Page 14 of Cherry Beats

“Probably best.” He wrinkled his nose again, smiling sarcastically. “Now, let me speak my truths.”

“Let me hear them.”

“Truth number one: I’m sorry I never really paid much attention to you at school.”

“Ouch,” I winced, swallowing the ridiculous rejection I felt, choosing instead to remain focused on my fingers pushing through his hair like a dream. “Not many people did, so I guess you’re forgiven.”

“Truth number two: I think you serve a really shitty pint.”

“Yeah, well, I think you drink like a girl. Not forgiven.”

Presley’s hands slid underneath my loose bra until he had both my breasts cupped in his hands, heavy and waiting, my nipples harder than they’d ever been.

“Truth number three: I think you have the most perfect tits I have ever felt in the palms of my hands. Jesus, Cherry.”

I didn’t have a response for that, especially not when he squeezed them with such perfect pressure that I was getting worried I was going to orgasm right there and then. With closed eyes, I let my head fall back, my throat straining as the moan of approval rose free.

“Truth number four: those noises you make are the sweetest sounds I’ve heard in all my life.”

Of course, I moaned again, letting my arms rest on his shoulders and pulling his head closer.

“Truth number five: I’m pretty sure I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

“That’s enough honesty. Stop there,” I gasped, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, wrapping my legs tight around him just so I had something to keep me upright.

“Truth number six…” he whispered. “Tonight is all we have. I won’t be back next week.”

I froze instantly, and my eyes snapped open like someone had just poured a bucket of ice-cold water over me.

Presley’s sad eyes found mine as he wrapped his arms around my body and pressed me to him tightly. I could hardly breathe. I could hardly do anything. Was this his offer? A screw, dump, and run? Had this all just been a game of cat and mouse for him?

“I have to go away for a while,” he clarified. “My band have been asked to go to a recording studio in London. We have three months to make decent music in the hopes that we finally get to put some good shit out into the world.”

“Are you serious?” I squeaked, and that squeak represented excitement because even though I wanted to be the queen who held the rock star beneath her high-heeled boot and made him pray, I also wanted Presley Aron West to be known in this world for his exceptional drumming skills. Behind his kit, he was unleashed, free, and wild. He had a talent few wished they had a tenth of, and a huge part of me was glad he was trying to use it rather than sticking around in this dingy town bringing lame-arsed women for a drink to the same lame-arsed place every weekend. “Shit, Presley, I’m so happy for you.” I beamed.

“Thanks, Cherry.”

“So, you want to know if I’m going with this being a one-time-only thing?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow,” I mouthed.

Presley’s eyes searched mine. “Is that a good wow or aYou’re a cheeky motherfuckerwow.”

“A bit of both,” I admitted, scrunching one eye shut to hide my discomfort.

“You have a right to choose. You always have a right to choose.”

The dramatic pause was only for effect. I knew my answer before he’d even told me any of his truths. He could have told me he’d just murdered a defenceless old lady in the alleyway and thrown knives at homeless men, and I’d still have bent over for him. You didn’t spend your life falling in love with a man like Presley only to get a set of never-before-seen morals and ethical codes the moment he unclipped your bra.

“I know what I want,” I said, looking into his eyes.

“You sure?”

“Surer than I’ve ever been about anything.”

His responding grin would stay with me for the rest of my life.

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