Rock Bottom (Bullet) Page 11

  Oh, yes, he was going to see a few things. One, her motto, her promise to herself, the one she was fucking breaking right now. That, and her bellybutton was pierced. He’d like that. She’d gotten it done for her last boyfriend, and the stupid thing had gotten infected just a couple of weeks after. She toughed it out for that bastard and wondered now why she’d kept it. Seeing the look on Ethan’s eyes as he finished unzipping her vest made her glad she had. He kissed the hollow of her neck and then kissed in a line straight down. Once he got to her bra, he skipped over and then his kisses became a trail he made with his tongue until he got to her navel, and he traced around it and sucked on that stupid little piece of metal. Suddenly, though, he made her glad she had it because it was hot now, not a source of contention between her and some asshole. Ethan was on his knees now and was pulling the vest down her arms until it dropped to the floor.

  He unbuttoned her jeans then, kissing the flesh just above the button. Her fingers were in his hair again as he pulled the zipper on her jeans down. It felt like he was going in slow motion, but it wasn’t long till he found the tiny lacy black panties that matched her bra. He made a sound like a growl and took the top of her panties in his teeth, and she was almost shocked at how her pussy responded…not just to his teeth but the guttural noise he’d made. She needed him, needed him inside her now, but he was going to torture her, make her wait.

  No, it was more than that. She could tell he was taking his time, enjoying himself, and she wondered when the last time was he’d been with someone he had a connection with.

  Oh, God, she didn’t want to know. What if he had dozens of women he fucked regularly? That would just kill her.

  And that was a wakeup call for her. She felt herself cool off and start to barricade her heart again, but then he shoved his hands under the back of her jeans. It was tight but he started easing them down off her hips.

  That’s when he saw it, the little black tattoo in script that said simply Never Again. He cocked his head a little and ran his thumb over it. She felt her lungs bring in a sharp breath of air at his touch. His thumb felt hot against her skin, and he followed it up with a kiss on her flesh just as steamy. He started sucking on her skin then, and it was like torture, but it was also like he knew what her tattoo meant, as though he were going to erase the memories that had prompted her to brand it on her flesh.

  It was just like their first kiss…he understood her…and that scared the shit out of her.

  But it also made her feel okay, even though it was a tentative okay, about going through with this. Yes, she wanted him. She wanted to feel him pressed up against her, wanted him inside her.

  Except that was still off in the distance, but he managed to pull her back to the present by tracing along the top of her panties with his tongue while his hands worked her jeans down her legs.

  It was then that she noticed how she had clumps of his hair in her fists as though she were holding on for dear life. In a sense, she was. It was agony, but he was taking his time, and he untied the boot on her right foot, loosening its tongue and then sliding it off her foot. Then he pulled the leg of her jeans off along with the sock and raised her leg up on his shoulder where he licked a line down her inner thigh to the crease and then he kissed her there. She felt a shiver vibrate up her spine because his lips were just centimeters from her clit. But he just kissed her there again, teasing with his lips, not homing in on the one part of herself she couldn’t take her mind off of.

  Oh, shit. She was nearly pulling his hair out. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He rested her leg back on the floor and started working on the other side then, dragging the left leg of her jeans down to her ankle where he repeated the process of removing the boot and sock followed by the jeans which he tossed to the side. And the devilish tormentor…he did the same thing with that leg, lifting it up and licking his way until he was soooo close, then resting her leg on his shoulder. She didn’t think she could get wetter, hotter, nor could her muscles grow any tighter than they were in this very moment. So when he shoved his thumb under the tiny panel of her panties, she gasped out loud. Yeah, he felt how wet she was and she knew it when he breathed, “Christ.” He kissed her above the panties on her lower abdomen again, but he slid his thumb back up to her clit, and she couldn’t help the moan she uttered.

  She felt his teeth graze her belly as his free hand slid up the back of her other leg, up to her ass. He started to stand, and she let her leg ease down so her foot was back on the floor, but he kept his thumb in place, and he moved it in a circle until she moaned again. She almost cried when he pulled it out from under her panties and stood all the way. His hands continued gliding up her back to the bottom of her bra.

  But she was tired of waiting. She let go of his hair and grabbed at his leather pants, trying to hold her breath steady. She got his button undone but could hardly focus as he unsnapped her bra and pulled it down her arms. She wasn’t going to let go of his zipper, though, and pulled it down. She could feel the force of his cock underneath the zipper and felt excited, wanting to touch it as though nothing else in world mattered. His hands barely touched her breasts, and she felt his mouth on one, moving in for the kill. She was going to completely lose it when he touched her nipple. She wanted him to start feeling as out of control as she did, but he was calm and collected, or at least that was how it seemed.

  Ah…there he was. The only thing holding him back now was the underwear, and if she could get to him first… But no luck. His tongue touched on her hypersensitive nipple and she groaned again. He then put his entire mouth over her nipple, his tongue flicking its delicate nib, and she could tell her breathing was growing heavier. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

  If she could just find her way inside his shorts, but fuck it. She massaged him through the fabric, cupping all of him as best she could in her palm. God, he was hard. He felt like he was going to explode right there in her hand. And the way his jaw slackened against her breast as she deepened the massage told her he wasn’t as in control as he appeared.

  The bra had fallen off her left hand as she was trying to work it inside his underwear, so she let go with her right hand and let the bra fall to the floor.

  But those fucking tight leather pants were unforgiving. She let go of his cock and the underwear and brought both hands up to the waistband and pulled. Nothing. She yanked and they started to give way. She felt him chuckle against her nipple, but he stopped laughing when she finally had his shorts down and both her hands started working his cock.

  That was it. She needed him to feel as desperate as she did. He was still lavishing plenty of attention on her nipple, but now it was slower, more concentrated, like he had to focus on what he was doing or he’d lose it. He kissed his way back up to her collarbone, then her neck, and his hands grabbed her around the waist. His touch was almost rough. He said in her ear, “Who are you thinking about right now?”

  “What?”

  “Right now…who are you thinking about?”

  “What do you mean? I’m thinking about you…us. Is that a problem?”

  He looked in her eyes, and his were dark and dangerous but so smoky hot. “No…that’s the right answer.” He kissed her and lay her on the bed. She’d stopped massaging him, but his cock was still in her hands, and she could feel it pulsing against her fingers. He was close, and she was more than ready too, even though he’d taken her off guard with his question. The way he looked, though—as if he could eat her alive—was a massive turn on, and she knew he could tell by the way her chest was heaving.

  She could feel a thin film of perspiration on her upper lip, even though she had cool air blowing through her apartment. It felt like her bedroom was an opening to hell, though, and in more ways than one. Not only was she insanely past the boiling point, but that niggling voice in the back of her head told her there was no turning back now, that she could no longer close whatever Pandora’s box she was opening here.

  And so his question was he
avy with meaning. Again, she felt like he could read her mind when he asked, “What do you want, Jenna?”

  She saw the curve of his bicep to her right—carved out of stone and painted with art to rival Da Vinci—but she felt his left hand holding her hip. It was possessive, forceful. She wanted him to take her, to have her…what was it he’d said just minutes earlier in her kitchen? Every way she’d take him? She wanted to tell him to take her any way he wanted. Instead, she grabbed him by the back of his neck and growled, “I want you to fuck me, Ethan.”

  She saw just a glimmer in his eyes, almost as though he were going to smile, but he didn’t. He lowered his head slowly to hers and kissed her again, hard and consuming, and his hand moved from her hip to the front of her panties. He grabbed them by the front and started pulling them down. She lifted her hips up off the bed to help and then they slid down part way. He sat up on his knees as she lowered her body back to the bed. He lifted her leg again, reminiscent of the way he’d done at the foot of her bed earlier. This time, though, he bent her knee and pulled her panties down her lower leg with a speed that felt excruciating. He pulled them down her foot, over her toes, and then lay her leg back on the bed with precision, as though it were a fragile Faberge egg. But then, as though to keep her off guard, he pulled them down her other leg fast and hard and leaned over her again. His eyes drilled into hers, and then he kissed her neck, but he slid his finger down her slit and touched her clit. She gasped and lost any thought as he forced her mind down below. His touch was sweet and achingly slow. She felt his tongue against her neck up to her earlobe. Then he breathed in her ear. “I want to hear you call my name, and if you don’t the first time you come, I’ll keep you up all night until you do.”

  That was it. Her legs clenched against his, and she felt her body give way to an orgasm that surely she’d been holding inside her entire life. “Oh, God,” she cried.

  If she hadn’t been so rapt in the forces created by her body’s flood of endorphins rushing through her veins, she might have laughed when he said, “Close…”

  This meant a lot to him, and much as she liked the idea of having multiple orgasms all night long, she knew she couldn’t take it. He was making her feel like she had the wings of an angel, so why couldn’t she give him the one thing he’d asked for? “Oh, Ethan…”

  “That’s it, baby.” He didn’t stop moving that finger that had played hundreds of songs onstage, and that was what it felt like…as though he were fretting an intense metalcore breakdown. She could almost hear the bass drum beating and a single cymbal crashing in her head. He was…he was playing her like his guitar, and she was responding by making music. She was so near laughter but not at his technique. He was flooding her body with a massive onslaught of feeling, one she’d never experienced before.

  She started coming down and he whispered, “You want to feel me, baby?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She was breathless but she did; she wanted him inside her. His pants were still on, just halfway down his thighs, and he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Even in her state of semi-stupor, she noticed it was attached to a wallet chain. God, he really was the epitome of a rock god, and here he was, fucking her brains completely out of her head. She hoped she could help make his orgasm as good as hers, but she didn’t know that she had it in her. He’d drained her completely.

  He slid a condom on and she felt his cock pressing against her. “Ready?”

  She tried to take a deep breath, but it hitched halfway down her chest as though she’d just jumped in an icy lake. “Yeah.”

  He almost smiled but it was a smirk. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” She touched his chest, dragging her hands down till she felt the hairy trail on his lower abdomen, and he entered her, a slow rhythm at first. She could almost hear it—the bass drum, the crash cymbal, a heavy driving guitar solo melody played against the lower bass. And then she became the vocalist, crying out again, tilting her pelvis so she could take him all. She cried aloud, not sure if she’d said his name again or not, but she was nearly out of her mind. She knew she was cursing too, demanding and insistent, begging him to never stop. And she couldn’t help it, but she felt her nails digging into his back. She didn’t have long, prissy, professionally manicured nails; they weren’t even painted, because when she bothered, they were black, and she didn’t think that looked proper for her profession, but they were still long enough to do damage. That was when he moaned out loud and let loose, when her nails dug in, and she would have wondered if she’d hurt him, but he was clearly in the throes of his own orgasm.

  “Oh, fuck me!” he yelled and groaned, slowing down in his rhythm just enough that she could tell he was relishing the feel of his cock against the confines of her pussy. She squeezed against him, hoping to increase the pleasure he felt and he moaned again. As he stopped, she could feel each pulse of his cock releasing its load into the safety of the condom wrapped around him. It was in that moment that she felt closest to him, as though they’d broken through some barrier that had been stopping them from ultimate understanding.

  He thrust one more time, what seemed to be an instinctive move, and she kissed his neck, feeling tenderness and connection to this man she hadn’t met too long ago. He felt so right at that moment, so perfect, and as he looked at her, a thin film of sweat clinging to his brow, she thought her life would never get better than it was right now.

  Chapter Sixteen

  SHE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND him. Yeah, he knew Valerie loved him—he could see that in her eyes, in her unending devotion, but just as he’d always suspected, she just didn’t get him. She didn’t understand what made him tick, and she probably never would. And Ethan thought that would be okay. He knew…he knew she’d come from a sheltered home, had never had to go through the shit he’d had to go through, but…sometimes it was exhausting trying to explain it to her.

  Still…she seemed to love him unconditionally. Part of him was pissed about that, but part of him felt overwhelming gratitude for it.

  He lay in bed and he could hear voices talking quietly, but not so quietly that he couldn’t hear them. It was his best friend, his brother Brad, and Val, talking in the kitchen. As he stirred from sleep, he strained to hear them. It sounded like Brad was in his usual lecture mode, the part of Brad that pissed Ethan off more than anything else the guy did. And it probably angered him because Brad was often right.

  He heard Brad say, “Something I should worry about?”

  Then Val said, “Oh, no. No. Hell, no. I’m just…not eating as much and I’m exercising a lot. I’m not starving, and I’m definitely not doing drugs.”

  Oh…he was riding Val’s ass about losing some weight. Brad was being his typical worrywart self. Val was looking hotter than ever. She didn’t look emaciated or anything. She was just losing the extra little bit of weight she’d been carrying.

  “Okay. Good. Just…you really are our muse, Val. I…” Ethan sat up in bed, straining even harder to hear, but he lost the next words Brad said. He knew what was happening. Val and Brad had never admitted it, not even to themselves, but they loved each other. Ethan had prayed it wasn’t true, but he knew better. He saw the way they looked at each other. It was just a matter of time before he lost her for good. That fresh realization hit him hard, and he opened the nightstand next to the bed. He had a small box inside, one that no one else ever opened. He knew, because they would have ragged his ass about it if they’d ever noticed it. He grabbed two little pills out and swallowed them. They were hard to get down because his mouth was so dry, and the coating was bitter against the side of his throat. He noticed a glass of water on the dresser across the room and got out of bed. He drank the entire glass down while listening to more of the conversation.

  He heard Val say, “What?”

  Brad said, “I feel the need to protect you.” Yeah…fucking knight in shining armor. Just what Val needed. Jesus. It was a miracle she even stayed with Ethan now. Brad was too fucking perfect. How could he compete with
that? Brad, the breadwinner; Brad, the master songwriter; Brad, the incredible guitarist. Bradley, the fucking upstanding citizen.

  Brad, his brother, his best friend. He knew the guy loved Val, but Brad had some fucking stupid code…he wouldn’t touch her because of some dumb ass promise he’d made her dad. And Ethan knew her weakness, that she cared for him, for Ethan, and he exploited it. He’d wanted her since he’d first met her and damned if his brother was gonna get in on that. Hell, no. Val was his girl, not Brad’s. Still…

  He could hear their continuing conversation as the pills hit him. Whoa. Some good fucking shit. He heard Val say, “From what?”

  “Lots of things. I…just want you safe.”

  Ethan started moving out of the bedroom, getting his bearings. He wasn’t completely out of his mind yet. He was pleasantly buzzed. But he wanted to see what the hell was going on. Val kept talking. “I am safe, right?” She paused. “Right?”

  Brad’s voice faltered. “Yeah, sure. You are.” What the fuck was he going to say next? Ethan clenched his jaw, forcing one foot in front of the other. “Just…just remember you have a friend here, okay?”

  “I know that.”

  Ethan made his way into the kitchen. Goddamn son of a bitch. Val’s hand was on Brad’s. Something was going on between them; Ethan was sure of it…either that or it was starting. Fuck. And what convinced him of that was how quickly Val pulled her hand off Brad’s as soon as Ethan walked in the room, like Brad’s hand had suddenly caught on fire. He kept his cool; only heaven knew how. He sat down at the table and Val asked, as though nothing had been going on, “Hey, how’d you sleep?”

  He had to keep his cool…he was tough. He could do this. “For shit.”

  Brad looked at him, “There’s plenty of coffee if you want it.”