Page 25 of Still Her

After a moment, the laughs subside, and we both let a comfortable silence take over the room, continuing to look at each other, watching each other’s smile transform from animated to sensual. Without a word, Jack unzips his jacket and shrugs it off his shoulders. And then, eyes still on me, he pushes his running pants down, taking his boxers with them, before crawling back into bed with me.Gawd, the sight of him naked still excites me and makes every part of my body hum, and so does the look in his eyes as he prowls toward me like a panther.

“Come here,” he murmurs reaching for me and pulling me on top of him. I close my eyes and get swept away by his callused hands gliding all over my body. His eyes are hooded, and he gives me a lazy smile that lets me know what’s on his mind. And I will happily accept one distraction after another. He leans in and starts kissing my neck, and I tilt my chin up to give him better access. His thick cock is so hard as it brushes against my stomach, making my clit grow warm and sensitive. He pulls me into him and plunges his tongue into my mouth while he reclines against the pillows. His hands glide up and down my back before coming around my front to squeeze my breasts, letting out a groan into my mouth as he massages them. I start moving against him, my want for him burning hot as I feel his hard length caressing and teasing between my thighs.

“I want to feel you, baby,” he rasps against my mouth.

I reach down and stroke him a few times before moving him to my entrance. I close my eyes as I ease myself down on top of him, squeezing him as I move up and down his length. He drops his head back and exhales heavily as his hands caress my ass before moving around to grip my hips. He thrusts up hard a few times, giving my drive a boost with the friction, before letting me take over the pace again. I sink down low, taking him deep as I use his abs and his chest for leverage as I squeeze and release up and down.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, as he sits up and his arms encircle my waist, holding me close as he thrusts up each time I drop down. He’s filling me up so good and so deep; my body and mind are immersed in a haze of pleasure and passion as we enter that place where nothing exists but us.

His mouth ventures down to my chest, and I fall a few leagues deeper when I feel his soft lips and his warm breath travel across my sensitive skin. My lips part on a moan that comes from deep in my throat as I surrender control to Jack, who’s begun rolling his hips harder and picking up our pace. I feel him throb and pulse inside of me and my walls respond in kind. Our breathing is labored as we move together, our bodies flush with each other. I feel my blood go from flowing to rushing through my body as Jack turns us over. My breath blows out of me when my back hits the mattress and he starts pounding into me, bringing my leg up around his hip so he can reach my farthest depths.

He’s abandoned all restraint and is driving into me with full force as I grip his back with my fingertips and begin to cry out. The pressure in my core is building and coiling, seconds away from exploding.

“Oh God, oh God, Jack! Shit!” I call out into the room right before I detonate. I arch my chest up into his and I see his jaw strain against his own climax. His body jerks and spasms against mine as he goes off inside me. He curses and pants into my neck as we ride out each wave.

“Ah, baby… that’s it…” he soothes, as the shuddering of my body settles down to a gentle quake. “Damn,” he mumbles into the side of my face after letting his whole body collapse onto mine. We lay there blissed out for a while as one of his hands lazily plays with my hair and I trace my nails gently up the sides of his back, just to feel the bumps rise on his skin in response.

I crane my neck to look at the bedside clock. “Baby, we have to hurry. We’ve got half an hour to get downstairs,” I say, my voice exhausted.

“I can’t. Fucking. Move,” he responds, his voice muffled by my neck, and a giggle erupts from my chest, gently shaking us both.

I try to roll him, and crack up when I fail because he’s laying on the theatrics and acting like he seriously has no strength. “Jack, come on,” I laugh, trying to shove at him again.

“Do you really think that bus would go anywhere without us?” he asks, cynically.

“Probably not, but we’ll get a lecture from Ron if we make everything fall behind schedule. I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood.”

“Fine, you got me there,” he grumbles, doing a push-up and hefting himself off of me, before taking my hand to help me up and leading me to the shower.

We’re only ten minutes late when we step off the elevator with our luggage and dogs in tow. I went with black leggings and a sweatshirt since we have a while on the road before Charleston, while Jack is wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a bomber jacket open over a t-shirt. We both put on sunglasses as we exit the hotel, because though the SUV’s are right there at the curb, there are a good handful of fans and photographers being held back by Shane and a few other guards on the security team. My face is blank at first, until I realize something: if any photos show up online, Eli could see them. If Jack and I look like there’s anything wrong it could tip him off that I didn’t stay quiet. I give just enough of a smile to not look like I’m overplaying it, and give a couple of polite waves as we herd the dogs into the back seat before climbing in ourselves. Leaving the waves and the camera flashes behind, we head to the tour buses that will take us to the next show.

When I step onto our bus, I haul my bag back to the bedroom and retrieve my laptop, setting it on the table in the lounge so it can boot up. That’s when Matt walks into the lounge with a to-go cup of coffee in each hand, Jack snickering behind him.

“How are you doing, Maze? Are you okay?” I’ve been dreading this part of seeing all the guys, but it’s not like I can expect them to not check in. They give a shit and I can’t expect them to act like they don’t. I just don’t want to talk about it.

“I’m doing okay, thanks,” I say timidly.

“Good. Here’s a pumpkin latte and a hug,” he smirks, handing me one of the cups and putting his arm around me.

“Aww, thank you,” I tell him, accepting the cup and squeezing him back. And with that, he goes to sit down in one of the lounge chairs and pulls a nearby magazine in his lap. This is why we’re friends. Fuck that, he’s family.

“That other one for me?” Jack teases, eyeing the other cup.

“Hell no! Get your own fuckin’ pumpkin latte,” Matt playfully snaps, drawing his cup protectively to his chest.

Jack laughs, shaking his head on his way back to the bedroom to dump his bag.

I sit down with my latte and laptop at the table, and try to think of what to write for the next blog entry. Readers especially eat up the anecdotes I write about while being on the road with the guys. A lot of them are fans of the band, and I think they enjoy getting little inside peeks. I don’t know how the hell to write about last night’s fundraiser though. I can’t tell the truth; that it was one of the worst nights of my life because the biggest entertainment PR agent in the country made me feel violated by ambushing me in a bathroom. It would cause chaos, and Eli could sue me for defamation or something of the like.

But I can’t fake that it was a fabulous evening either. If he reads it, he could think he’s snagged me, that I’m on board with what he’s doing.

In the end, I decide that the new music program deserves some recognition and exposure. It won’t make for my juiciest entry, but I write about the event in general and keep the key players out of it, myself included. I make it seem deliberate in my monologue that I’m choosing to focus on the cause, hoping that will be satisfactory to my readers. In the end, I do make mention of how good all the guys looked and throw in a picture of them posing together.

I close my laptop with a sigh. That was not one of my more gratifying posts. I look over to see Jack and Matt sitting across from each other in lounge chairs and hovering over a notebook. They must be working on a new song, probably the one for the action movie that their illustrious agent got them the deal for. I hate the idea of them losing that opportunity.

No, I’m not going to play along with Dipshit McDoucheNozzle, but I hate that this could very well end with the band losing out on some great opportunities because their agent is a conniving asshat who dangles carrots with every intention of yanking them away if he doesn’t get what he wants.

I gaze out the window, trying to figure out what to do about all this. I even contemplate for a moment that I was imagining things. What if Eli was really just trying to have a conversation, and that he really wants me to feel comfortable and at ease around him and just did a really shitty job of choosing his words and actions?

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