Page 21 of Oops Baby for the Rockstar
Biting my bottom lip, I make a private vow: I won’t make it easy for him. I’m gonna fight every urge to cry out, gonna keep quiet as long as I can, so the rock star has toworkfor it. So many things come easy for the rich and famous, but I won’t be one of them.
The sounds of the crew are faint in the distance. We’re all alone here, in the privacy of this small wood, and for a mad moment, I feel like Red Riding Hood, cornered by the big, bad wolf, his panting breath hot on the back of my neck. About to be devoured.
“Ready?” Jett rasps against my ear, his hands sliding up and down my sides. I fight a whimper, already soaked and swollen in my underwear, and press my ass back against him.
Am I ready? I’ve been waiting non-stop for the last three months. I’ve beendyingfor this, squirming and desperate and unfulfilled. Of course I’m freaking—
“Ready,” I grit out. “Do your worst.”
Nine
Jett
This is a dream. The moonlight filtering through the canopy; the faint hoot of nearby owls; the distant ruckus near the trucks. The warm breeze and the scent of dry earth. It all feels soreal, but I’ve had Tamsin pressed up against so many surfaces in my lonely mind over the last few months, and how can I tell reality from my own desperate imagination? How can I be sure?
“Jett,” Tamsin gasps, pushing her bare ass back toward me as I knead her cheeks and spread them apart. Her jeans and panties are tangled around her thighs, blocking her legs from spreading too far apart, and her pussy is slick and glossy in the starlight. Surrounded by trimmed dark hair, just like I remember.
Fucking mouthwatering.
“I’m here, baby.” My knees crack as I kneel down on the parched earth, crunching dried leaves and tiny twigs beneath me. I don’t voice the doubts I’m having; the fact that I’m wondering now if this is real or too sweet to be true. If itisadream, I’m not gonna be the asshole that ruins it. “Christ, you look good.”
She really does.
Tamsin has always been pin-up perfect, with wide hips and a peachy ass that flow up to a slender waist. Her skin is pale, practically glowing in the moonlight, and that makes every bite mark, every bruise I’ve sucked onto her body in the last few minutes, stand out extra vivid.
She looks like she’s been ravaged by a wild animal. And more than that—with the way Tamsin is whimpering and pressing her ass back toward my face, with the way she’s clutching the tree trunk for balance and panting with need—she looks like she’s desperate for more.
That makes two of us.
“You’re mine,” I say, declaring it to the quiet night. Tamsin’s fraught breaths are the loudest sound in our little wood. My teeth sink into her peachy ass cheek quickly, just enough to underline my point.
Tamsin gasps and scrabbles at the tree trunk, trying to hook her fingertips into gaps in the bark.
“This is mine,” I take both ass cheeks in my hands and squeeze them roughly, “and this is mine,” my thumbs slide together to her center, skating easily over the glossy sheen of her arousal and making her wail, “andthisis mine.”
One hand reaches around Tamsin’s waist to cup her belly in a firm grip. To cradle the tiny life growing there. It’s still early days, so early that there’s barely anything to feel, only the smallest bump curving her stomach.
Even so, triumph sears through my insides, warm and golden as sunshine.
My baby.Ourbaby.
Surely a dream…
“This is yours too,” Tamsin says, her husky voice just the same as in my tortured memories of our night together. She grips my wrist and tugs it higher, drawing my hand up the front of her body until it’s splayed over her chest.
Badum. Badum. Badum.
Her heartbeat thuds against my palm, steady and insistent. Could I really dream something that specific? It feels so real.
With my arm reaching high up Tamsin’s body, I’m pulled forward, her bare ass pressed against my chest. Humming, I let my free hand roam, smoothing up and down her quivering thigh muscles until finally zeroing in on her soaked slit.
Tamsin moans as I thumb her clit, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her spine. Her shoulder blades shift as she wriggles, every part of her body so delicate and pretty.
Can’t believe she’s been hauling heavy cases of equipment around right under my nose. Irritation squeezes my temples, and my teeth scrape harder against her back. Not enough to hurt—never enough to hurt—but enough to remind us both thatI’mhere now.
There’ll be no more manual labor for my girl. Not while she’s pregnant, and ideally not ever, unless she misses it for some bizarre reason.
“Mine,” I mutter against her back, mostly for my own benefit. My thumbs slips and slides over her clit, moving rhythmically now, and Tamsin cuts off a cry before it can truly escape. My grin feels feral, and my thumb quickens. “You’remine, Tams. And trust me, you’re gonna feel it in the morning.”
