Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jonathan
Doug drives Gabby and I from the venue to our hotel. Her parents weren’t all that thrilled that we wouldn’t be staying with them, even though my concerts this week are in Dallas. But the commute through the Metroplex, which I now know is what people in Texas call the greater Dallas/Ft. Worth area, is terrible. And Denton is over an hour away from the arena we played tonight.
Not to mention, I’m tired of trying to keep Gabby quiet.
We have a suite tonight, and I’m looking forward to taking full advantage of it.
Getting out in front of the hotel, I nod to the doorman as I lead Gabby to the elevator. Once we’re inside, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close. There are always cameras in elevators, and I don’t need anyone selling steamy pictures of us to the tabloids. Or worse, video. So I keep it PG. Just my arm around her waist, pulling her close to my side.
She looks up at me and smiles, biting her lip and pressing herself into me. God, that leather top she has on is killing me. It looks complicated, and I hope it’s not too hard to get off. Otherwise I might need to find some scissors and cut it off. I’m at the end of my patience, and I don’t think I can take it if we have to unlace and unbutton the damn thing.
I’m tempted to sweep her up into my arms and carry her to the room once the elevator doors slide open, but I resist the urge. Instead, I take long strides, forcing Gabby to practically run to keep up. But she’s as eager as I am. I think she’d be jogging to the door even if I weren’t walking fast.
Once inside, she grabs my shirt in her fists and pulls me to her. She doesn’t have to pull hard, though, because my hands find her hips and yank her to me, pressing my hips into her belly, pulling her hard against me.
Going up on her toes, she pushes her tongue into my mouth. I suck on it, then take over, pushing into her mouth, tasting every inch of her. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of kissing her. Holding her. Making love to her.
I want to do this forever.
Every day.
Every night.
I hate that she has to go back to school in a little over a week for spring semester. I want her to come with me. Stay with me. Tour with me.
When Shane asked when she’d join our tour for good, I held my breath, hoping against hope that she’d say she’d love to. But when she stammered out her answer, I knew it wasn’t because she was looking for a way to say she’d love to if she were invited.
The real answer was no. She was looking for a polite way to say that she couldn’t go on tour with us. She has school. I know this. But it still sucks.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I focus on this. Here. Now.
Making the most of the handful of days we have together. The performances we have scheduled now. We’ll spend the summer together again, at least. I’m determined to make that happen. And since her parents have given their tentative approval of our relationship—more so now after having met me and had me in their home for Christmas, participating like a normal member of the family—I think we’ll have an easier time getting them to agree to her joining me on tour. Especially if we schedule a visit or two.
She nips at my lip, pulling back to look in my eyes. “What are you thinking about?”
This girl. She can read me so well. “Sorry. Just about how long I have to wait until we have more than stolen moments after a show.”
She rocks back on her heels, her eyes, glazed with lust a second ago, now shuttered. “Really? Now? That’s what you’re thinking about?”
Flexing my fingers on her hips, I press her into me and slide my hands to her ass, lowering my head so I can kiss her neck along the tendon that joins her neck to her shoulder. “That’s not all I’m thinking about. I’ve been thinking about peeling these clothes off you all night. Damn, Gabby. You look fucking hot like this.”
She rubs herself against me, tilting her head to the side to give me better access. “Mmm. What else are you thinking?”
My fingers slip under the edge of her corset, sliding over her bare skin. “That performing with you is the best kind of foreplay. God, I was dying for you the moment we got off stage. But the intermission is too damn short to do anything, much less all the things I want to do to you.”
She shivers and gasps as I sink my teeth into her earlobe. “Now,” I continue, running my fingers up and down her spine, “how exactly do we get you out of this? Do I need to call the front desk and have them send up a pair of scissors? Because I totally will. And in the meantime, I’ll at least strip your jeans off you and make you come on my face while we wait.”
With another shiver and a low chuckle, she steps back a little, her hand going around behind her. “There’s a zipper down the back. No need for scissors or calling the front desk. Though I can get on board with coming on your face.”
I can’t help smiling as I turn her around. Sure enough, next to the lacing and buttons, slightly off center and cleverly hidden, is a small zipper. Pinching the tiny pull between my thumb and finger, I reveal the pale skin of her back, inch by agonizing inch.
She’s swept her hair over one shoulder to give me access to the zipper. And I place a kiss right at the base of her neck. She turns her head, slowly moving around, her hands still clasping the corset top to her chest, holding it in place now that the zipper’s undone.
Once she’s turned around to face me, she takes a step back, and then lets the corset drop.
I suck in a breath as her small, pert breasts are revealed, her pink nipples already hardened points. When I reach for her, she steps back and shakes her head.
“Your turn. Shirt off.”
Arching an eyebrow, I cross my arms and grasp the hem of my shirt. “We’re taking turns?”
She shrugs a shoulder, causing her breasts to give the slightest bounce. “Sure. Why not? I like watching you undress as much as you like watching me. I’m topless. It’s your turn.”
With a short laugh, I pull the shirt over my head, tossing it to the side. Then I undo my belt and the button of my jeans, leaving them loosened on my hips. “So does that mean it’s your turn to take something off?”
She licks her lips, her eyes drifting down my torso and staying there. “I won’t stop you if you want to take your turn now.”
“With an invitation like that, how can I say no?”
She retreats as I take a few more steps forward, keeping her distance until we get to the main seating area. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, she crosses her ankles and bites her lip, her eyes still glued to me.
I stop and toe off my shoes, unzipping my jeans, and shoving them and my boxer briefs down together. When I stand up, kicking my pants off to the side, she straightens, stepping in front of me.
Her eyes find mine as her hand circles my cock, pumping twice before pressing herself to me. My knees go weak at her touch, and I wrap my arm around her back, dragging her the rest of the way to me.
She explores my body like it’s the first time. Or like we’ve been apart for months, even though we’ve spent the last week together.
I do the same, letting my hands roam her body, enjoying the slide of her bare skin under my palms. My fingers follow the waistband of her pants around to the front, unbuttoning and unzipping them and pushing my hands inside. She’s wearing a thong tonight, so her ass is bare under my palms. I give it a squeeze, and she pushes back against me, squeezing my cock and kissing my pec in return.
She lets out a sound of protest when I remove my hands from her and step back. “Your turn. Everything off. Now.”
With a cheeky grin, she leans back on the arm of the couch again, pulling her boots off one at a time, then standing to peel her pants from her legs. She turns her back to me, pushing the fabric down and shimmying her hips, giving me a little show as she undresses the rest of the way.
It takes all my self control to wait until she’s stepped out of her pants now wadded at her feet before I wrap my arms around her. She’s still facing away from me, which gives me perfect access to all the parts I want to touch. One hand tweaks her nipples, starting with one breast, then reaching for the other, while my other hand slides down, down, until I find her slick and ready for me.
She widens her stance, rubbing her ass against me, arching her neck in a wordless plea for attention there. I give her what she wants, kissing, nipping, licking my way down her neck and over to her shoulder while my fingers play her body like an instrument. After a year together, I know exactly how to get her to make my favorite sounds.
Her hands are braced on the couch, and I feel her letting more of her weight lean against me. After a few more minutes of playing with her, she lets out a moan. “Jonathan. Please.”
“Please what?” I whisper against her neck.
“Please. I need you. Inside me. Now.” She pushes back against me, asking with her body as well as her words.
“What happened to coming on my face?”
“Later,” she gasps. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”
I grin, loving how desperate she is. Slowly, I remove my hand from between her legs, chuckling as she squeezes her thighs together as though to trap me there.
“I can’t give you what you want if you don’t let me get a condom.”
She sighs, leaning onto her hands. “I know. But hurry.”
Luckily my pants are nearby, and there’s a condom in my wallet. I retrieve it quickly, tearing the package open with my teeth, and rolling it on. Stepping up behind Gabby again, I rest my hands on her hips, gently pulling so she’ll step back, bending her over with her hands still braced on the couch.
I line up, teasing her again for a second, but she’s impatient, and pushes back onto me. Ready to sink myself inside her, I grasp her hips again, pushing into her in one slow, steady thrust. She makes a sound, half sigh, half gasp, and I know she’s loving this.
“Me too,” I say, starting up a slow, easy pace. “I feel just like that too.”
She’s pushing back against me, impatient with my tempo, taking me harder and deeper than I intended. “That’s how you want it, huh?”
Tossing her hair to the side, she turns her head to look back at me. “Yeah. That’s how I want it. You’re not the only one who’s been turned on all night.”
“Fuck,” is all I can say to that, holding her steady now while I pound into her.
One of her hands leaves the couch, and she reaches between her own legs.
“No,” I say, pulling her hand out of the way. “Not tonight. I’m the one who’s making you come tonight. Just me.”
With that, I start rubbing tight circles over her clit, feeling the way she clenches around me, knowing she’s right there.
“Oh God oh God oh God,” she starts chanting. I go even harder, knowing that she’ll explode in a matter of seconds, and at this rate, I’ll be right behind her.
“Oh. My. GOD!” she yells, and she detonates. Her whole body shakes underneath me as her pussy clenches all around me. I don’t let up, don’t slow my pace, don’t stop rubbing her clit. She screams my name, and that’s what sends me over the edge. My name in her ragged voice, raw with pleasure, is the magic word to make me explode, heat suffusing my whole body as I empty myself inside her.
This. This release. This feeling of connection. This is what performing with her feels like. No wonder it’s a turn on. The only thing that comes close to feeling the same is sex. And since we’ve never performed together before tonight, I haven’t made that connection until now.
Withdrawing my hand from between her legs and stroking the skin of her thighs, her hips, her sides, her back, I step back. I deal with the condom quickly and return to her. Sweeping her up in my arms like I thought about doing earlier and carrying her to bed.
Snuggled up together under the covers, a deep sigh of contentment escapes me. In response, she snuggles closer, her hand sliding up the arm that’s around her waist and giving my bicep a squeeze.
This week is going to end all too soon. And the next time she joins me will only be for a few days. I wish …
But no. Her answer to Shane tonight was clear enough. That’s not possible. And I can’t ask her to give up her dreams just to fulfill mine.