AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah, but it was like, you ever do something for so long that you don’t know who you are without it? I already went through that with drugs and alcohol in the late nineties, and I leaned on the band during that time. Then, when we went on hiatus, I was lost all over again, and I couldn’t get shit-faced to cope.”
I delicately place the Grammy back on the dresser and cross over to Vince, pulling him into my arms. He relaxes against me, placing his chin on my head.
“You’re fucking wonderful no matter what you’re doing,” I mumble into his chest.
He kisses my forehead. I tilt my face up and capture his lips, deepening our kiss. He threads his fingers through my hair, and we stumble backward to the bed. I lay down, letting Vince straddle me. I tilt my hips upward, unzipping my jeans. Then I burst out laughing.
“You told me there was no mirror!” I say, swatting his chest.
“Well, that was here before I bought the house! Then, when I got an estimate to see if they could remove it, it was double the cost of the mirror itself because it fucked with the structure of the ceiling. It’s like melted in. It’s been there since the ’70s. I should’ve warned you.” he says.
He kisses my neck and reaches down to peel off my tank top, tossing it to the side. I ignore the mirror and let his hands explore my body, no longer denying that I melt when he touches me. His hands are calloused and strong, containing an unassuming tenderness as his rough palms roam my stomach, cupping my tits and squeezing them. He thumbs my nipple.
“So, I guess this is why you never made a sex tape,” I joke as he trails kisses down my neck and chest.
“No, that’s because of my superior moral compass,” he mutters before taking my boob in his mouth and sucking. I inhale sharply.
It feels wonderful. His tongue traces the underside, and my hips shift upward instinctually. I kiss him again, reaching down to free his dick from his pants. I peel the pants off his legs, fumbling until my hand grazes his already rock-hard cock. I cup the shaft and start to stroke. He groans into my lips, sucking on my bottom lip.
“You like that?” I tease, flicking my wrist upward as slowly as possible. I love to watch him squirm.
“Yes, fuck Lynds, yes,” he pants.
I tilt my hips upward to receive him, wrapping my legs around his torso as he enters me, filling me to the brim with him. It feels so fucking good. The cool silk sheets combat the heat building inside me as he thrusts. I tighten my legs around his waist, and he groans, sinking deeper into me.
I rake my nails across his back, feeling his muscles ripple as he moves, increasing his speed. He is lithe, lean, and so fucking eager. He reaches up and tugs my hair back, exposing the skin of my throat, which he kisses.
I’m enraptured by the scent of him and the sound of the mattress creaking as our bodies collide. I come, my legs cinching around his waist as I rock forward, and he moans with pleasure as he releases. I glance upward, grinning at the sight of our tangled bodies projected above us, Vince’s sweaty fist tangled in my hair, my legs akimbo.
Vince rolls over and takes me with him. I lay my head on his chest and listen to the steady pounding of his heartbeat.
“I love you,” I whisper.
It’s the first time I’ve said it first.
Since Vince told me he loved me, I’ve been more cagey than usual. I can’t help it. Every time someone loves me, I prepare to be crushed under the weight of their expectations. I don’t know what it is. Once someone loves me, I set them up for disappointment.
I am the Carney who hands a kid a rubber basketball and asks them to shoot a three-pointer, knowing they’ll never win. Most of the time, I can use tour as an excuse, jet across the country, and put my phone on airplane mode. But with Vince, I want to stay. I want to stay with him at this moment, on this ridiculous bed on the first cool night of October.
Vince kisses my forehead. “I love you, too. But I have a question for you.”
“What?”
“Wanna go for a swim? I know it’s late, but—"
“Vince, stop right there. I’m from California; I love night swimming!” I exclaim.
I get up and dig through my suitcase that Vince brought up earlier, uncovering the swimsuit I packed in case a hotel pool called to me. It’s a simple black bikini.
Vince walks over to his massive closet, slips on a pair of red swim trunks, and grabs two towels from what must be a linen closet.
We race downstairs out to the pool. The pavement feels cool beneath my feet. It’s a little cold out, but I don’t care. I race out to the deep end and dive. My body sluices through the water with ease. I open my eyes despite the sting of the chlorine.
Vince follows suit with a cannonball. When I emerge, I flip over onto my back and paddle lazily, staring at the night sky. Vince has done the impossible. He’s found a place in California where he can see the stars.
I hear a splash beside me and look up to see Vince, also floating on his back.
“Did they have a swim club in the UK?” I ask.
