Sexy In NYC: How To Get Lucky Part 11

"Lie down," he said urgently, yanking open his nightstand and pulling out a condom. He tore it open and rolled it on, his hands shaking a little.

Something splintered inside Allison as she watched Marco, going onto her back for him. Her body was warm, hair still damp, skin flushed, nipples raised and tight. She expected him to repeat earlier, to take her hard and fast, but Marco surprised her again. He shifted over her, and he kissed her, softly, a worship of her mouth with his. Their breath mingled, his hips heavy on hers. Then he turned and kissed her thigh, lifting it up onto his back.

She was fully open to him, in the truest sense of the word. She told herself there would be time to reestablish her wall later, but that right now she just wanted to be in the moment with Marco. He was so gorgeous, so intense, so attentive. His fingers ran down her cheek, across her lips.

"So beautiful," he murmured. "So perfect."

That was certainly something no one ever accused her of being. But it was nice to hear. It didn't seem necessary to speak, to protest, like she usually did. She just lifted her head off his bed and gave him a hard kiss. It was a better way to let her lips tell him what she was thinking.

Marco eased into her, her body giving way for him, both of them sighing in mutual pleasure. It was intimate, s.e.xy, a steady in and out, and she let her head fall back, her eyes drift shut briefly. She felt him everywhere in her, and this time it wasn't an invasion, but a joining of his body to hers, while his callused fingers traced a path from her temple to her chin and on down to her neck, the swell of her breast. His other hand braced his body over hers, and Allison lifted her hip higher, wanting him deeper.

Her release was a big swell of easy pleasure, a relaxed gratification. Marco came a minute later, the corded muscles in his neck standing out as his nostrils flared, jaw clenched. When he collapsed against her, Allison welcomed his weight, how he pushed the air out of her lungs. They lay there, quiet, no reason to talk, in blissful contentment. Or maybe he just had nothing to say. But she was content. If she was willing to be honest with herself, which maybe she could be in the dark bedroom, moonlight streaming in the floor-to-ceiling windows, it was the first time in a very long time she didn't feel totally alone in the world.

There was something ironic about that, considering she lived surrounded by eight million other people and had awesome friends. But nothing beat the sensation of skin on skin, the hardness of a man to her softness.

Allison fell asleep thinking about nothing in particular, and about everything, Marco's breathing steady and even next to her.

Marco woke up when the sun pierced through his windows, blinding him. He swallowed hard and instantly shut his eyes again after opening them and having his retinas seared. Jesus. He had electronic blinds in the window too, and he was usually on top of using them. But he hadn't been thinking about the morning when he'd brought Allison into his bedroom. Only her. Her hand was splayed across his chest, his leg thrown over hers.

The painful sunlight, the naked woman, it reminded him of the past, of all the nights he'd woken up, head pounding, only mildly curious as to who was with him. The morning he'd woken up and it had been Robert's wife.

Marco forced his eyes open again and let his eyes adjust. This wasn't then. He hadn't been drinking and this was his own house, not a tour bus or a random hotel. And he was with Allison. He turned his head and studied her in her sleep. Her hair had dried into unruly waves, and her makeup seemed to have evaporated. She looked fresh and natural, her cherry lips slightly parted as she breathed in and out. He ran his fingers over her shoulder, down her arm, lightly so she wouldn't wake up.

He wasn't sure what to think of the night before. He was pretty d.a.m.n sure they had crossed some imaginary line somewhere along the way. There was no regret. He found himself thoroughly enjoying her company and her body. He wanted to continue that, at least through the next few days. Before she had to go back to New York and he had to go back to his very solitary life.

That was next week, though. Today he was going to drink in the sensation of a woman entangled up with him and his sheets. He'd left his phone in the living room and he was selfishly glad there was nothing to interrupt him and this moment that he wanted to savor.

Until there was a pounding on his front door. s.h.i.t. It made him tense, lying still, hoping whoever it was would take themselves straight to h.e.l.l. But the knock came again, urgent and angry.

d.a.m.n it. He had a gate at the bottom of his drive, which meant that whoever it was, they were close to him and knew the code. Most likely Harry. Which did absolutely nothing for the morning b.o.n.e.r he'd been sporting and was antic.i.p.ating putting to good use. Trying not to disturb Allison, he slid out of bed, pausing to stretch. What irritated him was that Harry knew Allison was with him, so that meant that whatever it was, it was important. Which he really didn't want to deal with.

Yawning, he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts from his dresser drawer, not bothering with boxer briefs. If Harry was going to show up at the crack of dawn, he was going to have to risk catching a glimpse of Marco's b.a.l.l.s when he sat down. Padding across his living room, he ignored the luggage they'd left sitting there and yanked his front door open. "What?"

"Good morning, a.s.shole." It was Aidan, not Harry, though their manager was also standing there. "We've been standing here for fifteen f.u.c.king minutes."

"You're early." He hadn't been expecting them until at least eleven, and by Aidan's watch that meant one in the afternoon. He held the door open, wondering how fast they could lay the tracks down so he could get rid of them. There was a drummer named Rick they used from time to time to fill in with them. They were all pale and wearing black clothes, black sungla.s.ses. Aidan actually had his hand up, shielding his eyes like the sungla.s.ses just weren't cutting it.

"It's almost noon, douchebag," Aidan said. "And I resent that I hauled myself out of bed and you can't even answer your phone."

"Sorry," Marco said, feeling mildly remorseful. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"You're all vampires," Harry said, stepping into the house. "I've been awake for six hours already." As he pa.s.sed Marco, he gave him a long look. "Look, with Robert already causing a whole lot of scrambling and rearranging, we don't need you falling off the wagon too."

That seriously annoyed him. "I haven't fallen off the wagon. And for the record, I'm the only one who's ever been on the wagon, so don't say 'too' like someone else attempted this before me."

Aidan lifted his sungla.s.ses and studied Marco's face. "He wasn't drinking. I know what a hangover looks like and he ain't got one. This is a s.e.x face."

That almost made Marco laugh. "Thanks, brother. Appreciate the support. You all can go downstairs to the studio. Give me five minutes to take a shower." Plus he needed to warn Allison there was rabble in the house. It was a good thing he really did love his job and these guys, despite their differences, because after a year of being s.e.xually frustrated, he would really like them to walk themselves off a cliff.

"Take your time," Aidan told him. "Now that I have access to a couch, I'm in no hurry. Is your house still as dry as an eighty-year-old nun?"

There was a visual. Marco shook his head, amused despite himself. "No alcohol in the house, sorry."

"I'll call Sharon and she can pick me up some."

"Sharon is my a.s.sistant, not yours." Marco went toward his kitchen, needing coffee for this. "Leave her alone."

"My a.s.sistant quit. She said I'm 'volatile.'" Aidan made quote marks in the air. "I told her it is part of my job description."

Aidan followed Marco into the kitchen and started poking around in the fridge. He pulled out some orange juice.

"What is this, brunch?" Harry asked. He was overdressed as usual in khakis and a b.u.t.ton-up shirt.

"Rick, can I get you anything?" Marco asked, reaching out and shaking the drummer's hand. "Thanks for filling in for Rob."

"No problem, you know I love working with you d.i.c.ks." Rick sat on the stool at the breakfast bar. "And d.a.m.n, Harry, brunch sounds good. Why did you bring that up?"

"I'm calling Sharon for sure," Aidan said, then took a slug from the orange juice jar before setting it down on the kitchen counter and giving a hearty belch. "Now I want a mimosa and some hash browns."

"Aren't mimosas a little tender for a bada.s.s ba.s.s player?" Marco asked, shaking his head. This was how every day went. It took forever to get anything accomplished. After a decade, he had to admit there were days when he just wanted to run away from the constant banter and companionship. Like when he showed up in random bars in New York by himself, hoping to get lost in the crowd. Which wasn't realistic. And truthfully, he loved being in a band. It was worth the aggravation, though at the moment he wasn't so sure.

Allison appeared in the hallway, stumbling toward the living room in a pair of his swim trunks and a T-shirt. It must have been the first thing she found rifling through his drawers. She looked sleepy and adorable, her hair a sight to behold. He'd seen bedhead before on women, but this was a whole new level. He thought she looked cute as h.e.l.l, which only served to show him he had possibly lost just a little bit of control of the situation. Of himself.

"Hey," he said, going over to her and trying to head her off, not sure where she was going, but really grateful she was wearing clothes. It was too early to punch any of his coworkers. "Good morning. Sorry if we woke you up."

She yawned. "That's okay. I need a shower but I thought I should grab my bathing suit. I'll just decadently lie by the pool while you work."

He went hard in his basketball shorts picturing her sprawled out on a chaise lounge. But first, naked and wet in the shower with him. "Okay, sure. I was about to take a shower myself." He slid his hand into her hair and kissed her softly. "Can I join you?"

"Hi, Allison," Aidan called loudly from the kitchen. "Sharon is bringing us brunch if you'd like to join us."

Marco rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. Please."

Allison gave him a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt. "He's kind of charming. In an a.s.shole kind of way."

"Good thing you're not into that."

She made a face. "G.o.d, you're right on that." She called over his shoulder, "Thanks, Aidan. I may take you up on that." Then she winked at Marco. "But first I want a shower with my favorite rock star."

"Bono?" he joked.

"No, Steven Tyler. Can you give me his number?" She rolled her eyes. "Get your a.s.s in the bathroom. I'll be there in two minutes."

"I'll get your suitcase." What kind of a p.r.i.c.k did she think he was? A guitar-playing p.r.i.c.k, clearly. That had been him for a long time, he couldn't deny that. He'd let himself get caught up in the booze and the women and the money and the fame. But the last year he'd been picking his way back to himself, and he was not the kind of a guy who stood in a shower while a woman navigated her way through c.o.c.ky dudes to collect her own d.a.m.n luggage.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his bandmates, he just didn't trust his bandmates. He knew what he had done so he knew what they could do. "Go, get in the shower. I've got the suitcase." He kissed her forehead. "You look cute in my clothes, by the way."

"Yeah, sorry about that, but I heard the voices and I figured it might not be wise to stroll in here naked."

The thought gave him a pain in his chest that was similar to being staked with a rusty piece of metal. "Good call. Sorry for the chaos."

"Stop apologizing," she said softly. "You told me you had to work today. It's fine, Marco."

He was grateful at the same time he was something else he refused to label. "Cool."

With that, he turned around and went for the f.u.c.king luggage, unnerved and irritated and not sure why.

Allison catcalled him. Seriously?

She always had a way of making him grin. He didn't even mind when Rick and Aidan laughed hysterically. He just flipped them both off and went to slide shower gel all over Allison's naked body.

Allison had thought that in the last few days there had been a whole lot of unreal moments. In the shower with Marco, though, it felt very, very real. There was something about stripping away the surroundings of his house, his bandmates, private jets, and light-flashing hot tubs, her winning lottery ticket and all their clothes, and for the first time in days, she felt like what was happening was something more than just a hysterical debt-induced dream. In the steam of the shower, Marco's hand gliding over her backside as he pumped into her from behind, they were just two people having a slippery good time.

She had washed her hair before he'd gotten in, and that had left her plenty of time to make out with him naked, while he ran copious amounts of shower gel all over her body. Now this was what she considered a wakeup call.

"This is the best thing that's ever happened in this shower," Marco said. "You look hot as h.e.l.l."

Somehow she doubted she was the first woman to bend over in this shower, but then again, what did she know? Marco was a lot of things she wouldn't have expected him to be, and he had implied that his house was off-limits to hookups. Which was strange, because she was a hookup. Unless she wasn't a hookup. Which wasn't something she could contemplate when he was buried inside her.

She was gripping the fixtures for stability, her feet braced against the walls. Water was sliding all over her back, trickling down into her already heightened erogenous zones. He had the kind of ridiculous shower where jets were hitting her from ninety-seven directions. The one on the ceiling was a rainhead, a gentle misting that had been h.e.l.l for getting shampoo out of her twenty-pound head of hair. But the other jets were s.e.xy, she had to admit. She was getting hit in places she'd never imagined she would like water. Combined with the sensation of Marco filling her in a steady, slow rhythm, it wasn't long before she was arching her back and exploding in a tight, hot o.r.g.a.s.m.

"Holy s.h.i.t," she breathed. "That feels so good."

Marco yanked her hair back, entangling his fingers in the sopping strands to get a better grip on her. It was such an unexpected jolt in the middle of her explosion, it made it all that much better, and even as the last waves of her pleasure were petering off, Marco came with a low groan. She liked that sound he made, like he wanted to stay quiet, yet couldn't contain his pleasure. It gave her a very feminine satisfaction.

"You're amazing," he told her.

The crazy thing? She actually believed him.

He didn't just let go of her and step back. He eased out and then helped her back into a standing position. Pulling her back against his chest, Marco sighed in her ear. "You make me feel creative."

She laughed softly, liking the way he wrapped his arms around her. She felt warm and appreciated, s.e.xually satisfied, and content in general. He had a very calming effect on her that she was intrigued by. It was a feeling she wanted to hold on to after she got back to New York.

"Please don't say you're going to write a song about me because I'll puke." The idea actually scared her a little. What the h.e.l.l would he write? Underachieving brunette gives reasonably good head and has a degree in sarcasm? That was not going to race up the charts.

"Why? And I wasn't thinking that, no, but now I feel challenged to make it happen."

"Oh my G.o.d, no, don't! I wasn't hinting." She actually felt herself blushing. He thought she had been angling. It was mortifying.

Marco laughed and turned her around. He had water hitting him in the face, but he just tossed his hair back. "I was kidding. Joking. Don't be so sensitive."

"I'm not sensitive." Okay, she was, but he shouldn't know that. Which, of course, he did. He'd seen her crying on the floor of her empty apartment. He'd seen her get super defensive and fling b.i.t.c.hy comments his way. It was pretty d.a.m.n obvious she was sensitive and pretended she wasn't by a myriad of defense mechanisms. He was on to her. Probably everyone was on to her.

The miracle was that he actually seemed to like her. Because she was pretty sure if the roles were reversed she wouldn't like her.

"You're not sensitive here?" Marco murmured, his fingers teasing along her c.l.i.t. "Or here?" His tongue darted into her ear. "Or even here?" He rubbed her nipple into a hardened peak.

"You're evil," she told him. "And everyone is going to be mad at you if you don't get to work."

"They can kiss my a.s.s. They're always late, and today of all days they actually show up on time? It's bulls.h.i.t. They did it just to p.i.s.s me off."

"Interesting dynamics." Her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears. She couldn't believe she had an ounce of arousal still left in her, but just his gentle teasing was turning her on. She'd become insatiable and she had to admit, she liked it. "I will defer to your expertise. If you want to get me off again, I'm totally okay with that."

He pinched her nipple. "I do."

It didn't take much. A few strokes here, a few brushes there. He obviously had skilled fingers, because she was coming again in a mere two minutes, a deep sigh slipping past her lips.

"Mm," he murmured. "That sounded like an o.r.g.a.s.m to me."

"You are correct, sir." She reached down for his c.o.c.k to give him a little attention in return, but his hand covered hers.

"I need coffee and some food. And maybe just five more minutes." He moved his eyebrows up and down. "You've destroyed me."

Allison pretended to make a check mark in the air. "Cross that off my bucket list. Destroyed Marco Lucky with my mad s.e.x skills."

He smacked her a.s.s. "Yep. Now put on a bikini and get your chill on."

"You're so California. I can't believe you make fun of my nineties slang." Not that she minded. She just liked tweaking him. "That is called irony."

"Okay, college girl." Marco ducked his face under one of the jets and shook his head like a dog. "Ah, that feels good."

He stepped out of the shower and reached back with his hand to help her out. Basically, she came again right then and there. He was so G.o.dd.a.m.n nice. It was panty melting and heart melting and everything melting.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, taking his hand. She meant for offering her a hand and for everything. For making her laugh. For comforting her. For giving her a vacation, however brief, from her life. For being an attentive and generous lover. For scrubbing her back. Everything.

He seemed to know what she meant. There was that strange thing between them again. They were in harmony with each other, and she appreciated it, enjoyed that. His face softened. "You're welcome. And thank you for treating me like just any other guy."

She wanted to say he wasn't just any other guy. She didn't mean that he was a rock star. She meant that he wasn't just any guy to her. That he was something more already. But she didn't. Because that would be weird.

Allison wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. His skin was warm and wet and she had the thought that they'd spent a lot of time together in water. What was up with that? "Don't worry, I'll never treat you special."

Marco laughed. "Thanks. What more can a guy ask for?"

She didn't know. She did know what a girl could ask for, and just how crazy-pants unrealistic it was.

But then again, so was winning the lottery.

Marco was having trouble concentrating. All through eating the ma.s.sive spread of food Sharon had appeared with, he had watched Allison interacting with his bandmates and had been in awe of her. She may be highly critical of herself, but she was funny and intelligent and people were drawn to her. She had an energy that not everyone had. It was the energy of someone who loved to entertain, who could work a room, something he'd never been great at. He was better on stage, playing to the crowd. Not on the floor, socially interacting.

He kept thinking they would make a h.e.l.l of a team.

Every time the thought popped into his head, he wondered a team for what? The answer was always the same, though it startled him every d.a.m.n time. A team for just life. A relationship. Him and Allison. Together. It wasn't so crazy, was it? She'd be good in his world and he could visit in hers. He felt something way beyond a simple attraction. He felt connected to her and he wanted to see where this could go. Laughing, talking, s.e.x, it was all good. More than good. It f.u.c.king rocked.

Allison was challenging Rick to a cherry-tying tongue contest. The guys all seemed as taken with her as he was, and while he didn't love the way Aidan leered at Allison, he wasn't jealous either. He was the only one she looked at with eyes that softened. He saw the real deal. They saw the faade Allison displayed.

So it didn't bother him when the guys laughed and made rude sounds as Allison popped a cherry into her mouth, tied the stem, and opened her mouth to display it between her teeth. "Ten seconds," she said, around the cherry.

She was wearing a bikini with a coverup, but her long legs were still stretched out from the chair she was sitting in, toned and New Yorker pale. From his position on the other side of the island, he was too far to touch her, but he couldn't stop being hyperaware of her.