Ben was gone again when I woke up the next morning, in New York. Due to the three scheduled concerts, we’d be in the city for nearly a week. The thing about being on tour was the endless possibilities for late mornings. I’d be part sloth by the time we got home. There’d been a band dinner the night before, despite Jimmy’s complaint about everyone living on top of each other. I think his eternal bad mood secretly hid one hell of a soft inside. And yes, that was my professional opinion. I’d caught him stroking his chin while giving Lena a thoughtful look, more than once. Wouldn’t surprise me if we had another beard on board in the near future.
With my sloth side in mind, I met Anne at the gym and we took up residence on a pair of exercise bikes for half an hour. The last gyno I saw a few days back had said light exercise was fine and dandy. Despite the occasional fetish for some weird food, and Lena’s pastry party yesterday, I hadn’t been indulging too much. Lots of salad and vegetables and the occasional trip to the dark side of decadent desserts. Total denial didn’t suit me. At the end of the day, a healthy Bean and happy me was more important than the size of my butt.
The menfolk had gone off for a sound check, followed by various TV appearances before they hit the stage. Maternity shopping could fall by the wayside for a while, no biggie. A reporter from some big-name music magazine had taken to tagging along with the band, adding to the busy. Apparently an in-depth Stage Dive on Tour: The Real Story Behind the Public Facade article was in the making. Ben had seemed singularly unimpressed with the whole thing. But then, little moved him. He tended to take the bulk of things in his stride.
Which was great.
I could, I know, become rather strung out at times. Overthink things a little. Though with the gene pool Anne and I came from, it was probably a wonder we hadn’t both become crazy cat ladies at the age of eighteen or something. Not that I was making excuses or suggesting that passing on blame for a person’s personal behavior was a go. But for me, I think Ben’s aura of calm and direct was a good thing. People with low self-esteem fear love. (Yep. Psychology degree rears its head again.) They doubt another person’s ability to appreciate them, because they don’t see the worth in themselves. I knew I deserved good things. Or at the very least, I wouldn’t settle for less than a good thing.
In my rolled-down yoga pants, tank top slightly too small to contain the boobs and belly, and sweaty ponytail, I wandered back into our suite. Charcoal gray with features of slate this time. Awesome view of Manhattan. Very nice.
What was waiting inside for me, not so much.
“You are fucking kidding me,” the stranger snarled, glaring at my baby belly.
I put a hand to my middle, stopping cold.
The woman was tall, brunette, slick beyond belief. Around thirty maybe. It was hard to tell, the way her sneer warped her model-like face and cherry red lips. Guess she was Ben’s hookup in New York or something. How awkward. Also, how the hell had she gotten in here?
“And you would be?” I asked, with an edge to my voice.
“If you think you’re getting a fucking dime out of him without a paternity test you are dreaming. And even then, he will fight you for custody.”
Interesting. She seemed to believe she knew a hell of a lot about my boyfriend without actually knowing anything at all.
“Your name, please?” I asked.
“You’re not the first little cunt to try this shit with one of them, and you sure as hell won’t be the last.” The woman, henceforth known as “the bitch,” stared down at me from her stiletto-aided superior height. “Why Adrian didn’t let me know I have no idea.”
She was pals with Adrian? Not a good sign. Everything I’d seen and heard about the band’s manager led me to believe he was one of the great douches of our time.
“Was Ben expecting you?” He sure as hell hadn’t mentioned any visitors to me.
“I’m welcome here.”
“Yeah? How did you get in, just out of interest?”
“Security knows me.” A defiant flip of the hair. Christ, the woman was just like every mean girl I had ever encountered in high school. Amazing how some people just stopped developing beyond a certain age and got stuck.
Outside I did my best to look calm and cool, but inside I was one riled-up, unhappy camper. What the hell was she doing in our room? I guess Ben hadn’t had a chance to break it off with this chick. Awesome. “Would you like a juice? I’m dying for a juice.”
“Let me guess: you’re some trailer trash little gold-digging whore who thought getting backstage and sucking one of the guys’ dicks would get you somewhere.”
Guess she didn’t want a drink. But also, “You don’t get pregnant by sucking dick. I’m not majoring in biology or anything, but pretty damn sure of that one.”
The bitch just stared at me. Okay, so this was really not going well.
“Sorry,” I said. Not sorry. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your righteous rant. Please keep going. I honestly can’t wait to hear what you have to say next.”
Beautiful face scrunched up all cat-asslike, the woman actually had the audacity to stalk toward me, her hands curled into fists. The girl was out of her god damn head. My heart beat double time, every protective instinct in me rising up in alarm. Do violence on me and my Bean? I think not. Happily, the bar had a wide assortment of weapons at the ready. My personal favorite being a bottle of Chivas. I hefted it from one hand to the other. Three quarters full. It was weighty enough. No way was I playing nice with this piece of work.
“Martha,” shouted Sam the security man, saving the day. Don’t know when he’d snuck in, but I was mighty damn glad to see him. Given half the chance, I’d cover his craggy face in kisses. “Lay one fucking hand on her and your brother will never forgive you. I guarantee it.”
The bitch froze.
“Hey, Sam. You want some Chivas?” I asked, offering the black-suited muscle man the bottle.
“Perfect. I’ll take that, shall I, Miss Rollins?” He set the bottle back in its place among the fine selection of booze.
“So you’re Ben’s sister,” I said, sucking down my apple juice once more. “Interesting.”
Sam put his cell to his ear, eyes looking somewhat worried for once. The bulky bodyguard had never shown the slightest hint of fear before that I’d seen. What a turn for the bizarre my day had taken. And what an almighty bitch on wheels Ben’s sister was. I sent up a quick prayer that those particular genes skipped a generation or three. No wonder Dave had traded up for Ev. Yikes.
“No way can he be swallowing whatever shit she’s peddling,” spat Martha.
“Mr. Nicholson,” said Sam into the cell. “Your sister has come to visit.”
“Let me talk to him.” Martha stuck out her hand.
The look Sam gave her. Whoa. It even made Martha pause again. Whatever the history was, there, I bet it was one hell of a tale.
“Yes, Miss Rollins and her have met,” reported Sam into the cell. “I just interrupted them exchanging words. The situation was somewhat volatile.”
He quieted, listening to whatever Ben was saying. Then he turned to me. “Miss Rollins, he’d like to know if you’re okay.”
“Best of health, Sam. All good.” I grinned. It’d been a good six or so years since I’d gotten into any fights. The bulk of us grew up and cut out such nonsense. If Martha was hell-bent on meeting my protective mothering instincts, however, then so be it.
Ben and Sam chatted on. Mostly the conversation on Sam’s side consisted of yes, sirs and so on. “Sir,” said Sam eventually, “I wonder if it might help resolve the situation if I had a quiet talk with your sister?” One final “Yes, sir” and he disconnected the call.
“Miss Rollins, would you be so good as to give Martha and I a moment alone?”
“Sure, Sam.” I wandered into my bedroom, juice in hand. My ear was pressed up against the closed door within two one-hundredths of a second. Listening in to others’ conversations is a terrible flaw, I know. No way, however, could I miss this.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam began, his voice low and deadly. “I watched you fuck up shit with your brother and Dave for years. To the point where you had to be sent to the other side of the country so you’d stop causing trouble.”
“Who is she?”
“She’s the girl your brother thinks the fucking world of, and she’s carrying his kid. He was planning on introducing you to her tomorrow, after giving you a heads-up about the situation,” said Sam. “He was hoping you could help her get some maternity clothes, since you know the city.”
The bitch scoffed. “You must be joking.”
“No. See here’s the sad thing. Your brother actually believes in you, thinks you’ve just made a couple of mistakes but that you’ve learned from them and have grown up. He doesn’t get what a bitter, self-centered bitch you are.”
Apparently she had nothing to say to this.
“But then, love fucks with how people see things. And your brother, he does love you, despite all the shit you’ve pulled over the years.”
“I only want to protect him,” she said, voice trembling with fury. “She’s conning him, she’s got to be. Ben’s never been the type to settle down, you know that as well as I do. He’s basically a professional millionaire slacker. He can barely see beyond the next jam session and bottle of beer.”
“People change.”
“Well, if he’s so into her then no way is he thinking clearly. He’s soft, Sam. He’s not like us. We see the world as it really is. People are just out to use the guys, they always have been. And this girl is no different, I can tell just by looking at her.”
Like hell she could.
Sam swore fervently. “You’re right that we see things as they really are. What are you really afraid of, Martha? Worried that if your brother’s actually in a relationship for once, got a woman and a kid to look after, he won’t be inclined to keep propping up your expensive lifestyle?”
Silence.
“You’re the user here, Martha. You always were.”
“Fuck you. He’s my brother.”
“Yeah, your brother, not your bank account. You might want to learn the difference between the two one day.”
No way. Holy hell. So that’s the expense Ben talked about last night—keeping his sister in the lifestyle she’d apparently become accustomed to while living with the band. The only real family he had was bleeding him dry. What an utter bitch. No matter what he’d said, I highly doubted that anything involving this money-sucking leech was under control. Man, did I want another chance to swing a nice hard object at her pretty little skull. But it was his money and family, not mine. Therefore, none of my business really. Not that I stopped listening or dreaming of ways to make this woman disappear. Odd, caring for Bean and Ben really brought out the violent side of me. I swear I was a pacifist usually.
“That girl—”
“Loves your brother. And he loves her. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, and she’s good for him. He’s spending less time alone, talking more, interacting. He’s happy, Martha.”
“Please. What the hell would you know? You’re just the hired help.”
“Don’t be naive. If you were really that stupid we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“He can’t be that hung up on her. I didn’t see a ring on her finger.”
“It’ll happen. They’re just both too thrown by the baby to get around to making shit official yet,” said Sam, the hammering of my heart nearly drowning him out. “You do one thing to cause trouble for them and I will make sure you are never accepted back among the band ever again. Your exclusion will be permanent.”
“They’re my family,” she said in a horrified tone.
“Then start acting like it. Stop taking your brother’s money and stand on your own two feet. Treat Lizzy and all of the women with some respect.”
No reply.
“You’re never getting Dave back. Those days are gone. Accept it. If you don’t want to lose your brother too, you’ll take my advice.”
A moment later the front door slammed shut.
Then the knocking on my bedroom door slammed through my head. Ouches. Eavesdropping was a dangerous pastime.
“You can come out now, Miss Rollins.”
I emerged, sipping the last of my juice, doing my best to appear blasé about all the drama-rama.
Amusement shone in Sam’s eyes. “It’s rude to listen in on other people’s conversations.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my nose sky-high.
“Of course you don’t.”
I lowered my nose back to where it belonged before I got a crick in my neck. “You really think I make him happy?”
The black-suited dude smiled. It was the smallest of things. There and gone in an instant. “You’re the psychology student. Think about it. Each of the guys plays a role in the band. Not just an instrument, but a piece of the puzzle that makes them work. Dave’s the sensitive poet, Mal’s the loudmouth clown, and Jimmy’s the brooding bastard. But Ben, he just goes on with the work, doing his thing. He’s the only one I don’t have to flip out about if he goes out in public. No interest in the limelight. The guy just pretty much blends, you know?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“The other guys all bought mansions and shit, but not him. He just kept moving, living in hotels, playing his music.” Sam looked at me down the length of his busted nose. Lord knows how many times it’d been broken. “You’re giving him a place to belong, things to plan for, a life outside of all of this. Idiot didn’t even realize he needed it, but he does. You’re grounding him. No one else has given him that in a long time.”
“You’re kind of a philosopher, Sam.”
“Nuh.” Another millisecond smile. “I just use my eyes. It’s what I’m paid to do.”
I smiled back at him. Mine lasted longer.
“Martha comes back, call me. I don’t think she’ll cause any more trouble, but with her…”
“You got it.”
* * *
Something woke me at around one in the morning. The light from an e-reader, strangely enough.
“Ben?” I yawned, rolling over to hit warm, hard flesh. “Hey. When did you get in?”
“Not long ago.” He pushed my hair out of my face, proceeding to rub my neck. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Want me to go read out in the living room?”
“No.” I mooshed my face against his ribs, breathing in hot male. Divine. Even the soft, soap-scented hairs under his arms worked for me. As for the treasure trail leading from his belly button down into his boxer briefs … heaven. Impossible to keep my fingers away from it.
“You are such a cuddler.” He chuckled.
“Is that a problem?” The thought that my limpetlike attachment to him might be annoying hadn’t crossed my mind.
“Nope. I like having you close. Means I can keep you out of trouble.”
I set my chin on his chest. “And what does that mean?”
“Heard about your showdown with Martha today. Were you really going to brain her with a bottle of twenty-five-year-old Scotch whisky?”
“If she’d come any closer to me and Bean with her hand raised, you betcha. Apparently I have a violent streak these days, which is a worry. But I’m not willing to stand by while me or mine get hurt.”
“Hmm.”
“I did not initiate it, Ben.”
“I know.” The corners of his gorgeous lips turned down. “I’m so fucking sorry that happened, sweetheart. Had no idea she’d react like that. I mean … I knew she’d think the worst. She’s seen enough of the crap people have tried to pull with the band over the years. Just thought I’d be here to control shit.”
I hid my face against his side. There weren’t a great many polite ways to tell someone that their only real family was an asshole of the worst sort.
“Was hoping you and her would be friends,” he added.
Not fire-trucking likely.
“What were you reading?” I asked, taking the safer option.
“Jim gave it to me. Loaded it up with baby books.”
“He did?”
“Yeah.” Ben smiled and raised the e-reader up to his face. “Did you know that contractions are like waves from the deepest sea, rolling pure natural energy through you? You must embrace them and open like a flower to the morning sun so your child can be born.”
“That sounds like some fantastic crap.”
“Yeah, don’t know if this book’s so worthwhile. Might try another.”
“I haven’t done a huge amount of research yet into the actual delivery process. But mostly I’m imagining pain, drugs, and yelling random abuse at anyone nearby.”
A snort. “Also, babies need a shit-ton of stuff,” he went on. “We better get cracking on that. Jim lined up a specialist for him and Lena, who’ll work with them on decorating the nursery and putting in everything they need.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Might be worth thinking about, since we’re still on tour for a while.”
I rubbed my chin against his pec, thinking deep thoughts. “That all sounds great, but we’ve only just decided to try the girlfriend and boyfriend thing. We have no idea if we’ll be living in my apartment or where.”
“True.” He tossed aside the e-reader and curved his hand around my hip. “Was thinking, some of the books said yoga was great through maternity and preparing to give birth and all. I remember you saying you liked doing it but didn’t have a lot of time or money when you were studying. So—and don’t get pissy at me here, ’cause you don’t have to do if you don’t want—but I thought it might be nice if you and Lena had a specialist instructor along, to work with you whenever you felt like it.”
My mouth fell open. “You did?”
“Jim said Lena would be into it, and I thought you might enjoy it. But it’s your call,” he continued. “Oh, and Jim said to especially point out that in no way is this me worrying about the size of your ass or something, ’cause it’s not. I think your ass is awesome. If it gets bigger, that just means there’s more of it for me to play with. I just wanted to do something good for you, and I know being on tour gets a little bit boring sometimes. And I thought—”
I alleviated his concerns by straddling the man and kissing him good and hard. And then I kissed him good and hard some more because he’d thought of me. No matter that he’d been off doing his thing, totally unrelated to me. At some stage of the day I’d been on his mind. I mattered to him. Proof of this was just about the sweetest thing ever.
Breathing heavy, my boyfriend gave me a slow grin. “You like the idea.”
“I love the idea. Thank you.”
“Tomorrow I’ll take you shopping myself, okay? Promise.”
“Okay.” My chest filled to overflowing with warm and fuzzy feelings. Every last little bit of emotion inspired by him. We were going to make it. We were. Him, me, and Bean would be the best family ever. Our baby girl would never doubt she was loved and looked after.
“I really am sorry about my sister today, sweetheart,” he said. “No fucking way should you have had to deal with that shit.”
“I don’t want to talk about her right now,” I said, climbing down his long body.
“No?”
“Nope. I’m hungry.” I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him. God help me, Sam was right. I was in love with this man. I could put off saying the words and deny it all I liked. The truth, however, wasn’t going anywhere. Slow. If we just took it slow, this could really work.
“What do you feel like? I’ll order you up some room service.”
“You.”
“Me?” His voice dropped by at least an octave.
I kissed first one flat brown nipple then the other, taking turns flicking my tongue across each. “Mm-hm.”
With the aid of my feet, I pushed down the sheet, shuffling slowly lower and lower. The line of each rib and the curve of each muscle. The indent of his belly button and those lines on either side, leading out to his hips. Soon enough I was face-to-face with his hard-on, which was straining the black cotton of his boxer briefs. I swear the man’s eyes were on fire, watching me do my thing.
Nothing was said. But then, nothing needed saying.
A large candy skull tattoo decorated his left side, the detail and colors amazing. Lines from an old Led Zep song covered his right. The man was a walking work of art.
He ever so helpfully raised his hips so I could slide his underwear halfway down his muscular thighs. I’d never really stopped and reflected, really gotten up close and personal in this manner with his cock. A damn shame. He was thick and long and ridged with veins, the wide, flat head just calling to my tongue. For now, though, I ran the flat of my thumb over the silken skin, feeling out the ridge and indent where the sweet spot sat.
Ben inhaled hard when I massaged it, his rib cage standing out. Man, he was beautiful. His vibrant eyes and the lines of those cheekbones. His perfect mouth and that beard. Whoa, that beard. The things it could do. If the man ever shaved it, I wasn’t putting out till it grew back.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice barely above a rumble.
I tightened my grip on his dick, enjoying the feel of him so smooth and hot against my palm. I pumped him once, twice. “Nothing.”
“You know, you act real nice, but you’ve got a bad girl streak in you. I like it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nice and slow I bent over, dragging my tongue across the flat head of his cock. Mm, salty pre-cum. Yummy.
“Playing with me like this, for starters.”
“You don’t like this?” I traced the ridge of his dick with the tip of my tongue before digging in deep to his sweet spot. The head fit into my mouth just fine—all the better to suck at him.
“Fuck,” he hissed, hips bucking, forcing himself further in.
I drew on him hard, sucking and slurping his thick cock, making a meal of him. There’d been no lie in me, I really was hungry. And pleasing my boyfriend was number one on the menu. I took him in as deep as I could go, trying to get my jaw slack. This would really require practice, given his size. Somehow, I doubt he’d mind.
On my hips above him, wearing only a thin tank top and panties, I gave him my all. If my technique was messy or somewhat technically lacking, Ben never mentioned it. I dragged my tongue back and forth up the length of him, tracing the veins and teasing the ridge. Then I opened wide and took him as deep as I could. Probably wasn’t much, but what I could take I made count. It was definitely one of those occasions were suction equaled love. Lots of love. The salty taste on my tongue and his moaning and the words of praise filling my ears confirmed this.
Giving head to Ben was great.
The big, hairy man was completely at my mercy. His hips started churning, obviously unable to hold back much longer, and I drew on him hard. He shouted, hands tangled in my hair, tugging just the right amount to wake up my scalp. That slight sting worked for me, big-time. He held me in place to take all of his cum. I swallowed as fast as I could, cleaning up the rest with tongue and fingers. He was mine, and taking care of him was definitely its own reward.
Cheeks pinked and rib cage working hard, he stared down at me in awe. I don’t know that what I’d done was so remarkable, but it was nice to be appreciated. The man certainly brought out my will to please. He looked cute right after he came. All dazed and befuddled, his face slack, at peace.
I climbed back up him, lying on my side on his chest. Immediately his arms came around me, holding on tight.
“Sorry I grabbed your hair, held you down,” he said, still breathing heavy. “Never done that before.”
“It was fine.”
“It’ll never happen again. Don’t know what the fuck came over me.”
“Hey,” I said, getting up on one elbow to look him in the face. Some serious panicky eyes there. “Ben, I liked it. I like that you were so into it, that I could do that to you, make you lose control a little.”
He just stared.
I gave him a smile and carefully rolled off. “I’m getting water. You need some?”
A nod. “You really didn’t mind?”
“I like being soft with you. I do. But I think getting a little rough with you now and then is fun too. I know we’re kind of limited with what we can do with baby on board.” I gave my belly a pat. “After, though?”
Another nod, this one downright enthusiastic, to the point where I was worried he might give himself whiplash. Seemed my man really did like to play.
“Great,” I said.
After all, what was the point of having a gorgeous, hulking big boyfriend if you weren’t willing to play with him? It was all just another healthy exploration of the bounds of our relationship. Us meshing in bed gave me good feelings. It gave me hope.
“I’ll look forward to it.” I gave him a wink.
I so had this girlfriend thing down. Go, me.