Jon pulled away with a fresh coat of my peppermint lip gloss glistening on his lips, guiltless. “Worth it, dude. Fucking worth it.”
“Awww, baby,” I said with my hands on my hips. “Don’t be jealous, we can skip the burrito and go get naked.”
In the shower later, Reid was doing his best to keep me upright and quiet.
“God, you really don’t know when to shut up. I think it’s about time you ate some soap, Estella Emerson.”
“That’s Estella Rosa Maria Emerson,” I said as I puffed out my chest with my hands on my hips, still a little uneasy on my feet from the booze.
“Seriously? That’s your name?” he said as he gripped my head and pushed the soap toward my mouth.
“Yes,” I said, grabbing his balls. “You get that in my mouth, I take this off.”
He dropped the soap, grabbed my hand, and slid it up and around his ready dick. “How about we work on getting this in your mouth?”
“Nope, sorry.”
“If you’re not any good at it, I understand,” he chided with a shrug.
“How about you kiss my Latina ass? Blowjobs are a privilege you have to earn. These lips are pure gold, baby. Completely innocent. I’m saving that act for a worthy man.”
“Oh, shit,” he said with a sly grin, “challenge accepted.”
“Don’t get your hopes ups. My high school boyfriend still has blue balls.”
“Really?” Reid said as he brushed my lips with his fingers. “And your virginity wasn’t sacred?”
I sighed. “It was supposed to be. Gave it to the wrong guy. I know that’s a shitty second, but it’s all I have.”
“Damn, this is going to make me a pervert. Now it’ll be all I think about.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said as he lathered me up from my toes then turned his back after he handed me the washcloth.
“The hell it’s not,” he said with sincerity that had me laughing. “I’m taking this very seriously, Estella Rosa Maria Emerson.”
“Well, calling me by my full name is definitely not going to get you there. My mother did it daily to remind me how serious she was. And now I can’t even look at you naked,” I said, shielding my face from him. “It’s echoing in my head like a broken record now. Great.”
Reid chuckled and leaned into the shitty excuse for a showerhead, his lips on my ear, and rubbed himself across my back as he slid his hand down my stomach. I lost my breath. My heart pounded as he reminded me exactly who I was in the shower with. “Reid,” I said breathlessly as I leaned into his seductive touch.
“Yeah?”
“Reid,” I gasped.
“What, Stella?” he whispered as his middle finger danced along my clit before he dipped it low.
“She’s going to forgive us, right?” He pulled away from me and I turned to face him.
He looked gorgeous, his dark hair pushed back from his face, soaked and inked, his defined muscles shedding water. “I don’t know.”
“Sorry, I . . . sorry,” I said, my eyes watering. “But what if she doesn’t forgive you?”
He pressed me into the stall, his hands at work, and doing their job well. “You can keep asking, Stella, but I don’t know the answer.”
“Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.”
“’Bout time,” he said as he cut off my retort with his hungry tongue.
Down with the Sickness
Disturbed
Addiction sneaks up on you. It’s a subtle thing. You get a taste, you revel in the buzz, and then you begin to crave another hit. You know the high is temporary, but the craving is a bitch.
And I was beginning to crave Reid Crowne.
He was the perfect drug. And I never knew when the next hit was coming. Curled up on the shitty red couch in The Garage, I watched him with growing thirst. And it wasn’t just Reid, though he was enough. It was the need for his music. I’d never been so close to the process, and it was fascinating to watch. The birth of a new song, of something different and distinctly the Dead Sergeants. Sometimes they just jammed until they recognized a niche. And though some of the time they acted like clowns—especially Ben and Rye, who seemed to have a bad case of the stooges—they took their music seriously. And when it worked, my scalp prickled with awareness, my arms filled with goose bumps.
I knew, without a doubt, the band had a huge future, and I could feel it happening between them. Reid only reacted to Ben when he played. He would glance up at him when prompted but mostly just lost himself, and I loved it. After a few hours in the overheated shit hole they rented, the shirts came off. Reid tucked his in the back pocket of his jeans as he beat his drums mercilessly. I couldn’t help but to get a little bothered by the display of hungry, raw men in front of me.
Ben was beautiful; his nice guy disguise was deceiving as hell. It was what was in his eyes that spoke the truth about him. And his voice was capable of anything. I couldn’t wait for Lexi to witness what I was, front and center. In the midst of a love fest with the band and a lust fest with the oblivious drummer, reality bitch slapped me.
Paige: You have mail here.
Can I come get it?
Paige: Neil will drop it off.
Thanks.
I stared at my phone and waited. Was she reaching out? What could I say? Neil had forbidden her from doing more than talking to Reid in passing. It was bullshit, pure and simple. She was on a control trip, but she was losing. And I had a feeling Neil was getting the shit end of the stick. I’d finally called my parents. And after an hour of my father yelling at me, he passed the phone to my mother.
That was hell, but I managed to plead my case, and shortly after, I was getting angry texts from my sister. Apparently, they gave her an earful after they got off the phone with me. I can’t say I didn’t smile a little when I got her shitty excuses.
Ben sat next to me on the couch as they finished their last set. Reid was still screwing around with a back and forth he was working on for a new song.
“What’s up, beautiful? Who are you texting?”
“Not Lexi,” I answered with a grin.
He curled his lip and then leaned in. “He’s less bitchy these days.”
“I promise he’s not.” We both chuckled.
“I fucking heard that,” Reid said from his set, his eyes finally connecting with mine.
“Look at the two of you. It’s adorable,” Ben said, unfazed by Reid’s menacing tone. “I see a bright future for you kids.”
Reid stayed tight-lipped as I looked anywhere but at him. Reid started his beat as I leaned over to whisper to Ben. “We’re just stuck together in the corner.”
“Paige still giving you guys shit?” Ben asked. “Not cool.”
“It’s like I came and screwed everything up,” I said low so only Ben could hear. He nodded and then gave me a good view of his sparkling white teeth—not a single cavity. “It could be worse. You could be sleeping with Rye,” he said as he nodded his head toward him. Rye was ripping through chords, thrusting his hips as if he were screwing air. We both dissolved into quick laughter as Ben pulled me into his side. “His ex, Lia, I hated her,” he whispered. “I mean I fucking hated her. She was toxic and she played the victim. It was always about her. Always. I think you’re good for him. That wreck was her fault.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know her. And he hinted around to it, but won’t fully admit it. They were arguing. He was breaking up with her again, and she pulled the wheel. Shit, I’m busted.”
Reid glared at us from his drum set and then pointedly at Ben’s hand wrapped around my shoulder.
“Want to stop pawing her, dickhead?”
“I like it when you get all alpha, baby,” Ben cooed.
So do I.