Sexy Lies and Rock & Roll (15 page)

I fall deeper, and I can actually feel it.

Feel him thick inside of me. Hot and wet.

A small pain bursts in my nipple and Evan whispers in my ear, “Can’t stop fucking you, Emma. Can’t get enough.”

Oh, what a lovely dream.

Another pinch to my nipple, and Evan growls, “Come on, Emma. Wake up. Want you to come with me.”

What?

My eyes fly open and realization that I’m not dreaming slams into me with such tremendous force, my entire body shudders from the overload of pleasure.

I’m on my side, my head resting on one of Evan’s strong biceps. His front is pressed to my back, and my outer leg is bent and then raised, supported by his own thigh.

And he’s inside of me.

His hand is on my breast, and he pinches my nipple again, causing me to groan.

He’s inside of me, pumping deeply and grinding against my ass. I can feel the wetness seeping onto my inner thigh I’m so turned on. I’m turned on as I realize Evan got me wet and ready, even though I was sound asleep.

Evan’s breathing is harsh and ruffles my hair with every ragged breath he exhales.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he rasps in my ear.

I curl an arm back, put my palm to the back of his head, and arch into him. “So do you.”

“I’m glad,” he grunts as he pushes into me extra deep. “Because we are going to be doing a whole lot of this from now on.”

That pleases me and I don’t know why. Maybe because I thought if we had sex once, Evan would get his fill and move on. Isn’t that what rock stars did? Or maybe I even had some insecurity, thinking I wouldn’t be good enough to hold Evan’s interest in bed. I mean, after all, how damn good can I be when in all my active sexual life, I’ve never had oral sex before.

But Evan… for some reason I cannot seem to explain… seems to enjoy this with me. No, he seems to get off mightily on it. He relishes it. He savors. He rides the wave as hard and as high as he can.

He does it in the filthiest, dirtiest of ways, and he has his erotic words down to a science.

Evan’s hand moves from my breast, glides down my belly, and he touches me in that spot. A place on my body that has been thoroughly enslaved by his fingers and mouth.

It only takes the tiniest of touches and I start to tighten up all over.

“That’s right,” Evan praises me as he starts to rub my clit in rough circles. His hips move faster against me, driving him deeper. “I love how I can tell when you’re close. Can feel it so clearly. I love how I can play this body as easily as I can play my guitar. And you know what, Emma love… the sounds you make when you come are as beautiful as the music I make.”

And that’s all it takes.

I break apart with a relieved cry of release, my entire body falling. Tremors of ecstasy rippling through my body, causing Evan to start tunneling harder and faster into me.

Through gritted teeth, he gives me fair warning though it’s not needed, “I’m going to come so fucking hard, baby.”

I drop my arm, put my hand on his thigh, and dig my fingers down to secure my body as he thrusts harder and harder into me. I can’t see his face, but I can imagine exactly what it looks like because I watched him orgasm several times over the last twenty hours or so. I want him to come so hard he loses the power of speech, and because I’m pinned to the mattress by his powerful body, I help him along the only way I can.

With words.

Totally uncharacteristic of me, I whisper into the morning sunlight my first attempt at dirty talk. “Fuck me harder, Evan. Give it up to me.”

Granted, I could have said dirtier, but it was indeed my first attempt.

However, dirtier was not needed because the minute I tell Evan to fuck me harder, he plants himself in deep, places his mouth on my shoulder, and bites down briefly before muttering against my skin, “Fuck. Goddamn… I’m coming. Oh, Emma… feels so fucking good, baby. So fucking good.”

My entire body seems to burst apart with elation over his words. The reverence with which he praises what I do to him. The absolute insatiability he has for me.

He makes me feel something I’ve never felt before.

I feel wanted.

Evan holds me tight for a few moments as we both come down off the high of some really amazing sex. But then he pulls out of me, a feeling I do not like, and slides out of the bed. I roll to my back and watch him peeling the condom off as he walks into the bathroom, and I’m still a bit amazed he woke up, put a condom on, and started having sex with me while I was asleep.

That’s so damn dirty.

I love it.

When Evan comes back out of the bathroom, I can’t help but let my eyes run over him. He’s so beautiful. Tall with muscles but not bulky like. He looks strong and vibrant. His face is a work of art.

I have no clue why he’s with me, but that may be a question I don’t need answered. After all, when I walk out of this hotel suite, I might not ever see his bed again. We haven’t had a discussion as to what this means.

Evan climbs onto the bottom of the bed and crawls his way up over me. He drops his face, presses a soft kiss on my lips, and says, “Good morning.”

I grin back at him. “That
was
a good morning.”

“Hope you don’t mind I helped myself,” he says as he flops to my side and then pulls me into his arms.

And oh… that’s nice.

“I don’t mind,” I whisper. Because what in the hell was there to mind about that?

“Good,” he says with a squeeze to my waist. “Because ever since you stepped onto that bus, I’ve woken up horny for you every morning.”

“You have not,” I exclaim in disbelief.

“I so have,” he reassures me. “So prepare to get fucked every morning, although I wouldn’t mind a blow job either.”

I giggle and feel a little hum of excitement over the prospect. I’ve not done a lot of oral work before. My college boyfriend, sure… but it was mostly foreplay, and I think I might not have been very good at it since he always pushed me off after a few minutes, then we’d have sex.

Which ugh… the sex I’ve had before?

Boring.

Just like me.

“Evan,” I ask hesitantly, needing to have some security despite very much enjoying the adventure. “What is this going on between us?”

His hold on me loosens as he comes up on one elbow to hover over me. His eyes are serious. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m still your attorney, and you’re still sort of my boss.” I try to explain my misgivings. “This is really pretty unethical what I’m doing, and I need to know what your expectations are?”

“Expectations?” he asks, and I might add, a little thickly.

“Yes,” I say exasperated. “Like is this part of my job for you? Or was this a one-night-only type of thing? Or were you just imparting a little lesson to matronly little Emma?”

Evan blinks at me in surprise. “This is about me wanting you. And you clearly want me. How do you not see that?”

“Okay, fine.” I blow out a gust of frustrated air. “We want each other. But… is this just like for sex? To get off on each other?”

“Is that wrong?” he throws back at me.

“Yes,” I exclaim, and then immediately know that’s not quite true. “No. I mean… I don’t know. I’ve never had sex like that before, and I’m a little off balance, okay?”

He tilts his head at me and gives me a sly grin. “You mean you never had such dirty, unadulterated sex before? Never came so many times? Never had a man eat you out like that?”

Well, yes to all of that. But that’s not what I mean.

“I’ve never had sex with someone without having very deep feelings. I’ve never had hook-up sex. I’ve never done one-night stands. You’re a professional at this, and I’m an amateur. I just don’t know what any of this means.”

The cocky grin slides off his face and he brings a hand to my jaw. His fingers slide slowly down my neck, over my collarbone. He slides them down the center of my chest, over my belly, and right down between my legs, which part in complete obedience to him. Evan drags his fingers through my lips, which feel wet and swollen with need even though I just had an amazing orgasm not long ago.

“This,” he says softly as he flicks my clit with his fingertip. “This isn’t just hook-up sex. And it’s not a one-night stand as I expect you back in this bed tonight after the show. I have no clue what this is either, Emma, but I know I like this a whole fuck of a lot, and I’m not about to give it up.”

“Do you even like me?” I ask him bluntly, despite the fact he’s got a finger resting against me that’s a bit disconcerting.

“Do I like you?” he asks in surprise.

“Well, yeah… I mean, I like you,” I tell him as honestly as I can. “I can’t have sex with someone I don’t have some feelings for, but I think maybe guys are a bit different. You didn’t even remember that girl’s name you had sex with the night Keith was killed. So I’m just trying to establish some expectations… or maybe some boundaries.”

Evan stares at me for what seems like an eternity, his face completely blank. Then his eyes crinkle and he smiles at me. Leaning down, he kisses my lips and says, “God, you’re utterly fucking adorable. And yes, Emma… I like you. And I could never forget your name. You’re absolutely unforgettable.”

Pleasure such as I’ve never known wells up inside of me as I realize… I’ve thought of myself as unforgettable. Time and time again, I don’t think I ever felt that I was worth notice.

Maybe that’s why I make myself not worthy of notice.

It’s just easier than being let down.

Evan

F
our lines into
my song
Near Silence
, and I’m settled.

At peace.

Completely in tune with myself and the crowd as they sing along with me.

Five minutes ago, before I walked out onto this stage for my second Miami concert, I was a bundle of writhing, screaming nerves. Felt like I was going to puke. Had to remind myself over and over again while looking into the mirror that I could actually sing. I had such an exquisite case of stage fright for a few moments, I almost walked out of my dressing room and instead of turning left for the stage, wanted to turn right and walk the hell out.

Get in a cab.

Go to the airport.

Fly back home to Raleigh.

But I’m okay now. It truly only took the first line of the song for my nerves to be soothed and through to the fourth line for me to know that part of my home will always be on a stage. I have to wonder if I will always go through those moments of hell before a show, or if it will get better. Maybe I’ll ask someone who’s been in the business a lot longer than I have at the record label parties when we get to L.A.

It doesn’t matter though right now. I’m singing from my heart, and the music from my guitar and my back-up musicians is flowing to near perfection. I feel it through to the soles of my feet that tonight will be another epic experience.

Epic experience.

My head tilts slightly to the right but not enough to displace my mouth away from the microphone. I cut my eyes hard to the side of the stage, and I see Emma standing there. Her hands are clasped together, held in front of her, and she’s singing along with me.

A burst of euphoria hits me hard in the center of my chest, and I give her a quick wink before turning my gaze back out onto the audience.

Emma is a fan and that is something I like very much.

Emma is amazing in bed. And on the table. The shower. The couch. The balcony. The carpet.

She is amazing.

She fucking blossomed right before my eyes yesterday and kept blooming last night and this morning, and well… I can’t wait to see how I can open her up again tonight.

And because of all of that, she’s no longer a woman I can mock in any way as being too prim or matronly. I can’t even make silent fun of her conservative clothes, because frankly, she’d look sexy to me in a burlap sack.

So sexy, in fact, I didn’t want to do a damn thing all day except keep her in my bed until sound rehearsal. While my stamina is pretty damn good, I know it was unrealistic to think I’d be fucking her the whole time. Figured we could relax and chill. Talk. Get to know each other. Of course, we’d fuck in between, but yeah… I wanted that bad today.

Except Emma wasn’t too keen on that idea. Apparently, she has some sort of work ethic drilled in deep and insisted that she needed to work. I tried to tell her I was the boss and I was giving her the day off. She sniffed and briskly told me that wasn’t acceptable, and that I had to respect the work boundaries. Christ… she looked at me with straight-laced eyes meaning serious business, and I wanted to rip her clothes off and…

God, she’s amazing.

So I capitulated because she is amazing and she wanted to work, and I wanted to give her what she wanted. But I did insist she work in my hotel suite, so I could at least look at her. Eat lunch with her. Talk to her if I wanted.

In fact, I insisted on it.

I made her sit right down at that glass dining table so she could spread out, and I fucking loved the way she blushed when she saw the streaks left behind from the first time I ate her out. She merely jetted over to the kitchen area and came back with some wet paper towels to clean the surface.

Fucking adorable.

It was about two PM, and I was starting to get antsy about the show. My nerves started misfiring and I was feeling jittery. I sat on the couch, going over lyrics in my head, humming tunes and otherwise trying to occupy my time. I’d glance at Emma every once in a while, who was focused with extreme intensity on her work. She’d told me she was working on the copyright case, and I had to admire her diligence in representing me. She’d gone to her hotel room to get showered and changed, and because she was technically “at work,” had returned with another business outfit on. This time, it was a sleeveless dress of dark gray that cut straight across the bottom of her collarbone, and while it hugged her form nicely, it was quite sedate. She even had a lovely string of pearls around her neck.

I’d watch her as she chewed on her pen when she was deep in thought, and was fascinated the first time she’d pulled out a pair of glasses from her briefcase and put them on while she was working on the computer. I asked her about them, and she admitted she needed them sometimes if her eyes felt strained.