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“Yes.” I whisper as he runs the tip against my folds.
“Good girl.” He smiles, and my heart flutters in my chest at his praise. Andrew nudges his tip into me and inhales deeply at the contact. He pushes forward more, the slight burn of being stretched reminds me of last night. He’s going easy on me, savoring the moment, but I don’t want soft Andrew right now, I need ruthless Rhyit. I can’t deal with slow, soft lovemaking, it’s too much, too intimate. I reach up with both hands and pull his hips into mine effectively impaling myself against his length. I yelp at the pain of being stretched, and his eyes flutter as a low moan leaves his throat.
“I’m not fragile.” I say through my teeth. “Don’t fuck me like I’m breakable, fuck me like you mean it, Rhyit.”
At the mention of his stage name, something snaps. His jaw locks, and the veins in his neck protrude as anger replaces the softness. He pulls his hips away from mine, almost pulling completely out of me before he slams forward with brutal force.
“You want it dirty, baby?” He spits, all traces of sweet Andrew gone from his voice. Yes, I need this. I need him to treat me like I’m any other girl. It will make this so much easier to handle.
“Yes,” I yelp as he slams into me again, his piercing scrapes against my hot button deep inside me causing my muscles to tighten. “Yes!” I yell again. He pulls out of me, giving my asscheek a hard smack.
“On your knees, chest to the floor” he commands, his voice leaving no room for question. I flip over quickly, the carpet burns against my knees from the motion. My chest hits the floor, my face stuck against the carpet. My ass is on full display from this position, and I can’t even look to see what he’s planning to do with my cheek pressed against the shag.
“You want me to sing to you, baby?” He asks, taking a full handful of my ass. “You wanted to fuck a rockstar, don’t you want the whole experience?”
“Do your worst.” I taunt him, my voice muffled. I don’t know why I’m taunting him, the man can slay me with a look, his voice pushes me to an entirely different level.
“A quiet place, a million stars, I’m so happy you can’t see my scars. You think you know, you think you’re right, but baby, you have no idea who I am in the heat of the night.” He sings, the melody is one I remember, but the lyrics don’t match. In the next second, he thrusts into me, filling me completely to the hilt. I gasp at the fullness I feel from this position. He grips my hips, pulling me further against him.
“I don’t want to know if it’s over, I don’t want to have to be sober. You think it’ll be better this way, I know there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to make you stay.” His voice sends a shiver down my spine as he pulls my hips into him. My ass hits his pelvis with such force that I’m surprised he’s still standing up right.
"Yes", I chant as his thrusts take on a brutal pace. I’m on the cusp of falling over the edge as my face smashes further into the carpet. My body tightens around him and a low hiss leaves his mouth as his fingers dig into my hips. The mixture of pain and pleasure is a heady combination and my toes curl…I’m so close I can feel my heartbeat in my lower stomach as the start of an orgasm rips through me. My body clenches, wound tight like a top, and then…nothing. Warm liquid hits my lower back, and I want to scream from the lost orgasm. I push myself up on my hands, and when I turn my head, I find Rhyit with his head tilted back, eyes closed, cock in hand as more cum hits my back. I narrow my eyes at him, pissed off he stopped knowing full well that I was so fucking close. His eyes open slowly, finding mine instantly, a slow smile spreads across his face, and the need to punch him grows stronger.
“You asshole!” I yell, grabbing the towel I used for my shower to clean the evidence of his release from my back. “You knew, you knew I was almost there and pulled out anyway.” I run the towel across my back, getting more frustrated with how much there is.
“You wanted to fuck a rockstar, that’s what you got. I’m the selfish one, remember? I take what I want, when I want, and I wanted to come, so I did.” He replies angrily while he zips himself back up into his jeans and moves to stand.
“So just wham bam thank you ma’am.” I spit, my blood pumping from the lost orgasm and anger.
“I wasn’t planning on a thank you, but if you insist.” He smiles cockily, towering above me.
“You son of a-“ I start, but car doors slamming stop my sentence. I grab the towel from the floor and push him into my bedroom with me before my parents find me naked in a sea of Rhyit pictures. They’ll commit me, for sure. I don’t have time for a grippy sock vacation, although some peace and quiet doesn’t sound terrible right now.
Once we’re in my bedroom, I kick the door closed with one foot and move to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room.
“Jesus, this place hasn’t changed a bit.” Andrew says, spinning in the middle of the room.
“Well yeah, I haven’t lived here since I was 18.” I reply with my back to him, searching for something to wear. I grab another pair of sweatpants out of the drawer and push my legs through the elastic holes just as the front door clicks closed. That was close.
Chapter 19 Rhyit
The plane taxis back from the stairs at Portland International Airport. I stare out the window as rain pelts the glass. Bristol and Boston sit on the leather couch on the other side of the plane, laughing hysterically about something Bristol said. I wish I got the funny side of her, the goofy carefree girl I used to know. Now, I get cold and detached Bristol. I never know if she wants to fuck me or stab me, and as much of a turn on it is to fight her and fuck her, I miss laughing with her too.
After I left her house yesterday, I had the driver take me to my mom’s. I wanted to see my sisters but neither of them were there, so I settled for an awkward as hell conversation with my mom about the tour and the weather. She and I weren’t always disconnected like this, but after I left for my first tour, she left my dad for some other guy in town who got her pregnant with my sisters and skipped town. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters, but if she’d have stayed with my dad, I think they both could have saved each other a lot of heartache. I try not to hold animosity towards either of them, but it’s hard to see them both miserable now when they were so happy together. I guess that’s life though, one choice or one mistake can change the entire trajectory of your life.
Leaning back in my seat, I turn my head to find Bristol again, and the moment our eyes meet, she looks away. I’m tired of the push and pull between us, tired of the almost, the maybes. I know she has no problem giving me her body, yesterday’s afternoon delight is a testament to that, but I don’t just want her body, I want her heart again. I want to go back to the way we were before I fucked everything up, the way she looked at me like I held her heart in my palm. I guess I did hold her heart in my palm, unfortunately I squeezed too tight, put too much weight on the love she had for me and let her feelings for me slip through my fingers like sand.
“Hey Rhy, Pistol’s gonna stay at our place tonight, cool?” Boston shouts like he isn’t six feet away from me. I nod my head in agreement, our house in Malibu is huge, and she could probably live there for weeks and I would never see her. Tomorrow night, we get on a bus, and we’ll be gone for three months touring the country. I’m conflicted about getting up on stage again, a part of me is excited to perform, to feel the energy from the crowd. Another part of me is terrified to get on stage without Alex. I’ve never been up there without him, never not listened to his corny cheers before a show, and never not had him beside me to bounce my energy off of. Grief is like a raindrop in a sinkhole, you can see the water adding up, but you have no idea how deep it goes. The plane ascends into the air quickly, and it’s a heavy reminder that we left someone behind.
***
I hate LA. I’ve hated LA since we landed here after we met Larkin. The people are rude, the traffic is terrible, and the level of fakeness within these city limits is bar none. Bristol sits beside me in the back of the limo, her blonde hair is massive and looks stiff from the ears up. The cherry red leather skirt she’s wearing hikes up against her thighs, and the cropped Jack Daniels T-shirt shows the bottom of her red bra, with black platform combat boots and a fuck you scowl, she looks like a rock and roll wet dream. When she stepped out of the car to get onto the plane, every guy there, from the flight crew to Boston and I, almost came in our pants. I have to physically stop myself from squeezing her exposed thigh right now.
“God, I hate LA.” She sighs, leaning back against the seat. Her thoughts mirroring mine makes me smile.
“Same,” I nod, “I couldn’t imagine living here full time.”
“Where are we playing tomorrow night?” She asks, changing the subject. Boston and I lock eyes across the car, she’s going to shit when she hears this. He smiles mischievously, and I almost laugh.
