Page 38 of Rock Strong

She blinked slowly. Her lips worked me sweetly, lovingly.

Her hand gripped mine and pushed harder, grinding my fingers against her pussy until her legs tightened, and her mouth opened. My cock pushed against her open mouth, her groaning mouth, her coming, gasping mouth, as she cried out, and her whole being hung suspended. I felt waves of pure ecstasy ripple through her. I felt her muscles contracting against my fingers, and I felt an adoration I’d never felt before, as she sucked on me as she came, and made me come, too.

Into her mouth. She took it, tasted it, and yes, swallowed it, then she collapsed her head into my lap and fell into a sleep-like trance so deep I was afraid of speaking to disrupt it. We lay like this for several minutes, and I thought about how perfect life would be if I had her with me every day to share.

But sharing my days on the road? While on tour? Making her share me with my bandmates and screaming fans? God, was it even possible?

Hearing the voices of others far away, as if in another realm, I thought about how we had to get going, how the venue people would begin cleaning up soon. I wanted so much to bring her with me on the bus ride to Vancouver. Any groupie would’ve given her right arm to come with us, but it was for that reason Abby probably wouldn’t want to. Moreover, she’d probably want to ride with her string section because she wouldn’t want to ignore her friend, was sensible and practical, and didn’t usually do the obvious, impulsive thing that I so desperately wanted her to.

“Ab? I know you might not think it’s a good idea, but…”

She took my hand and held it close to her face, inhaling the scent of my skin. “Can I stay with you tonight?” Lazily, she cracked open her eyes to peer at me with a gentle smile. “I think I’m falling for you, too, Liam.”

It was late, and the guys were mostly drunk when I slipped Abby onto our sleeper bus. The smuggling did not go unnoticed by Helen, however, who watched from her group of last-minute smokers just outside their ready-to-depart buses. She gave me a quick but obvious glare as I led Abby in, but I couldn’t stop to think about it. Helen always seemed to have some problem or another lately, and honestly, it was getting kind of bullshit.

In the feeble light of the bus, Abby pushed her cello case under my bunk and crawled into my bed. I spooned behind her, covering her with my blanket. She settled in for the short ride to Vancouver. We’d arrive in about three hours and could move to our hotel suites for the rest of the day if we wanted to, though the band and I sometimes just kept sleeping on the bus like old times.

“This feels strange.” There was a smile in her voice.

“What does?” I breathed in her intoxicating scent, still new and mesmerizing to me.

“This. Just last week, I imagined myself working your show, spending free time with Rosemary and the others, and getting paid until the tour was over. Get in, get out.”

“And now?”

“And now…I’m in the bed of the band’s lead singer, someone I never imagined myself ever being with. I thought you’d be brash, bad for me, making poor choices, and being a general…”

“What? Say it.”

“Douchebag.”

“Ouch! That’s worse than jerk and asshole but not as bad as motherfucker. Fine, I’ll take it.” I smiled into her hair. “But to be fair, I never saw myself with you either.”

“Is that a good or bad thing? Tell me what you envisioned,” she whispered, her voice like a stained glass nightlight in the darkness.

“Well…I envisioned kicking ass then partying like I usually do, getting drunk every night to cover up the fact that, despite people surrounding me at all times when we’re on tour, I’m actually pretty goddamned lonely.”

“That’s sad, Liam. I’m sorry,” she said, stroking my arm with a light touch. “But I feel the same. I mean, aside from Samuel…”

“Samuel?”

“My ex-boyfriend. I was with him for four years until a couple weeks ago. I haven’t known any other guy except him. And you want to know the sad thing?” she asked. “I was more lonely when I was with him than when we broke up. I’d just reached a point where I had no idea why I was with him anymore, other than out of habit.”

I nodded and thought about how familiar that sounded. “I agree. My buddies are awesome, don’t get me wrong…they’ll be there for me if I need them. But there’s always that feeling…that at the end of the day, the only person you can really count on is yourself. Abby, I don’t trust most women I meet. You have to know that. For me to let one this close to my heart is pretty fucking rare.”

The strokes on my arm ceased. “Yet you let them into your bed,” she said, not accusingly, just stating a fact.

“I’m not going to lie.” I leaned my head on her shoulder. “I’ve slept with lots of women, but look…it’s like eating candy every fucking day. Yeah, candy is great and sweet, but it’s completely nutrition-less. After a while, you get sick of it. Your body craves a meal full of vitamins instead of empty calories. You feel me? Your body rejects the junk.” She made no gesture of understanding. No nods, no noises, just silence. “I’m speaking utter horseshit again, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but I’m starting to understand the language,” she said.

I scoffed, pretending to be hurt, when really, I loved when she made fun of me. She kept me real. Another reason why she’d be good for me.

“So you’re calling me a salad,” she said, running thin, strong fingers through my hair.

Chuckling, I flipped her to face me and searched her dark brown eyes. “I’m calling you a fucking filet mignon. With garlic mashed potatoes, a side of buttery corn, and a sweet cherry wheat beer to polish it all off.” I kissed her. She let me. She understood. Most women would get offended by me calling them a craft beer. “Fuck, now I’m hungry.”

She burst out laughing. I couldn’t even say how awesome it was to hear her do that so openly, without guarding herself like she had before. I loved this side of her, and I loved that I brought it out of her. I wanted to do it for a long, long time.

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