Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys Page 8
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against my skin.
Then he licks me again and again.
I grab fistfuls of the comforter and arch my back. “Oh, God!”
He takes my clit into his mouth and sucks gently until my body begins to convulse uncontrollably. Oh, my God. This is so embarrassing. But he doesn’t seem to care. He continues to devour me until I let out a wild scream. Then I grab his hair and yank him up so I can catch my breath.
He smiles as he hovers above me, his elbows resting on the pillow on either side of my head. “Was that good?” I nod because I still can’t speak. “Are you ready or do you need a minute?”
I nod again. “I’m ready.”
He kisses my forehead and I take a few deep breaths. His hand slides down between us and I spread my legs a little wider. Then I hold my breath and brace myself.
The tip of his erection glides between my flesh as he searches for entry. I jump a little when he hits my sensitive clit. Then he finds what he’s looking for and I dig my fingernails into his shoulders as he slowly slides into me just an inch.
He squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “God damn.”
“Are you okay?”
He nods emphatically. “Oh, yeah. I’m very okay.”
He opens his eyes and leans down to kiss me as he attempts to slide in farther. I can taste myself on his lips and it makes me smile. Then he tries to slide in farther and I yelp.
“Shit! Did I hurt you?”
“No, no, no! It’s okay.” I grab his face and kiss him again. “Just go slow. Please.”
I suck on his top lip and he groans as he slides just a bit farther in with each stroke. I can feel my muscles and flesh stretching with every movement of his hips. He bobs slowly up and down, back and forth, grinding against me in a circular motion, then resting so he can kiss me deeply. It feels like it goes on for an hour, but in reality it’s more like ten minutes before he lets go inside the condom and collapses on top of me.
I lay a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead as I brush the hair out of his face. I can feel him softening inside me, then he reaches down and carefully pulls himself out.
“I’ll be right back.”
When he returns from the bathroom, he’s still naked and that makes me smile. He slides in under the covers with me and we just lie facing each other without saying anything for a while. He strokes the backs of his fingers over my cheekbone and plants a tender kiss on my nose.
“I love you so much, Claire.” He brushes his thumb across my lips. “I want you to be with me forever.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and gaze into his eyes. “Forever yours.”
He rests his hand over my heart. “Forever mine.”
I place my hand on his chest. “Forever ours.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Claire
Forever Starting Over
I open my desk drawer and consider taking my old hairbrush, so I’ll have two: the new one and the old one. But then I have a sobering thought. Going off to college is a new experience. It shouldn’t be encumbered by old things. Right?
Chris pulls my hand away from the desk and pushes the drawer closed. “That’s enough. You’ve checked all your drawers four times. I think it’s safe to say you didn’t forget anything.”
The butterflies in my stomach spread over my entire body, until I feel as if my skin is humming with nervous energy.
He turns me around to face him and takes my hands in his. “Are you ready?”
I shake my head. “I’m so nervous.”
“It will be fine. And you can call me if it gets really bad. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
I take a deep breath as I look around the room. It looks almost exactly the same as it did before I packed. I didn’t want to bring too many things with me to the dorm. I want this room to still feel like home whenever I visit.
“Are you still playing that gig tonight?” I ask, hoping he’ll tell me it was canceled.
He nods his head. “Couldn’t get out of it. Xander said this guy has a lot of pull with Arista Records. If I play a few more shows there, and they do well, he might pull some strings for me.”
“That’s good.”
I don’t mention how this means I can’t call him if I get really homesick tonight. I can only call him on the nights when he doesn’t have a show.
Jackie walks in and lets out a deep sigh as she tilts her head. “It won’t be the same without you here.”
“Stop pretending, Mom. You were just telling me how happy you’ll be when Claire is gone so you can finally win Dance Dance Revolution.”
“Stop it, Christopher. That’s not funny,” she chides him, but I try not to laugh.
I let go of Chris’s hands and turn to Jackie so I can give her a hug. She squeezes me so tight. I’m almost afraid to pull away. I’m afraid she’s crying. I’ve never seen Jackie cry. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that.
When we finally let go of each other, her eyes are pink and watery, but she blinks a few times and the moment is gone. She wipes a few tears from my jaw and smiles.
“I fully expect you to spend at least one weekend here every month. Chris will pick you up. You’re only forty minutes away.”
“I’ll try my hardest.”
“I know.” She kisses my forehead and gives me another quick hug. “Get out of here before I start crying. Go.”
Chris and I chuckle as we leave Jackie in my bedroom.
“Go. Get out of here,” Chris says, tapping my butt to push me toward the stairs.
“Stop!” I laugh, smacking his hand away.
Chris drives me to the dorm in Jackie’s car. I spend most of the drive there hugging my knees to my chest to comfort myself. When he pulls into the parking lot at Spencer Hall, I get even more nervous as I wonder who I’m rooming with.
Chris parks in the loading zone and grabs my two boxes out of the trunk while I take my purse and my suitcase. I have my card-key, but a girl with curly hair and square glasses is nice enough to hold the door open for us to enter.
“Thanks,” I say.
I hope my roommate is someone like that. Please let me get a nice roommate.
We get off the elevator on the second floor and head for room 207. Chris sets the boxes down next to the door and I knock. I can hear footsteps on the other side of the door. My roommate is already here.
The door opens and a tall girl with beautiful dark hair and golden skin flashes me a tight smile. “Hi,” she says softly.
“Hi. I’m Claire. I think you’re my roommate.” I grab the piece of paper that’s folded and tucked in my back pocket, which shows my dorm assignment.
Before I can unfold the paper, she opens the door wide for us. Chris and I come in with my stuff and I see she’s already taken the bed on the left, closest to the door. Her bed is covered in a gray and lavender comforter. But, other than a few bottles of lotion and hairspray, the desk on her side of the room is pretty bare. No dozens of pictures of friends and family.
Chris places my boxes on my new bed and looks around. “This place could use a little love.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I shake my head as I turn to my new roommate. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I got your name.”
“Senia,” she replies, plopping down on her bed. “Short for Yesenia.”
“That’s pretty.” I look at Chris and he raises his eyebrows. This girl obviously is not in the mood to talk.
“You want me to help you unpack,” he asks, grabbing my hand to pull me against him.
I press my hands against his chest, unsure whether we should be affectionate in front of Senia. It might make her uncomfortable. He smiles when he notices what I’m doing, then he leans in to try and kiss me.
“Stop,” I whisper, but he just laughs. “I can unpack by myself. Are you leaving now?”
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
I try to transmit the answer to that question telepathically, so Senia can�
�t hear how desperately I don’t want him to leave yet.
“I have to go move the car and get ready for the show,” he says. I guess he didn’t receive my telepathic message. “Do you need anything before I go?”
I shake my head. “Call me before the show … to say goodnight.” I whisper the last three words so my new roommate can’t hear how needy I’m feeling right now.
He smiles and kisses my forehead. “I will. I love you, babe.”
“I love you.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe in as much of his scent as I can before he leaves. I close the door behind him and Senia is looking at me when I turn around.
“Is that your boyfriend?” she asks.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce you two. His name is Chris.” I move the boxes off my bed and onto the floor.
“Is he some kind of actor or something? He said he had to get ready for a show.”
I laugh as I lift the suitcase onto my bed. “No, he’s a musician. He has a band. They’re playing a show tonight.”
“Oh.” She keeps playing with her phone for a moment, then she looks up from the screen with a sober expression on her face. “My dad wouldn’t let me date anyone when I was in high school.”
“Sorry,” I reply, unsure what else to say to that.
She shrugs and flashes me a smile. “It’s okay. I think this year is going to be different. You know?”
I let out an uneasy chuckle. “Yeah, I do.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chris
Forever Playing
September 30, 2011
The text I just received from Claire says that she and Senia just got here to The Pinhook club in Durham. I text her back to let her know we’re still setting up, then I slide my phone into my back pocket. Tristan is helping Jake set up the drums while I do a quick sound check on my guitar. The floor is already packed with so many people, I can hardly hear myself think. My eyes scan the crowd, searching for Claire’s blonde hair as I test each guitar string. Everywhere I look I see Duke, UNC, and NC State T-shirts. Reminders of all the studying that’s been keeping me from Claire for the past five weeks since she moved into the dorm.
A few minutes later, I’m adjusting the mic stand when I spot Claire’s blonde ponytail bouncing across the front of the club near the bar. I finish setting up the microphone, then I tap the head. The chatter in the crowd is suddenly replaced by screaming and a few wolf whistles. I flash one of the whistlers near the stage my crowd smile and she blows me a kiss.
I wet my lips, then I look out across floor to where Claire is making her way toward the stage. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”
The collective roar of two hundred people shouting two hundred different answers to that question is ridiculous, but it gets me pumped. I love playing to an enthusiastic crowd. My eyes lock on Claire as she tries to squeeze past a guy in a newsboy cap. He gives her an angry look, like she’s crazy if she thinks she’s getting past him.
“Hey, you,” I say, pointing at the guy in the cap. “Let the girl through. She’s a special guest.”
The guy rolls his eyes as he lets Claire and Senia to scoot past him so they can get right up next to the stage. Claire shakes her head as I wink at her, but Senia’s too busy hugging her drink to her chest to keep it from spilling to acknowledge me.
Tristan is still setting up his bass, so I decide to engage the crowd while we wait. “We may be waiting a while, so I’m gonna tell you all a little story. Do any of you know who Neil Hardaway is?” About two-thirds of the crowd answers affirmatively, which isn’t surprising since he a blues legend in the Carolina music scene. “Well, when I was about eleven, I sent Neil Hardaway a letter asking if he could send me the tabs for his song ‘Greensboro Blues.’ I never received a reply, so I figured he was just too busy to send them to me himself. So I sent another letter to the same address, but this letter was addressed to ‘Neil Hardaway’s Assistant.’ I was certain that one would get a response.” Claire smiles and shakes her head. She’s heard this story before. “Well, I didn’t get a response to that letter either. So a couple of years later, I had a brilliant idea, and I decided I’d try again. This time, I addressed the letter to Neil Hardaway and I included a picture of me dressed up as Neil, in a blue suit and black tie, electric guitar slung across my chest, a cigarette hanging out the corner of my mouth. And I signed the letter ‘Future Neil Hardaway. If you don’t send me the tabs, I can’t go back in time to 1991 and write this song.’ I got the tabs in the mail four days later.”
After a brief moment of laughter, I glance at Tristan and he nods. I count to three and we go right into a hard-hitting rendition of one of our earliest tracks, “Justified.” During the first song, Senia convinces a guy standing behind her to get her a few drinks. I can see Claire trying to talk some sense into her as Senia places her three drinks on the floor next to her feet, but Senia is not hearing it. She’s hell-bent on getting shit-faced tonight.
When the second song is over, I decide to have a little fun and play the first few notes of a song Tristan and I made up a few months ago called “Easy Fuck.” It’s not something we would ever play for a crowd, but just plucking out the first few notes makes Tristan roar with laughter as he watches Senia pick up a glass from the floor and chug it. Having made my point, we continue onto the third song of the night.
Halfway through the set, Senia is crossing her legs and fidgeting as if she has to piss. But she never goes to the restroom. She just keeps staring at Tristan with a dreamy look on her face. There’s no way this is going to end well.
“We’re gonna slow it down a little for the last song of the night. This is called ‘First I Saw You.’” When the song is over, I thank everyone for coming and the frenzied cheers from the crowd are exactly what I came for. I take a bow while Tristan comes up behind me and pretends to grab my hips. I roll my eyes back and moan like I’m having an orgasm. Then we all take another bow and say goodnight.
Claire’s eyes are narrowed at me as I hop off the stage into the crowd. But all is forgiven when I grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her. Her lips taste like iced tea. The flavor combined with the sound of the girls around us mumbling their disappointment gets me hot. I slide my tongue into her mouth and she whimpers as she grabs fistfuls of my T-shirt.
I move down to kiss her neck and she pushes me back. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.”
I laugh as I plant a kiss on her cheek. “It’s never enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chris
Forever Promised
After we had sex two months ago, I knew I had to do something to show my commitment to Claire. Something to keep me in her mind when all those sex-starved college guys are trying to get a piece of her.
We’re too young to get married — at least, according to Claire we are. But I hope this promise ring will serve as a little reminder of who she belongs to.
She swears that she hasn’t had a lot of guys hitting on her, but she doesn’t understand her own appeal. Claire doesn’t ooze sex appeal until you know her. Before you know her, she exudes this closed-off, innocent vibe that begs to be explored. You can’t help but want to get close to her; know more about her.
I’ll admit that this aspect of her personality was a huge turn-on for me when she first walked into our living room four years ago. Now, it’s just scary. I don’t want anyone to take Claire away from me. But, most of all, I don’t want anyone to hurt her.
I worry about her every day.
Claire sits down on the grass under a large oak tree in Moore Square. I sit next to her and lay my guitar on the grass next to me. She crosses her legs and sits up straight, like she’s about to start meditating. We look around for a while at the groups of people enjoying a Saturday in the park on a long Columbus Day weekend. Forty feet away, a father is kneeling on the grass, playing catch with his toddler son and it gives me an idea.
“We’re gonna have kids someday, right?”
She laughs. “Not for at least five or six years. But, yeah, I guess.”
“We can’t do it when we’re old. I don’t want to be one of those old parents who doesn’t have energy to go to the park.”
“Twenty-five is not that old.”
“So … if we’re having kids in five or six years, when are we getting married?”
She’s silent for a moment, then she turns to me with a question in her eyes. “What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. Just talking.”
She scrunches her eyebrows together as if she doesn’t believe me. “I don’t know. After I graduate?”
“Why do we have to wait till then? I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already lived together. We could get married before you graduate, then move in together right after graduation.”
“What are you saying? You want to get married now?”
“No, not now. Maybe your senior year or something.” I shrug, suddenly regretting I brought this up. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal. We can get married whenever. Or not. We don’t have to ever get married.”
“Now you don’t want to get married?”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean that we don’t have to ever get married if you don’t want to. We could be one of those progressive couples that stays together forever but never gets married because we’re too cool for that.”
“Sounds like an excuse not to get married,” she says, leaning back on her hands and closing her eyes as she leans her head back.
I take the opportunity to take the promise ring out of my pocket. Then I lay the ring on her knee. She opens her eyes and stares at the ring for a while.
“What is that?”
“It’s a ring.” She glares at me and I laugh. “It’s a promise ring.”
She picks it up and examines it. “What kind of promise are we making?”
“I’m promising to love you forever. You can decide what kind of promise you want to make.”
She smiles and looks me in the eye. Then she hands the ring back. “Aren’t you supposed to put it on me?”