Trouble in the Making (12 page)

“What are you thinking?” he asked for the third time that day, softly against her lips. She kissed him back. It wasn’t heated or long. It was sweet, tender. Johnny Trouble was many things, and a contradiction was the biggest of all.

“I used to buy all your albums,” she confessed. “Before I saw you at the reunion, I listened to them all from beginning to end. It was a marathon of Johnny Trouble. I know the words to every song. I know the melodies, the harmonies. I know how each guitar riff is supposed to sound at any given moment.”

“Thank you, but I don’t understand.”

She could tell by the confusion in his eyes that he didn’t. That was fine. She wasn’t sure she understood either. “I was a huge fan. I still am. I never went to see you in concert, though.”

“Why not?” He shifted his weight and she parted her legs for him to settle between.

“I didn’t think I could stand to see you in all your leather and long hair flowing and not storm the stage and beg you to notice me, to remember me.”

“I never forgot you.”

“I know that now. You were the rock star every teenage girl fantasized about. You were the untouchable and I envied every woman I saw on your arm in magazines and online gossip sites. I was jealous when you married one of them. I was sad when you divorced her too. You’re a dream, Johnny. I’m not even sure you realize it.”

“Liz, I…I don’t know what to say.”

That made two of them. Liz reached between their bodies and made a move, made a gesture. She unzipped and unsnapped his jeans. His eyes widened and darkened to storm clouds. His pupils dilated and the pulse in his throat kicked up.

Liz wrapped her hand around his hard cock and squeezed while she tugged it out from his pants. He lifted up slightly and she was able to move the duvet out of the way and position him at her entrance. “You’re hard again, Johnny.” She lifted her hips.

He slid deep. “You’re still wet, Liz.”

“Seems to be something of a habit where you’re concerned,” she whispered as she leaned up to steal a kiss from him.

“Likewise.” He held himself still inside her, the throbbing pulsating through them both, the heartbeats mirrored. “Baby, we need a condom.”

“A little late for it.” Liz lifted her legs and held him tight with her thighs, her heels pressed into the globes of his ass cheeks. “I trust you. I’m on the Pill and I trust you. You’re any woman’s dream. You’re any fan’s dream. You could have had whatever woman in the world you wanted.”

“I want—”

“Me. I know. I don’t know why, but I won’t keep trying to talk you out of it. I want you too. I want you for as long as you’ll have me, Johnny.”

“I’ll have you for a very long time, Liz.”

“But only after you return from L.A.,” she tossed in with a wink.

“Brat,” Johnny said with a laugh before he grabbed her by the hips and rolled them until she was on top. He didn’t let go, didn’t loosen his hold, but rocked her tight on his cock.

Liz grasped his shoulders and held on. She stared down into his eyes, his beloved face. It was full of concentration, lust, strain. She gripped him with the muscles of her legs and was thankful for the yoga classes. She was flexible, strong and could get used to riding him, controlling the rhythm.

Her clit rubbed and scraped against the coarse hair of his pelvis. Her gaze was drawn to several of his tattoos and her eyes roamed between them, held fixated by a few specific ones. His name on one arm, a guitar on the other. On his chest, a heart dripping red in the shape of music notes.

“What are you staring at?” he asked as he thrust upward at the same moment he held her down against his lower body.

“You. Your hair, some of your tats, your eyes.”

“Like what you see?”

“Adore it,” she said breathlessly. “I still can’t believe you said yes to this.”

“Only for you. You’re special. My Lizzie.”

Liz nodded and kissed him before she buried her face in his neck and slid her arms underneath his shoulders. She moved with the motion of his hands, the fucking of his body into hers.

He smelled of cologne, one she didn’t know and couldn’t place, but that didn’t matter. It was him, a scent she associated with him and had since their reunion. It was spicy, but nothing she could remember on anyone else.

She inhaled deeply and held on for the ride. It would have to last her for a week or two before he could find his way back to this side of the country.

“Bite me.”

Liz heard the words and grinned against his skin before she nipped at it.

“Harder. Fucking bite me, Liz. Make me feel it. Mark me.”

She waited a second before sinking her teeth into the sensitive flesh where his neck met his shoulder. The more pressure she used to bite and suck his taste onto her tongue, the more fierce his hips thrust upward. He ground her against him and his thigh muscles strained under her ass. He growled and grunted and suddenly lifted her pussy off his cock. She felt the spurt of cum against her clit. It was one of the most erotic things she’d ever felt. It was hot, sticky.

He thrust his cock head against her and she felt the stirrings of an orgasm hit her. She opened her mouth and cried out against the teeth marks she’d left for him. He slid her along his length and the slipperiness from his semen allowed her to ride the rod between her cunt lips.

“Ah, fuck,” she gasped, which was followed quickly by a deep chuckle from Johnny. Her orgasm flowed through her until she screamed into the pillow beneath Johnny’s head. He wrapped his arms around her as she trembled and shook.

When all was calm within her, she pushed herself up and looked down at him. He would definitely have the mark he’d asked her for. “You’re mine now, rock star.”

* * * * *

Johnny closed his eyes. His flight would take off soon and he needed to catch a little nap if he could. When flying alone, he didn’t often charter a private jet, but for this trip, with such a short turnaround timeframe, it was ideal. He could relax, spread out in the cabin a little and think.

He sent a text to Liz not too long before he boarded the plane, but hadn’t heard back from her.
His baby.
He hoped she was still sleeping, just the way he’d left her. It was five in the morning and he’d made love to her twice more after she’d asked him to come back to her.

Women had asked him to come back, to make them his one and only, to give them more than a one- or two-night stand. He’d been proposed to and had every sexual desire he might have wanted offered up for the taking, but none of it had appealed to him. Sure, when he was younger, when it was all new to him, he took many women up on many things. He’d even married one, him certain she was in love with him and her certain he was in love with her enough to allow her access to every one of his band members and friends. Both of them were disillusioned by the term love and the commitment of marriage.

Since his divorce, Johnny had remained single. If there were women in his bed or in his life, it was casual and short-lived. He didn’t want to be single anymore. He’d wanted to jump right into a relationship with Liz the second he saw her at the reunion. He’d wanted to make her his the moment he’d kissed her in the doorway of the high school gym.

Johnny closed his eyes, and in his head, went back to that moment; to the feel of her breath on his face, the tremble in her fingers when he’d taken her hand, the touch of her lips. Everything about her had been soft and full and earthy and grounded. He’d felt it in an instant, like stepping on stage for an encore, the crowd going wild that you’d come back for more, that they had you for a few more precious minutes. He’d loved that feeling of power over them, that full body experience, knowing they belonged to him, to his band, during those final lyrics. That was how he’d felt about Liz in the space of time that small kiss had occupied. He’d had a moment of clarity, of sensation from his head to his toes that she was the one, that this time she was meant to belong to him. He’d wanted to tell her then, instantly. Instead, he’d spent the past five years getting to know her again, as an adult, as a friend, and made it less about an immediate thrill for his libido and more about a forever song for his heart.

“Can I get you anything once we’re in the air, sir?”

Johnny looked up. He never had gotten used to the title of sir. Outside bedroom play, at least. But most people didn’t know what to call him. The word Trouble didn’t roll off the tongue as a last name very easily. “Yes. Coffee. Black. Please.”

He’d been informed that the male flight attendant traveled with the plane whenever it left the hanger and that having him onboard was nonnegotiable.

“Yes sir. Would you care for anything to eat?”

“No. Not a very big breakfast person. But I’ll take as large a cup of coffee as I can get.”

“Very good, sir.”

The man walked away just as Johnny’s cell phone vibrated. A text. From Liz.

You didn’t wake me up
.

You needed sleep
, he typed back.

I slept a lot when you were here.

Johnny laughed to himself.
I still say we need to build up your stamina.

We’ll get to work on that as soon as you get back
.

As soon as he got back. Johnny liked that idea. He couldn’t wait to see her again and he’d just left her an hour ago.
I wish you’d come with me.

Me too
.

Really?

Yes.

You sore?
He imagined her stretching in the bed, testing her body and muscles for aches.

Very
.

Prolly a good thing you stayed behind then
.

LOL.

I’d have had you naked already.
He would have too. Flight attendant on board or not. The man could watch for all Johnny would care. He didn’t know how Liz would feel about it, but he was pretty sure he could keep her so occupied and tuned into him that she wouldn’t notice.

I know. You’ll let me know when you land?

She cared. He’d known that from the beginning of their reconnection and it never got old. He liked having someone give a shit about him without having an ulterior motive.
I will. Are you going back to sleep?

Yes.

Are you going home later today or are you staying like you’d planned?

Don’t know yet.

Let me know. Sleep well, baby.

Liz didn’t respond again and he figured she’d put the phone down and closed her eyes. Neither of them was used to so much sex, but he had a somewhat more physical routine than she did. Being a writer, he knew she sat a lot. Worked out and did yoga and had the most delectable body, but she still sat a lot. He walked around with his guitar, stood, walked around some more. He had a lot of nervous energy and it was likely from his long career on stage.

He knew if he was going to try for a relationship with Liz, he’d have to make it so she wasn’t in the spotlight much. She was much more introverted than he’d ever been and she would be uncomfortable. He didn’t want that for her. He wanted her to fit in with his life just as he wanted to fit in with hers, and he would have to ease her into it.

Taking himself off the stage was one way to do that. He was done with it anyway. It had been a good career. Long. He wanted to do something different, something new. He was forty-three years old and had a lifetime ahead of him, all things considered. He wanted a life with someone, with Liz. He wanted roots. No more hotels and no more suitcases.

His seatbelt was on and his gaze was fixed on the still-darkened sky. They were taxiing down the runway at the small airport in St. Augustine and picking up speed. He loved flying, loved the anticipation of leaving the ground, climbing high into the air. It was the same feeling he got when he stepped in front of a crowd, a packed house. He’d played everywhere, from outdoor stadiums to intimate bars and theaters.

The thought had started to occur to him to wonder when he’d start missing it. Much as he loved it, he didn’t have any feelings of regret after that last show. He hadn’t experienced any itch to go back to it.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.”

Johnny looked over from where he’d been staring out the window and took the cup. “Thank you.”

Maybe Liz had something to do with that. Leaving one love of his life for another. That wasn’t quite right though. The real love wasn’t in the performing, but in the actual music itself. He’d never be able to walk away from that and there was no reason he should have to. It flowed through him as much as his blood. Liz understood that. Words in the form of stories, of books, of fairy tales flowed through her just as lyrics and melodies flowed through him.

Johnny settled more comfortably in his seat and sipped leisurely at his coffee. It wouldn’t keep him awake. Caffeine rarely affected him in that way anymore. It was more the habit, the taste, the minute spike in his blood that he felt, but that part didn’t last long. He closed his eyes and never even realized the cup had been taken from him as he drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, he found himself sucking down a second bottle of water that he’d picked up at a convenience store on his way into the recording studio.