Rock Star Romance: Dan (Contemporary New Adult Rockstar Bad Boy Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 4) (5 page)

****

“So tell me: what’s it like to be a famous
musician?” Sophie reached out with chopsticks in her hand and snagged a piece
of grilled eggplant off of the plate in front of us. I’d taken her to
Yakko-San, not too far from the studio.

“I’m not famous,” I said, shaking my head as I
grabbed for a bite of tuna.

“Sure you are,” Sophie said. “Molly Riot is the
success story of the scene.” I rolled my eyes.

“All happenstance,” I told her. “Alex had that big
raid, and then Nick got involved with a journalist, and Jules…” I shrugged and
ate my bite of tuna, before reaching for a slice of grilled sea bass. Sophie
plucked a dumpling off of a plate.

“The reason doesn’t matter,” she told me. “You’re
famous.”

“Does that matter to you?” I ate my sea bass.
Sophie looked at me thoughtfully, chewing her gyoza.

“Not really,” she replied after a moment. “I mean,
obviously it will ruin my cred in certain circles, but I can deal with that.” I
laughed.

“So we’re operating on the assumption that this is
going to be an actual thing?” Sophie’s lips twitched in a little smile.

“I’m kind of hopeful it will,” she said. “But I
mean—obviously, that’s going to depend on how it goes in the bedroom.”

“You have doubts?” I snagged a dumpling and ate
it, eyebrow raised.

“Well, I can’t know for sure until we get there,
right?” Sophie tilted her head to the side.

“You didn’t get anything from that kiss the other
day?” I held her gaze.

“I was half asleep,” Sophie pointed out. “Maybe if
you tried it again I could judge better.” I chuckled, and snatched another
piece of tuna off of one of the plates.

“I think I can manage that,” I told her. Sophie
grinned.

“I’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.”

“Well I’m not going to kiss you right here—I taste
like fish.” Sophie snorted.

I insisted on paying for dinner at the end of it
all, even though I’d said we were going to go Dutch. We walked out of the
restaurant, and acting on impulse I grabbed Sophie’s hand. Her fingers
tightened around mine as we went to my car. She turned to face me as we got to
the passenger side door, but before she could say anything, I leaned in and
kissed her. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing her body against mine,
and deepened the kiss moment by moment. Any and all thought of Mark completely
left me.

I pushed Sophie up against my car, letting my
hands wander over her body slowly; I hadn’t realized how much I’d been thinking
about kissing her, touching her, holding her ever since I’d left her apartment
days before. I could feel myself already starting to get hard as Sophie began
to squirm against me, her hands moving across my back and shoulders as I
deepened the kiss.

I don’t know how long we stood like that, kissing
against my car, but when I finally broke away from Sophie’s lips, I was so
turned on that I wanted to fuck her right there. “Sophie,” I murmured, dragging
my lips along her jaw up to her ear. “I know I promised to take you back to
your car and let you go home…”

“But if you don’t take me back to your place right
now you’ll die?” Sophie chuckled lowly.

“That’s about right,” I admitted. Her hips felt
amazing underneath my hands—I could feel the tremble in her body, I could feel
the heat of her. “What do you think?” Sophie twisted her hips against mine and
looked up at me.

“I think this is going pretty fast,” she said.

“I can slow down,” I told her. “I won’t actually
die if you go home instead of back to my place.” Sophie hesitated and then
leaned up onto the balls of her feet and kissed me. My hands slid up to her
tits and then down along her tight little waist to her hips, and all I could
think about was how she would look naked, sprawled out on my bed.

“I need to be home before dawn,” Sophie murmured
against my lips. “Drogon has to eat.”

“I can totally do that,” I told her, pressing my
hips against hers.

How I managed to get the doors to my car unlocked
I have no idea; all the blood was rushing to my groin. I probably wasn’t safe
to drive, but thank god there was almost no traffic for once on 95. I made it
back to the apartment in record time, and barely got the car parked in my spot
before I rushed around to the passenger side to let Sophie out. If I thought
too much about what I was doing, I knew I’d just fuck myself over—I’d think
about Mark and the fact that he didn’t know yet that I’d sniped a girl he was
into.

I almost stumbled over my own feet getting Sophie
into my apartment; I threw her up against the door and pinned her there,
kissing her hungrily while I let my hands wander all over her body. “God,” I
murmured against her lips, rubbing my hips against hers, kissing along the
column of her throat. “You are so fucking hot, Sophie. So…goddamn…hot.” I
wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her up a little bit, rocking up
against her.

Sophie moaned against my neck, wrapping her arms
around my shoulders, pushing her hips against mine, twisting and writhing
between the wall and me. I nibbled along the column of her throat and pulled
back from the front door, taking Sophie by the hand and leading her towards my
bedroom.

I pulled the straps of her jumper over her
shoulders and found the zipper in the back for the skirt, even as she tugged
and pulled at my tee shirt. I pushed any thought of anything other than Sophie
out of my mind; the only thing that held me back was not wanting to actually
rip any of her clothes as I got them off of her. I managed to get her down to
her panties and took a step back to admire my handiwork; Sophie looked even
better naked than I’d imagined, her tits so full they had that little bit of
droop to them—not a sag, exactly, but enough to let you know they were 100%
real—and, to my surprise, tattoos from the front of her hips to her back,
visible just above and below her black lace panties.

I didn’t take the time to examine the ink; instead
I gave her a careful shove onto my bed and then slid on top of her, barely able
to keep myself under control. I was hard as a rock—my cock was aching,
throbbing from how turned on I was. I kissed her again and again, rocking my
hips against hers, rubbing against the heat and wetness I could feel through
the fabric of her panties and my boxers.

I tried to hold back, and to make it last, but I
knew—it had been weeks since I’d been with someone—that once I got inside
Sophie I wasn’t going to be able to take it slow anymore. I started kissing a
path down from her lips, down to where I really wanted to be; I paused for a
few minutes at her breasts, and looked up into her eyes as I played with her,
teasing her with my lips and tongue. Sophie was even hotter than before, her
face flushed against the green dye of her hair, her eyes like pits in her face
they were so dark, her lips parted as she panted and moaned for me. It sounded
like music—and every noise that left her made me that much more turned on, that
much more eager to get to the main event.

I moved down over her body as slowly as I could,
taking my time, kissing every bit of skin I could find until I came to her
hips. I tugged her panties down and cupped her pussy in the palm of my hand.
She was already soaking—totally drenched, the silky-wet heat coating my fingers
in an instant. I rubbed up and down slowly, nuzzling up against her thigh,
spreading her legs wider.

I buried my face against Sophie’s pussy, spreading
the labia apart and sliding my tongue up and down along the inner folds. She
tasted good—sharp and sweet all at once, clean and wet and hot. I set to work
teasing her, working her up as fast as I could, flicking my tongue up to just
barely brush against her clit and then back down to her labia, back and forth
while she twisted and arched and squirmed underneath me and around me. I was
torn between wanting it to go on forever and the feeling that my cock might
actually explode if I didn’t get relief soon; but the sound of Sophie’s little
gasps and moans and cries was enough to make me want to devour her whole.

I brought her to the edge of climax at least
twice, feeling the tension in her body, listening to the changes in her cries
as I worked her with my lips and tongue and fingers; she was so tight—so
fucking tight I almost couldn’t stand it. I had to feel her wrapped around me.
I pulled back and Sophie let out a long, low, frustrated groan, her hands tight
in my hair, her fingers tangled, her body pitching as she reeled from
disappointment.

I slithered back up to her face and kissed her
without even wiping my lips, squirming and shifting until I got my boxers off.
Sophie wrapped her legs around me like a pair of pythons and I rubbed against
her, still trying to hold back, still trying to make the moment last. I loved
the feeling of her slick pussy against me, the heat of her, the taste of her
lips.

I shifted against her, lining myself up against
Sophie’s inner labia, and thrust into her slowly. “Fuck—fuck, Dan…god…” Sophie
dragged her lips along my throat and I kissed her hungrily, over and over again
as we began to move together.

“You feel so good,” I told her, lifting myself up
onto my elbows and looking down into her eyes. I tried to hold myself back, but
the tight, wet heat of her wrapped around me felt too good. I started to move
faster, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her, touching her everywhere.
Sophie’s muscles flexed and tightened around me in erratic little spasms, and I
fought to keep control of myself, but it was impossible. I started going harder
and faster, and Sophie moaned out, kissing my neck, my shoulder, her
fingernails digging into my back. I lost myself in the moment, thrusting as
deep as I could inside of her, reaching down to stroke and rub Sophie’s clit,
doing everything I could to get more of those delicious sounds out of her.

All at once, I felt Sophie’s body tightening
around me, her muscles flexing in erratic little spasms as she came, crying
out. I kissed her again and again, barely holding back as her body rippled
around me; I lost what little self-control I had in what seemed like mere
seconds. I groaned out against Sophie’s neck as hot and cold flashes rushed
through me like waves. I thrust a few more times into Sophie’s body as we both
came even harder, until I couldn’t even think about moving anymore. Sweat dripped
off of me, and I slumped against her, panting and gasping for breath.

As soon as my heart began to slow down and I was
actually able to get my breathing under control, I looked down at Sophie’s
face. She was still breathing heavily, but she looked absolutely gorgeous:
cheeks flushed, eyes shiny, lips curled in a satisfied little grin. “We have to
do that again before I take you to your car,” I told her.

“Oh totally,” Sophie agreed. She kissed me on the
lips, and I rolled off of her, letting my arm rest across her waist. Without
warning, Sophie giggled, curling up into herself, burying her face against my
pillows.

“What?” Sophie shook her head and
barely—barely—peaked up at me before dissolving into another fit of laughter.

“You’re good in bed,” she told me, once she could
breathe once more.

“That’s funny?” Sophie giggled again—but not
uncontrollably.

“I totally expected…” she shook her head,
grinning. “I expected that you’d be…like…”

“Selfish?” I kissed her temple. “All about getting
myself off?” Sophie shrugged.

“Something like that,” she said. “I mean, you do
know there are rumors about Molly Riot’s members…”

“What rumors?” I rolled back on top of Sophie. “Is
the word on the street that we’re all terrible in bed?” Sophie snickered.

“No—but some people do think you guys are kind of
slutty,” Sophie told me. “Less so now, obviously.”

“So if we’re sluts then we
should
be good
in bed,” I pointed out. I kissed her again and felt myself starting to get
hard. “In fact, I will show you exactly how good I am in bed, right now.”
Sophie chuckled lowly and wrapped her arms around me.

“Show away,” she said.

****

I woke up in my own bed, for once feeling like I’d
managed to get a decent night’s sleep in spite of the fact that Sophie and I
had been up until about four, having sex over and over again. We’d only stopped
at three-thirty in the morning because I had promised to get her to her car so
she could get home in enough time to feed the cat.

I had to get to the studio but we’d all agreed not
to get started until two in the afternoon; when I checked the time on my phone
it was only eleven. Time enough to get a shower, grab some breakfast, and maybe
get in a little practice on one of the songs we’d changed up the day before
until I had to get to the complex. I scrolled through my Facebook feed for a
few moments in bed, thinking about Sophie; there was still something between
us, I knew, but I couldn’t deal with the situation with her until I dealt with
the one with Mark. I wondered if Sophie had already let Mark know that she
would have to cancel—and if so, how she’d done it.
Almost feel bad for the
guy,
I thought idly. Mark had no idea that I’d gone for the same girl but
more successfully; he’d probably be pissed at me, but like Nick had pointed
out, it wasn’t like it was the first time any of us had gone for the same girl.

As if my thoughts were a cue, my phone buzzed in
my hand while I was on the way to the bathroom to grab a shower. It was Mark.
Sophie
canceled on me. What the hell, man?
I stared at my phone for a minute,
feeling guiltier than I thought I would. Had she said something about why she
had to cancel? Before I could reply, I got another text—from Sophie.
I tried
to tell Mark that it was just a scheduling conflict, but he kept pushing for
another date and I eventually just gave in and told him I’d decided to go out
with you instead.

I sat down on the rim of the bathtub. Obviously I
wasn’t going to get my chance to have a calm, normal talk with Mark about what
had happened with Sophie—he already knew, and from her instead of from me.
I
asked her out that night we went to Prop,
I wrote to Mark.
She said yes.
She shouldn’t have agreed to go out with you in the first place. I’m sorry I
didn’t say anything, man.
I put my phone aside and stepped into the shower,
hoping against hope that that would be all there was to talk about—at least for
the day.

I got another text while I was shaving, but I
waited until I was done to look at it.
What the fuck, dude?

I didn’t know what to say to that. Mark had a
right to be pissed at me—I could recognize that. I had been pissed at him, even
though it wasn’t his fault, when I’d found out he was going on a date with
Sophie. But I’d known and he hadn’t. From his perspective I’d basically pulled
the rug out from under him.

I got another text, this one from Nick.
Mark
says he’s not coming in today. Guess he knows?
I cringed.

Sophie canceled her date with him,
I
replied.
She told him why.
If Mark wasn’t going to be in the studio that
day, there was no point in any of us being there—we were still doing the live
room recordings, not the individual parts yet.

Fuck, dude. You going to talk to him?
I
thought about that question and didn’t have a good answer for it. I’d have to
talk to Mark sometime; I’d have to see if I could get him to understand where I
was coming from, what had happened, the fact that I wasn’t out to screw him. I
kept thinking about the rant he’d gone on the night we’d both met Sophie: that
it was unreal that Jules had a girlfriend before he did. Sophie might not have
been anything serious to him, but between Jules having a functioning
relationship against all the odds and me pulling a chick he wanted without him
knowing about it, he was obviously going to have some wounded pride.

If we’re not in the studio today I guess I have
to,
I wrote Nick. Alex and Jules sent texts confirming that Mark had told
them about not coming in too, and wondering if I knew anything about it; they
didn’t really know what was going on with Mark, or with any of the other
members of the band, not the way that we used to know about each other’s lives,
ever since they’d gotten together with their girlfriends. Nick only knew about
it because he and Liv had been at Prop.

I bit the bullet and finally replied to Mark’s
message.
Hey, man. Let’s meet up at Nippers since apparently we’re not
working today.
If I was going to talk to Mark about the situation at hand,
I was going to definitely need some fucking coffee before I did. I threw on
some clothes and got into my car and went up to Rhino in Boca while I waited to
hear from Mark. I texted Sophie to let her know that it was okay—that I’d work
things out with Mark on my own, that we were still on for our next date. I had
no idea whether or not I would actually be able to square things away with Mark;
but I hoped that I could.

I sat down outside with a couple of donuts and a
big coffee, and lit a cigarette. Mark and I were in a band together; we were
friends. We’d been friends for years. Surely we could get through something
this minor—right? I finished off my donuts and lit another cig, staring at my
phone and willing it to vibrate, to flash on the screen that Mark had texted me
back. I kept telling myself that it was just a one-day delay, that we’d hash it
out over beers and everything would be fine. But after three cigarettes I had
to admit that it was taking Mark longer than I would have thought to get back
to me.
Are we meeting up or what?

A couple of minutes later I
got my response:
Fuck off.