Chasing Love's Wings (10 page)

Her hips begin to sway to the music as it warms up. My dick stirs in my pants, and
I wish I’d shed my jeans. As soon as the singing starts, the shoulders on her robe
fall, exposing the thin black strap of what I’m guessing is her bra, and I have to
remind myself to breathe.
 

She struts her way toward me and then dips down, almost touching her ass to the floor,
which it might have done, but now I notice the black peep toe pumps she has on. She
slowly climbs back up, sticking her ass out as she does. Then suddenly her robe falls
away and she catches it in her elbows, covering herself, though I can see just about
every inch of her body underneath. The robe continues to fall away and she is left
in nothing but her bra, garter belt, panties and thigh highs. Once she is free of
the robe, she turns around, throwing her ass in my direction, and I have to remind
myself to keep breathing. She steals my breath every time she gets naked. She’s absolutely
beautiful.
 

She backs up until she is straddling my legs and she begins to grind against my now-raging
erection. I reach up to touch her, help her remove her bra, but she stops my hands.
“You know the rules, no touching the dancer.”
 

I groan my disapproval. I can’t stand not touching her, but she takes my cue and begins
to unclasp her bra in a very slow, agonizing fashion. Once it is undone, she holds
it against herself, removing it from one arm and then the other until they’re both
free, but her arm still holds the bra against her breasts as she turns around.
 

The song ends and I expect it to start again, but it doesn’t. I feel the familiar
beat of “Closer” pumping through the bass of the stereo system and her bra falls away,
exposing her perfect breasts and beautifully pierced nipples, and I see now why it
took her so long. She is no longer wearing her barbells, and a rushed breath escapes
my lips as I take in her elongated nipples, made longer by the type of nipple rings
she is wearing, which leave only the tips exposed.

“Jesus,” I moan, and she smiles, coming toward me just as the music picks up and the
singing starts. She climbs into the chair, placing her knees on either side of me,
and she grabs onto my hair, pulling my head back, causing my mouth to go slack, and
I feel the coolness of the metal running through her nipple against my lips.
 

“Lick,” she commands, and I do and she moans, grinding hard against my erection. “Suck,”
she says, and I pull her nipple and the contraption into my mouth and she shudders
just as Trent Reznor sings, “I wanna fuck you like an animal.”

She pulls back and her nipple pops free of my mouth and she climbs off of me, sliding
down to the floor. Taking the button of my jeans in between her fingers, she unbuttons
and then slides the zipper down. She hooks her hands in the waistband of my jeans
and boxer briefs, tugging, so I lift my hips and my erection springs free, falling
forward then flinging back, slapping against my stomach. She removes my shoes, then
my jeans. She stands and I notice that she’s somehow managed to remove the clips from
her thigh highs, and she starts working her barely-there thong down her legs.
 

“I want you, right here. Right now,” she says as she climbs on top of me.
 

She will get no argument from me. She reaches behind herself and lines up the head
of my cock with the warm wetness of her sex and she slides down onto me. I feel like
I am going to explode as soon as I’m deep inside of her, but I don’t, and she begins
to tremble as she slides up and down.

It’s around nine the next morning when I wake up. Cami is already out of bed and I
can’t stop the pout that forms on my lips. I hate it when she does this, mainly because
I love our morning cuddles and, even more than that, I love our morning sex, and I
am left with a hard-on and no Cami.
 

Our flight for Montana leaves late this afternoon, and knowing her, she’s around here
packing, but when I look around the room, she is nowhere in sight and there are four
suitcases standing between her bedroom and the sitting room.
 

I crawl out of bed, take care of business, throw on some clothes and head downstairs.
She’s not in the living room area, so I go down one more floor and find her in her
office.
 

“Hi, beautiful,” I say as I lean into the doorjamb.
 

“Hi beautiful yourself,” she says, but she doesn’t look up from her computer. What
on earth could she be working on that has her undivided attention?

“Whatcha working on?”
 

“Rumor squashing.”
 

“Oh, what are they saying this time?”
 

“Have you heard from Layla?” she asks, extremely deadpan and without meeting my eyes.
Something in her body language tells me that her defenses are up and her jealousy
is flaming again. I kind of like it, but it is unnecessary.
 

“No, not since we left Tarah that night. Why?” I step into the room, walk around her
desk and lean in over her shoulder.
 

“Rumor squashing, remember?” she says, more as a warning than anything, and I understand
immediately that she is warning me so that I don’t fly off the handle when I see what
it is that she has to show me.
 

There is a picture of Layla, and the caption reads:
 

Layla Brooks, released from rehab, sporting a baby bump. Who’s the father? Tristan
Michaels or the product of an elicit affair that allegedly broke the pair up? Reps
close to Ms. Brooks speculated that it was in fact Tristan’s child, but would not
confirm.
 

All I can do is close my eyes and shake my head.
 

“Rumor squashing. This is what I get paid for.”
 

“It’s still bullshit,” I say, finally opening my eyes to look at Cami. Her eyes are
soft, but there is a hint of pity in them. “I don’t need pity, but what I do want
is for her to be put in her place, along with the reporters. I won’t have this popping
up again, month after month, when she shows up somewhere.”
 

“Tristan, do you think I wouldn’t stop this nonsense?”

“Of course not. I know you will. Forgive me for thinking otherwise.” I kiss the top
of her forehead. “Are you all packed?”
 

“Nearly, just need my electronics. What about you?”

I laugh. “You mean those four suitcases upstairs are all yours?” She laughs at the
mock horror in my voice. “Nearly, but you know me, I live out of a suitcase. Packing
will take me five minutes.” I turn her chair toward me and fall to my knees in front
of her. “I can think of other things to occupy our time.”
 

“Yeah, rumor squashing.”

I shake my head. “I woke up with a raging hard-on and you were nowhere in sight,”
I say as pathetically as I can manage.
 

“Oh, you poor—” She kisses my forehead. “—poor—” Now my nose. “—poor baby. Whatever
shall we do about it?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things.” I stand up, bringing her with me. She throws her
arms around me and I brace myself to take on all her weight because I know she will
wrap her legs around me. “You know, we haven’t christened your desk yet.”
 

She playfully smacks my shoulder. “Tristan Michaels,” she says, and my name on her
lips sends a shiver through my body. I pull her lips to mine as I lay her across her
desk, pressing the sleep button on her keyboard.

ELEVEN

******
 

Cami

******

Desk sex with Tristan is most definitely something that needs to be repeated. Often.
He’s left me to finish up in here so that he can go take a shower. I want nothing
more than to join him, but I need to finish this press release before we leave and
get it off to Trinity to send out.
 

Something about the calendar and today’s date catches my attention. Hoping to see
what it is that’s bugging me, I open the calendar icon on my Mac, but nothing sticks
out, at least not for the next couple of weeks.

I remind myself to check my phone calendar, just in case something hasn’t synced over
to this, and finish up my press release.
 

Tristan, Tyson, Jolene and I are all in the back of a limo that’s taking us to the
airport. I received a text about an hour ago that Bold’s plane had arrived at Glendale
Airport, which was our cue to get moving. We could’ve just flown commercial, but once
Jolene’s luggage joins mine and Tristan’s, it is very obvious as to why I’ve chosen
to use my plane. I’m still not used to that, but then again, just as soon as I thought
I was getting used to the idea, I find out that Bobby is still alive.
 

I feel my nervousness regarding that whole situation creep over me and Tristan notices
my change in mood almost instantly. How does he do that?
 

He takes my hand and squeezes it, silently telling me that whatever it is that is
bothering me is all right. I only wish I knew how to talk to him about this, but I
just can’t find the words. And because of that, I feel like I’m pulling away from
him, and sometimes I get the impression that he feels it too. I hate it, but I haven’t
got a clue how to fix it.
 

We arrive at Glendale Airport, and immediately the limo driver and the pilots begin
loading the plane with our luggage. Before we take off, I grab a smoke. Flying isn’t
an issue for me except when it comes to these small planes like this. They creep me
out. Smoking has become more of a nervous habit than anything anymore, which really
bothers me, and I am thankful that Tristan hasn’t once mentioned the fact that there
were two empty packs of cigarettes and a full ashtray on the coffee table the night
he found me.
 

Tristan takes a smoke from me and lights up. I scowl at him. “What are you nervous
about?”
 

“Not a damn thing. I just want to stand with you.” I roll my eyes and he smirks at
me.
 

After a couple of minutes the luggage is loaded onto the plane and the pilots are
ready. Tristan and I both climb on board and head to the seats that face Tyson and
Jolene. Jolene is pale as a ghost.
 

“Oh shit, Jo.” She looks at me. “God, I completely forgot.” I unbuckle my seatbelt
and go to the stewardesses cabin for the Valium that’s stored there. “Here,” I say
as I come back with a bottle of water and the pill. “Remind me next time.” She gives
me a half smile.
 

I walk to the cockpit. “We need about twenty minutes before we can take off.”

“We’re cleared to take off now,” the co-pilot says.
 

“I understand, but I am not in the mood to clean up vomit, so give her a minute, would
you?”
 

“Yes, ma’am,” the pilot says, then turns back and starts talking through his headset,
delaying our departure.
 

I go back and take my seat across from Jolene. “Better yet?” She shakes her head at
me. “Remind me next time.” I give her a half smile.
 

Tristan and Ty are in their own conversation and I don’t pay them much attention.
 

After a couple of minutes, Jolene’s color starts to return and her eyelids begin to
get heavy. “You good, girl?”
 

She nods slowly and I stand, walking back toward the cockpit. I knock on the now-closed
door. It opens. “We’re good to go as soon as we’re clear.”
 

“Yes, ma’am.”
 

When I return to my seat, Jolene is sleeping and breathing softly. Tyson snuggles
up to her and kisses her forehead.
 

Tristan does the same and whispers, “She doesn’t like flying?”
 

“Not
like
. Loathe is probably a better term for it. It freaks her out.”
 

“I didn’t notice when we left Tarah, but she did sleep all the way back to Phoenix.”
 

“Exactly.”
 

“Oh.”

It is around seven when we land in Billings. I’ve arranged for a car and driver to
take us to the house I’ve rented for all of us for the next month. It is plenty big
for the four of us plus the others, when and if they decide to come up. However, at
the house are two rental cars — one for Tristan to use back and forth from the set,
and one for Jolene and I to use wherever we want to go.
 

“Should we stop for dinner?” Jolene asks as we all climb into the car.
 

“Sure. The house should be stocked, but by the time we get there and make food, it
will be really late.”
 

Tyson turns to our driver and lets him know we want to stop somewhere good to eat
and asks if he has any recommendations, and we’re off.
 

“Am I going to have to worry about the fans tonight?” Tristan asks Tyson, who shrugs.
“Thanks, that’s reassuring.”
 

Tyson laughs. “Well it is no secret that you’re scheduled to start filming the day
after tomorrow, and it is no secret that it is happening here in Billings, so I wouldn’t
be surprised. But given that this place looks like a hole in the wall, I don’t think
it will be too bad here tonight.”
 

“Well, we will deal with it if it becomes an issue,” I say to Tristan. “Don’t worry
about it until we have to.”
 

He gives me a half smile. “You know I always worry about it.” I smile and nod. Yes,
I know.
 

“How are you feeling, Jo?”
 

“Ohmygod, so much better now that we’re here. I slept like the dead,” she says a little
enthusiastically.
 

We all laugh. “Good. I’m glad.” I can tell that something is a bit off with Jo — something
about the way she looks at me — and I get the impression that she is dying for some
girl time.