Bad Boy Romance: Nick (Romantic Suspense Alpha Male Romance) (New Adult Rock Star Contemporary Short Stories) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 2) (68 page)

****

“We’re here.” Chelsea grunted
softly as Johan’s voice called her out of a doze. She had drifted off to sleep
shortly after Johan had given her the half-dose of Vicodin during their rest
break at a restaurant on their way to what Johan was calling her new life.

“How is it possible,” Chelsea
had asked then, realizing that they had been doing an improbable amount of
driving over the past week—including her twenty-four hour harried flight. “How
is it possible that we’ve driven this much without being halfway across the
country?” Johan had chuckled.

“Well, for most of the time
we’ve been together, we’ve been traveling in interesting shapes around the
state, avoiding your home town,” he had explained. “Of course, I knew when you
went out on your own you’d probably pick a direction and keep going, so I went
after you that way. Fortunately I picked the right direction.”

Her new life would be in the
next state; Johan had explained that they were several hours away, but that
everything would be ready for them when they arrived. Chelsea opened her eyes,
yawning as she came out of her doze. Johan had parked in the driveway of a
respectable-looking house, on an anonymous street. “Wow, this is an upgrade,”
Chelsea said, staring at the front of the home for a long moment. It was
two-story, with butter-yellow walls and clean white trim, the door painted a
deep red. The yard was well maintained, with trimmed grass and a low,
landscaped garden.

“Let me go in first,” Johan suggested.
“I’ll make sure there’s no one hiding out inside, and come help you up and into
the place.” Chelsea saw the three steps leading from the walkway to the front
door and nodded. Much as she would have liked to bristle at Johan’s
authoritative tone, she was slightly woozy from the pain pills and knew that
she wouldn’t be an asset if someone had found their way inside.

Johan locked the car behind him
and strode to the front door, and Chelsea watched him as he located the key to
the door—somehow—and let himself in. She sat back, glancing around the
neighborhood. It was a place for someone like her former boss, the project
manager; not the kind of place she would have seen herself living in alone, not
with her salary.
Of course, right now you have no salary and you won’t be
living in it alone,
Chelsea though wryly. She felt her eyes stinging
slightly as it once more dawned on her how completely and utterly her life had
changed in a matter of mere days.

By the time Johan came back,
nodding slightly as he approached the car to indicate that the house was clear,
Chelsea had managed to regain her composure, dashing away the few tears she had
allowed herself to shed. Johan unlocked the car and walked around to the
passenger side to help her out, pulling her up from the seat with almost the
same strength he had possessed from the first time she’d met him.

The house she had been given—or
at least, loaned—to live in was as beautiful on the inside as its exterior had
promised; fully furnished, with a slightly plastic smell of brand-new rugs and
upholstery, it looked—on the surface—as if the people who owned it had been
living there for a year. Art prints dotted the walls, the beds—both the master
bed on the ground floor and, Johan informed her, the two guest bedrooms upstairs—were
made, there were towels, and the kitchen was fully stocked. “It really is
just…like slipping into another life,” Chelsea said with a mixture of awe and
consternation, as Johan settled her on the couch.

“Witness protection—privately
funded, in this case,” he grinned slightly. “Much nicer than what you’d get
from the government, I can promise you.” Chelsea shrugged. The luxury of their
surroundings—solidly upper middle class—compared to the apartment she had left
behind, and combined with the prestigious hotels and fancy cars they had had at
their disposal, had begun to worry her once more. Without the full dosage of
Vicodin in her system to make worrying about anything seem completely useless,
more and more of their circumstances seemed unsettling.

“I think it’s time you tell me
what the hell is going on,” Chelsea said as Johan returned from the kitchen,
armed with three re-freezable cold packs. He raised an eyebrow, perching
himself on the coffee table to remove her braces and apply the freezing
packets. Chelsea shivered, wincing against the pain that came along with the
intense cold.

“You’re in waiting,” Johan said
with a shrug. “Nice digs, no need to work until probably after the trial—too
much risk involved with routine coming and going—and entertainment.” He pointed
at himself. Chelsea looked around at the living room, at the staircase leading
to the second floor of the house.

“This is insane,” she said,
turning her attention back to Johan as the cold started to gnaw into her from
the ice packs, increasing her irritation and unease. “How the hell does someone
just—this is crazy. This house is too good.” Johan stared at her in confusion.
“This is like—hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of hide-out! And—and the
cars, and the hotels, and the room service… and my hospital bill…” Chelsea
shook her head, her heart beating faster as the incalculable costs started to
stack up in large, blank shapes in her mind.

“You are probably the only
person I’ve ever met who would even question this,” Johan said, his voice
roughening slightly with something like irritation.

“If this is privately funded,
how the hell am I going to pay this back? Am I some kind of—am I in debt to the
mob now or something? Who the hell are you? Who’s funding this?” Chelsea stood
up quickly, and immediately regretted the impulse, pain flaring through her
body as her injured knee and ankle took the pressure of her sudden stand, and
her rib protested the movement of her torso.

Johan pushed her carefully but
inelegantly back down onto the couch, gathering up the ice packs and
half-slapping them back into place. He pulled a spool of ACE bandage out of his
pocket and silently strapped the packs down while Chelsea fumed futilely. He
took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, finally meeting her gaze. “Since I can
tell you’re going to throw another tantrum if you don’t get your way—” he
began, raising a hand to forestall the protest that started to leave Chelsea’s
lips. “And after driving half the day I don’t really feel like having to haul you
to the hospital for orthopedic surgery when you make your injuries worse—I’ll
tell you what’s going on.”

“Good,” Chelsea said, shivering
as she decided to ignore the ‘tantrum’ part of the comment. “Talk.”

Johan took another deep breath.
“You’re not in debt to the mob. My client is interested in buying up your
company; but of course, your CEO won’t sell. He thinks it’s a worthwhile
investment to keep you alive to testify against the scummy asshole, and he
wants you to be as comfortable as possible. He figures that when your CEO goes
to jail, the cost of the company will plummet, and he’ll make up the difference
in a matter of months.” Chelsea stared at Johan for a long moment, digesting
the information.

“Your client doesn’t sound all
that much better than my CEO,” she said finally. Johan shrugged.

“He’s putting you up pretty
well,” Johan pointed out. “He isn’t a great guy, but he’s decent enough to want
you to testify because it’s the right thing to do, not because you’re being
forced into it.” Johan smiled wryly. “And before you ask, no—I didn’t have
orders to seduce you. You’re just too good-looking to pass up.”

“Unless I’m drugged.”

Johan snorted. “Yes, unless
you’re drugged.” Chelsea pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at
it for a long moment as she considered.

“What about the other guy?” she
asked. “The business partner and all that?” Johan shrugged again, standing and
moving onto the couch next to her carefully.

“He’s getting put up, too,”
Johan said. “It’s a don’t-ask-don’t-tell kind of situation.” Chelsea sighed.

“So what happens after the
trial?” Johan reached out and closed his hand around hers.

“You’re free to do as you want.
I could probably persuade him to let you keep the house; give me the car as a
bonus. If you need rehab for your injuries, obviously that’s something he’ll
cover.”

“But—I had a whole life.” Johan
brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm delicately.

“So you'll rebuild it, once
we’re over the hump.”

“We?”

Johan grinned. “Oh you’re not
losing me until after the trial,” he said, his bright eyes warming. “And even
then you’ll have to tell me to leave.” Chelsea smiled weakly.

“Well I guess at least I won’t
have to do it all alone,” she said, leaning against him as the stresses of the
week—and especially the acute stress of the last several minutes—weighed on
her. “I want another Vicodin. A whole one. Standing up was really dumb.”

“You have to eat first,” Johan
said firmly. “And then I’ll give you a pill and get you tucked into bed.”

“You sound like my mom,” Chelsea
complained. Johan brushed his lips against her ear.

“After you wake up, I will prove
to you that I am nothing at all like your mom,” he promised, his voice low and
slightly rough with desire.

****

“Chelsea…wake up, sleepy-head.”
Chelsea turned over in bed, for a moment uncertain when she had gotten into the
warm, soft sheets. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms, shifting
and stretching—and then, as a flicker of pain crackled through her, remembered
everything: eating an early dinner with Johan, taking a Vicodin, watching a
little TV and dozing off. She had barely awakened when Johan had carried her
into the master bedroom.

“Mm, what time is it?” Chelsea
opened her eyes, blinking quickly as light flooded into them.

“Morning,” Johan said,
slithering under the blankets and sheets next to her.

“I seriously slept—what? Ten
hours?”

“Twelve,” Johan told her with a
little grin. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, avoiding her bruised
rib.

“I thought you were going to
show me about—something, something, you’re not my mom.” Johan chuckled lowly,
his hands beginning to wander over her body slowly.

“That is, in fact, why I’m
here,” Johan said, cupping her breast in his palm. He turned her face towards
his and kissed her on the lips, his tongue darting into her mouth, exploring
and probing. “How’s the knee? And the ankle?” he asked, breaking away for just
a moment. Chelsea shivered as Johan’s caresses teased, lingering at her breasts
one moment and then drifting down to her hips, slipping between her legs to
stroke her lightly.

“Better,” Chelsea said when her
lips were once more free. Johan’s lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw,
dragging along her throat. “How—how are we going to…” Chelsea gasped as Johan’s
fingers slipped and slid along her already-slick labia, rubbing slightly. She
shivered, twisting her hips as Johan’s touch deepened, his fingers finding her
clit unerringly.

“I’ve been giving that a lot of
thought,” Johan said, his voice rough with desire. “Gave me something to…while
away the time you were asleep.” Johan kissed her lightly on the lips, and
slowly, carefully maneuvered himself on top of her, holding himself up as he
withdrew his fingers from her soaking wet vulva. “First, I’m going to make you
come,” Johan murmured, pulling Chelsea’s legs apart gently. “And then… well,
you’ll see.” Johan grinned at her, and then began to trail kisses down from her
lips, along the column of her throat, past her collarbones. Chelsea shivered as
Johan lingered at her breasts, claiming each of her nipples in turn, licking
and sucking each one. Johan’s fingers stroked just between her labia as he
worshipped her breasts with lips and tongue, sending tingling jolts of pleasure
through her body.

Just when Chelsea thought she
couldn’t stand any more teasing, Johan continued downward, kissing and nibbling
along her ribs, past her abdomen. He nuzzled her hip, nipping sharply at the
sensitive skin there, and Chelsea gasped, reaching down to tangle her fingers
in his hair. Johan slithered down between her legs, spreading her thighs just
slightly wider, careful to support her injured knee. Chelsea moaned out as
Johan buried his face against her soaking wet pussy, sucking and licking
hungrily. He pulled her labia into his mouth as he flickered his tongue up and
down along her folds, tasting her thoroughly.

Chelsea’s hips bucked and
twisted as Johan brought his tongue up to her clit, barely swiping against the
bead of nerves before moving down to the well of her pussy once more. She
tugged at Johan’s hair without thinking, grabbed at his shoulder, too wrapped
up in the pleasure of his mouth against her to remember where he was injured or
even try to avoid it. Johan nuzzled against her, focusing his efforts on her
pleasure center, and even though she tried to hold back, to savor the
sensations coursing through her, Chelsea found her self-control slipping every
moment, until she felt the growing knot of tension between her hips unravel,
sending wave after wave of pleasure through her. Johan continued his worship
even as Chelsea pitched and writhed, forgetting all about her own injuries,
lost in the sensations coursing through her nervous system.

Johan began to pull back as the
spasms of pleasure began to abate, lapping up her fluids more slowly and then
retreating, leaving Chelsea shivering in the aftershocks for just a moment
before he slithered on top of her once more. “Are you ready for more?” Johan
asked her, kissing her lightly on the lips. Chelsea struggled to catch her
breath, draping her arms limply around his broad shoulders.

“Not really but keep going
anyway,” she said, smiling breathlessly. Johan chuckled and Chelsea felt him
shifting her body around, moving above her even as he held himself up to keep
from putting pressure on the parts of her body that still ached. She could feel
the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against her, and even though Chelsea
was still hovering in the haze of orgasm, she felt a ripple of renewed lust.

Johan carefully brought
Chelsea’s injured leg up, resting her calf against his shoulder, and Chelsea
bit her bottom lip, briefly uncertain; but as he thrust into her slowly,
filling her up inch by inch, any worry about hurting herself evaporated. Johan
rocked his hips, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her as Chelsea began to
move with him. Hot and cold flashes of sensation crackled through her, and she
reached out, carefully stretching to touch Johan everywhere. He held her leg on
top of his shoulder, his free hand trailing over her body, stroking and
caressing her, teasing her nipples one moment and then drifting down between
their bodies to rub her clit the next. Chelsea arched and writhed, moaning out
as the friction between them built up.

She could feel Johan’s cock
twitching inside of her, feel the tension in his body as they continued to move
together; Chelsea forgot even the memory of pain as more and more pleasure
coursed through her, bringing her swiftly to the edge of orgasm, grabbing and
clutching at Johan’s body as if for life itself. They both reached orgasm at
almost the same moment—Chelsea felt her self-control give way, and then felt
the first hot, sticky-slick splash of Johan’s come rushing into her as they
moaned together, crying out in pleasure.

Johan carefully fell to the bed
next to her, letting her leg slide off of his shoulder as he draped his arms
around her. Chelsea trembled, turning onto her side to cuddle close to Johan as
they both panted and gasped for breath. “Okay,” she said, smiling slightly as
she looked up into his face. “You’re definitely not my mom.” Johan laughed out
loud, his arms tightening around her.

“I would hope not!” Johan kissed
her eagerly. “How do you feel now?” Chelsea considered the question.

“Like I want half a Vicodin,
breakfast, and then some more of this.” Johan chuckled.

“I mean about your life,” he
told her, tousling her hair playfully.

“Well it could be all the
pleasure chemicals in my system, but I’m pretty optimistic, on the whole,”
Chelsea said. “You’re not just going to leave me when this is all over, are
you?” Johan shook his head.

“I told you yesterday: you’re
stuck with me until you tell me to leave.” Chelsea smiled.

“What are we going to do until
the trial? I mean, I can’t work…” Johan brought her face up to his and kissed
her hungrily.

“Well, personally my plan is to
keep you fed, keep you from getting hurt again, and regularly fuck your brains
out, as long as you want to fuck me.” He nibbled along the column of her
throat. “I seem to recall you having an issue with me ‘bullying you’ into
fucking on my schedule.” Chelsea laughed, and clutched at her bruised rib as
the movement sent a ripple of pain strong enough to cut through the haze of
pleasure and painkillers.

“Okay, okay,” she said,
breathing carefully. “No more complaints about that.” Johan pulled her closer,
nuzzling against her neck.

“Then I think we’ll be just
fine.” Johan kissed her again. “No more tantrums until you’re healed up, got
it?” Chelsea nodded.

“Got it. Now when are you going
to feed me?” Johan guided her hand down along his body, and she laughed,
half-groaning as she realized he was starting to become hard again. “One more
time. Then we eat and get some drugs in me.”

“We have nothing but time,”
Johan murmured, and they began to move together once more.