Having Hope (The Blow Hole Boys Book 4) (11 page)

My body was a traitorous whore … slowly melting beneath Chet’s nimble fingers. He knew what he was doing for sure. I’d only ever been with Chet, and it was only the one time, so my body was crying for someone other than myself to give me relief. It was shocking, but Chet was better at touching me than I was at touching myself.

I masturbated a lot.

I didn’t trust anyone else to touch me.

I’d close my eyes and finger myself until my thighs would lift from the bed and I could barely contain the noises spilling from my mouth. It was my way of dealing. It was my way of striking Chet from my body’s memory—of wiping clean the beautiful things he’d done to me all those years ago, but what he was doing—the way he was touching me—was magical.

His finger rolled over my swollen clit, and I moaned.

“You like that?” he asked.

Again, he rolled his finger over my nub, and instead of moaning, I bit my lip until I was sure I was going to break the skin.

“Say you like it,” he demanded.

The last thing I wanted him to do was to stop. I hated myself for melting for him, but it felt so fucking good. My hips jerked, pressing my pussy into his hand.

“I like it,” I conceded.

I wasn’t very good at fighting our little war. Just a simple touch of his fingers and I was already waving the white flag. Hell, I wasn’t waving it. I was wrapping myself in it.

His finger shifted, moving from my clit and down my slit until he was teasing my opening. My pussy clenched, begging him to stick his finger deep inside, but he continued to massage the rim, collecting my wetness and moving it all around.

“Please,” I begged.

I fucking begged.

How could I sink so low?

How could I let this happen?

And with Chet fucking Rhodes, no less!

Imagining the real thing and having the real thing were two very different situations. I didn’t know what it was about my obsession with Chet.  I only knew I was beyond attracted to him … I always had been. I knew I longed for every touch he was placing against my heated skin, but I also knew my hatred for him was still thriving—growing—expanding inside me until I wasn’t sure there would be enough room for everything that I was and my abhorrence for him.

I was supposed to be moving past the past, but having him touch me and still not remember me was making me angry. It didn’t make any sense, but in my mind, it did. On one hand, his lost memories of me were a good thing for the tour. It meant I could breeze through without having to explain my past to anyone.

On the other hand, it made me so angry I wanted to scream. How could he not remember our night together? I remembered every second—every touch—every word. It was making me crazy.

I was about to tell him to stop. I was about to rip his hands from my body and tell him to get the fuck out of my room, but he moved his hand and a second finger joined the first before he pushed them deep inside me.

My head fell back against the wall. My breath rushed from my body so fast I was getting lightheaded. Sensations and pleasure struck me deep with each thrust of his fingers. And when his thumb moved over my clit, the pleasure only intensified.

“Oh, fuck.” I opened my legs wider, giving him all of me.

He continued to curl his fingers into me, the pads of his fingertips teasing my G-spot and his thumb rolling over my clit until I felt my orgasm begin to build.

“As soon as I make you come with my fingers, I’m going to fuck you up against this wall.” He tapped the wall with his free hand. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you scream. Do you hear me, Hope?”

I heard him.

I heard every fucking word, and with every word, my impending orgasm grew.

“Yes. I-I hear you,” I stuttered.

“Good. Now, fucking come on my fingers and pretend they’re my cock.”

My body lowered onto his curled fingers the more I spread my legs. I hadn’t even realized it, but already one of my legs was free from my jeans, allowing me to open for him wider and wider.

He didn’t let up, his fingers thrusting into me in perfect rhythm, his thumb teasing my swollen clit until I felt like I was going to explode. My body reacted to him—danced to his rhythm—until my orgasm was spreading into my thighs and ready to leak from my body.

“Don’t stop,” I breathed. “Fuck, Chet. Don’t stop.”

I sounded needy. I hated that, but at the same time, I was pretty sure I’d die if he stopped. I hadn’t felt pleasure this potent in years. My body was thanking me for giving in, while my mind was cursing me.

He sped up, sensing my impending release, and that was all it took. My body stiffened, and my mouth fell open. I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into him, as I cried out with so much pleasure my body began to tremble.

He kept moving—plunging his fingers into me until my body was jerking and twitching and I was mumbling for him to stop. Cold air rushed into me when he pulled his fingers free, and before I could speak, he shoved his wet fingers into my mouth.

My flavor rolled over my tongue, and I sucked, tasting myself all over his thick fingers. Then he leaned in and stuck his tongue in my mouth with his fingers, lapping at my flavor like a starving man.

“Mmm,” he moaned. “Fuck, you taste good.”

My thighs clenched together, moisture pooling in my folds and sending slick sensations over my pleasure spots.

I should have stopped things then, but I couldn’t. My body was greedy, and I wanted more. No matter how much I tried to deny it, I needed more.

Chet pushed my jeans down over my other leg until I was free from them, and then he tossed them across the room. My heart was slamming against my ribs as a quick list of consequences rushed through my memory.

I needed to stop this.

Why couldn’t I stop this?

His fingers curled into the lace at the top of my underwear, and then he pulled, snapping them from my body with a loud pop. He grinned down at me with his crooked smile, my favorite, and even though I wanted to, I didn’t smile back. I was naked from the waist down, exposed to the man I hated the most, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

His hand moved down my side, guided it between my thighs, and he pinched my clit, making me gasp.

“Ready?” he asked.

I didn’t respond.

I couldn’t.

His belt clicked as he unbuckled it; his eyes glued to mine as if he was daring me to stop him. Then his pushed his jeans down, and his hard, hot cock was pressing into my stomach.

He lifted me, his right hand curling around my left thigh and lifting it around his hip.

This was really happening. I was about to be fucked by Chet yet again. I could hardly believe I was letting this happen, but for the life of me, I couldn’t stop it.

The head of his cock teased my clit before moving down my slit and nestling close to my entrance. One shift of his hips and he’d be inside me, but before he could move, a loud banging sounded on my door.

We both stiffened, everything stopping and becoming so quiet, I could hear the outside world through the windows of my room.

“Open the fucking door, Hope, we’re starving,” Mia called through the door.

Again, they knocked, the sound echoing throughout the room.

“Don’t move,” Chet whispered. “They’ll go away. This is happening.”

His eyes devoured mine, daring me to speak or move, but reality came crashing down on me with each of their knocks. I couldn’t let him fuck me. He’d had me so fucking turned on that I had almost let it happen … again.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I shifted in his grasp, my pussy accidentally rubbing up against his cock, and he gasped before setting his head against my shoulder.

“Let me go,” I said, pushing against his shoulder as I settled back onto my own two feet.

He threw his head back with a sigh as he let me go and stepped away. His belt jingled when he tugged his jeans back up around his hips and buttoned and zipped them.

While he did that, I ran around the room collecting my things and dressing like a tornado was about to hit the hotel. The girls continued to knock.

“I’m coming!” I called out, hoping that would cease the knocking.

“No, but you were about to again,” Chet muttered as he took a seat on my bed.

“What are you doing?” I whispered. “Get up and hide.”

“What are we, fucking teenagers now? I’m not hiding. Let them think whatever the fuck they want.”

And then as if realizing that the door wasn’t closed all the way, Lena came bursting into the room.

“Hope, what the hell? We’re ready to …”

Her words stopped when her eyes landed on Chet sitting on my bed. The rest of the girls followed her, their eyes growing large when they too realized that Chet Rhodes was lounging on my bed.

It couldn’t have looked good … especially since as they walked in, I was buttoning my jeans.

Fucking great.

“Did we interrupt?” Mia asked with a grin.

“Yeah, you kind of did,” Chet said.

“No!” I shouted over him.

Chet stood with a chuckle.

“Thanks a lot, girls,” he said to the group as he made his way through them and to the door. He turned around and faced me before exiting. “I’ll see you later, and we’ll finish what we started.”

And then he was gone, leaving me in a room full of girls with their eyes wide in shock and big grins plastered across their faces.

“Let’s go.” I changed the subject. “I’m starving.”

I moved to walk toward the door, but Twiggy stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“Oh no, ma’am, we aren’t going anywhere until you tell us everything.”

Sitting across the room from Hope while everyone ate and drank was driving me fucking crazy. My dick had barely gone down, and every time she looked at me, it would harden all over again.

Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see her face as she came all over my fingers. I could still smell her there every time I lifted my drink to my lips, and even hours later, her flavor was still thick on my tongue.

She could run, but she couldn’t hide. I’d get her alone again, and when I did, I was sinking so deep into her I’d get lost. I wanted her as badly as I wanted my Blackbird. I’m not sure how it was possible to long for two women in the same manner, but I did.

It wasn’t like with the rest of the women. I felt a deep ache in my chest. I wanted Hope and Blackbird in a different way than I’d wanted any other woman. I couldn’t explain it, but it settled in my stomach like weighted sands, making me feel irrational and crazy.

There was no telling where Blackbird was these days, but I knew for sure I’d left her in South Carolina. I’d go back once this tour was over. I’d go home and see if I could find the guy I was with her five years before … the same guy who seemed to come out and play whenever he was alone with Hope.

I liked being him. I liked the way I felt when I was him. Maybe that was why I was so obsessed with Blackbird, and now, obsessed with being with Hope.

My drink burned the back of my throat when I took a large gulp. Across the room, Hope’s eyes were all over me, taunting me and making me hard all over again.

Tonight.

She would be mine tonight.