Jenna: Has Blake been fooling around on the tour?
Indie: Does Alex usually fool around on tours?
Hudson: Ladies. I’M HERE FOR THIS.
Jenna: Don’t mind Hudson. He can solely communicate with you using offensive GIFs.
Hudson: Not true.
Hudson: Okay, a little true.
Jenna: Alex is…complicated. He’s mostly ambivalent toward women. He’d engage in one-night stands occasionally, but not as often as one might think. The only woman he ever talks about is Fallon, and even that is drenched in negativity. Your turn.
Indie: Blake has not been seeing anyone or fooling around. He works and argues with Alex, then works some more. He hasn’t even looked at a woman since we boarded the plane to Australia.
Hudson: Jenna. Talk to us. Are you and Blake finally going to bump uglies?
Jenna: Hudson, leave the chat.
Hudson: Like hell I will.
Jenna: You tell Alex everything. Go away.
Hudson: No!
<Jenna Holden removed Hudson Diaz from the chat>
Indie: …
Indie: Are you dating Blake?
Jenna: No.
Jenna: But we slept together.
Jenna: And I’m pregnant.
Jenna: I sound like one of the idiots I used to laugh at when I’d read teenage magazines when I was fifteen.
Indie: 1) cruel, and 2) you need to tell him.
Jenna: I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’ll keep the baby. Don’t tell him.
Indie: I won’t. But you should.
It took Blake, Alfie, and Lucas to throw Alex into the van. He put up a good fight, but what struck me even harder than the fact it had taken three grown men to shove him into the vehicle, was that no one cared he’d fired Lucas. They’d all acted like everything was normal, dismissing Alex’s authority.
I’d needed to talk to someone when I’d found out my brother had been arrested and was spending the night in jail for assault. And I’d wanted to talk to Lucas specifically because he was more logical and emotionally balanced than Alex.
When we got to the hotel, I unlocked my door quickly to avoid the Alex-storm that had been brewing in the hallway behind me. The minute his arm reached behind my shoulder to stop me from entering, I turned around to face him. He looked serious, determined, and…what was the third thing? Exhausted. It couldn’t be easy to live life the way he had, but I was worn-out, too.
Flashes of his breath skating down the nape of my back when he retrieved the lyrics he wrote on me made my skin blossom into goosebumps. God, I was in trouble.
“I don’t want to write tonight.” My eyes followed the trail from his square chin to the collar of his gray Henley. His neck was slender and masculine at the same time. I wanted to lick it.
“Me neither. I just want to talk.” He lowered his forehead and pressed it against mine, his breathing labored. “And maybe give you oral sex. But that’s it.”
I laughed through the ball of tears that had formed in my throat. What were we doing? Weren’t we fighting five minutes ago?
The door clicked behind me and we both fell in. The room was eerily quiet under the weight of the night and both our shitty days. I careened to the virgin minibar, eager to do something with my hands, and plucked two bottles of water.
“Sorry about your brother.” He braced himself over the TV stand, his face lined with worry.
I felt the burden of his whiskey eyes on my shoulders as I passed him a bottle and watched him set it aside. I didn’t know why it was so easy to talk to Lucas and so difficult to talk to Alex. Maybe because Lucas always felt platonic. Maybe because Lucas didn’t have any ulterior motives. And maybe it was because it felt like the air in my lungs was on fire and all my nerves concentrated in one spot between my naval and groin, the minute Alex was in the same room with me. I cleared my throat.
“Yeah, uhm, Craig got arrested tonight. It’s his first offense. The guy was coming out of the strip club under our apartment block. He was very drunk and tried getting into his car with the intention of driving home. Craig was equally drunk and tried to pull him by the shirt through his window. Natasha said everything is fine, but I know she doesn’t want me to worry.”
Alex paced in my direction, his predator stride sleek and calm. He stopped, pressing his palms into the wall behind me and his lips to the crown of my head, inhaling—not kissing—my hair.
“I’ll send someone to bail him out tomorrow and lawyer him up good.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I said quietly, my face warming up. I felt more ashamed than I’d ever been before, because I knew it was one favor I was going to accept.
His eyes darkened, and his jaw tensed. The change was subtle, but it was there. From afar, Alex Winslow looked like nothing could penetrate his armor. But he was an artist—and an artist’s armor is full of bullets and cracks. That’s how the lyrics and notes seep through. My breath hitched at his stare, at the nakedness of it, so much so that I felt a damp spot forming in my underwear. He didn’t say a thing, but by not saying much, I knew—I read through the lines of his forehead and mouth and eyes—he hadn’t done that because he liked me. He did that because that’s what he did. He took care of the people around him, because he didn’t know he had the option not to.
Alex dropped his face to my neck and kissed the hollow part where the shoulder and the sensitive vein met. I closed my eyes, my hand flying to the desk behind me for support. I clutched The Paris Dress in my fist.
“Do you ever feel so lonely you’re not sure people are real anymore?” he asked.
“All the time.” I swallowed, adding, “The Little Prince was lonely, too.”
“He was. And he died. All broken princes die at the end.”
I shut him up with a kiss. Alex thought about dying, and I thought about how I’d do anything to keep him alive, even if it killed me. The notion only intensified the magnitude of the kiss when our mouths closed on one another. He dragged his lower lip along mine and brushed his nose on my cheek, slipping his tongue into my mouth and claiming it as his own. His tongue thrust between my lips again and again. I lifted my hands to cup his cheeks, deepening our kiss even more, and somewhere along the way I lost my balance, because before I knew it, my back was plastered across the desk with my legs wide-open and him between them. We were all over The Paris Dress and dozens of needles and threads.
“Bed,” he barked into our kiss. “Right now.”
He yanked me up and threw me onto the bed like a ragdoll. I laughed like a drunk, and he jumped right after me, making a huge splash in the covers like he was cannonballing into a pool. I scooted up until my back hit the headboard and we were face-to-face. He grinned, advancing toward me on his hands and knees like an animal. We were still fully clothed—hell, my shoes were still on—and I pressed my heeled boot to his chest in one last bid to stop him. I didn’t even know why I bothered at this point. It was obvious I was going to give him whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. He grabbed my ankle and brought my leg to his mouth, sliding my glittery blue pump off and pressing his lips to the base of my foot.
“How many leggings have you packed for this trip?”
“Four.”
“So you won’t be needing these anymore.” He grabbed the fabric of my leggings between my legs roughly and tore them from my body.
I yelped and tried pushing him away, before my bare legs were exposed in front of him. I slid down the bed, trying to fight him, and he took both my arms and pinned them above my head, sliding over me so his groin was on mine and his unmistakably hard shaft was digging deep between my thighs. His eyes blazed with so many emotions, I felt nauseated on his behalf. It made my stupid heart forgive him for acting so cruel and aloof all the time.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nearly choked on a laugh. “Of course not.”
“Fair enough, I’ll rephrase. Do you think I’m a rapist?”
“Doubt it. It’s too available for you to take by force.”
“Serial killer?”
“You don’t give enough of a shit about anyone to kill them.”
He paused, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Close your eyes.”
“Let go of my wrists first.”
“No chance. It’s a part of the process.”
“And what process would that be?”
“The one where I make you come so hard you’ll need a spine transplant because I’ll turn you into goo.”
I grinned despite my best intentions. I didn’t think I’d ever smiled so much in my entire life as while on tour with Alex Winslow. Which was insane, considering he also made me so mad and frustrated in the same breath. Alex kissed a path down my collarbone—dirty, wet kisses full of hunger and promise—dragging his teeth down the valley between my still-clothed breasts. He rubbed his thumb along the black silk of my dress, his other hand still pinning my arms above my head.
“How long does it usually take you to make a dress?”
He wouldn’t dare.
“No.” My breath was shaky, my voice thick. I was delirious with need. “Don’t you dare, Alex Winslow.”
Phhhsshhhhttt!
He tore my precious silk dress, disposing it on the floor like I hadn’t ridden my bike eight miles each way every day to save money to buy the fabric, like I hadn’t sewn it deep into the night. “You assho—”
But I never got to finish the word, because my panties found the same fate as my dress, and before I knew it, his head was between my legs and oh. My. God.
Confession time: no one had ever gone down on me before. I’d only had one sexual partner in high school, and, like a lot of high school kids—he was pretty selfish in bed. I’d never given, nor received, oral sex, so I didn’t know what the fuss was all about. That’s why my eyes almost rolled out of their sockets straight to the floor along with my tattered clothes the minute his hot, wet tongue pressed into my center and gave my slit a thorough, long lick.
My pussy contracted so hard, I nearly came on the spot. I closed my eyes, too embarrassed to look at what he was doing to me, and dragged the pillow from beside me, pressing it over my head to stifle the moans that followed every time he put his tongue at the base of my pussy and dragged it all the way up to my clit, flicking it gently with an arrogant asshole smile I could feel.
I thrust my hips up, wanting more, and he pinned me down in response, growling.
“Open wider.”
I did.
“One leg over my shoulder.”
I clumsily raised my right leg and propped it against his broad shoulder, painfully aware of the fact he was still fully dressed and I was so physically and mentally naked.
“Look at me.”
I froze, exhaling all my anxiety into the fabric of the pillow. Shit. Did I have to?
“Look. At. Me.” Apparently, I did have to. “Or I’ll stop, but before I do, I’ll make sure you get to the edge before I yank you right back. Don’t make me be cruel, Stardust.”
Slowly, I slid the pillow down and peeked at him through the valley of my breasts. His eyes looked drunk and mean, a combination I never thought I’d find appealing. He stared at me as his tongue penetrated me hard, and I choked on a shaky breath.
“Alex…”
He reached over and kneaded my right breast, his fingers rubbing my pebbled nipple and making me yelp. My legs started to tremble around his head, and that’s when his tongue began mercilessly fucking me like it was much more than a tongue. I clutched his gorgeous hair between my fingers, his tongue buried so deep inside me I could feel it filling me in ways I’d never been filled before. He looked so rough and male, his tattoos crawling from the edge of his Henley, his locks mussed and wild, and his stubble making the insides of my thighs burn deliciously. I whimpered, clamping around his tongue, my butt cheeks so tense I couldn’t breathe.
“Fuck, yeah.” His voice was gruff and low as he grabbed my butt and hoisted me up, pushing me into his face, eating me like a starved man while deepening his tongue inside of me.
I clinched around him again, and he let out a laugh—a laugh—like my body was an instrument for him, a tool, a toy. Like I was Tania, and he knew all the notes by heart, and strummed on my cords, producing the angriest, craziest song in the world.
“I’m coming,” I panted, feeling a ball of fire rushing down from my spine and to my groin. I’d never felt this way. Lit up like a Christmas tree. Like my body was a bundle of sizzling nerves. Everywhere he touched—and he was roaming now—tingled and danced with electricity.
But Alex only played by his own rules, and he was good at bending them, depending on his mood. Mid-orgasm he decided to grab my hips, flip me over roughly, and press my cheek to the pillow. Snaking his arm under my stomach, he propped me up and kicked my legs open when I was on my knees. I was wide-open and exposed now, and my instincts told me to close my legs and run for my life. Coincidentally, my instincts were dead the minute he put his hot, wet mouth to my clit from behind and started sucking on it ravenously.
“Holy…” I began, when he thrust two fingers into me. The pressure of an orgasm was back in full swing, even though I’d just come. I swiveled my head around to watch him, getting a rush from the mere idea of him working me up like I was his only passion in life, but he grabbed me by the hair and turned my head back.
“Not so shy anymore, are we?” His voice was muffled, and I felt the words inside my core. It made my want for him trickle right onto his tongue.
I felt him moving behind me. My body began to spasm as he fingered and sucked me with his mouth, the new position allowing him to be deeper and rougher than before. And there was another thing that made it hotter than anything I’d ever done. The slight humiliation of having my butt wide-open for him to see. I just found the whole thing out-of-this-world hot, but that’s what you get for messing with a rock star, right?
Alex moved more quickly, more urgently, and I chanced another glance at him when he was busy biting my clit and inserting a third finger into me, my loud moans making him far too high to notice what I was doing. I found him thrusting into my bed, still in his jeans, dry humping it to oblivion and back. I was so consumed by getting off, it hadn’t once occurred to me he was in need of a release, too.
“Alex,” I whimpered when my legs finally gave in, and I collapsed on the bed. He withdrew his fingers, pressing his mouth to my slit and sucking all my juices like it was water in the desert. I came hard on his face. It took me a few seconds to realize what country I was in—Russia—and what time it was—one in the morning—before I turned around to stare at him like he’d broken me. He was still in his jeans and shirt, his back to me, sitting at the edge of the bed and lacing the boots he must’ve kicked off when we started fooling around. I jumped and crawled on my knees all the way to him, placing a hand over each of his shoulders from behind.
“That was…”
“I know,” he finished for me, and I nuzzled his neck, smelling myself on his hot breath. Why was it such a turn-on? Because I was everywhere on him. He smelled of my sex and my lavender and rosemary shampoo. I put my lips to his jaw and sucked. “You need to stop completing my sentences for me.”
“Why? I always get it right,” he said dryly.
I stood up and walked over to grab my bottle of water, taking a slow sip. I stared at him from the other side of the room. I was still naked. The bob of his throat told me he noticed. I didn’t want him to leave. Not before I got him off, too. His eyes raked over my body, sizing me up. When he opened his mouth again, the world faded, and he was the only thing clear enough to see.
“Don’t start what you’re too scared to finish,” he said.
A dare.
“I will finish, Alex. And so will you.”
A promise.
I took a step toward him, feeling brave. He liked what he saw, and he had a hard-on the size of a salami to prove it. His glazed-over eyes warned me he needed nothing more than a few strokes to explode in delirious pleasure. I wanted to take him to the same place he’d taken me. I wanted to take him to heaven.
“Do you make a habit of eating girls out for forty minutes and leaving without any reciprocation?”
His Adam’s apple moved again, but his eyes remained cool and dark, scanning me coldly.
“I haven’t eaten a girl out in a year,” he admitted, his eyes traveling down to my core before he licked his already slick lips. “And I never give without taking.”
I sat beside him, not feeling half as weird as I should have, considering I was oh, so very naked.
“I’m more than willing to give.”
He grabbed the back of my neck and jerked me toward his face. I thought he was going to kiss me, but his mouth traveled past mine to my temple. He put his lips to my ear and hissed, “Kiss my cock through my jeans, Stardust. Show me how hungry you are for it.”
I erected my spine, waiting for him to fall down to the bed so I could straddle him. He didn’t move from his spot. Reluctantly, I got down on my knees in front of him and prodded his legs to make myself some room.
“Told you I’ll get you on your knees willingly, Bellamy.”
I blushed. He used my last name as a weapon, and it worked. I didn’t like to be called that. It was at that moment I decided to stop calling him Winslow.
When my head was leveled with his groin, I put my lips to his zipper. I pressed close-mouthed kisses all over his groin, my pulse quickening in my neck. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t even look at me. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’d turned on the TV behind me and was watching something mindless. The only proof he was with me in that moment was the way his chest moved above me with uneven breaths.
I opened my mouth and licked his jeans, kissing his clothed groin eagerly, finding myself rocking back and forth. What was wrong with me? I’d never been that forward with a guy before. I wrapped my lips around his shaft and moved them up and down, tracing the size, width, and the curve of his penis. I could smell him, his penis, and that made me elated with need. The feeling confused me. I’d never wanted to go down on a guy before. I thought it was gross. Maybe even dirty. And Alex wasn’t even my boyfriend. He wasn’t my anything.
“All right, that’s enough of your cock tease. Take it out.”
I undid his jeans, maybe a little too quickly, because I heard him chuckling above my head.
“Put it in your mouth.”
“I’ve never done it before,” I muttered, more to justify it to myself the moment I screwed it up.
“It’s not rocket science.”
“Don’t be crude.”
“Don’t stall. You said you want to suck my cock. Now’s as good a time as any.”
I covered some of his shaft and sucked. Maybe half of it. There was still more skin I couldn’t reach, so he took my hand and curled it around the base of his dick.
“Squeeze.”
I clutched it, and he closed his eyes, looking tortured. A beautiful prince giving in to the moment. It inspired me to squeeze even harder, sucking on his hot, silky flesh and moving my mouth up and down. He pushed inside me, slow at first, but steady enough so that his tip touched the back of my throat. I gagged, my eyes burning with tears. He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me on top of him, so that he was lying on the bed and I was still sucking him off, naked, but on top of him. His fingers grazed my damp slit again, and I purred into his cock, which made it jerk in my mouth. Rapture. Euphoria. Stars in my eyes. No one had ever told me sucking someone off could make you feel powerful, rather than degraded. I felt like I owned Alex in that moment, and the feeling was…priceless.
I pumped my hips into his hand, wanting more, sucking him off eagerly. He grabbed the back of my head and changed the pace, going faster, and deeper, and so much rougher than I’d ever imagined it could be. He was propped up on one elbow, watching me, and the position made his abs tense with every thrust he made into my mouth. He retrieved two fingers coated in my warm juices from my pussy and pinched my clit with them, playing with my arousal and rubbing it along my slit now.
“Ohhh,” I cried, which made Alex shut me up by driving even harder between my lips.
“Remember it’s my turn to take? The only thing you should be given right now is my spunk down your throat. Everything else is a bonus, and you’re definitely not allowed to make demands.”
Bossy jerk. Yet there was absolutely no way I could stop what I was doing. I felt him jerking inside my mouth, and he scooted up quickly to lean against the headboard, keeping my head on his crotch by fisting my hair.
“Fuck, yeah. Suck me good, Stardust. You’re a natural.”
Thanks…I guess. I did like the idea of taking control and being able to give him what he needed.
“I’m coming.”
It was a warning, which I appreciated, but I kept my lips firmly on his cock as he came in spurts. His cum was warm and salty—sticky—coating my tongue and teeth. I groaned, sucking every drop, until Alex let out a deep sigh and dragged me by the hair to look up and sit on my knees. He looked nonchalant and unflustered as ever. Other than his cheeks—stained in pink—he looked completely normal.
“You swallowed yet?” he asked, patting his back pocket and producing a cigarette pack.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, only I could. It was classic Alex. I still had some of his cum in my mouth. It was too thick to swallow in one go. I shook my head.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered.
I did. He lit up a cigarette—no doubt taking a small pleasure in making me wait—then pushed my bottom lip with his thumb, cigarette in mouth, and watched his cum drip from my lower lip to my chin. It was filthy and mortifying, and…hot. He swiped his index finger over my tongue and rubbed some of his cum on one of my nipples, and we both watched my body reacting to his touch, blooming into goose bumps, my nipples pebbling like little rocks.
“Pity I can’t keep you,” he said around his cancer stick.
“Who said I want to be kept?”
He put his palm on my cheek and squeezed, a sad look in his eyes. “Who said you had a choice?”