Текст книги "Play"

Автор книги: Kylie Scott

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

There was groaning, loud, long, and explicitly painful. Most closely it resembled a wounded animal. Though with an animal, there would have been less swearing. These noises coming from behind me didn’t speak of fun times. No, what these noises referred to was a special particular level of hell called The Morning After a mother truckload of booze.

“Pumpkin.” Mal buried his face in the back of my neck, pressing his hot skin against me. “Fuck.”

“Hmm?”

“Hurts.”

“Mm.”

The hand stuffed down the front of my pants flexed and curled. It pressed down on all sorts of interesting places, making me squirm.

“Why’d you put my hand down your panties while I was asleep? What’s that about?” he mumbled. “Christ, woman. You’re out of control. I feel violated. ”

“I didn’t do that, sweetheart. That was all you.”

He groaned again.

“You were most insistent about having your hand there. I figured after you fell asleep I’d be able to move you. But it didn’t happen.” I rubbed my cheek into my pillow, his bicep.

“This pussy is mine.” His fingers stretched, pushing against the material of my underwear, stroking accidentally over the insides of my thighs. So not the time to get turned on. We had talking to do.

“Yes, that’s what you said. Repeatedly.”

He grunted and yawned, then rubbed his hips against me. Morning wood pressed into my butt cheek. “You shouldn’t have made me drink so much. That was very irresponsible of you.”

“I’m afraid that was all you too.” I tried to sit up but his arm held me down.

“Don’t move yet.”

“You need water and Advil, Mal.”

“’Kay.”

His hand withdrew from my crotch and he rolled onto his back with much huffing and puffing. I hadn’t managed to get him into the shower last night. Accordingly, this morning, we both stank of sweat and scotch.

I got him a bottle of water and a couple of pills and sat back on the side of the bed. “Up. Swallow.”

He opened one bleary eye. “I’ll swallow if you will.”

“You got it.”

“You better mean that. A man doesn’t like to be lied to about that sort of thing.” Ever so slowly he sat up, his lank, blond hair hanging in his face. He stuck out his tongue and I dropped the pills on it, then handed him the water. For a while he just there, sipping the water and watching me. I had no idea what came next, what I should say. It was so much easier to just crack stupid jokes than to actually attempt to be deep and meaningful. To help him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, just to break the silence.

“Why? What’d you do?” he asked softly.

“I mean about Lori.”

He drew up his legs, braced his elbows on his knees, and hung his head. There was nothing but the noise of the air conditioner clicking on, the clink of silverware or something from the room next door. When he finally looked up at me, his eyes were red rimmed and liquid. Mine immediately did the same in empathy. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t hurt for him.

“I don’t know what it feels like so I’m not going to pretend I do,” I said.

His lips stayed shut.

“But I’m so sorry, Mal. And I know that doesn’t help, not really. It doesn’t change anything.”

Still nothing.

“I can’t help you and I hate that.”

Fact was, a part of wanting to soothe another person was making yourself feel useful. But nothing I could say would take away his pain. I could turn myself inside out, give him everything, and it still wouldn’t stop whatever was wrong with Lori.

“I don’t even have a functioning relationship with my mother, so I have no idea. Truth is, I used to wish her dead all the time. Now I just wish she’d leave me alone,” I blurted out, then stopped, reeling at my own stupidity. “Shit. That’s the worst thing to be telling you.”

“Keep going.”

Crap, he was serious.

I opened my mouth and my throat closed up. The words were dragged out kicking and screaming. “She, um … she checked out on us, Lizzy and me. Dad left and she went to bed. That was her great solution to the problem of our family falling apart. No trying to get help, no doctors, just lying in the dark doing nothing. She pretty much stayed in her room for three years. Apart from the time child protection services came by. We managed to persuade them she wasn’t a complete waste of space. What a joke.”

He stared at me, his lips thin and white.

“I came home one day and she was sitting on the side of her bed with all these little colored pills lined up on her bedside table. She was holding this big glass of water. Her hand was shaking so bad it splashed everywhere, her nightie was all wet. I didn’t do anything, not at first.” That one moment was horrendously clear in my head. Hovering by the bedroom door, torn over what to do. It had to be manslaughter, to stand by and let it happen. Something like that had to stain you.

“I mean, it was so tempting,” I said, my voice cracking. “The thought of not having to deal with her anymore … but then Lizzy and I would have gone into the foster-care system and probably gotten separated. I couldn’t risk that. She was better off at home with me.”

His gaze was stark, his face pale.

“So I stayed home to watch her. She tried to kill herself a couple more times, then gave up on that too, like even dying was too much effort. Some days, I would just wish I’d been five minutes too late. That she’d managed to finish it. Then I’d feel guilty for even thinking that way.”

He didn’t even blink.

“I hate her so much for putting us through that. I get that depression happens and it’s a serious, terrible illness, but she didn’t even try to find help. I would make her appointments with doctors, try to get brochures and information and she just … you know, she had kids, she didn’t have the fucking luxury of just disappearing up her own ass.” Tears slid down my face unchecked. “Dad wasn’t much better, though he did send money. I guess I should be grateful he didn’t forget us entirely. I asked him ‘why’ when he was leaving and he said he just couldn’t do it anymore. He was really quite apologetic about it. Like he’d ticked the wrong box on a form or something and now sorry, but he was opting out. Family? No. Oh shit, did I say yes? Oops! Fucking asshole. As if saying sorry changes anything when you’re walking out the door.

“You don’t appreciate how much time it takes, running a house, paying the bills, doing all the cooking and cleaning until it’s all down to you. My boyfriend stuck with me for a couple of months but then he became resentful because I couldn’t go out Saturday nights to games and parties and things. He was young, he wanted to go out and have fun, not stay in to look after a manic-depressive and a thirteen-year-old kid. Who could blame him?”

I ducked my head, trying to line up the important details in my mind. It wasn’t easy, considering how much time I’d spent trying to forget. “Then Lizzy rebelled and that just made everything so much worse. She hated the whole world, and who could blame her? At least when she behaved like a selfish, immature kid there was an actual reason behind it, what with her being one. She got busted stealing from this store. I managed to talk the owner into not pressing charges. The scare seemed to snap her out of it. She settled down, got back into her schoolwork. One of us had to make it to college because I tried, but there was no way I was keeping up with school on my own.”

What a fucking scene I was making. I blinked furiously and scrubbed away the tears. “You know, I actually wanted to cheer you up or something. Anything.”

His silence was killing me.

“So that’s my tale of woe.” I gave him a smile. Doubtless it looked as shitty as it felt.

“Mom’s got ovarian cancer,” he said, his voice rough. “They’re giving her a couple of months at best …”

It felt like my heart stopped. Time stopped. Everything.

“Oh, Mal.”

He pushed back his hair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “She’s so fucking happy you’re around. Kept going on about you at dinner, how wonderful you were. You’re her dream come true for me. She’s been wanting me to settle down for a while now.”

I nodded, trying for a better smile. “She’s really great.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, Anne. That’s not the only reason why, though … I mean…at first that was a big part of the reason.” He gripped the back of his neck, muscles flexing. “There’s more to it now than making her happy before she’d–” He paused, his lips twisting, unable to say the word. “You know there’s more, right? We’re not pretend anymore. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that.” This time I totally aced the smile. “It’s okay.”

So our start had been dubious. It didn’t change where we were now.

“Come have a shower with me?” He held out his hand.

“I’d love to.”

He gave me a gallant attempt at a smile.

The bathroom was spacious, white marble with gold trim. We even had a grand piano out in the living room, should the mood strike. Apparently his parents were up in the presidential suite so we’d had to make do with second best. Second best was pretty fine.

He stripped off his boxer briefs. I got the water running at the right temperature, letting the room slowly fill up with steam. Hands slid over me from behind, tugging down my panties, drawing up my old Stage Dive T-shirt. It was the only thing he’d okayed me wearing to bed last night in his drunken wisdom. We were our own small, perfect world in the warmth of the shower cubicle. Mal stepped under the water and it soaked his hair, ran down over his beautiful body. I slid my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest. The arms he put around me made everything right.

We could deal with things alone. Of course we could. But it was so much better together.

“Worst fucking thing is the morning,” he said, resting his chin on the top of my head. “For a few seconds, everything’s alright. Then I remember she’s sick, and … it’s just … I don’t even know how to describe it.”

I held him tighter, hanging on for dear life.

“She’s always been there. Used to drive us to shows, help us set up. She’s always been our biggest fan. When we went platinum she got a Stage Dive tattoo to celebrate. At the age of sixty, the woman got inked. And now she’s sick. I can’t get my head around it.” His chest moved against me as he breathed deep, let it out slow.

I stroked his back, the length of his spine, up and down, smoothing my hands over the curves of his ass, drifting my fingers over the ridges of his rib cage. We stood beneath the hot water and I soothed him as much as I could.

Let him know he was loved.

I picked up the bar of soap, running it over him, washing him like a child. First his top half, from the lines of his shoulder blades to the muscles in his arms, every inch of his chest and back. Washing his hair was tricky due to the differences in height.

“Lean down.” I poured some shampoo into my hand then rubbed it in, massaging his scalp, taking my time. “Let me rinse it.”

He did as asked without comment, hanging his head beneath the showerhead. Next came the conditioner. Carefully, I finger-combed it through.

“You’re not allowed to cut your hair,” I informed him.

“Okay.”

“Ever.”

He gave me an almost smile. It was definitely getting closer.

Once his top half was done I knelt on hard stone tiles, soaping up his feet and ankles. Spray from the shower drifted down over me, keeping me warm. Face to face with it or not, I ignored his thickening cock. It wasn’t time yet. The muscles in his long, lean legs were so nice. I really needed to look up their names. He flinched when I did the back of his knees.

“Ticklish?” I asked, grinning up at him.

“I’m too manly to be ticklish.”

“Ah.” I dragged the soap over the hard length of his thighs, back and forth. Damned if he wouldn’t be the cleanest, sparkliest rock ‘n’ roll drummer in the whole wide world. Water slid over his body, highlighting all the ridges and dips, the curve of his pecs and the satin of his skin. I should just call him cake and eat him with a spoon.

“You going higher?” Desire deepened his voice.

“Eventually.” I soaped up my hands and put the bar of soap aside. “Why?”

“No reason.”

The “no reason” was pointing right at me all large and demanding. I held it aside with one hand, slipping the other between his legs. His hard dick warmed the palm of my hand. A woman with more patience wouldn’t have curved her fingers around it, squeezed tight. I was so crap at waiting.

Mal sucked in a breath, his six-pack contracting sharply.

“I love your ass.” I said, tracing soapy fingers along the crack before cradling his balls. Every part of him was sublime, body and soul. The good and the bad and the difficult. The times I wanted him to be serious and the times I didn’t have a fucking clue where he was at. He always made me want more while making me profoundly thankful for what I had at the same time.

Because I had him, it was right there in his eyes.

“No idea how I got so lucky.” I nuzzled his hip bone, sliding my fingers over the smooth skin of his cock.

“You love my ass that much?”

“No, it’s more of an all-of-you kind of thing.”

I gave his cock another squeeze and his eyes went hazy in the way I liked so much. Things had definitely woken up between my legs, but this was all about him. The tips of his fingers drifted over the sides of my face, his touch gentle, reverent.

Enough playing around.

I guided the head of his cock into my mouth and sucked hard. Hands dug into my wet hair, holding on tight. My tongue flicked over the top of him, teasing the sensitive rim before dipping below to rub against his sweet spot. I took him in deeper, sucking hard, again and again. His hips shifted, pressing him farther into my mouth. I’d never perfected the art of deep throating, sorry. Mal made me want to learn. Something told me he wouldn’t be adverse to some practice time. With one hand I cradled his balls, massaging. The other stayed wrapped tight around the root of his penis, stopping him from going too far and gagging me. But I took him as far as I could, pulling back to lavish him with attention from my tongue. Tracing the thick veins and toying with the slit.

The fingers in my hair drew tight, stinging ever so slightly. But it was fine. It was all good. I fucking loved being able to do this to him.

I drew him in deep and sucked hard, working him. He came with a shout, pumping into my mouth as far as my hand would let him. I swallowed.

And they said romance was dead.

He stood, panting, arms hanging slack and eyes closed. Fuck, he was perfect. I slowly stood, my numb knees shaky. After oral, there always seemed to be this moment of shyness. Maybe I should have been smug, thrown in some swagger. There wasn’t really the space for it in the shower, however.

Mal opened his eyes and stared at me, his arms going around my shoulders. He drew me in, placing soft kisses on my face.

“Thanks,” he said, the word muffled against my skin.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry about your parents, pumpkin. So fucking sorry.”

My fingers tightened on his hips, involuntarily. One day, I’d stop reacting like that and I’d let it go. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed my arms briskly, smooched the top of my head. “We need to think happy thoughts. And order a shitload of bacon and eggs. And waffles too. You like waffles?”

“Who doesn’t like waffles?”

“Exactly. Anyone who doesn’t like waffles should be put in the fucking penal system. Lock ’em up and throw away the key.”

“Absolutely.”

“No more sad stuff today,” he said, voice gruff.

He picked up the soap and started washing me, paying particular attention to my breasts.

“There’s just one more thing I think we should talk about,” I said, as he worked hard at rubbing some imaginary spot from my left nipple. It felt rather nice, truth be told.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Well, about what you said last night when we got back here. About starting a family.”

His hand paused, covering my right breast. “Starting a family?”

“Yes. You said you were really serious about it. You even threw all the condoms out the window and flushed my pill down the toilet.”

“That’s pretty damn serious. Did we fuck?”

I batted my eyelashes at him and gave him an innocent, if somewhat evil, look. “No. Of course not.”

The whites of his eyes blazed bright. “God … you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” I kissed his chest. “You did throw all of your condoms out the window. You couldn’t find where I kept my pills, though. Then you lay down and proceeded to name all of our children.”

“All of them?”

“I take it we’re no longer having a brood of lucky thirteen?”

His brows arched up. “Shit. Um, maybe not, huh?”

“Probably for the best. You were going to name three of them David. It would’ve gotten confusing.”

“How much crap did I speak last night, just out of interest?”

“Not too much. You fell off the bed a couple of times, trying to lick my toes, and then you went to sleep.”

He washed the soap off his hands and reached for the shampoo, massaging it into my hair.

“Ouch,” I gasped. “Gentle.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t remember?”

He turned his face slightly and gave me side eyes. “What now?”

“You might’ve accidentally kicked me in the head ever so slightly when you fell off your drumming stool.”

“Oh, no. Fuck. Anne …”

“You didn’t hurt me. It’s just a little bump.”

Face drawn, he carefully washed the shampoo from my hair, starting in on the conditioner. He kept shaking his head, frowning hard.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing his chin. “It’s okay. Really.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You already did.” I placed my hand over his heart, feeling it beat against my palm. “You listened to my story without judging me. You told me what was up with you. Those two things are huge, Mal. They really are. We’re good.”

“I’ll make it up to you more. That won’t fucking happen again.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

He gave me cranky eyes and then suddenly smiled. “I know what I’ll get you. Been thinking about it for a while now.”

“You don’t need to get me anything. Though waffles really would be good, I’m starving.” I finished washing off my hair, ready to get out.

“You’re getting more than waffles.” His arms came around me from behind, a hand sliding down between my legs. Lightly, he started stroking his fingers back and forth along the lips of my sex. “First, you need to come too.”

“Okay.”

He chuckled in my ear. “So obliging about your orgasms. I like that.”

I wound my arms up around his neck and held on tight. He raised his hand to his mouth, wetting some fingers. Then one finger slipped through the seam of my sex, tantalizing me. I tingled from top to toe. Slowly he pressed a little inside, then drew back to trace my entrance, spreading the wetness around. He worked me up in no time, my breathing coming fast and shallow. I writhed against his hand.

“You have to stand still, Anne,” he chided me, laying a hand flat against my stomach. Two fingers slid up into me, rubbing at something that felt amazing inside. “C’mon, you’re not even trying.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to. I can’t do this right if you don’t stay still.”

“Oh,” I gasped as his thumb slid over my clit, sending lightning up my spine.

“See? You made me slip.”

The way he loved to tease me was both a blessing and a curse. Fingers drew out, leaving me empty, and all of his attention turned to my clit. He rubbed both sides at once, making me moan.

“Stay still.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” Lightly, he slapped the top of my sex. The reaction was immediate, my hips kicking forward. No one had ever done that before. Every nerve ending in me felt about ready to explode.

“Like that percussion?” he asked.

“Fuck.” It was the only word I had.

He hummed in my ear and went back to working my clit even faster. The pressure just kept building. So close.

“Mal. Please.”

He slapped me again and I broke. I cried out, my body caving in. If he hadn’t been there to hold me up I’d have hit the floor. The man probably needed to be locked away for the safety of women everywhere.

The water stopped. He wrapped me up in a towel and placed me like a limp rag doll on the bathroom counter.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, standing bent before me.

“Hi.”

He carefully tucked my wet hair behind my ears.

“I feel like we should touch base about this relationship stuff. And I should probably say something profound here. But I’m not really up to it. Especially not this morning.” He exhaled hard. “You’re an awesome lay, a great girl, I fucking hate it when you’re sad, and I don’t like it when you’re not around. I’m even getting used to the fighting and drama now and then, because the make-up sex is rockin’. And besides, you’re worth it to me.”

The tip of his tongue rubbed over his top lip. “That’s basically it. Not necessarily in that order, though. Okay?”

“Okay.” I laughed, but only a little. He was, after all, being sincere.

“You’re my girl. You gotta know that.” He grinned and put his hands on my knees. “Need anything else from me?”

I paused, gave it some thought. “We’re monogamous?”

“Yep.”

“We’re seeing where this goes?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Then yeah, I’m good.”

He nodded, gave my knees a squeeze. “You need anything from me, I expect you to let me know.”

“Same goes for you. Anything.”

“Thanks, pumpkin.” He smiled, leaned in, and kissed me. “Ready to go on tour, Miss Rollins?”

“Absolutely.”