Текст книги "Rock Bottom"

Автор книги: R. K. Lilley

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I started thrusting.  I had used all of my restraint the last time.  This one was a quick, hell bent fucking.  I rocked inside of her, cramming deep when the harsh, rushing waves of release began to take me.  She was with me, but that was more luck than skill on my part.  I’d lost all control.

She lay limp as I tied her back into her tiny bikini.  We’d pushed our luck enough.  I didn’t want her to be exposed as we gloried in the aftermath.

“I missed you,” she mumbled, touching my hand.  No sooner had she spoken then her eyes drifted closed.  She was done, passed out, sated, completely oblivious to the crowd outside.

I grinned.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TRISTAN

We spent the next few days almost entirely in bed.  Danika ditched out of work, forgot about studying, and when Monday rolled around, skipped all of her classes.  She dropped everything for me, to be there for me when I asked her to.  It was just what I’d needed to feel sane again.

I left once on Monday to grab some groceries, leaving Danika passed out in bed.

To my delight, she wasn’t passed out when I got home.

I heard the bath running as I opened the door to my bedroom, stepping in to find a sight in my bathtub that had me salivating.

Dean called it a porno tub, and he wasn’t wrong, considering how many bodies you could potentially fit into the thing.  At the moment it was filled with a vision too exquisite to ever grace the small screen.

Danika smiled when she saw me, arching her back like the vixen she was.  The woman had me wrapped around her pinkie and she had to know it.  I was hard before I’d fully shut the door behind me.

“Glad you made yourself comfortable in here,” I told her, my voice hoarse with unadulterated lust.

The glow of candles played over her flesh as she shifted restlessly in the water, the pert globes of her breasts rising above the surface like a decadent offering.

She didn’t say a word, just lifted one leg, balancing a heel on the edge of the tub.  There were no bubbles in the bath, and I moved closer, my gaze intent on her body in the clear water.  My jaw clenched hard as she slowly raised her other foot, spreading her legs wide, giving me a perfect view of paradise.  “Are you waiting for an invitation?  The water’s nice, I swear.”

I shrugged out of my shirt, fingers going to my jeans, fumbling with the button.  I felt like a horny teenager, clumsy with lust.  Only Danika could do that to me.

“We’re going to make a mess,” I warned her.

“What’s this huge tub for if you can’t even make love to me in it?”

“You have a point.  We should probably eat before we have sex again.  We’re going to make ourselves pass out.”

“You poor thing.”  Her tone was mocking, and she moved as she spoke, sitting up and reaching over to clasp one firm hand around my throbbing cock.  My eyes shut and my head fell back as sensation superseded my ability to think or speak.

I moaned, arching into her hand.  I let her play with me over my jeans, fumbling with my zipper when I couldn’t stand the light teasing anymore.

She made a delicious little humming noise as I sprang hard into her hand, stroking me, once, twice.

I pulled away, stripping in a few swift moves.

I stepped into the bath, between her widely spread thighs, savoring the view, every bit of it, as I sank down to my knees in the water.

I reached for her, grasping her round breasts into my hands, kneading softly until she moaned and writhed for me, her hands on the rim of the tub keeping her chest above the water.

“Drain the tub a bit,” I ordered her gruffly.  “I don’t want you to drown.”

One of her hands moved behind her, fumbling with the drain as I climbed on top of her.  I rubbed our bodies together, my hands gripping her thigh, jerking them wider as I moved between.

I buried myself in her slowly, her tight sheath clasping each inch that I gave her, making my vision blur with the perfect pressure.

“So fucking tight,” I said through gritted teeth.  It was too much.  Just too fucking much.  I could have died like this, delirious with pleasure, and never regretted it for a second.  “I swear your cunt was put on this earth to drive me out of my fucking mind.”

Water lapped over the sides of the tub as I stroked in and out of her slowly, leisurely, her nose and lips barely above the water line, her eyes squeezed shut tight and submerged.

I barely made a full lap before I started to come, premature in my absolute, body consuming pleasure.  It was just too much sometimes, the utter completeness of it.  It was a mystery I ever kept any control of myself, buried inside of her like this.  It was sheer dumb luck that she followed me as I shook and groaned with my own death throes.

My mouth stayed glued to her ear even after the water ran out, the tub empty, whispering over and over how much I adored her.

“I shudder to think what kind of action this porno tub has seen.”  I could hear the smile her voice as she spoke against my cheek.

“Dean has you calling it a porno tub too, huh?” I asked sternly, finally pushing up on my arms to look at her.

“Dean?  Hell no.  I basically hear white noise whenever he opens his big mouth.  I call it a porno tub because it’s a porno tub.  You could fit six people in here.”

That had me hardening my jaw and studying her.

“Watch a lot of porn, do you?”

She rolled her eyes at me, pursing her lips in that adorably bratty way of hers.  “I don’t, no, but my ex used to watch it all the—“

I stopped her before she could finish, feeling that now familiar red cloud of rage overtaking my vision.  I tried to grasp a handle on it, but it was elusive.  “I don’t want to talk about skinny jeans, and I sure as fuck don’t want you to tell me how he liked to get off—“

One soft hand to my cheek had me shutting my mouth, and feeling like a jerk.

“I don’t want to talk about him either.  Calm down, okay?  I get it.  I like to pretend there was never a Nat, so I get it, but you can’t turn into a caveman every time I say the wrong thing.”

I nodded, moving to stand, closing my eyes and groaning with the slow pull out of her before making it to my knees and then my feet in the wet tub.

I stepped out before helping her do the same.  “Well, the good news is, I think you get a five minute break before I attack you again, but what will we do with all that free time?”

She laughed, giving me a fond look and a kiss on the chin.

I stayed for an entire week, ignoring my phone, ignoring the world.

“Fuck ‘em,” I told her.  “This is what I need.  I can’t go back without more.”

She smiled that smile where I saw myself and forever in her eyes, and gave me everything.  She was selfless, my Danika, keeping nothing for herself.

I thought that too brief respite would help me.  It made perfect sense to me that after a week of filling myself up with Danika, I’d stay full for a while.  It would buy me some time, before I started to feel so empty again.

It didn’t work that way, not at all.

It was just the opposite.

The contrast unraveled me faster.  What I’d left behind, the constant using, the highs followed by the strung out lows, only the lows were more unbearable than ever.  I couldn’t exist as me, couldn’t stand how that felt.

Not without her.

Most days, I needed chemical assistance to even get out of bed.  There was always a party, always something to do with our record label, something that lasted until morning.  And our studio sessions always seemed to get later and later, and less and less productive.

This is not a good place for me to be, I thought, at least once a day.  There were no brakes at our little band crash pad in L.A.

“It’s like I’m watching a fucking gnarly flashback scene from an episode of Behind the Music,” Adair, the replacement lead guitarist said to me one night, as we caught Dean snorting coke off some groupie’s bared stomach in the house’s tiny kitchen.

I laughed.  In spite of myself, I was starting to like the guy.

Adair was very tall and lean, with flinty gray eyes, and crazy unruly brown hair that was dyed blue half the time.  He wasn’t far behind Dean on the drug and groupie binging scale, but he had a point.

“You have to finish a fucking record to ever get on any damn show, and thanks to that hot mess across the room, that is not happening for us.”  I sounded bitter.

I was bitter.

Adair poured us each a shot of whiskey.  I’d lost count of the shots I’d had that night, but I grabbed the glass with one hand, my other still holding my cigarette, and clinked glasses.  “Bottoms up,” I muttered, downing it.  “Here’s to getting out of L.A. as fast as fucking possible, no thanks to Dean.”

“It’s not so bad,” he mused.  “Worse for you, since you’re the only one with a girlfriend.  But, hell, I don’t feel sorry for you.”

He caught the look on my face and grinned.  “Don’t try to kill me or anything.  I know the deal.  Everyone has warned me not to talk about her.  Well, except for Dean.  Dean has given me some spectacularly bad advice about telling you…well, never mind that.  But you know, I’ve seen her, and you don’t have such a rough deal.  Hell, even I would go without pussy a few days a week for a girl like that.”

My empty fist clenched, but I could tell that he wasn’t trying to offend, and I took a long drag off my smoke as I tried hard not to let my temper broil.  “So tell me, what has everyone been telling you?”

He grimaced.  “Well, let’s see.  Cory told me that you nearly beat a man to death for basically touching her arm.”

That made me laugh.  The truth was crazy enough.  No one needed to be making anything up, but it was amusing.  I knew that Cory was just exaggerating to make his point.

“He told me not to flirt with her, or curse in front of her.”  I did not have a problem with either of those pieces of advice, so I just nodded at him to go on.  “And then Kenny told me that you nearly castrated a guy for standing too close to her.  Said you stage dived into him, stopped a whole performance for it.”

I was clutching my stomach, laughing too hard to hold it in.

“And Kenny also told me not to talk about how hot she is, or make any comments about any part of her body, even after I see her dance, and if I do see her dance, definitely never mention it to you.”

That was very sound advice, I thought.

“What about Dean?  What was his advice?”  I was only asking because Cory and Kenny’s advice had lightened my mood.  They were good friends.

“Nothing useful and nothing I care to repeat.  I know that Dean is full of shit, so I usually do the opposite of whatever he says is a good idea.  He’d watch me get my ass kicked just for a good laugh.  No offense, man, but basically, I plan to stay as far away from her as possible.  Hell, I plan to avoid looking at her.  Speak when spoken to, also seems to be a good idea.”

I clapped him on the shoulder, more cheerful than I’d been in ages.  If only every man in the world could take a page from Adair’s book.  “On the contrary, my man, that’s just what I prefer.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

DANIKA

I mingled.  It wasn’t my favorite thing, but this was the kind of party that called for it.  The only people I knew at the function were in high demand, my boyfriend and Frankie, a famous TV personality, included.

I was in L.A. for the weekend, coming to Tristan instead of him coming to me, for a change.  It took me less than five minutes at one L.A. party to know that this was not the place for me.  I’d thought Vegas was bad, but L.A .was the pretentious version of it.

We were at some stranger’s house again, but this house was being rented out, and had actual art on the walls, and so the people thought that it had substance.

I wound up talking to a freckled, red-headed model that had a great set of legs and a wicked sense of humor.  We hit it off right away when she made some wisecrack about the house’s owner needing to hide all of the mirrors on account of all the cokeheads in L.A.

“Do you know the band?” I asked her finally, making small talk.  I didn’t figure many of the people at the party would actually know them, since they hadn’t finished recording their first album.

“Oh yeah.  Love them.  The lead singer is smokin’.”

I smiled ruefully, totally used to that.  “He is that.”

“He’s great in bed, too.  Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, with that one.  Can go all night.”

That had me controlling my breath, and steadying my voice, with effort.  “When did you sleep with him?”

She waved her hand.  “Oh, ages ago.  Years.  Met him in a club in Vegas.  We holed up for like two weeks, hardly even left the room, fucked each other’s brains out.  Wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, but I hear he has a girlfriend now.  Maybe I’ll screw their new lead guitar.  He’s fucking hot.”

“I haven’t met that one.”  My tone was casual, crisis averted, though I knew it wasn’t a good sign that I still had doubts about the man that I loved.

“Hmm, he is yummy, but it’s like a downgrade.  Tryst was killer in bed.”

Oh Lord, I thought, I don’t want to hear this.

“We did everything there is to do to each other.  The man is dirty.”

I wanted to plug my ears, or hell, stab out my eardrums.  Instead, I made polite noises, and tried to block her out.

“First guy I ever let fuck me in the ass.  We couldn’t get enough of each other.  He wanted to do everything to me.  And it hurt, because he’s got a big fucking dick, but I still let him do it.  It’s hard to say no to a man that gives you that many orgasms.”

I wanted to throw up, or even just find the will to walk away from this woman’s unwanted verbal diarrhea.  She continued on, oblivious, “I even grabbed a friend one night to join us.  I swear to God, he wore us both out.”

“Excuse me,” I finally said, just walking away when she started to wax poetic about his tongue.

I didn’t find the woman’s candid charm so charming anymore.

I basically hid out after that, avoiding mingling, avoiding all human contact, just sitting out back on one of the free lounges, trying to enjoy the perfect weather, the gorgeous view, and the light ocean breeze.

I failed.

Instead, I stewed about what some random chick had told me about things that had happened before I’d even met Tristan.  I knew it was pathetic, and I made a promise to myself that I was not going to turn it into a thing.  Not a fight thing.  Not a drama thing.  Not a thing at all, because I’d known about his past before I’d ever touched the man.

And still, I stewed.  For some reason, my mind had fixated on the act he’d done with some random chick that he’d never even mentioned wanting to do to me.

He’d wanted to do everything to her, she’d said.

Couldn’t get enough of each other, she’d said.

Tristan found me there hours later.  I was still just staring out at the ocean, even though it had long since gotten dark.

He hunkered down beside me, studying me like he was gaging my mood.  I knew that didn’t say good things about me, that I was so volatile he had to constantly assess.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

I just nodded, not particularly wanting to talk to him, or even look at him.  I hoped I was starting my period or something, something that could account for me being so moody, and wanting only to withdraw into myself.

“You ready to go to bed?  They rented the place out for the night, and they reserved this amazing room for us.  The party will probably go on all night, but I feel like I’ve done enough ass kissing to get a pass on the rest.”

I smiled weakly.  “Sure.”

“You feel okay?  You look a little woozy.”

“I’m a little nauseous.  Lying down should help.”

“Want anything to eat or drink?  They’re well stocked here.”

I just shook my head, standing up.

He immediately draped his arm over my shoulders, leading me into the house.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t much company for you.  I turned around and you were gone, and then I didn’t have a spare second to look for you.”

“Don’t worry about it.  It was your party.  You should get to do whatever you want.”  I knew as soon as I said it that it sounded petulant, and I wanted to take it back.

“Hey now,” he said softly.  “If I got to do what I wanted, I’d have been with you all night, now wouldn’t I?”

I didn’t answer, just feeling tired.

“Did you meet anyone interesting?”

I met a model that said you were the first man she ever did anal with, I wanted to say, but no good could come of it, so I managed to hold my tongue.

“Yeah.  Some entertaining people around here,” I said instead.

“Are you upset? It feels like you’re upset with me.”

“I just don’t feel well.  A good night’s sleep will help.”

We were laying down, the room dark, sounds from the party still drifting to us when he said, “I’d always rather have you tell me what’s wrong, instead of keeping it bottled up.  You know that, right?  Whatever it is, I’d always rather know.”

I sighed, knowing there was a short timer on how long I could keep my feelings to myself.  There always had been.  “Do you ever feel like you can’t get enough of me, Tristan?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to do everything to me?”

“What are we talking about?  I thought you weren’t feeling well.”

“Not tonight.  I mean, just in general.  Do you ever want to hole up in bed for two weeks and not let me out?”

I felt him shifting on the bed, then draping himself over my still form, his lips going to the top of my head for a brief kiss.  “That sounds like a kidnapping.  If this is you somehow asking how much I want you, you’re being silly.  I want you to the point of insanity.  I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.  Two weeks in bed?  That’s nothing.  I’d keep you in bed for the rest of our lives, if there were any feasible way to do that.  And I don’t feel like I’ll ever get enough of you; I know that I won’t.  Now what is this all about?”

“How come you’ve never even tried to…?”  I couldn’t even finish the sentence, not even in the dark, when I’d already embarrassed myself.

“Tried to what?  Lock you in my bedroom?  Don’t think I won’t, boo, now that you just gave me your permission.”  I could hear the smile in his voice.

“No…that isn’t what I was going to say.”  I shut my eyes tight, hating that I could never keep any stupid thing to myself.  “I met this model tonight, and she said that you guys stayed in bed together for two weeks, and did everything.  She said you couldn’t get enough of her.”

I felt him stiffen.  “Sweetheart, I haven’t touch—“

“It was years ago, she said.  She has red hair, freckles, and great legs.  Do you remember her?”

“Is it good or bad that your description doesn’t even ring a bell?”

I didn’t know the answer to that.  “I wasn’t fishing for information from her.  We were just chatting and she came out with all of that, and then went into detail about all the crazy things you did to each other.  It just got me thinking.”

“Uh-oh.”

I slapped his closest body part, the shoulder behind me.  “And I started to wonder if you’ve been holding back on me, if there were other things you wanted to do, that you’ve done with other women.”  I had a thought.  “She said you had a threesome.”

He cursed.  “We are not fucking doing that.”

“No, no, I wasn’t suggesting we do that.  It just occurred to me that you’d been a lot more wild before me, and that you might get bored with how much your sex life has toned down in our relationship.”

His hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, and his voice when he spoke was cold.  “You’re being ridiculous.  It’s not the novelty of an act that makes a thing exciting, Danika, it’s the feeling behind it.  I guarantee that if I had a threesome with some chick I don’t remember, it wasn’t because I couldn’t get enough of her.

 You’re the only one I’ve felt like this with, and it’s the most exciting feeling in the world.  Nothing has toned down for me.  Just the opposite.  You’re making it sound like it’s not wild enough for you.  Tell me, what kind of things are you used to doing?”  He’d really worked himself up by the last sentence.

I wondered briefly why I worried about being a jealous nutcase, when Tristan could always manage to top me.  “Nothing.  I’ve never been wild at all, and you know it.”

“I know it?  You just basically told me that the best sex of my life has been toned down for you, so I’d really love to know what you think can top this.  What did skinny jeans do for you that I haven’t?”

“Tristan, now you’re being silly.  I wasn’t talking about me.”

 “Weren’t you?  What have I neglected, Danika?  I won’t bring a third party into this, but you said you weren’t talking about that.  So what is it?  What’s the magic formula that equals a wild sex life?  You think variety does that?  Variety comes from boredom, and I will never fucking share you.”

He was getting angrier by the second.

“I don’t understand how this got so twisted,” I said quietly, honestly baffled.  “Why are you so angry?  And I never suggested anything about us sharing.”

“You brought up a fucking threesome to me!  What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re the one that had a threesome.  Quit turning everything around on me!”

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?  And you call it fucking toned down?  Do you know how crazy that makes me?”

“That is not what I meant at all.  Again, I wasn’t talking about me.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not the one complaining about our sex life, now am I?  The only complaint I have is that I’m out of town too much.  So tell me, what is it that we haven’t done that makes you think our sex life is boring.”

I said, my voice stern, “I’m done talking about this.  You’re getting too worked up.”

“Well, that still sounds like an improvement over toned down.”

He was pressing hard against me from behind now, obviously aroused.  The hand on my hip went up to grab my breast.

“You’re impossible,” I told him.

He ignored that, inching my camisole up, caressing me, his mouth on my neck.  “You make me insane, you know that?  Here I am, thinking things couldn’t get any hotter between us, and you’re worried we aren’t wild enough together?”  As he spoke, he was moving my panties aside, nudging hard at my entrance.

He plunged in, entering me fully, but then just stopping, holding himself there.  “Tell me what we aren’t doing?  What’s not enough for you here?”  He moved inside of me slightly to illustrate his point.

When I didn’t answer, he pulled out almost completely, as though to punish me for my silence.

I bit my lip, reaching back to grip him in my hand.  I shifted him, dragging his tip until it was poised at my other entrance.

“What the fuck?” he growled into my ear.  “This something you been wanting?  Was this what you did with skinny jeans?”

If I wasn’t so turned on and embarrassed, I’d have rolled my eyes.  “No.  I haven’t done this before, though skinny jeans, bleh, I mean Daryl, was obsessed with doing it, I never let him.  I never got the appeal.  It sounds painful.”

“So why do you want to do it now?”

“Just something that chick said to me.  I know it’s something you like.”

“Oh, you know that, do you?  You think I’m shy about telling you what I like?  Is that the impression you’ve gotten?”

I pressed back against him, trying to work his big tip inside.  I could tell right away that it wasn’t going to be easy.  “You did it to a stranger.  I just think you should give me everything you gave to all those other women.”

“I do.  I give you everything.  No one else got anything worth having from me.  When are you going to get that through your head?”

“What if I just want to do it?  Are you really going to tell me you aren’t even a little bit interested in it?”

“You know why we haven’t done it?  Because for me it’s been the thing you do when you get bored with random pussy.  That may sound harsh, but that’s how I see it.  You want me to fuck you like this?  I’ll do it.  I’ll take you fucking sideways, if the mood strikes you, but don’t twist it for a second into something I wanted, or something I was holding back from you.  And frankly, I think I’m too angry to fuck you like that right now.  You don’t do that angry, or it might really hurt you, though it’s going to be damned uncomfortable either way.”

I wiggled back against him, still trying to work him inside of me with no success.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulled away.  I lay in stunned silence while he strode to the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

The shower ran for less than five minutes, and he strode out, dressed again, just minutes after that.

I squinted into the bright light behind him that wouldn’t let me see his face.

“I’m going back out to the party.  I’m too pissed off to sleep right now.”

He shocked me when he just left.

I couldn’t sleep either.

I didn’t last ten minutes, throwing on my clothes, and following him.