Page 55 of Dirty Rock

And with my clothes still on…

I’d never been more aroused in my life.

At some time in what had to be the early hours of the morning—when the crowd had thinned, the musicians had left the stage, and we’d been left with subtle background music—Julia rose on her tiptoes in my arms and pressed her damp forehead to mine.

“You ready?” she whispered.

“For what?” I panted as we swayed to our own beat.

“Me.”

Chapter Eighteen

There’d been a taxi ride where we’d kissed in the backseat. There’d been gentle sounds of ocean waves when we’d stepped out of the car, and a faint sunrise on the horizon, but that was all I registered.

I didn’t see the colour of Julia’s front door—didn’t care to look at her house, go into another room, or see how big the kitchen was. My entire being was surrounded by a cloud of this phenomenal woman, and my fingers dug into the back pockets of her jeans as she guided me up a creaky staircase before she pushed open another door I didn’t care to look at.

I would have happily closed my eyes and let her lead me into an inferno.

“I miss kissing you,” I said against her neck as we stood in a doorway. She stretched back, opening herself for me, and I spent another minute marking her with bites and kisses. So many kisses, where my rough stubble rubbed against her perfectly soft skin.

“You say sweet things for a guy with such a sour tongue,” she whispered.

“You’re going to have a whole lot more to say about my tongue by morning.”

I spun her in my grip, hoisted her up into my arms, and I wrapped her tight thighs around my waist. She was above me, her hands knocking off my dark cap before they brushed through the longer parts of my hair.

When my feet hit the foot of her bed, I pressed my knees against the mattress and lowered her down until I was over her.

“Can I undress you?” I asked like her permission mattered when it had never mattered before. I’d always known the others wanted it. Even now, after so long of this intense foreplay, I couldn’t be sure Julia wanted it. I needed to hear her agreement.

“I wish you would.”

“Uncurl your legs.”

“Make me.” She squeezed her thighs harder. Jules raised her head. “Make me do what you want me to do, Rhett. Be that bad boy of rock.”

Fuck, it was like a porno poster above my teenage bed all over again, only better. She wasn’t going to have to ask me twice. I leaned forward and pressed my teeth to the erect nipple beneath her thin bra and T-shirt. I nipped at it, drawing a loaded moan from her and an arch of her back, which made her legs loosen around me. Taking my time, I drifted over to the other breast and did the same, only this time bringing my hands up to rest in the curves of her tiny waist. I squeezed her tightly as my teeth tortured her sensitive buds.

She fits so perfectly.

Those noises she made were incredible.

“Christ, Jules,” I whispered as I trailed kisses over her chest and back up her blotchy neck. It was several shades of pink and red from hours of my passionate assaults, and those colours shone back at me like several little victory flags. I wanted to take a picture of them all to wank off to when this was over.

Her legs fell away from my waist, landing on either side of my thighs with a thud. My mouth moved up to her ear.

“What’s the most you’ve come in one night?”

“W-hat?” she rasped.

I slid a hand between our bodies, and I pressed it down over her mound, claiming and teasing her as I pushed my fingers against her heat. There was so much fucking heat. “How many times have you come in one night before, Jules? I want to know.”

“I don’t… know…”

“Can’t have been that memorable.”

“Maybe… five?”

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