scrambled off Carly, tucked his semi-erect prick back in his jeans, and pulled up the zipper. Carly stuffed her luscious tits back in her bra, and her fingers struggled to do up the buttons on her shirt. He helped her, and his reward was a dazzling, sweet smile that shot straight to his little-used heart, giving it a decided zap.

Gio walked into the room. Brogan glanced at Carly. It was bleedin' obvious what they'd been doing. Their clothes were still slightly askew, they were both flushed, and the unmistakable odor of hot, musky sex hung in the air. He turned his head to gaze at Gio.

Gio gave him an I'm-going-to-kick-your-arse glare. "It's Nigel. He wants to talk to Carly right away. Like now." His intense gaze never wavered from Brogan.

Carly jumped to her feet and walked out of the room with Gio.

"What are you playing at, boss? You want to get burned… by Byrne?"

"Funny, Gio. Let me handle it, I know what I'm doing," she whispered hoarsely. They closed the door behind them.

Brogan heard their exchange, and his face broke into a wide smile. He was alive, more than he had been for years. He flopped onto the sofa as his limbs still snapped and sizzled with lustful awareness. His legs were shaky, and he was still feckin' hard. He wanted her in all ways, and the revelation shocked him. Could there be something between them, something more than the obvious? He crossed his arms and he frowned. This was one of his many weaknesses. He fell too fast for the lasses. Well, certain lasses anyway. What in the hell was he playing at? At first he wanted to seduce her for the sport of it, put her on her knees in front of him like he had so many other women. He didn't want that anymore. He liked sitting with Carly talking quietly, he liked her company, and he liked her, liked her a lot. This was getting dangerous. No one could heal him or undo the scarring on his heart and soul. His thoughts drifted to Tarrah. How could his life ever be worthy of her sacrifice? He knew his life would never be worth it. No one knew his guilt, his pain, and no one ever would.

Chapter Seven

Carly heard the knock at her hotel room door. It was Byrne. She sensed his damned sexy aura and could smell his enticing, spicy masculine scent. If she were smart she wouldn't give him access. She had never claimed to be clever when it came to hot, handsome men. She'd made a couple of mistakes in the past, and she had the sick feeling Byrne could be her biggest mistake of all. The concert tonight had been one of his best on the tour. His glorious voice, stage presence, and performance were off the charts. Everything clicked. She basked in the love and adulation of the Montreal fans. Hell, if she had a lighter on her, she would have held it up as well. The man truly had a talent. Another knock brought her back to the present.
Fuck it. Why fight it
? She opened the door.

Byrne had showered, and his hair was still slightly damp. His white shirt hung open, teasing her with a glimpse of rugged, muscular chest. He wore skintight brown leather pants and held an ice bucket with cans of Pepsi and two glasses.

He smiled. "Thought we'd celebrate. It was a bloody great concert, wouldn't you say?"

Carly stepped aside and bade him enter, then closed the door behind him. "Yes, it was fantastic. Too bad the tour is almost over. You're on a roll now."

Byrne set the ice bucket and glasses on the desk. "There is only Washington DC left. I've been on the road for more than year. I don't know if I'll be able to take it easy."

Carly reached for a can, pulled the tab off, and poured it in both glasses. She handed one to him. Their fingers brushed by each other, and the electric current tore through her body from the touch. She bit her lip and clinked glasses with him. "Cheers. You deserve a rest. Relax, write some music, and continue to recover from your… ah…"

Byrne cocked his eyebrow. "Addictions? My arse-hole behavior? My selfish indulgences?"

She couldn't help but smile. "Yes, all of it."

Byrne raised his glass to her and took a drink. "You've been a support, Carly. Couldn't have got through the last two weeks without you."

She swallowed a mouthful of soda, and then set the glass on the desk. "I did nothing. You have the will to steer your own destiny, and you did."

Byrne set his glass next to hers. "I'm not much of a believer in destiny, but I'll steer it tonight. I want you, Carly, on the desk, against the wall, on your knees, and on top of me. If we can manage to do it all I'd be as happy as a pig in muck."

"Byrne…"

He held two fingers to her lips. "Love, don't think about it too hard. Let's enjoy the night and take pleasure in each other."

She couldn't argue with him on those points. She wasn't in the mood for deep conversation, not tonight. There was so much she didn't know about him. One thing she did know: He was a skilled and accomplished lover. No doubt all the practice he had. He moved his fingers away.

"Aren't you tired? I mean, the show you put on…"

"Aye, I'm a bit knackered, but the adrenaline from the concert is still pumping, and the shower only revived me more. After we make love, I want to stay with you, darlin', sleep, breakfast, the whole damned thing."

She had no willpower where he was concerned. Brogan Byrne was sweet, sexy man candy, and she wanted to indulge and gorge herself, at least for tonight. Could she walk away from him in the morning? Keep her distance? Truthfully, she didn't want to be involved with a man hanging on the precipice of sobriety. She had witnessed enough of that growing up with her own father's struggles to stay sober. Her dad wasn't a mean drunk, nor was he abusive physically or verbally. He would just withdraw. The coldness became a part of life and a part of her. She didn't want Byrne clawing past her frosty defenses. The more she let him near, the more he chipped away. He wasn't perfect, but then she always thought perfection was overrated. Regardless, after tonight she'd have to protect her heart.

"The 'whole damned thing' is only for tonight, Byrne. In the morning, we part." A pained look crossed his handsome face, but it was so brief she thought she imagined it.

"Fair play. Tonight only. But I reserve the option to revisit this later."

"Much later, if at all."

He boldly cupped her breast, kneaded it, and pinched her pebbled nipple. "A challenge. Know this, Carly: What we shared yesterday is rare, and before you say it, it's not some muck-shite lie I shovel out to all women. I mean what I say."

Byrne captured her mouth in another devastating kiss. She melted immediately. Some resistance she had. She shamelessly threw her arms around his neck and ground her body into his obvious hardness.

"Take me to your bed. Have your way with me," Byrne whispered between kisses.

No way could she pass the invitation up. Taking his hand, led she him into her bedroom. The hotel suite was plush and the bed king-size, with a burgundy silk duvet and matching pillows and cushions. Carly couldn't wait to get Brogan Byrne stripped and under her. He stood stock still and watched her every move while she pushed his open shirt off his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She then unzipped his leather pants and pulled them down. No underwear. Why was she not surprised? He didn't wear them yesterday either. He opened his clenched fist and dropped three packages of condoms in her hand.

"I have more, whatever we need."

"On the bed and on your back, Byrne."

He clutched her wrist. "In bed you will call me 'Brogan.' I will make sure you scream my name to the skies. You follow?"

Oh, masterful. She kind of liked it. "As you wish, Brogan."

He closed his eyes briefly and moaned. He then opened his eyes and fixed hers in a searing, desirous gaze. "Love, I've been called worse 'B' names, but hearing 'Brogan' from your succulent lips is heaven to my ears."

He let go of her wrist, stepped out of his leather pants, and lay upon her bed. His magnificent cock was erect and lying full and thick up past his navel. His eyes smoldered and locked her in a sexy, molten gaze.

"Get on your horse and ride." He slapped his thigh in invitation.

While she practically tore off her clothes, Byrne rolled on a condom and Carly wasted no time climbing onto the bed and raising herself above him. Grasping his cock, she lowered inch by agonizing inch. She was so damned wet and so eager that she took him all. The back and forth rocking motion sent sparks of intense heat through her entire body. Byrne grabbed her hips and thrust upward with decided purpose. She stared into his determined face. This couldn't be the same man she witnessed hit rock bottom merely two weeks ago. It was a remarkable recovery to be sure. It could turn on a dime, however, which made any relationship with him impossible.
Enjoy tonight. Forget tomorrow.

Sweat rolled down her back. The intensity and the power of his thrusts caused purple and black color to swirl in her vision. She'd never experienced such passion before. She was in for one hell of an orgasm. Her head snapped back with such force she heard her neck crack. "Oh, Brogan. God, yes!"