The Lonely Kings: Hard Rock Arrangement Part 27

Chapter Sixteen.

Even when we finally got back to the hotel, none of it seemed real. My whole life had pa.s.sed before my eyes multiple times that evening, and I was not quite in the proper state of mind to process any of it. All I knew was that I'd punched my abusive ex-boyfriend, that Carter had given an explanation that was semi-plausible, and that Kent had declared his intentions towards me in front of a thousand screaming fans. "It makes a good fairy tale," Kent explained it as we drove back. I had to admit it was sort of true... even though the real story was an even better fairy tale. I knew the news was already making its way around the world.

A fairy tale. A really really weird fairy tale, but a fairy tale all the same.

"That s.h.i.t was ba-nay-nay," Carter was saying as we piled out of the van. "One of the pit crew told me the cops were called because Jason couldn't stop beating on his ba.s.sist, and his nose got broken. That is so f.u.c.king crazy."

"I knew he was a piece of s.h.i.t," Sonya said. "That's the sort of guy who blames everyone else for his failures." She hopped into the parking lot and stretched. She'd changed back into her regular clothes, but her face was still caked with make up. "s.h.i.t," she said. "I seriously need a shower." She turned and looked at Kent as he circled the van and came to stand beside me. "So are we done here? I want to go home."

He put his arm around me and I felt him nod. "We are," he said. "We'll be going home tomorrow."

"Awesome," she said. "Let's go get drunk."

"Yes!" Manny agreed.

"Eh..." Carter said, and Sonya punched him in the arm.

"You can have a Shirley Temple if you don't want to drink, but come with us. Don't be boring."

"I'm not boring!"

"You bore me."

"Everything bores you. You're bored because you're boring."

Sonya punched him again. "Stop being a jerk and drink with us."

For a brief moment Carter looked over his shoulder at Kent and me, as though asking for our permission. I half expected Kent to forbid him from the post-show celebration, but all he did was take my hand and say, "Don't overdo it."

The three of them started out across the parking lot, arguing about what sort of shots they were going to do and who was going to drink who under the table.

Then Kent and I were alone together in the parking lot.

He reached for me, then hesitated. "How's your hand feeling?" he asked.

"Smarts," I said. "But it's not broken."

"That's good," he said. "I'm glad you punched him and not me. I wouldn't have been able to play if I'd punched him."

I laughed at that. "G.o.d forbid the show be canceled."

"Well it was a rather large part of my scheme."

I sobered a bit. "Do you think people are going to buy that story that Carter told? I mean... really?"

Kent shrugged. "Honestly?" he said. "Who gives a s.h.i.t?"

And I had to admit that I didn't. I had my family. I had the band. And I had Kent.

I had people who cared about me, and that was plenty.

Reaching out, I took his hand, and he gingerly closed his fingers around mine, clearly afraid he was going to injure my hand further.

Together we walked through the hotel lobby, rode the elevator, and went to his room in a comfortable silence, but the moment the door closed behind us, I felt tension run through Kent's body.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Kent let go of my hand and turned looking down at me. His face was troubled, and I had a weird feeling in my stomach.

He took a deep breath. "Rebecca..." He looked pained, then forced the words out. "Rebecca, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Sorry? I thought. Sorry for what? It didn't make any sense to me that he would be sorry. I opened my mouth to say so, but he held up a hand.

"I've been an a.s.shole since the moment we met, and I'm sorry," he said. "I treated you like a groupie on the plane, and then I kept coming on to you after I hired you. Then I distanced myself, like an a.s.s, and then when I realized I trusted you and relied on you I took advantage of you again. And it wasn't until you said you were going to leave for the good of the band that I realized that all this time I had been obsessing over you, watching you, dreaming about you... I'd been taking you for granted. Just like Jason did."

I stared at him, disbelieving. I wondered if I was dreaming. I wanted to ask him if he was serious, but he kept going. His eyes had dropped from mine and he stared at my hands, holding onto the strap of my messenger bag.

"And you know...I said that your s.h.i.tty ex-boyfriend could have gone to the moon if he'd known what he had in you, and I meant it. You are the sort of woman any man would be glad to have. I know you don't think of yourself that way, but I see a hard worker and a loyal friend, and you take s.h.i.t you don't need to and that p.i.s.ses me the f.u.c.k off. Especially when it's me shoveling that s.h.i.t at you. So I'm sorry. I'm a piece of s.h.i.t. I treated you terribly. I'm an a.s.shole. I don't really know how to stop being an a.s.shole, but if you're willing to give me a second chance, I swear I'll learn."

A second chance? You had me at the s.e.xual hara.s.sment. The words were rising in my mouth before I had a chance to push them back down. "I like you as an a.s.shole," I said.

Kent raised his eyebrows, at last able to meet my gaze again. "Oh?" he said.

"Yeah," I told him. "You're a total a.s.shole. I love it. Now go on. Tell me how great I am some more."

His chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Well, fine. You saved my baby brother, and you've made my band more cohesive and my life more peaceful. I didn't even know that was possible. I expected to die at thirty-five of a heart attack. But you make me think there might be something more to life than all this stupid s.h.i.t I'm obsessed with-charts and money and tour dates and all that bulls.h.i.t. So there it is. I don't deserve you, but I still want you. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," I said. "Now would you shut up and kiss me already?"

Kent didn't need another invitation. The words had barely left my mouth and he was on me, all hands and lips and lean, hard body.

His mouth found mine in an instant, his hot, rough fingers on my face. The air seemed to leave the room as he pressed me back and back again, until my spine hit the door, and my hands were restless and hungry as I reached up and ran them over his chest, up his throat, into his glorious hair. Our teeth clicked with the force of our joining, and our tongues warred and tangled between us.

My eyes slid closed as Kent abandoned my mouth and instead pressed a hot line of devouring kisses down my jaw to my throat. I hooked one leg over his hip and urged him closer, wanting only to abandon myself to this feeling. We were fragile, I knew that, just starting out, and I wanted to remember every moment of our first time when we were finally free to be with each other.

When Kent slipped my shirt over my head, I tried to savor it, every sensual caress of fabric over my skin, every insistent nudge of his hips against mine. When he worked my bra off over my shoulders, peeling the lace away to reveal my b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath, I tried to memorize it, the soft ghosting of his breath over my skin, the fine tickling of his long hair, hiding his face and brushing against my collarbone as he opened his mouth wide and tried to devour every inch of me. First he released the clasp of my bra, letting the garment fall to the floor, then let his hands skate down my body until he found my hips. His fingers dug into me, squeezed my a.s.s with possessive force, and when I moaned I didn't even care that the whole hotel could probably hear me.

"Rebecca," he murmured into my skin, and my hands tangled in his hair, holding him close to my heart as first one pert nipple and then the other found their way into his mouth. His teeth nipped at my flesh, a sharp, delicious pain against the backdrop of roaring desire, and I sobbed his name as his tongue began a dance over my nipple that made the hot s.p.a.ce between my thighs light up like a firework.

I gasped, my knees giving way, but Kent held me up, his arms almost inhumanly strong as he worked his way down my body. When his tongue abandoned my nipple I almost cried, but when he began to trace a long, hot path down the center of my stomach I couldn't help but curl my fingers in his hair, knowing what would come next.

Kent took his sweet d.a.m.n time getting to it, though. First his hands on my hips pushed me gently into the closet door as though anchoring me in place. Then he trailed his fingers over the waistband of my jeans, dipping beneath the denim, sampling the skin there as though I were a rare delicacy. Then he unb.u.t.toned my jeans and peeled the fabric back, exposing my lower belly to his seeking mouth.

All the blood in my body rushed to the spot between my legs where I needed him most. My hips rocked into his lips and I felt him smile against my belly.

"Patience, Rebecca," he said. "All good things to those who wait."

"He who hesitates is lost," I managed to gasp out, and his laugh rumbled against my skin, the sound racing through me, burying itself deep in my core.

"Touche."

G.o.dd.a.m.n right, I thought, but then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and began to pull them down, slowly, sensuously, and I forgot about whatever pa.s.sed for witty repartee in the heat of the moment.

I squirmed as he worked my jeans down past my hips, over my thighs, sliding them over my knees to pool around the high cuffs of my boots. I lost him then, his beautiful hair slipping through my fingers like water, so I tried to brace myself against the door, my palms flattening against the cool wood. His hot, rough hands skated over my skin, sending sparks racing through me, up the insides of my legs to my c.l.i.t. One hand unzipped my boots and slipped them off as he planted heated kisses up the smooth curve of my thigh, his hot breath pooling in the valley between my legs. I stepped out of my jeans, trembling, and then I stood before him in only my panties, my breathing shallow, my heart hammering out a driving beat.

Kent leaned in and nudged me, first with his nose, then with his lips, suckling me through the thin, soaked cotton, sc.r.a.ping his teeth over the tender flesh beneath. My hands found his hair again, twisting and turning in the silky locks, our breathing labored and mingling together in the quiet of the room, and when he finally slipped the crotch of my panties aside with his skilful tongue, I wanted to weep with relief. I gazed down at him through a haze of desire as he rubbed his stubbled cheek over the tender flesh of my thigh.

"I love the way you taste, Rebecca," he said, his voice rubbing over my exposed flesh. "I dream about it every night." Then he lifted his eyes and met mine with a gaze so arresting I thought my heart would stop. A wicked smile sliced over his lips. "And now I'll get to taste it every morning."

I gasped, and then his mouth was on me, suckling, tasting, flicking and dancing over the superheated flesh, slipping and sliding against my slick folds and the hard little nub of my c.l.i.t. He seemed unable to get his fill of me, drunk with my taste, with my smell, and I was the same, addicted and strung out on his mouth and hands, on his body, on everything about him. On his restraint, on his abandon, on his strength and his sense of duty, on his anguished heart that he hid so well. My hips bucked against his mouth as he explored me, unleashing the full depth of his hunger into the hot s.p.a.ce between my thighs. My core contracted as he laved me with lazy attention and I had to struggle to stay standing as slowly, sweetly, a delicious tightening began low in my belly.

"Kent," I breathed. "Kent, please..."

He sucked my c.l.i.t into his mouth and began to nibble on it with gentle teeth, and the tightening sped up. Then his tongue flickered out, sc.r.a.ping over my aching flesh, quick and sharp, and then I was coming against his lips, my body reaching for his tongue, needing to embrace him inside me, and as I came I cried out, my legs giving way.

I fell gracelessly as waves of pleasure crashed into me, bowling me over, turning me upside down and inside out, but Kent caught me and lowered me into his lap, cradling me in one arm as his other hand found my wet core and kept stroking me, pushing me up higher and higher. I thrashed against him as his mouth found mine, the taste of my own arousal slathered over his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him fast as my body dissolved and reformed, over and over.

When at last I was spent, Kent gently placed me on the floor, then helped me to my feet and led me through the suite and to the bed where we had spent our past few chaste nights. Well, no longer.

Again his mouth found mine as he backed me into the mattress, and when I had no choice but to collapse onto it he followed, grinning wickedly as his tall body arched over mine, his long legs insinuating themselves between my thighs.

G.o.d, he was tall. And big. And I wanted to feel him, all of him.

Reaching out, I pulled his t-shirt off over his head, and he helped me, throwing it to the floor as my fingers fumbled at the b.u.t.ton on his jeans. Frantically I shoved his jeans over his hips, delighted to find he was commando again, and as he crawled up over me, every inch of him dominating my supine form, I shuddered with desire. My hands found his c.o.c.k and gave it a quick, hungry stroke, and he grunted as he bucked into my hand.

Our mouths found each other again, and he laid his body over mine, the heat of him searing my skin and setting my insides on fire, contrasting with the coolness of the sheets beneath my back. I moaned into him as his hands roamed over me, dipping and teasing, stroking and pinching, until I was breathless and ready to f.u.c.k. I felt small next to him, pale beside his intensity, but I tried to match him anyway. That was what working for Kent had taught me-to try to match the challenges I faced. I didn't do so well sometimes, but at least I was trying now. At least I knew that trying was an option. And he was here to teach me more.

I hooked my legs around his waist and felt the hot, rock-hard flesh of his erection nestling against my core, the soft head bent down into the sheets. Groaning, I pushed my hips up into him, begging him to take me. I ran my hands over his back, feeling the magnificent contours of his painted body. Smoothing my palms down into the little valley at the small of his back, just before the swell of his a.s.s, I thought I could stay in that bed forever, just touching him. I wouldn't need to eat. I wouldn't need to sleep. Just these moments would sustain me...

To my dismay, the moment ended all too soon when Kent pulled away, rearing back onto his knees. One hand dipped between my legs to play with me-tender strokes with his rough fingers-while the other hand reached into the bedside table and pulled out a condom. He kept his eyes on mine, and I had the sudden feeling that he was trying to memorize me, too. I felt his gaze burn through me wherever it roamed, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

His hand retreated from between my legs as he ripped open the gold foil packet and rolled the condom down over his c.o.c.k, and when at last he settled himself over me I closed my eyes and clung to him. Angling my hips upwards, I felt the huge head of his erection press against my entrance, and I bit my lip.

Slowly he lowered his weight down onto me, pressing me into the mattress, entering my throbbing core with an achingly slow stroke that sent spasms of pleasure down my legs, ending in curled toes. I hiked my legs up over his waist and let my soles rest on his a.s.s, and when he began to flex deep inside me I felt it through my whole body.

His pace picked up almost immediately, and I strove to match him, my body stretching out to accommodate him, and I imagined I could feel every vein and ridge of him moving inside me, over my inner walls. A soft moan escaped from between my lips as his pace went faster and faster, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s smashed against his warm chest, his undulating belly flexing against mine, all that hardness against my softness. Overwhelmed, I clung to him for dear life as another o.r.g.a.s.m began to tighten and build deep inside me.

Before it could crest, however, he pulled out. "Turn over," he murmured to me.

Swallowing, I did so, and when he grabbed my hips and hiked them up I gasped, my upper body sc.r.a.ping across the sheets. When he pressed into me from behind, I could hardly contain the groan of ecstasy. Pressing, pushing, he entered me, then pushed my hips back down into the bed until I was lying face down and he was buried deep inside me.

Oh, please, yes, I thought as he pulled out, pulling my body along with him, and when he picked up his pace again I bit into the mattress and tried not to scream.

Faster and faster he went, carrying me away on a wave of delight, high and swift. My whole world vanished as I closed my eyes-all the pain, the humiliation, the bitter past-evaporating like a puddle in the middle of a forest raging with fire. Nothing was real except Kent. I felt as though I were blurring at the edges, bleeding into him, melting into the bed, reduced to nothing but nerves and flesh.

His body plumbed mine, and my o.r.g.a.s.m built again, a slow and steady rise. My c.l.i.t was sandwiched between my thighs and each plunge of his erection hit just the right spots inside me to make me see stars behind my lids. The wet sounds of our coupling filled the room, and each grunt dragged up from deep in Kent's throat stoked the blaze inside me.

My hands fisted in the sheets as I raced towards completion, his lean, strong body expending all his power within me, and when at last I couldn't stand it any longer, I mercifully came. The tiny world of the two of us exploded inside me, and I thrashed, unable to control myself, my cries ringing in my ears as Kent moaned my name over and over again.

He kept going and the pleasure stretched out, until I thought I couldn't take it any more, that surely there was only so much delight the human body could take before it came apart at the seams, and then at last he yelled his release, my name on his lips as he came, harsh and swift, deep inside me.

I realized that sweat slicked both our bodies when he collapsed on top of me, holding his full weight off only with his elbows. Our breath matched pace, and then, tenderly, he planted a kiss on my shoulder. A sweet kiss. A h.e.l.lo kiss.

My heart twisted, wrung out like a rag, and then he reached down and eased himself out of me and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from turning around and tackling him again.

Kent slipped off the bed and I heard him remove the condom and drop it in the trash can. My limbs were as limp as noodles, but I somehow managed to drag myself into a sitting position and crawl over to the pillows where I collapsed gratefully, watching as Kent crossed the floor, his blue-green eyes studying me, a soft expression on his face.

Wordlessly he lay down beside me and pulled me to him, and I placed my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

I woke up in the early hours of the morning, realizing that Kent was not with me in the bed. For a moment I had the horrible thought that it had all been a dream, but then I heard the toilet flush and I relaxed.

Kent came back and slid between the covers, his arms slipping around me. He was so warm. I just wanted to curl up on him and purr like a cat. I wasn't going to, obviously, because that would be weird, but d.a.m.n if it wasn't tempting.

"Feeling better?" he asked me.

I grinned into his shoulder. "I've been worse," I told him.

He laughed at that. "I bet you have." Lazily, he lifted one hand and began to smooth his palm over my back. Warmth spread out over me where he touched me, and his naked body entwined with mine was pulling me ever more insistently out of sleep. I sighed and stretched, unfurling from the tips of my toes all the way up to the ends of my fingers high above my head. I felt the last vestiges of tension trickle away. Finally, thoroughly relaxed, I laid back and let Kent wrap himself around me.

I stared up at the ceiling, light and dark in unfamiliar patterns. There was a cobweb up in the corner that someone had missed in the last maid service. I watched it rise and fall gently with the shifting air currents in the room.

Then I frowned. "I'm feeling weird," I said.

"Weird?" He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at me. "What do you mean, weird? Like sick?"

I shook my head. "Nooooo," I said. "I just mean, I was lying here looking at the ceiling, and there's a spider web up there." Now that I was saying it out loud it seemed kind of stupid, but I'd started so I plunged ahead. "And...I don't feel any need to clean it up."

I shut my mouth and pressed my lips together. G.o.d. Was I a weirdo or what? I risked a glance at Kent and he was staring at me as though I'd just suggested we put bananas in our ears.

"And that's... bad?" he asked.

"I didn't say bad, I said weird." I wrinkled my nose. "It's not bothering me that it's there. It's weird."

He started to laugh.

I shoved him. "Don't laugh at me!"

He shook his head. "I can't help it," he said, stifling his laughter into snorts. "Only you would think it was weird that you didn't want to clean something."

"But it is weird for me to not want to clean something!" I said. "I looked at it and I thought, 'oh, spiderweb,' not, 'I should get a duster.'" This was actually beginning to seriously stress me out. I'd always been a neat freak. Always. I frowned. "Did your c.o.c.k heal me of my OCD?" I asked him, suspicious.

"That would be a neat superpower," he said, but then he sobered up and moved toward me. Gently he tipped me onto my back and pulled himself over me. One hand reached up and began to play with my hair, and I idly ran my hands over his tattooed biceps. "Rebecca," he said, "have you ever asked yourself why you think you have to purge the world?"