Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) (31 page)

I need his hands on my skin.

I need him inside me.

Now.

He pushes himself up and looks me up and down. It's slower this time. He's relishing it.

His tongue slides over his lips. "Take off your tights."

It's a struggle, but I do. The things land on the floor. So much for those. He really is destructive to my undergarments, but I can't say I have any complaints.

"Take off your panties."

Fuck yes.

I slide them to my knees. They fall off my feet, landing on top of my tights.

His hands curl around my knees. The man has too much patience.

I love him in control. I love him leading.

But I can't take the teasing tonight.

I grab his t-shirt and pull him closer. Then my arms are around his chest.

I press my lips to his and I kiss him. I kiss him like I'll never get another chance to kiss him again.

There's only a week and a half until he's back on the road.

A week and a half isn't much time together.

His hands go to my hips. They pull me closer. Closer. Close enough I can feel the erection straining against his jeans.

I groan into his mouth then my hands are in his hair. Fuck, I love his hair. It's thick and it's dark and it's just long enough to grab onto.

He pulls back to press his lips to my neck. His hands find the neckline of my dress and pull it down. I hate to lose a bra on vacation— I've only got one more with me—but I need his hands on my skin too much to care.

I use one hand to balance. I use the other to push my dress off my shoulders. The sleeves collect at my elbows. There's no way I'm going to manage to remove my bra, but that thing needs to get out of the way.

Now.

I grab onto his shoulder for balance. My eyes meet his. "A little help?"

He smiles. "And you insulted my seduction."

He unhooks my bra and pushes it off my shoulders. Then his hands are on my chest, his fingers playing with my nipples.

I tug at his t-shirt.

He watches my reactions with lust in his eyes. His thumbs brush my nipples. The touch gets harder, rougher.

I press my thighs against his hips. I can't take much more waiting. I need our bodies joining.

But this feels too good.

I let my eyelids press together. I let my hand wander over his t-shirt then under it. I press my palm against his stomach and trace the lines of his muscles all the way up his chest.

Then I blink my eyes open so I can trace the lines of his tattoo.

Real

I love him, real.

He loves me, real.

We're engaged and life is fantastic, real.

"Pete," I breathe. "Don't make me beg. Not here."

His eyes fix on mine. His breath gets heavy, needy.

"Fuck me."

"After you come on my face."

Desire races through me.

I nod a frantic yes. He presses his lips to mine for a hard, fast kiss then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my chest.

His mouth closes around my nipple. He flicks his tongue against it until I'm groaning then he moves to the other.

My hand slips from the counter, but I don't fall. He's already got hold of me, of my hips. He lowers himself to his knees and plants himself between my legs.

He plants a kiss on my inner thigh. Another. Another.

I press one palm into the edge of the counter to steady myself. The other goes to the back of his head.

I can feel his breath, hot, then cold, then hot again.

Then his mouth is on me. He licks me with soft, slow movements. He takes his time sucking on my lips as he makes his way to my clit.

"Fuck." I bite my tongue so I won't scream. He's good at this.

It feels as intimate as the first time, him between my legs. I spread my knees wider, opening myself to him.

His movements stay soft and slow.

Tension knots in my core. It gets tighter, tighter, so tight it hurts.

I tug at his hair. I bite my tongue to muffle my groans.

He reaches up. His fingers skim my chest, my neck, my chin. Then they're on my lips. His thumb hooks over my bottom lip as his fingers slide into my mouth.

I suck on his fingers to keep myself from screaming.

My climb is beautiful agony. Tension knots tighter and better and harder.

Then I'm there. My eyelids press together as pleasure spills through my body. The world is a dizzying shade of white, so bright and beautiful it's blinding.

There's nothing bad in the world.

Only pleasure.

My thighs press against his head as I revel in the aftershocks. Finally, I blink my eyes open. He's looking up at me with a contented expression. He's proud of himself. He should be.

But he doesn't get to stand around content. He needs to be inside me.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and pushes himself to his feet. His hands curl under my knees.

His eyes fill with desire.

My hand slides to the back of his head. I pull him into a deep kiss. The taste of me on his lips only makes me more desperate to have him.

When our kiss breaks, he brings his gaze to meet mine. "Wider, baby. I want to split you in half."

I spread my legs.

He holds onto my hips as he brings his body toward mine. He's close enough I can hear every inhale and exhale. I can feel all the heat of him.

His cock strains against me.

Yes.

Now.

My eyes stay glued to his. Slowly, he slides into me. I can feel my sex straining to take every inch of him.

I can see it in his expression—he has every inch of me.

Damn, that feels good. Like I'm home. The intimacy of this, him inside me, our eyes locked, takes my breath away. Right now, I'm sure there's nothing between us.

That nothing will ever come between us. Not for long.

God, I hope I'm right.

He holds me tightly as he moves with deep, slow thrusts.

I stare back at him for as long as I can manage. The bliss building in my core is too intense. I have to close my eyes.

I have to moan his name.

He lets out a low groan.

I say it again, a little louder this time.

His lips part with another groan. His eyes meet mine. His expression is a warning and a plea at once.

I dig my hands into his hair and I pull him closer, so his cheek is against mine.

My mouth goes to his ear. I whisper, "Fuck me, Pete."

He sucks on my neck as he moves harder, deeper. I wrap my legs around his hips to keep my balance.

Damn, he feels good.

I suck on his earlobe until his groans get louder. "Harder."

"Fuck, Jess." His hands slide around my waist. He pulls me off the counter.

My feet hit the ground. Then he's turning me around so I'm pinned to the counter. I place my hands on the slick surface. My eyes find his through the reflection. He's behind me, his hands on my hips. We're both needy and panting.

We're both watching.

I arch my back, offering myself to him again.

He holds me in place as he thrusts into me.

He moves harder, faster. I reach back so I can feel his skin against my hand. My palm presses against his hip, the one with the intricate tattoo.

He only shares that with me.

I have every part of him, and he has every part of me.

I watch his expression through the mirror. His eyes fill with pleasure then they flutter closed.

His fingers dig into my hips as his breath hitches.

He's close, but he nearly always waits for me. I haven't got the faintest clue how, but he does.

His hand slides around my thigh. Then it's between my legs.

He strokes me as he fucks me.

"Pete." It's much louder than it should be, but I can't bring myself to care. Right now, I can't feel anything but bliss.

And what fucking bliss.

My sex clenches. Almost. I rock my hips to meet his movements, to press my clit against his fingers.

I soak in the sensation of him inside me, his hand on me, his breath on my skin.

Then I'm there. I bite my lip to keep from screaming as I come again. The orgasm is intense. I can feel myself pulsing around him, pulling him closer and deeper.

He presses his lips to my neck, groaning against my skin as he thrusts hard and fast.

His teeth scrape against my skin—barely enough to hurt—as his cock pulses. He's there too, groaning and thrusting through his orgasm.

When he's finished, he kisses my neck and repositions our bodies so we're face to face.

He kisses me hard and deep. "Fuck, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Neither of us brings up that we've had days together. It still feels like we're filling some empty spot.

But right now, we're together.

Right now, the world is perfect.

––––––––

P
ete

Jess is lying on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest. She's half-asleep, half-awake. She yawns and pulls the pillow closer. Lucky pillow is pressed against her chest.

I settle on the bed behind her. I can already feel the warmth of her body. We spent the entire night pressed together, but I still want her closer.

This whole fame thing is a mind fuck. I'm not sure it will ever get any easier.

Only a few things in my life make sense. She's the most important.

I run my hands through her long blond hair. She lets out a soft moan. Her shoulders shake. Her feet rub together.

Damn, her shoulders are tense. She shouldn't have any hint of tension left. She should be as spent as I am.

I slide my arm around her waist and pull her closer. Sex may not be the best way to fix this, but I'm more than willing to give it a shot.

I press my lips to her neck. "What's wrong, baby?"

She lets out another soft moan. Her back arches, her ass pressing against my crotch. I love the way she moans when I call her baby. Wherever we are, whatever we're doing, it puts her under my thumb.

My hand slides over the curve of her hip. I pull her closer, holding her lush ass against my crotch. My cock stirs from the contact.

I guess I'm not spent.

Jess lets out another groan. "You're going to kill me."

"You complaining?"

She shakes her head. "I was so busy the last month that I managed to convince myself that I was okay with you being away."

"I missed you too." I don't think I've ever missed anyone the way I missed her. The next four months of touring are going to be hell.

"I guess I can thank Kara for getting knocked up." She laughs. "You guys will have to slow down."

"Might even take a year or two off."

"Really?" Her voice perks. She shakes her head. "I mean, you should do whatever works best for your life and your career."

"And gets me in our bed, at home every night?"

"If you insist."

I chuckle. She's not good at playing coy. I appreciate that she doesn't want to get in my way, but part of me wants her to beg me to stay.

Part of me wants to agree to that promise. Touring half the year is exhausting. Everything blurs together until I've got no sense of time or place.

I run my fingertips over her cheek. "You upset I'm leaving in two weeks?"

"It's only a week and a half, but no. Are you?"

"I don't like being away from you."

"You'll have to visit more. Me too. I can spare a few weekends."

"Yeah?" Our last tour was international. That made it hard to visit. Jess is in school all week. It's nearly impossible to squeeze in any time when the flight is twelve hours and five time zones.

"Yeah. But that's not what's bothering me." She takes a deep breath. Her exhale is heavy enough she shakes. "My dad and sister are flying here in a few days. I don't think he should be in Vegas."

She has a point. The man is fresh out of rehab. He should be in some dry county, not in a city where people walk around with vodka slushies in guitar-shaped plastic cups.

"I'll figure that out," I say.

"How?"

Not sure yet, but— "I will. Trust me."

"I can't believe it, but I do." She plays with the edge of the sheets. "That cactus garden was amazing." Her voice lifts. It's soft, bright. "I can't remember the last time I enjoyed anything about Christmas."

"I'm glad."

Satisfaction spreads through me. I always hated Christmas with my dad. Every year was the same. He was drunk and miserable and looking for someone to take it out on. Ophelia turned all that around. It wasn't about presents. She never spoiled us. It was the way she made the day about love, family, connecting.

I want to do that for Jess. I want to replace all the pain in her life with pleasure. With joy. When she's happy, the world makes sense.

"I've hated Christmas for a long time," she says.

"Your dad?"

"Yeah. The entire holiday season was an excuse to get trashed." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I always got caught up helping him hide it."

I rub her shoulder until she lets out a sigh of pleasure. "You don't have to take care of anybody this year."

"What about myself?"

"That's my job."

"Is it?"

I push the strap of her tank top off her shoulder. She lets out a low groan, her back arching as her ass presses against me. "Pete..."

Damn, this is going to get derailed fast. Blood rushes to my cock, but I keep my hand on her neck. We need to have this conversation.

"I thought you were worn out."

She sighs with a mix of pleasure and irritation. "You're an insufferable tease."

"You want me to stop?"

"No." She turns to face me. Her blue eyes fix on mine. "Never."

I brush her hair behind her ear. "I'll take care of everything with your family."

"Like telling them to stay in New York?"

"If that's what you want." It's not. As much as her dad and sister hurt her, Jess still loves them, still misses them.

She shakes her head. "Why are we staying in Vegas for all this? The wedding is over. We could go back to our place in Venice Beach and soak in the sun." She sticks her tongue out. "I hate Vegas."

"Of course you do."

"Everything smells like smoke and people drink on the streets." She raises a brow as she makes eye contact. "What about it is good?"