Joy Ride (4 page)

Tentatively she reached out a finger and ran it over the intricate design. The feel of it somehow excited her.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. Not just his body, but the strong set of his jaw, the straight nose, the dark eyes fringed with thick lashes. The same electric shock of excitement that had grabbed her when she first saw him in the bar seized her now.

And she’d never felt so totally and completely connected to another person.

Marc saw the heat flare in her eyes as she took in every inch of his nudity and if it was possible, his cock hardened even more. Jesus, he wanted this woman. Wanted to bury himself deep inside her and stay there forever. He could hardly believe she was actually here. With him. In his house. Naked in his room. He was afraid if he pinched himself she’d disappear. He’d been with a fair amount of women—all kinds—but it didn’t take a genius to know this one was special. The real deal.

This was no groupie going from musician to musician, or some barfly stimulated by alcohol. No, she’d radiated such nervousness at first he was afraid she’d bolt and run. Music Lady was pure, clean woman, sensual and shy at the same time. A combination that made him so hot he had to grit his teeth to find the edge of control.

All his adult life, he’d looked for a woman like this. A woman who, despite the fact that she’d come home with him after one scorching kiss, definitely did not seem the type to fall into anyone’s bed. A woman whose mannerisms, lack of experience, whose every action and reaction with him set her apart from the other women he’d been with.

His dream, only now forming, was to find someone who could become a real part of his life. One he could share things with. A very special woman who understood the demands of the music business and the soul of an artist. Someone who could adapt to him working nights, rehearsing days, needing quiet time to write his music. Someone who could live with the volatile environment of his career.

Just that quickly, he knew he wanted it with Music Lady.

The question was, did she desire it with him? And would she really turn out to be what he thought or was it just wishful thinking?

He had a hunger to learn everything about her. What she liked to eat. What movies appealed to her. What her favorite color was. Anything and everything that could unlock the secret of his Music Lady—why she’d come to Aftershock tonight, and more importantly, why she’d agreed to come home with him. But first he had to fuck her every way possible so he could completely imprint himself on her body inside and out.

Aroused to the point of desperation, he lifted ML in his arms, yanked back the covers on the bed, and placed her carefully on the sheets. His eyes roamed over every inch of the perfect oval of a face and hazel eyes fringed with heavy lashes. Her body was flushed a soft shade of pink, cream still glistening on the soft blonde curls covering her mound. He ran the tip of one finger through them, stroking the silken folds, and was rewarded with the sight of a delicious shiver racing over delicate skin. His breath caught at the wonder of this woman.

She lifted her arms to him and he knelt between creamy thighs, trailing soft kisses over her breasts, stomach, hips. Pressing his face to her tummy, he inhaled deeply, loving the scent that drifted up his nostrils, a heady mixture of light floral and feminine musk. His balls tightened and his swollen cock flexed.

He ran his palms down the length of silken skin from hip to ankle and back again, memorizing the dips and swells of her body. Bending her legs at the knees, he pressed his palms against soft inner flesh, spreading them wide and giving him a view that nearly made him come right then. He stared, looking his fill of the glistening pink pussy flesh darkened from the rush of the recent orgasm, the bud of the swollen clit peeking out at him from its protective hood, the graceful curve of ass where it met thighs….

Jesus!

Marc swallowed, a difficult feat since his mouth was almost totally dry, and allowed himself the pleasure of covering her from neck to mound with a trail of kisses. Now he understood the meaning of that phrase, “I could eat you up with a spoon.” Her skin made satin seem rough, and the scent of it filled his system more intoxicatingly that any whiskey he’d ever had. He lost himself in the dizzying taste of her, the seductive feel of her. This woman was the treat he’d been looking for all his life, and he wanted to make a permanent feast of her.

The little cries of pleasure she made as his mouth traveled over her only turned him on even more until he knew he couldn’t wait another moment to be inside of her. Reaching into the nightstand drawer, he pulled out a condom, tore away the foil wrapper, and sheathed himself. Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he touched it to her opening, rubbing it against her cream to lubricate it.

“Get ready, darlin’.” His voice was thick with raw hunger.

He pressed into her slowly, gaze locked with hers, reading there an answering need. The tight walls of her cunt stretched around him as he filled her, gripping him like a hot, wet fist. For sure.

Holy sweet Jesus!

He’d died and gone to heaven. When he was fully inside her, the rush of pleasure was so perfect he wanted to weep. He looked into her beautiful eyes, the connection between them so profound it scored his very soul. He could stay buried in this woman for the rest of his life.

This is what I always wanted. Not that I have that many notches on my bed post, thank the Lord. Pure sweetness.

Better make it damn good for her, buddy boy
.

Marc closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, fighting for the control that was rapidly slipping away from him. Then he began to move, slowly at first, then faster as her body answered his, until they were moving in a rhythm that had its own music. In. Out. In. Out. Faster now. Her legs wrapped around him and pulled him deeper into her wet heat. He felt the trembling inside her surging and intensifying, his eyes watching hers for the signal she was up on that erotic cliff with him.

Yes! There! Panting, she parted her lips slightly, her legs tightening around him, her hips arching up to him. He pumped into her, driving her to the edge with him. More, harder, faster.

“Come on, babe,” he rasped. “You’re gonna take me with you. Just let it go.”

And she did, shattering beneath him.

The tumble into space shocked him with its intensity. He wasn’t aware of anything except a back velvet void, the grip of her pussy around him, and an orgasm that shook every muscle in his body. He couldn’t breathe, and his heart raced madly as he poured himself into the latex reservoir. For the first time since he’d started having sex, he hated the thin barrier that kept him from feeling her skin to skin.

At last, spent, he fell forward, catching his weight on his forearms, dragging air into his lungs. His heart was pounding ferociously, or maybe it was hers. He kissed her—a soft kiss no longer ravenous with hunger—loving the velvet surface of her lips and the electric glide of her tongue against his.

He barely had strength to ease himself from her body and dispose of the condom. Then he was beside her, turning off the lamp, tugging the covers over them, and wrapping his arms around her. He brushed her hair back from her cheek and kissed the soft skin as she snuggled back against him. The curve of her buttocks fitted nicely against his groin.

“Sleep,” he murmured, and closed his eyes.

***

Emma didn’t remember falling asleep, and when she opened her eyes at first she couldn’t figure out where she was. A warm male body was curled around her, a muscular arm thrown across her hip.

Andrew.

But not sleeping on his stomach, his skin her barely touching as usual.

She shifted slightly and realized she was sore in places she didn’t even know she could feel.

What time is it?

She lifted her wrist with the watch on it, but the room was dark so it was impossible to see. Turning her head slightly, her eye caught a bedside clock. Red numerals told her it was just after five.

Wait! Andrew doesn’t have a clock like that
.

Tentatively she touched the arm wrapped around her, trying to ease out from beneath. And her heart nearly stopped. This was not Andrew’s arm. She was familiar enough with it that she could tell the difference in how it felt.

Turning on the bedside lamp, she looked at the man lying beside her. A man with a tattooed arm. And for a moment she wanted to scream. Where was she and who was this person?

But then it all came back to her with startling clarity.

Andrew!

The argument.

Frustration with the entire situation. With her
life
!

Running from his house.

The club, Aftershock.

The bass player whose eyes seemed to see into her very soul.

And the magic of their erotic coupling.

Ohmigod!

I have to get out of here. Right now. I have to get home
.

She wasn’t brave enough to face her joy ride in the light of day. At least not at that moment, not with her hands shaking and her heart racing a mile a minute. What on earth had she been thinking about?

That Emma was tired of being a good girl.

Well, guess what? She’s not a good girl anymore
.

Thankful that the light hadn’t woken Marc, she slid carefully from the bed, got down on her knees, and felt around on the floor for her clothes. Silently pulling them on, she picked up her sandals and tiptoed out of the room toward the front of the house.

Purse. Where’s my purse?

Oh, yeah. Living room
.

She had just unlocked the front door with a soft click, when she heard him behind her.

“Music Lady?” His voice was hoarse with the remnants of sleep.

She turned and nearly swallowed her tongue. He was standing not two feet away from her gloriously naked, his cock semi-erect, his hair in that sexy tangle. He pushed it back from his face and squinted at her.

“Where are you going?”

“I-I have to leave,” she stammered.

In seconds he was beside her, his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t go. Please. We didn’t even get a chance to talk.”

“Talk?” she squeaked. All she could remember was the intense physical and emotional connection. There hadn’t been any room for words.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want to get to know you.”

“I-I-I….” She shook her head. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” Panic, guilt, embarrassment all swirled in a volatile emotional cocktail. She had to leave, to get some perspective on the very impulsive act of hers. Get away before he could start asking questions she didn’t want to answer. She trembled with an anxiety attack.

What have I done?

His hands slid up to cup her cheeks. “I want to see you again.”

“I don’t know.” She chewed her bottom lip. She wanted to stay but the intensity of her emotions and the reality of what she’d done frightened her. How could she care about someone so quickly? Someone so completely opposite everything else in her life?

“Then will you at least come to the club? Next week? We play Tuesday through Saturday.”

“Maybe. I…maybe.”

“Here’s something to remember while you’re trying to decide.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, rubbing his lips against hers very softly before pressing his tongue against the seam. She opened for him without thought and welcomed his intrusion into the hot well of her mouth. She melted, excited by his touch. Her own small tongue slipped past his lips and danced with his while her body quivered, and the throbbing in her sex reminded her of how he made her feel.

His thumbs caressed her cheekbones while he fed from her, the kiss invading her senses. Gasping she broke away.

“I-I really, really have to go. Now.”

Yanking the door open, she raced down the three steps to her car, pressing the fob to unlock it, and leapt into it as if she were in a footrace with the devil. She backed quickly out into the street, but then she glanced toward the house and saw him standing in the doorway, unabashedly naked, haloed by the street lamp next to the house.

Ohmigod
.

He lifted his hand to wave and she pulled quickly away, her body sending her messages but her mind scattered to the winds.

How had she let herself do this?

Because she’d wanted a change. Excitement. She’d certainly gotten it. But she’d also gotten something else she hadn’t counted on—an emotional awakening that suddenly made Marc Malone very important to her.

So now what the hell did she do now?

Chapter Three

Marc stood on his back porch watching the blossoming sunrise and the lifting of the night, drinking a cup of strong instant coffee. He couldn’t believe she’d actually left, his Music Lady. Just…put on her clothes, got in her car, and drove away. One minute they were asleep, exhausted by the most incredibly fulfilling sex. The next, she was tiptoeing around his room, gathering her clothes, and trying to sneak away.

He’d already been entertaining thoughts of waking up with her wrapped in his arms. Showering with him. His cock hardened as he imagined all the things they could do in the shower.

Then he’d take her out to breakfast. Talk to her. See what kind of things she liked to eat. Find out what had brought her to Aftershock last night. Why she’d gone home with him. How he could convince her to do it again and again.

Well, that idea had run down the shithole in a hurry. She’d taken off like a cat with its tail on fire.

He carried his mug into the bedroom, shucked off the jeans he’d pulled on and sat on the bed. With the mug in one hand, he grabbed a fistful of sheet with the other and lifted it to his nose. Inhaled deeply. Her scent was still so strong on the fabric, a light floral essence that teased at his nostrils and jacked up his hormones.

Had he said or done something wrong? Frightened her in some way? He replayed every word they’d exchanged over and over, easy because they hadn’t talked all that much. He’d felt such an instant powerful connection at the club. He hadn’t been wrong about that. He was sure she sensed it, too, or she wouldn’t have come home with him.