“What’s your favorite Shaken Dirty song?” she asked, in between tracing her tongue along the lines of the gorgeous Aztec sun tattoo that covered much of his left pec.
He looked surprised. “A few days ago, I probably would have said ‘Long Time,’ because I love the melody of it. It just kind of gets in your head and sticks there. But we finished up a song yesterday that I think is going to end up being my favorite once we’ve recorded it.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s it called?”
“‘Tunnel Vision.’ It’s about…”
Before she could prompt him, he slid one big hand down to her ass and squeezed. “My turn for a question.”
“I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”
“You always were a little slow on the uptake. But you’ve always been cute enough that I didn’t— Hey!” He yelped as she twisted his nipple.
“I am not slow on the uptake.”
“No, you’re not. But you are cute—okay, okay!” He threw his hands out to ward her off when she threatened to pinch his other nipple. “I’ll stick to the questions.”
He brushed a soft kiss against the top of her head and she tried not to let her heart melt. But it was hard. In her experience, guys who were only after sex didn’t usually touch women like that. They didn’t do a lot of the things Quinn was currently doing, and while it gave her hope, it also scared the hell out of her. She had enough shit in her life right now. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a broken heart, too.
“You’ve played all over the world,” he finally asked. “What’s your favorite city?”
“I like London and Tokyo. And maybe Sydney.”
“Sydney’s great,” he agreed. “I really like playing Australia. The people there are amazing.”
“They really are. Of course, I’m sure you probably get to see more of them than I do.”
“Maybe just a few.”
“More like a few hundred thousand, but who’s counting?”
“Not me.” He dropped soft kisses on her eyes, her nose, her mouth.
Elise sighed, she couldn’t help herself, then pulled the scattered pieces of her brain back together. “What’s your favorite city?”
“I like Amsterdam.”
She laughed. “Of course you do.”
“Hey, now. No need to buy into all those rock and roll stereotypes.”
“They’re not stereotypes if they’re true.” She gestured to his hair and tattoos. “Do you wear eyeliner on stage?”
“Excuse me, we rock and roll stars like to call it guyliner.”
“Oh my God, you do!” She laughed so hard she almost snorted.
“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. A lot of the fans seem to think it’s really sexy.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, they think you’re sexy. If you were wearing a pink tutu and lace tights, they’d probably say the same thing.”
He pretended to contemplate the idea. “I do have great legs, or so they say.”
She pinched his side, hard. “You seem to have a pretty good handle on what your fans say about you.”
“I have eighteen million twitter followers. Sometimes it’s hard to get away from what the fans think.”
“You’re on twitter?”
“Hey, Ryder made me.”
“Ryder’s on twitter?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I don’t know. He just seems so…”
Quinn shifted abruptly, rolling them over so that he was now above her, his very obvious erection pressing against the very heart of her. “He seems so what?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know. Hard-core, maybe. You know, all tough and—”
“I will have you know, he wears more guyliner than the rest of us put together. And I think he might actually own a pink tutu. And lace tights. And some hair bows. With beads on them. I’m just saying.”
She burst out laughing at his obviously disgruntled expression. “It’s okay, baby. I still like your penis better than his.”
“Damn straight.” He thrust against her, like he was worried she might need a reminder.
And then he was kissing her, his lips soft and heated against her own. Elise wanted to hold back, wanted to keep part of herself away from him so that she wouldn’t be shattered if this thing between them ended—when it ended, she reminded herself. But he’d broken down all her barriers earlier, had ripped away her shields and left her open and aching and more vulnerable than she had been in ten long years.
It was a terrifying and exhilarating feeling, one she couldn’t help yielding to as he skimmed his mouth down her neck and began sucking gently on the sensitive skin above her collarbone.
“So,” he whispered against her ear, as she started to arch and tremble beneath him. “I have one more question.”
“Oh, yeah? What is it?” Her voice came out shaky, but there was nothing she could do about that. Not when his thumb was stroking back and forth across her already sensitized nipple.
“How’d you do it?”
“How’d I do what?” How was she supposed to think when he was touching her, his hot breath against her ear sending shivers up and down her spine while the fingers on her breast were making her absolutely crazy?
“The Twinkie thing.”
“Are you—” Her breath broke as he licked the very sensitive spot behind her ear. “Are you still thinking about that stupid prank?”
“The guys and I tried for twenty minutes after you went upstairs, but we couldn’t get the mayonnaise out without breaking the Twinkie open. Yours were perfect.”
“Not per—” He pinched her nipple lightly, had her clutching at him and crying out his name.
He slid down her body then, took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, hard. Electricity lit her up from the inside, shot from her breast to her sex in one smooth current.
“Please,” she whimpered, tangling her legs with his. “I need—”
He slid his hand between their bodies, rubbed the heel of his hand against her clit as he thrust two long fingers inside of her. She turned her head, muffled a scream against the pillow as he hit her G-spot with pinpoint accuracy and began to stroke.
“Yes. Oh God, yes. Please.”
He bit down gently on her nipple at the same time he pressed against her clit and she came, seeing stars.
When she’d recovered and could breathe again, he grinned at her wickedly and said, “Now about those Twinkies…”
She grabbed a pillow and hit him in the head, but she finally gave in. “Mine weren’t perfect. You actually had five boxes of Twinkies in there—which, incidentally, is entirely too many snack cakes for any one man to have. I messed up eight, so I just got rid of a box.”
“Eight.” His eyes lit up. “That means there are still four perfectly good Twinkies somewhere in this house. Where are they?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t make me beg.”
“Why not?” she asked him archly. “I definitely remember you making me beg earlier.”
He grinned, a dark, seductive thing that tugged at her sex and her heart. “Yes, well, tell me where those Twinkies are and maybe I can be persuaded to make you beg again.”
Elise rolled over until she was back on top of him. “And here I thought it was my turn to make you beg. I just didn’t know it was going to be over snack cakes.”
She pressed a lingering kiss to the center of his chest, relished the way his back arched and his fingers clutched at her shoulders. “Lissy, baby.”
She was too busy sliding her mouth down his happy trail to answer.
God, this woman was going to kill him. There was a part of him that had known it at seventeen and there was a part of him that was sure of it now. The only problem was, he just didn’t give a fuck. Not now, when she was skimming her mouth closer and closer to his cock. Not earlier, when he was inside her, making her come. And not any of the other times either, even when his dick wasn’t involved.
He’d brought her here because he wanted to take care of her, but there was something about having Elise in his house, in his space, in his bed, that made him happy. Happier than he had been in a very long time. And yeah, he knew they had some shit between them—the whole mess she’d witnessed the day he walked away, the fact that he’d never contacted her, the fact that he hadn’t been good enough for her then and wasn’t good enough for her now.
But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Elise was in his arms where he’d wanted her practically forever. Not when she was in his bed, her pretty, pretty mouth inches from his painfully full cock.
“Lissy, baby.” Even he could hear the pleading note in his voice as she pressed kisses everywhere but where he wanted her most. He didn’t give a damn. He needed—
He moaned, arching off the bed as she licked a sizzling trail over his cock, pausing to swirl her tongue around the head a couple times, before she pulled away.
His hands tangled in her long hair—there were miles of the silky stuff—and tugged her closer. “Do it again,” he growled in a command he would have been more careful about issuing if he’d had even one functioning brain cell left. Elise had always been a little prickly about being ordered to do anything.
She didn’t seem to mind this time, though, as she did exactly what he said, again and again and again.
Quick little licks of her soft, sweet tongue over his dick. Longer, deeper swipes that were meant to inflame instead of satisfy, torment instead of soothe. He took it for as long as he could, until he was as close to begging as he had been since his seventh birthday.
“Elise, sweetheart, please.” He tugged gently on her hair, arched his hips, did everything and anything he could think of to get her attention.
She merely laughed, then circled her tongue around him so slowly that he thought he might actually spontaneously combust. “Damn it, Elise!” His voice was harsh, desperate, but she ignored him as she continued to tease. Continued to stoke his desire with light, deliberate touches that had him trembling with the need to bury himself inside her.
He fought the burn, struggled to hold on to some semblance of sanity. Tried desperately to stay in control so that he could take care of Elise, so that he could give her what she needed instead of what he wanted.
But she seemed to sense his reserve, his desire to be careful with her, and she was having no part of it. As if to tell him so, she dug her nails into his hips, hard.
He nearly came off the bed at the sharp bite of pain combined with the hot pleasure of her mouth. “Fuck, Elise!”
His hands tightened in her hair and he glanced down to see that he was leaking pre-come all over his stomach. He tried to rein himself in, but it was impossible when Elise swiped the clear drops off his abs with her tongue and made a low, approving sound.
And then she was there, pulling him into her mouth one slow, hot, excruciating inch at a time. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, wasn’t what he’d planned when he carried her up here. She’d been through so much, had so much more to face. He wanted tonight to be about her fantasies, about making her feel good. Instead, she was ripping him apart, making him feel good instead of letting him bring her pleasure. Giving to him instead of taking.
He wanted to stop her, had planned to stop her right up until she took him in her mouth. It felt so good, so incredibly f**king amazing to have her mouth wrapped around him that he couldn’t protest. Couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t do anything but lay there and let her pleasure him.
Which she did. Oh, God, did she ever—hotter and sweeter than anyone else ever had. Sweat poured off of him as she taunted him, her tongue stroking over his balls, his dick, the sensitive spot behind his sac again and again, before she finally took his testicles into her mouth and began to suck.