Chapter Nine
Gemma
Stepping out of the bathroom and towel drying my hair, two arms wrap around my waist.
"I thought you were with the band?" I drop the pink stained towel.
"Like I'm going to miss your show tonight," Zarek says, placing a kiss on my damp forehead.
"You saw the show yesterday," I remind him, unable to keep the smile off my face.
Maybe it was us being out in public together or being with his band all day, I'm not exactly sure, but he's different. In a good way.
He's very clear about his feelings and desire where we're concerned, but now it feels like something's shifted. In the short span of a couple days, we've put ourselves back on track. The one we jumped off a year ago…or I did.
"Matt and Sasha are coming this time," he informs, sliding his hands to my cotton-covered ass.
"I have to get ready." I grab his wrists, moving his hands off my ass.
"I am ready," he counters, pushing his hips forward.
The hard outline of his cock presses into my belly, and I bite my lip.
"You look stressed," he coos, fisting both hands in the lapel of my robe. "I can help with that," he finishes, sliding his hands down the closed seam.
Reaching the cotton belt, he yanks it away. When the robe falls open, his eyes drop.
"Fuck, G, you are so beautiful," he whispers.
Slipping his hands under the material at my waist, his fingers dance over my hips to my lower back. With a rough tug, he presses me to his chest.
The robe slips, catching at my bent elbows. His mouth descends to the inked stars decorating my shoulder.
"Twinkle," he places a kiss to the one at my shoulder, "Twinkle," he moves his kiss to the one at my collarbone, "Little star." He licks the one above my breast. "How I wonder…" His mouth closes around my nipple and sucks—hard.
Moaning, I arch my back and dig my fingertips into his biceps.
Zarek's hands skim over my ass until he grips the backs of my thighs. He lifts me against his body, never releasing my nipple, and carries me to the bed.
Laying me down, he peels away the open flaps of the robe.
Gripping my knees, he shoves them apart and kneels between them. Zarek comes over me, taking his weight on one arm while his right hand slides up the outside of my thigh, over my hip, and stops at my belly.
I suck in a breath.
His eyes come to mine, searching.
"G?"
A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it's unmoving. When I don't respond, he sighs.
Sliding down, he lays his body between my legs. My bare pussy pressed against his chest, thighs under his arms, his face hovering above my stomach. The warmth of his breath caresses my belly button before he presses his lips to my skin.
Desire and happiness are drowned by the guilt assaulting me.
I'm in love with him, he loves me, and I've gone and gotten myself knocked up. Pregnant with an egotistical, selfish asshole's baby. I close my eyes and try again to swallow the lump of emotion in my throat.
Grabbing the robe at my sides, I pull the material over my exposed breasts.
"I need to get ready," I choke out.
"What's your plan, G?" Every word is spoken against my skin.
"To get dressed." The words sound like a question.
"G," he drawls my nickname, "look at me."
Tilting my head, I look down my body and over my unchanged stomach to meet his eyes.
"What's your plan?"
"I have a doctor appointment in a few weeks, once I return to New York," I confess. "Mal helped me find a highly recommended gynecologist who is well respected and discreet."
"Discreet?" His brows furrow.
I nod. "Yeah, so my business isn't made public until I'm ready to take that step."
"So," he pauses, licks his lips, and asks, "you're keeping the baby?"
My vision blurs, and I clench my eyes shut, then choke out, "Yes."
This is it. This will be the moment I didn't even realize I was dreading. Now, he knows what my future holds. What young rock star at the top of his game wants to be dragged down by a baby—let alone a baby that isn't even his?
"You're sure?" His question feels like a drill to my heart.
Unable to verbally respond without releasing a sob, I give a quick nod.
"Good," he clips, kissing down my stomach.
Good? The response dries up my tears. Instead of the devastation I expect, I'm completely confused.
"What do—" my words cut off with a gasp.
Zarek's tongue slides between my lips, pressing against my clit.
"Oh my God," I moan.
He sucks the bundle of nerves between both his lips, holds it there, and rolls the tip of his tongue over it, then one long finger plunges inside, hooking, and rubbing.
"Fuck, Zarek," I cry out. "I'm going to—"
The orgasm rips through my body, bowing my back off the bed and tightening my thigh muscles against his body. The robe slips off my body, the cotton grazing the hard tips of my nipples and adding another delicious sensation.
Panting, I collapse to the bed and look down my flushed body.
Zarek removes his finger, looks up at me, and sucks said finger into his mouth. Releasing it with a hum of approval, he rises above me.
On his knees, between my legs, he undoes the fly of his jeans.
"I need inside you," he groans, pulling his hard cock from its confines.
And he means it. Positioning against me, he drives inside without shoving his pants down over his hips or removing his shirt.
Falling forward, his hands taking his weight on the bed, he fucks me fast and hard.
Pulling my legs up the sides of his body, I hook my toes into the jeans at his hips and shove them down.
Zarek, continuing to thrust, uses his right hand to fist the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, letting the t-shirt pool around his left arm.
"Bring your legs back up, baby," he commands, drawing his knees closer to my ass.
I do what he asks.
Removing his hands from the bed, he palms behind each of my knees. Using his body weight, he pushes my legs out and down, his eyes focused on our connection.
"Fuck, look how you coat my dick," he growls.
His hips pound into me, each stroke of his cock rubbing my sweet spot. A second climax is building, growing. My pussy is so wet, I can hear him slap against me.
"I'm going to record the sound of us fucking one day." His words are a promise, and the last stimulation I need.
This orgasm is slower, rolling, like waves of heat and tingles through my body.
"Zarek," I cry out, fisting the comforter beneath us.
"I'm gonna record that too," he groans.
Releasing my legs, his body comes to mine. His thrusts quicken, riding the waves of my bliss into his own.
"Fuck," he grunts, jerking his hips roughly.
His forehead comes to mine, our breaths mixing between us.
"I love when you cry out my name," he pants. "It's so fucking hot."
Our mouths crash together, fighting for dominance.
Twenty minutes later, Zarek lies on his back with me curled into his side. My robe is still open. His jeans are still on. The rough feel of his denim against my naked skin makes my clit pulse, already wanting him again. But my mind can't get past one single word.
"What did you mean, good?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
The arm around my shoulders, holding me to him, gives me a squeeze.
"It means good," he responds, amusement in his voice.
"Zarek," I sound whiny, and I hate it.
"Listen," he gives me another squeeze, "what it means is I'm glad you aren't giving up my kid."
"Your kid," I whisper. It's not a question, just repeating.
"Who the fuck else would it be?" he asks, rolling us so I'm on my back.
Pushing up onto an elbow, he looks down at me.
"Zarek, you… I mean…" I fight to find the right thing to say.
His warm palm on my belly silences me.
"My kid, Gemma." He gives me a quick kiss. "If you want to tell him," he nods to my stomach, "about the sperm donor when he's older, we'll talk about it then. But as far as I'm concerned, and as far as you are concerned, this kid is mine."
Tears stream from the outer corners of my eyes into my hair.
"It's not your responsibility, Zarek," I argue, wiping away the wetness with my hands. "I can't let you—"
"Get used to it, G. I'll be here as he grows. I'll be here when he enters this world. And it'll be my fucking name everyone sees on his birth certificate." His words are said in a way that tells me I’m not to argue further.
"But—"
"I don't want to hear but, unless you're asking for anal," he teases.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest.
"You can't know how you'll feel about this when I'm huge or when I give birth," I tell him. "It's another man's child, Zarek."
"No, it's not," he counters.
I open my mouth, but he places one finger on it. Allowing him to quiet my rebuttal, he adds, "Whose dick was just inside you? Who just came inside you?"
He removes his finger, expecting a response.
"That's not how it works, and you know it," I tell him.
"You're wrong," he practically sings, falling to his back on the bed next to me.
Pulling my robe closed, I sit up and look down at him.
"My sperm cancels out all others, baby. It's just the kind of amazing guy I am," he proclaims, grinning wide. "In fact," his eyes drop to my now covered chest, "I'm prepared to keep proving it. Over." He fists the lapels of my robe. "And over." He tugs me to his chest. "And over." His hand cups my breast.
Grabbing his wrist, I pull his hand away.
"I have to get dressed," I remind him. "Hair and makeup will be here soon."
"Can they do your hair while you ride my face?" He accentuates the question with a wriggle of his brows.
Slapping his chest, I laugh and push off the bed.
He sticks out his tongue.
"That's mature," I mock.
"Just showing you what you're missing out on," he retorts, curling his tongue and wiggling it.
My clit pulses and thigh muscles tighten.
I look away quickly before I straddle his cocky face.
"How much longer are you in Vegas?" Zora asks from across the sitting room in Zarek's suite.
"Two more weeks, then it's back to New York," I say, wistful.
"You over Vegas?" Sasha joins the conversation.
"Definitely," I confess on a heavy breath. "Don't get me wrong. I like Vegas, but not to live."
"So, you live in New York fulltime?" Zora asks.
"I call it home," I admit.
My thoughts drift to my apartment. One bedroom isn't going to work with a baby. I'm going to have to move.
"What's wrong?" Zarek asks, entering the room.
"Nothing," I lie, shaking my head.
"What did you say to her?" His question is full of accusation.
"Nothing," Zora responds, putting her hands up. "We were talking about her missing New York."
His eyes move back to me.
"What's wrong?"
Zarek steps over and sits on the coffee table in front of me.
I shake my head.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Sasha stand from her chair and leave the room.
One brow lifts over his eye.
"I was thinking about how I'm going to have to move when I get back," I confess in a low voice.
"Oh," he states, all the tension leaving his body. "Is that all?"
Him making light of my worry ticks me off.
"Um, it's not as easy as you're making it sound." A little anger slips into my words.
He moves from the coffee table onto the couch next to me.
"Just have Mal get in touch with Zora." He motions to his sister and settles back into the cushions. Kicking his feet up, he continues. "They can arrange the movers and getting access to the building."
Confused, I furrow my brow and look at Zora.
She smiles wide.
"Wait, what building?" I ask.
"Mine, of course," Zarek answers like he's giving someone the time.
"What? Why?" My voice rises, getting a bit screechy.
"Because I'm not gonna be apart from my kid," he blurts.
"You're what?" It's Zora's turn to get screechy.
Closing my eyes, I bury my face in my hands.
"My kid.”
"You're pregnant?"
I peek through my fingers at Zora and nod.
"And it's your baby?" She turns her question to Zarek.
"Who the fuck else’s?" he answers with a question of his own.
"Well…" Zora drawls. "That was fast."
"Not really," Zarek says. "I've been in love with her since I met her. I should've knocked her ass up a year ago."
"You know that's not how babies are made, right?" Zora teases with a condescending smile.
Pressing his lips together, he levels a look at his sister.
"Fuck off, pain in the ass, or you won't be allowed around your nephew or niece," he threatens.
Zarek
Taking the stage after Something Wicked, the crowd is primed and ready for us to penetrate them. I love our audiences. The excitement, devotion, adoration…fuck, it's the best high. I may thrive off attention, but I fucking love each of them in return. To do this, I don't half-ass performances. Our shows get one hundred and fifty percent from all of us, and tonight is no different.
They are pumped, screaming and singing along to every word. Glimpses of bare tits are scattered around, bouncing and jiggling. Lingerie flies toward the stage, along with other personal items.
I fucking love it.
But tonight, it's amplified. I can feel her eyes on me, watching me feed and get off on the crowd.
Glancing to the side of the stage, I find my girl exactly the way I knew I would. Eyes on me, a smile on her face, and body moving to the sound of our fucking music.
Removing the mic from my stand, I make my way to her.
She stills, eyes widening.
At the edge of the stage, I extend my arm, inviting her into my sanctuary.
Gemma sucks her red-tinted bottom lip into her mouth before straightening her spine and placing a hand on mine. Pulling her along behind me, I bring her center stage just as we finish the second to last song of the night.
The crowd doesn't disappoint. I know what they want. They know what I want to give them.
Sweat soaks my body, but she doesn't demur when I pull her close.
Chest to chest, I put the microphone between us.
"Hey, Z." Gemma's greeting broadcasts through the speakers.
Slipping my hand onto her lower back, I bring her hips against mine, shove my leg between her legs, and grind into her.
Her breath hitches. Panic filling her eyes.
The crowd goes apeshit.
Loosening my hold, I grab her arm and spin her around. My chest to her back, I bring my hand to her stomach.
"I'm afraid all my orgasm making goes to this woman right here," I tell the crowd.
Gemma drops her head back to my shoulder. Grabbing the mic, she pulls it to her.
"Sorry," she apologizes, "but rest assured, they are amazing orgasms."
Her candor with the public surprises me. And with a wink, she releases the mic back to me.
Getting my shit together, I glance back to the crowd.
"Of course they are, they're from me," I declare.
I can feel her laughter against my body, but the sound is drowned out by the crowd cheering.
"I have a favor to ask of you all tonight." I release Gemma and walk toward the edge of the stage. Crouching down, I address the audience directly.
"You see this woman behind me?" I glance back and smile at Gemma. "Over a year ago," I start, turning back to the crowd, "she stole my heart and ran away with it. And I don't think that was very nice, do you?"
Holding my hand to my ear, I listen to them scream, "No!"
"Exactly, so I think Miss Gemma Harper owes me. Don't you?"
I cup my ear again.
"Yes!"
The microphone is pulled from my hand, catching me off guard. Snapping my head around, I find Gemma next to me.
"I offered to give it back, remember?"
Wrapping my hand around the one she has on the base of the mic, I pull her closer and lean into it.
"Not good enough," I say.
"I gave you my heart," she offers.
I pretend to contemplate. "Not good enough, G."
Smiling wide, she asks, "What's it going to take, Z?"
The crowd cheers, screams, then starts chanting, "Marry him! Marry him!"
She laughs.
"I like the way you guys think," I tell them, taking the mic away.
She shakes her head, still laughing.
I lift one brow, and her smile falters. Then, I point behind her.
She spins and sees the jumbo screen set up behind Zane, who is using his drumsticks to point upward.
Marry me, Gemma flashes in large neon letters.
I drop to my knee, and the crowd gets impossibly louder. It draws her attention back to me.
Her mouth drops open before she covers it with her hands.
"What do you say, G? Marry me?"
I don't miss the fear and panic battling with the surprise in her eyes.
"Our baby would want his parents married, right, baby?"
Her eyes widen more than I thought possible and the crowd screams.
"Say yes! Say yes!" Their chant draws her eyes.
"You asked what it would take, G." My words bring her attention back to me. "Possession and ownership of your heart and soul are what it will take."
Bowing my head, I lift the arm with the mic at the end of it.
Fuck, did I make a big mistake?
"Yes."
Before she can finish the S sound, I'm on my feet. Her in my arms, I spin us in a circle.
Placing her on her feet, I cup the back of her head and kiss her.
I kiss her deep, wet, sloppy, and for every fucking person to see. She belongs to me.
Ending the kiss, I leave her panting and swaying.
Grinning, I put the mic back up to my mouth.
"Since I'm eager to start with the orgasms…" I point to the band, and they kick off the last song in our set.
A member of the stage crew delivers a mic to Gemma and rushes off.
She shrugs, not knowing what I expect of her.
I wink.
"Sing with me, baby," I command, then start with the first verse.
Gemma doesn't join immediately. Instead, she waits until the chorus.
The crowd eats this shit up. I thrive off them, but it's the woman on stage with me who gives me everything I never expected to want.
One rock star.
One diva.
One second chance.
Refrain and Reprise.
This is the end of R&R,
but keep going for a glimpse into special
holiday moments with other Falling Stars characters.