Rush (Pandemic Sorrow #2) (14 page)

I stared at her, well, pretty much through her, as I thought about the fact that we actually were owned by an industry.

People who don’t live it have no idea. We are told how to dress, how to walk, how to fucking take a piss. Half of the “Hollywood drama” is made up or planned. Our lives were about as scripted as reality TV. None of us were allowed to even cut our fucking hair without getting it approved by the label. It was like a homeowners’ association from the pits of hell. To the label, our lives were nothing more than a property, and they made it well-known that we needed their approval to make any changes to it.

Sure, fame had its perks: the money, the notoriety, the treatment that was all fucking amazing; but the pitfalls of it kind of forced some of us to lose our identity. And when I really thought about it, it stressed me the fuck out and gave me a queasy feeling in my stomach. I felt like the damn
Truman Show
.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, watching the blades on the fan swirl and smear the color around. “Well, James can suck my fucking dick. And you can say whatever you want to make yourself feel better about it.”

“Just let me be ignorant to it, okay? And as long as I know you aren’t mine, then we’ll be fine.”

A frustrated growl forced its way up my throat. I wanted to be hers, and that was obviously going to be a problem.

Chapter 19

I woke up with my head pounding.  A tight band of tension stretched from temple to temple, and I all but rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Stumbling into my bathroom, I grabbed a random bottle from the drawer and dumped a pill in my hand, then tossed it in my mouth. I slammed the drawer shut and staggered to the toilet to take a piss while using my tongue to wipe the film from my teeth.

Yawning, I made my way back to the bed and found it empty.
Where the hell did she go?
We hadn’t been away from each other ever since I’d shown up at her house a week and a half ago.

I glanced at the clock. It was only eight in the morning.
We were up until three screwing, where the hell did she go?

I heard something banging around downstairs and walked to the hallway. Leaning over the wrought iron railing of the catwalk that hung over the kitchen, I saw Jules bent over, ass in the air, digging in the cabinets. She was in one of my t-shirts and barefoot, and for some reason that sight gave me a semi-hard-on.

I folded my arms over the banister and cleared my throat just as she stood up. “What are you doing down there?” I shouted.

Jules stopped and spun around, skillet in hand. “Well, I’m trying to find shit to cook with.”

“Cook?” I snorted. “You cook?”

She sighed, turned around, and continued searching through the cabinets.

This was the first time I’d ever had a half-naked woman rummaging through my kitchen. And it was insane that something as simple as that really got to me. I’d never really realized how empty my life had been. It didn’t matter how much money I had, how many cars I had; I could have a different girl lined up every night to please me, but at that moment when I reached the bottom of my stairwell and turned to find Jules swiping a strand of hair from her face and holding a carton of eggs, I realized that my life would always be empty if it didn’t have her. I’d thought that for years, but now I knew it.

I had to stand there and just take it all in. This was what life was really about. People. Life was about others, and all it had taken for me to finally figure out that it wasn’t sex that I needed—or drugs, or fame, or any of that other bullshit, but her—was to find her scrambling eggs like this, like right here with me is where she belonged.

“Jules, the domesticated goddess,” I laughed, walking around the island and wrapping my arms around her tiny waist.

“Um-hmm. So all I have to do is cook for you, and you get all sappy on me?”

Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, I argued, “That’s not sappy.”

“Not for a normal guy, no, it’s not, but for you—Rush Wilder, the king dick of rock—it most definitely is.” She giggled and swatted at my bare chest with the spatula.

“So now you’re abusive,” I snorted. “Huh, this is the second time you’ve whacked the shit outta me, you’ve just graduated to a blunt force object now.”

Jules’ green eyes narrowed. “This,” she said, twirling the utensil around in her hand, “is not a
blunt force
object. It’s more like a riding crop, if you ask me. And you said you like kinky.” She swatted at me again. The spatula smacked my stomach, leaving a red square in its wake.

“Ow,” I said, jumping back. “That fucking hurt.”

Arching a sculpted brow, she said, “And, by the way, you deserved it the time I slapped you.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, rubbing the rising whelp as I looked around for a dish towel. I snatched one from the sink and wound it up. “You deserve this.” I popped the towel against the bottom of her ass, and it snapped. My eyes flickered in delight at that sound. “Ohhh, that was a good one,” I snickered, completely satisfied that I got such a good whip on my first try.

Jules mouth dropped open, and before she could retaliate, I’d popped her again.

“You fucker,” she shouted, jumping on me and wrapping her legs around my waist.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. You are gonna lose this fight, I promise.” Pinching underneath her arms, I tickled her, and her entire body jerked and spasmed as loud, tortured laughter bellowed out of her.

“Stop it…” She fought to catch her breath between giggles, and I’d moved down to her bikini line to tickle her. “Rush, I’m gonna pee on myself…” Another fit of laughter, and her legs loosened.

I let her drop to the floor, pieces of her hair covering her eyes.

“Give up?” I asked.

She placed her hands on the floor and scrambled to her feet, running into the living room. “Nope, I never give up. I’m stubborn,” she shouted across the room.

I jumped up on my counter and slid across it to chase after her. She grabbed one of the throw pillows from my sofa and chucked it at me. I quickly snatched a pillow from the couch and ran at her, swinging.

Dust flew out, catching in the sunlight that was streaming in from the tall windows when I whacked her on the ass.

I jumped at her and tackled her onto my couch. She was out of breath and still laughing. And I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her; she was so fucking unbelievable.

“Your eggs are gonna burn,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“I’ve got more eggs.”

She pressed her lips to mine before sliding out from under me. As she sashayed into the kitchen, she purposefully pulled her t-shirt up to show her ass. “Besides, I like making you wait. Seems to have worked out in my favor so far. You’re not the only one good at getting what you want,
sweetheart.
”

I rolled my bottom lip under my teeth and sunk down into my couch. That girl could have whatever she wanted from me. I liked the way she felt, the way this felt. I wanted to change for her. I wanted to be less of an ass, a lot less of a jerk, and I wanted to give everything to her.

Up to that point, the only thing I’d ever really wanted, the one thing I had been passionate about, had been fame and music. And to be honest, the passion I felt for her made me forget that I was even famous. I didn’t want to be famous; all I wanted to be was hers.

Chapter 20

Not one person knew about me and Jules, despite the fact that her toothbrush had found a home on my vanity sink.

We managed to show up to the studio at different times, ignore each other, and when we were “forced” to speak to one another, we made nasty little jabs. Just like always.

It added a bit of fun to it all, because although we were with each other, we couldn’t
be
with each other. Having to maintain control when I wanted to smack her on her ass or pin her up against the wall and bury my face in her pussy was a turn-on like nothing else. We were taboo, we were forbidden, and who the hell doesn’t like that little element of eroticism in a relationship?

I tried to walk past the room, but I just had to peek through the crack in the door. I thoroughly enjoyed watching her when she had no idea I was there.

Jules cursed under her breath as she fiddled with the mixing board.

I tapped my finger on the metal doorframe. “What are you doing? You’re gonna fuck the balance up.”

She jumped at the sound of my voice and shook her head. “I know what I’m doing.” She brushed past me and made her way into the studio.

Following her in, I asked, “Who are you setting this up for? Aren’t you supposed to be off?”

“That new band, you know, the one that’s supposed to open up for you guys in a few weeks? Asher’s Coffin.”

I snorted. “That is the dumbest fucking name I’ve ever heard. You guys signed them, really?”

Jules rolled her eyes and adjusted the mic. “Yes, they got signed. And yes, it is a stupid name. The girl thinks she’s a vampire or some shit like that. I don’t care too much for their music, but James was dead set on signing them.” She giggled, and her eyes darted up to mine. “I still think The Snatch Pack was the shittiest name I’ve heard.”

I arched a brow and closed the door behind me, flipping the lock. “The Snatch Pack? Never heard of that one.”

My eyes set on her, and at that moment I just couldn’t wait. I wanted her, I knew I could have her, and the primitive man inside me surfaced as I took predatory and claiming steps in her direction.

“Yeah, they didn’t get signed.” She kicked the cord out of the way, straightened up, and turned to face me, shaking her head when she saw the way I was staring at her. “Absolutely not!” She stumbled over her words as she backed away from me.

Too bad for her, she had nowhere to go but up against the acoustic padding on the wall.

I laughed and abruptly cut it off when the toe of my boot scraped against her pointed heel. “Where’d you think you were going to, sweetheart? Hmm?” I let a heated breath go against the curve of her neck and gently pressed my lips to her flesh. My fingers slowly unbuttoned her shirt and skimmed over her warm skin.

“Rush,” Jules said, trying to wiggle free from me, but the attempt was just for show.

I pushed her sleeves from her shoulders and my hands glided down her arms, my fingers closing around her wrists. “You’re stuck between a wall and a very, very
hard
place,” I groaned, pushing my dick against her at the same time I squeezed the delicate bones of her wrists.

“Rush, we can’t do this in here.”

I slammed my mouth over hers, viciously kissing her, taking her breath with each swipe of my tongue. “Oh, but we can. And we are so going to. I’m gonna fuck you all over this room so hard—I’m going to make you so fucking wet that every time someone comes in here to record their gonna smell your pussy.”

With one swift tug, I yanked her skirt from her, and it puddled around her feet. I stepped back and pulled my shirt over my head, shaking my hair out with my eyes locked on her in a glare that let her know I was about to tear into her, fuck her so damn good that she may not be able to walk out of that room.

Kicking my boots off, I all but ripped my jeans off. My dick was so fucking hard the head was flat up against my stomach.

“I suggest you take those fucking panties off before I rip them off of you. I mean, not that it would matter, they’re already wrecked from how wet you are.” My tongue whipped over my lips. “Aren’t they?”

Jules shoved them down, tripping over the slender string when she kicked them off.

I walked toward her and she automatically got down on her knees, staring up at me with those huge green eyes of hers. She took me in her hand and barely pressed her lips against my head. The tip of her tongue glided over me, around the defined ridge, quickly swiping down the middle of me and sucking in my entire head. Then she pulled her mouth completely off of me and blew over the wet skin, which sent chills coursing over my flesh. I closed my eyes and let go of a deep groan. I expected that ungodly warm wetness to envelop me at any second, but it didn’t.

“Don’t fuck with me,” I growled, my eyes still shut, my hands finding their way to her hair.

She giggled. “Oh, I will fuck with you as much as I want.” Her tongue skimmed over my thigh, across my balls, pulling one in as she moaned over it before she started at the base of my dick and gave it one long, wet lick. As soon as she got to the top, she slammed her entire hot mouth down over me until I felt it hit the back of her fucking throat. Her hand gripped me, softly stroking me as she let me gently fuck her mouth. It was nearly impossible to keep from ramming myself down her throat, and everything inside me was shaking from controlling that urge. Sweat was pricking over my skin from the amount of restraint I was exerting.

Every time she would moan, pieces of me nearly lost control. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I grabbed her hair and dragged her to her feet. I forced her face inches from mine, my nostrils flaring, my breath labored, and I panted, “You…I fucking need you in a way—”

Jules shook her head. “Don’t…” She grabbed my hand and placed it between her slick thighs.

I wiped my hand over her, then around to her ass; I kneaded it in my palms as I picked her up, banging her against the wall.

Her body slid off of me, and I made my way down with her still pinned against the wall. I pushed her leg up, holding her foot in my hand and tilting my head to the side. I kissed her, the moist heat coating my lips and chin, and my tongue lapped against her.

“Damn it, put your dick in me. Stop teasing me and just fuck me, would you?” Jules hissed.

I slowly rose to my feet, a heated stare wandering over her naked body. She was undeniably hot, but having her naked, wet as hell, and begging me to cram my dick in her inside the record label, in the room we recorded in, made my dick almost split from how hard it was.

“
Fuck?
You want me to fuck you? You sure?”

She nodded and reached for me, but I jumped back.

“Because I’m warning you, I’m turned on as fuck right now and there is no way in hell I’m gonna be gentle.” I paused and grabbed her hips, then slammed my mouth over hers briefly. “There’s no way we won’t get caught ‘cause I’m gonna make you scream bloody fucking murder.”

I picked up my pants, pulling a condom from my wallet and quickly rolling it down my dick.

I hooked my forearm under her knee and lifted it up, running the head of my cock over her to wet it, then forced it inside her. She tightened around me and my knees gave in a little, my head hung, and my entire body relaxed.

That feeling…

It forced a growl out of me and I shoved her against the wall, drilling into her. 

That position lasted a few seconds, but wasn’t giving me what I needed. “Bend over.”

“What?” She opened one eye. “Bend”

“Yeah,” I cut her off and took her by the shoulders, placing her in front of me. “Bend over.”

Jules placed her hands on the glass that separated the recording room from the control room, glancing back at me as she bent at the waist, pushing her ass out toward me.

I took my foot and kicked her stance wider, then rubbed my palm over the small of her back, down the curve of her ass, and then wiped over her pussy, slipping one finger in and quickly pulling it out. I placed my finger to my lips, slowly sucking that bitter taste off of it as I shoved my dick back into its place: deep inside her.

After several minutes of unrelenting fucking, Jules’ palms began to slide down the glass, slipping and groaning as they fell down to the wall. I just happened to open my eyes and catch the light from the door opening in the other room. My eyes pulsed open in fear, adrenaline drowning my body in heat, forcing my already drumming heart rate to intensify.

I laid myself over Jules’ damp back to keep her from looking up. I watched as I continued to slam into her, and saw Pax walk up to the glass, his jaw dropping when he realized I was fucking someone in there.

Lifting a single finger to my mouth, I shushed him, then shook my head and violently waved my hand to communicate that he needed to get the fuck out. But he just stood there, his eyes honing in on Jules.

The fact that I’d been caught in the middle of the act would usually serve as an aphrodisiac and do nothing but make me want to fuck harder, but this time it made me sick. I didn’t want him to see her, and not even because I didn’t want to get her in trouble, but more because I felt like it was disrespectful. I didn’t want him to see her naked. She wasn’t a fucking groupie, she wasn’t someone whose face I wouldn’t remember tomorrow. I cared about her.

I groaned and placed my lips on the back of her neck. “I want you to crawl over to the corner.”

She didn’t move, all she did was clench her pussy down on my dick.

“I’m”—she swallowed, panting—“too close. I don’t want to stop.”

“Like fuck you are,” I said. I pulled out of her and swooped her up, carrying her to the corner where no one could see us. I sat her down and she quickly clamored on top of me, shoving me back into her slickness.

I was so concerned with the fact that Pax had caught me.
What if he’d realized it was Jules? Fuck
.

My mind raced over the scenario. Pax was a little bitch and he’d probably go blab to Stone and Jag, slip up and say something in front of James. I couldn’t concentrate and completely missed her getting off.

“Did you?” Her question broke my train of thought. I glanced down and found her flushed, breathless, and with that euphoric smile of post-orgasmic proportions.

Pulling out, I lied and said, “Yeah.” I pulled the condom off and balled it up in my fist. “Just felt so fucking good.” I leaned down to kiss her, then finished with, “I just love the way your pussy feels.”

She shook her head and swatted at me. “God, you’re always so fucking crude.”

I had already had pulled my pants up and was tugging my shirt over my head in an effort to get the fuck out of there. Paranoia was beginning to set in.

“Rush?”

I handed her underwear to her and went back to the corner to get the rest of her clothes. “Huh?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

There was no way in hell I was about to tell her that Pax had walked in and saw me pounding the shit out of her.

“You realize you just called me crude in the same sentence that you casually used the word ‘fuck,’ right?”

“Yeah.”

I pushed her arms up and slipped her shirt down over her head. “In the south, ladies don’t say fuck.” I laughed and straightened the material out.

“I’m not southern.”

I nodded. “Nope, not one bit of you. So, I think maybe I should leave first. Then give you a few minutes to leave.”

“What?” she said, running her hand through her hair to straighten it out.

“Yeah, you know, so no one thinks anything.”

“We can’t be in the recording room at the same time?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just paranoid. Humor me, would you?”

“Okay. Sure.” She walked over and fiddled with the cords. “Go on.”

I grabbed the door and shot out into the hallway, immediately scanning the area for Pax. I heard his unmistakably annoying laugh booming from the other end of the hall and made my way down to it.

I found him and Stone talking with some girl. Stone saw me and pointed. “Were you fucking someone in the recording room?”

My pulse sped up and I fought to keep my breath regulated. I forced my lips up into a smile, nodding as I responded, “Yeah, dude. Keep that shit down, though, James would flip out about it.”

Stone laughed. “Who the hell was it?”

“Hell if I know.”

The girl standing there freely butted in. “You just fuck people you don’t know. Just like that?” she giggled.

I studied her face. She was pale and had on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and black eye shadow. She seemed way too upbeat to
really
be that goth.

“Yeah I do. And who the hell are you?”

“Asher. I’m the lead singer of your opening act.” She smiled exposing her bleached teeth.

“I don’t like the name of your band.”

Her eyes widened, and that smile quickly fell from her lips.

I grabbed both Stone and Pax, trying to steer them as far away from that room and the hallway as possible.

“Man, what the hell are you doing?” Stone asked, jerking free.