Her tongue licked up the long vein on the underside and she felt him twitch in her hand.
“Stop,” he cried, pulling her up. He pulled her jeans open and tugged them down to midthigh, planting a hard kiss over her clit. He lifted her onto the sofa and positioned her so her elbows were on the arm and her butt was in the air. She heard the rip of a wrapper, and without missing a beat, he thrust into her.
“Oh shit, Pix.”
He leaned over her and pounded into her. She tensed her arms, pushing back against him, lost in the sensations his frantic actions created. Dred was hitting her in all the right places, and when he added his finger to her clit and pressed down hard, she began to feel lightheaded.
“Oh God, Dred, please. Come with me.”
“I’m fucking gonna. Wait for me.”
Somehow he managed to speed up, to alter the angle in a way that drove her crazy. Was it possible for sex to feel so good you thought you might die from it?
The contractions started deep in her core. There was no way she could wait. “Dred, I . . . Oh, yes.”
As her orgasm consumed her, Dred yelled out his release, pressing hard up against her ass.
Both of them gasped for air. It had been fast and hot, and they were both pretty much still dressed. She couldn’t help but giggle.
“You okay, Pix?” he muttered against her neck.
“That was . . .” What? She couldn’t think of how to describe the way she felt right now.
“Yeah,” Dred said. “I’m going to love living with you too, Snowflake.”
Chapter Sixteen
A little over a week later, Dred pulled up to the television studio, a giant smile plastered on his face. Yeah, he looked like an idiot, but quite frankly he didn’t give a shit. Not when he was running late because his girlfriend had surprised him in the huge tiled walk-in shower by letting him take her pressed face-first against the wall.
They’d been living together for nine days. Nine perfectly fucking blissful days, where he wrote some of the most meaningful lyrics of his life and played hair-raising music with his very best friends. Then went home to his sexy-as-hell girlfriend and cute-as-a-button baby girl at night. He and Pixie had fallen into a smooth routine. All plans to hiring an agency nanny had gone out of the window. Pixie looked after Petal on her days off. When Pixie was working, Cujo’s sister-in-law, Elisa, looked after Petal for him. She was already home with young twins, Amaya and Zephyr, and had offered to add one more. Dred had wanted to pay, but Elisa wouldn’t hear of it, and that was the reason her girls were now hurtling around her backyard every afternoon in a bright pink custom-edition kiddie Escalade.
The darkness that had lingered around him all these years was lifted. And so what if he was exhausted from sleepless nights with Petal, sexual exploration with Pixie, and the madness of songs bombarding his brain at all hours, he’d never been happier.
There had only been a couple of moments of anxiety with Pixie’s triggers. The first time, in the heat of the moment, he’d grabbed her hands over her head again, forgetting how much she hated being restrained. The second had involved some admittedly hard-core dirty talk. She’d called “Rule Two” both times, and of course he backed off immediately.
He stepped out of the town car and met Trent in the lobby of the building. They were recording an early-morning segment about the scars episode they’d filmed at Second Circle. A special on how tattooing was being used for good, including a woman who helped burn victims create more even skin coloration after recovery and a man who had perfected tattooing nipples for women recovering from breast-cancer surgeries. Before the show, he had no idea things like that even existed, and he was grateful for the opportunity to help raise awareness.
“Morning, bro. How’s it going?” Trent said.
Dred grinned. “Do you really need to ask?”
“Nah. Thanks for having us over for dinner last night. That little girl of yours is a heartbreaker.”
“Yeah, she sure as hell is. Although not so much at four in the morning.”
Trent laughed. “Maybe we should have her sleep over. Soon as we got in the cab last night, Harper was all “when are we going to start?” Told her I promised her old man we wouldn’t be getting married shotgun. If she sees the four in the morning wake-ups firsthand it might be enough to put her off for a few more months.”
Dred doubted it. Harper had been all about his little girl. Hadn’t even batted an eye when Petal pooped like a trooper while sitting on her knee. And from the looks Trent kept sending Harper’s way, she wasn’t the only one with babies on their mind.
The interview went smoothly, and Dred was in awe of the courage of some of the people he met. He found himself biting the inside of his cheek as he sat on the sofa listening to the TV anchor lead the women through their stories. Crying on television wouldn’t do his hard-core man-of-metal reputation any good.
Once the recording was over, Dred and Trent stepped outside.