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“I’ll let you go, but first, what the hell is so special about turning twenty-seven?” His mouth was right beside my ear, and it sent tingles through my body. I stopped struggling and wrapped my arm around his neck, turning sideways so I could see him.
“The twenty-seven club,” I explained, feeling a little breathless all of a sudden as his teeth nipped at my earlobe. Then I realized that Callum probably had no idea what that was. “A lot of famous musicians died when they were twenty-seven. Kurt Cobain, Brian Jones, Jim Morrison, Amy Winehouse, Robert Johnson, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hend–”
“I get it,” Calllum interrupted. “What does that have to do with her birthday though?”
“That’s the theme. Dead musicians. Becausewe’remusicians.” I smiled, remembering how we had planned it on her seventeenth birthday. We’d celebrated that milestone at a house party where some obliging parents had gone out of town and left their liquor cabinet unlocked. I had very fond memories of that night, one of which included lying on our backs on the big trampoline in the backyard, staring up at the stars, planning this very event. I couldn’t believe I’d let it sneak up on me.
But when I looked at Callum, half-expecting him to be smiling back at me, his mouth was twisted with disgust. His griparound my waist had gone slack. I could have moved away now if I wanted. He always seemed like he wanted me to. “Deadmusicians?” he said, his voice strange and tight.
I was suddenly and uncomfortably reminded that his relationship with death was very different from mine. He’d lost his wife, the mother of his son, the foundation of his life. I’d lost beautiful strangers–most of whom had died before I was born. “It’s a tribute,” I tried to explain. “It’s not macabre.”
“It’s absolutely macabre.”
I lifted my shoulders and let them drop. “Maybe. But it’s also a way of remembering them.”
I could tell that sentiment hit home for him. I sensed he was struggling with striking the balance between remembering Emma for Noah and letting her go for himself. He was struggling now too, trying to see how this tribute could function as a birthday party. I leaned my forehead against the side of his and waited.
“Yeah, okay,” Callum said after a minute. His voice was strained, like he’d just finished arguing with himself. “I don’t get it, but I don’t have to, right?”
“You just have to come and have fun,” I confirmed.
“And I don’t have to dress up like Jimi, do I?”
I laughed and shook my head gently. My forehead was still in contact with his temple. “No. You just have to come.”
In our original plan, we were going to perform a song from each of the main members of the twenty-seven club, but now I had a better idea to run pastThe Belles. We’d do one or two songs, but we could invite other local bands to perform. Maybe that wouldgive the music scene around here another breath of life. CPR for the soul.
“It’s a good idea,” Callum said when I told him about it in a fit of excitement that almost had me springing off his lap again. He came back to life and tightened his grip to keep me there. An itch worked its way under my skin. A faint tingle of panic that I was trapped. I hadn’t always been mildly claustrophobic–it had only been since Jason started cornering me. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this wasCallum. “It’s a lot to throw together in a week and a half though,” he went on, completely unaware of what was going on in my head.
“What else am I doing?”
His eyes glinted as he looked at me, and I felt the shift in his body. Suddenly, I didn’t feel trapped at all because there was nowhere else I wanted to be. My own breathing came faster as his cock hardened. I shifted against it. Suddenly my jeans felt too restrictive. I wanted them off. I unsnapped the top button and tugged at the zipper, but it was no use. I had to stand up. This time, Callum let me. He leaned back in his chair and watched with hooded eyes as I slid off my jeans and panties in one motion and crawled back onto his lap.
“Wait,” I said suddenly, and hurried to close the double doors. They didn’t lock, but if we heard Noah get out of bed, we’d have time to pull ourselves together. When I came back, Callum had moved to the couch. He had his pants undone, and his cock was out, standing at attention.
“Presumptuous,” I teased, crawling up on him, my knees on either side of his thighs.
“You took yours off first,” he pointed out. He hooked his fingers underneath the bottom of my loose t-shirt and pushed it up and over my head, then unhooked my bra. When I slid the straps down off my arms and straddled him completely naked, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “You’re perfect.”
“Tell that to the airbrushers.” I leaned in to nip at his lower lip while he filled his hands with my bare breasts.
“They’re idiots.”
“It’s my freckles.” I pointed to the apples of my cheeks where a few still dusted my pale skin. Most had faded. “They hate them.”
“You’re perfect,” Callum repeated. He kissed one side of my face and then the other before returning to my mouth. Our tongues tangled, fingers intertwined. I was wet, and I knew he was ready to blast off like a rocket, but neither of us hurried the pace. It felt luxuriously good to be together like this. I didn’t know how long it would be like this–whether I’d be back in LA in a week or whether we’d somehow make this last–but all I needed at the moment was right now.
Disentangling my fingers from his, I undid the buttons of his shirt one by one then parted the fabric. His heart quickened in his broad, muscled chest. I pressed my palm to it and felt its steady drumbeat, then I dragged my hands down his chest, feeling every hard square inch before I got to his lap.
Callum hissed in his breath as I began stroking his cock. He adjusted his position and gripped my waist. “Ride me,” he ground out. Then, before I could do anything, he lifted me up and I felt the large knob of his cock pressed against the apex of my legs. I lowered myself onto it, feeling it split me open centimeter by centimeter. We stared into each other’s eyes ashe lowered me all the way down, filling me completely. Then he started moving his hips slowly, letting me get used to his girth in this new angle.
I gripped his shoulders for balance and began riding him. At first, he felt uncomfortably large, but as I got used to the angle, ecstatic pressure began to build in my body. I moaned, letting my head fall back. He lowered his mouth to my breasts, kissing, sucking, and nipping at them as I gyrated faster and faster on his cock.
A scream was building in my throat, so I dropped my head forward, muffling the noises I was making into his shoulder. He was still holding me steady with one hand wrapped around the small of my back, but he tangled the other in my hair and pulled my head back.
“I want to hear you,” he ground out. His own voice was nearly unrecognizable. His eyes had gone black, and the tendons of his neck stood out as he bucked upward, filling me completely and driving me inexorably toward the edge.
I held onto him with one hand and tried to muffle my gasps with my other hand, but he pulled it away. He increased his tempo, and a light sheen of sweat coated both of us as I tried to keep up. He was pushing me closer and closer to the edge, and before I knew it, waves of dark ecstasy were ripping through me. I cried out his name as I went over the edge and lost all sense of myself. I was just a mass of sensation, unbelievable pleasure as he continued to rail into me.
