“Kitt,” I murmur into his mouth, feeling myself tightening again.
I dig my nails into the flesh on his back, and his rhythm picks up dramatically. Ripping away from my mouth, he pushes himself up onto his arms and closes his eyes as he starts a frantic pace, relentlessly slamming into me.
I grip on around his waist to stop myself from being shoved higher on the bed.
Fuck. Oh, fuck.
He’s going to make me come again. I moan and scratch at his back as the intensity of him takes hold.
“Kitt!”
“Fuck, Texas. Fuck. Come with me, baby.” He throws his head back as he pumps into me.
I watch him come apart, his eyes scrunched, his jaw locked in pleasure, and it’s what makes me break under him. I let wave after wave tear me apart.
“Shit,” I mutter, floating back to reality.
Kitt’s hips grind mine as he rides out the last of his orgasm, and he collapses on me. Rolling over, he takes me with him, and I lie in his arms, snuggled close, breathing him in.
This is, without a doubt, my favourite place to be in the whole world. I could stay here for hours, doing nothing but lying all over him.
“Wow.”
He chuckles. “Exactly. I’ve never come so fucking hard in my life.”
Neither have I. “I never want to move,” I whisper.
“Please,” he says into my hair, “you’ll want to feed soon.”
He’s got me there. I’m always hungry.
“Tell me you’ll never get bored of this, Kitt.”
He laughs, and his chest rocks underneath me. “Something tells me that’s an impossibility.”
I hope so.
KITT
SUNDAY, MAY 17
MADRID, SPAIN
Texas looks like she’s been crying. I want to hold her and fix whatever made her upset, but Mark is here at the venue too. He’s distracted because Enigma is opening in ten. I don’t know how I’m going to wait that long.
“You good, man?” Coop asks, slapping me on the back.
I look between him and Tex, making sure she’s okay. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it. If you want the night off, I can handle vocals.”
Now, he has my full attention. I laugh and thump his arm. “Good one.”
“You know I’m a better singer.”
“Yeah, you’re really not, Coop, but thanks for the laugh.” I turn back, and Tex is gone. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?”
“Texas.”
Coop points. “That way, so pisser or one of the dressing rooms. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just needed to talk to her about something. Be back in a minute.”
Coop nods, and I follow the direction Texas wandered off in.
A few people stop me to fucking talk, but I quickly brush them off and find Tex in my dressing room.
I close the door, leaving us alone. “What’s wrong?”
She spins around and drops her phone. Her eyes dart to the mobile.
“What?” I ask. I notice the redness surrounding her eyes and the way she’s looking at her phone, like it’s eaten all of her chocolate.
She bends down and swipes the phone. “Nothing. I just forgot something.”
“You didn’t bring anything.” I step closer. “Want to show me what made you cry?”
“I haven’t been crying.”
“Texas. Phone.”
Looking away, she thrusts the phone in my direction. “Open Safari.”
I don’t like this, but I do what she said. Images of me and a girl pop up.
For fuck’s sake. “Texas, this isn’t recent.”
She turns back.
“Fine, it’s recent but before you.”
“I know that.”
“Then, what’s the problem?” I close down the page and hand the phone back.
“Nothing is the problem. I’m not stupid. I know your past.”
“Then, you cried because…”
“I didn’t full-on cry, dickhead. I’m fine, and we’re fine, so give me a minute, and I’ll be back out there.”
I grab her hand and pull her closer. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got more talking to do, sweetheart.”
She wants to be angry, but not even Tex can be that unreasonable.
She sighs in annoyance. “I don’t blame you, but seeing you with other girls has always hurt, even more so now. I guess I wasn’t prepared for that. I’ll be all right, and I’ll deal with it, like I did before, I promise. Want to give me that minute now?”
I shake my head and trace my hand down her cheek. She’s soft, and she feels like forever.
“I don’t want to leave you alone, so you don’t have a choice.”
She steps back, and her eyes narrow. My arm falls away, and I know we’re about to have an argument.
“Yes, I do. You’re not my fucking dad, Kitt.”
Here we go.
“How am I a bastard for not wanting to leave my girlfriend when she’s hurting?”
“Because I’m asking you to. Why are you being difficult?”
I laugh because…fuck.
“You think I’m being difficult? Texas, you have it down to an art form.”
She folds her arms. “You need to leave.”
“This is my dressing room.”
“Fine, I’ll leave.” She pushes past me, her eyes firing bullets into my head.