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garage band in vegas
Billie
Cal’s kiss is consuming. We had a hot, quick one when he arrived, but this one is thorough and deep, and I find myself with my hand rubbing his cock from the outside of his pants. The strap of my dress falls over my shoulder, and my breast is exposed to the warm, salty air. Cal’s mouth moves to my jaw, then to my clavicle, then to lick at my hard nipple.
I gasp at the electricity it sends to my core. More. I want more from him and I want it now.
I slip out of my dress quickly, left only in my thong, which Cal pulls away before falling to his knees, parting my pussy with his fingers, and ravaging me with his mouth. I push against his face, ravenous for him, and I nearly come when he pushes two fingers inside of me, his tongue darting against my swollen clit.
“Take me,” I beg. “Quickly, before someone sees us.”
I turn and get on all fours as Cal loosens his suit pants and frees his cock. He’s inside me in a hard, fast movement that takes my breath away. He moves quickly, his hands on my breasts as they bounce with each of his thrusts. It’s wild and rough and crazy—and so good my eyes start watering.
The orgasm overtakes me hard, my pussy clenching around his cock as he roars and pulls out. I stay on the sand just breathing as the afterglow rages through me. I’ve had quickies before, but they’ve never been so…unrestrained. I definitely love when this enigmatic, reticent man lets go and becomes a little wild. From my periphery, I notice that Cal is putting himself back together.So much easier for the men.But then he’s standing up and helping me to my feet in a welcome act of chivalry. He finds my dress, shakes off the sand, and helps me get back into it before kissing me sweetly on the mouth.
“That was…fun,” he says, holding my face in his hands, his blue eyes searching mine for what, I don’t know. Cal is always part mystery and part blunt honesty to me. A delicious mixture I’m getting quite attached to.
“It was,” I agree. “A good stress reliever.”
“Sure,” he says, almost smiling. “We should go back?”
“Yes,” I groan.
He laughs and offers his hand to me. “Come on, Miss Hirsch. Time to face the music again.”
As we make it back to the bench to get our shoes, we find Kit waiting for us. “Paparazzi are milling around and I was checking out here to make sure they weren’t on our property.”
“Why would you be the one out here looking?” I ask. “You’re the celebrity here. Shouldn’t you have a nobody doing this job?”
My brother chuckles, rubbing his stubbled jaw. “Good point, I suppose. Still, you didn’t see anyone out here, did you?”
“Nah. And they don’t care about me, so I’m not worried.”
Kit pulls some lingering beach detritus from my hair, a smirk on his face as he pieces together what we’ve been up to out here. “Well, your boyfriend is a celebrity, too, so…”
“Thanks for the warning, brother dear.” I roll my eyes at him and take Cal’s hand as we head back up to the party. Well, more like I take him through the party and down to the lower level, where my old drum kit sits in the middle of a recording studio.
“This is amazing,” Cal says, looking around at all the equipment. “Why would you need a whole recording studio, though? I thought everyone in your family was into films?”
“My dad’s a casting director but he also likes music, so he dabbles in movie sound sometimes. It’s a hobby.”
“And the kit?”
“My brother’s. He played before I did. They don’t know I still play, actually.”
I sit down at the kit and start hammering out a blistering beat. Cal grabs a nearby guitar and joins in with a less complicated but still complementary guitar riff. We play together for about ten minutes before Queen Ditta stomps down the stairs, hands on her slim hips.
“What are you two doing? Acting like teenagers, that’s what,” she says. “We can hear all that racket from upstairs and you’re ruining your father’s party.”
“Ruining dad’s party? With music?”
“Billie,” my mother warns. “What are you even doing? You were playing that drum kit?”
“Well, she is an awesome drummer in an amazing band,” Cal blurts out.
I turn to him in horror and shake my head.
“Excuse me? You’re in a what?” my mother screeches.
