"We live in a constant clusterfuck," Jon answered him absently.
She swallowed down the mixed bag of fear and hate as she lifted her chin up. The stupid fuck was smaller than her, weaker than her, and yet he'd still gotten her down on the floor--she swallowed hard. If Teek hadn't come in... Would he have gone that far? It galled her to admit it, but she just didn't know.
Al's face went sullen when he spotted her. "There's the Queen of the May herself."
Jon's fingers stilled on the pile of papers that lined the make-shift desk also known as the breakfast table, in the room. "I'd be careful," Jon said quietly.
Al stood up, his fingers clenched at his sides. "Of course you'd say that. You'd take whatever this cunt said as face value and not your main man--your brother."
Jamie's mouth dropped open and she stepped forward instinctively. "What did you call me?"
Weasely face lined with too much living, eyes cold and dark, and his twitchy fingers tapping at his thigh made her stomach clench. Deja Vu slicked her back with a cold sweat. But before she could think about backing down or stepping forward--she honestly didn't know which she'd been about to do--Jon plowed into him with the force of a football tackle. Al hit the wall with a thud, his head smacking hard enough that she saw stars for him.
"How can you believe her?" Al yelled, struggling even as he shook his head to clear it.
Jon shoved his forearm under Alec's chin and lifted him off the floor. "Are you so fuckin tweaked that you don't remember Teek had to drag you off of her?"
Jamie rushed up to the grappling men. "Jon, don't." She closed her hand around his shoulder, she could feel the muscles pulsing and quivering.
Ignoring her, he went nose to nose with Al. "She's Richie's sister, you fucking fuck! Not only is she Rich's sister, but she's a fucking girl--you don't fucking force a girl. There are plenty of women that would open their legs, but you go after her?" He lifted Alec's chin higher, his forearm blocking his air until the man could do nothing but scratch for freedom.
"Jon!" Jamie jumped up on his shoulders, anything to drag him off. God, he was going to fucking kill him. She'd worried that Richie would kill him, but not Jon. Not him. Jon usually had the cool head. She'd seen him go off a few times over the last few months, but not like this. Nothing like this. "Dammit, let go!"
He finally looked at her, his blue eyes were wild and hot with anger. She curled her arm around his neck and pulled, but he was damn stronger than he looked. They were equal height, but rage was on his side. She pressed her face into his hair, and her mouth to his ear. "Let go, you're killing him."
Jon finally looked at Alec, his face near purple with lack of oxygen, his eyes rolling back. Dropping him, Alec landed in a crumple of leather and too tight denim. His ridiculous, over the top clothing looking even more pathetic as he gasped for air. "If I ever, and I mean ever--hear about you hurting another woman you're gone!"
Alec looked up at him, hate and hurt mixing in his bland brown eyes. "She was offering up a piece to everyone," he croaked out. "I deserved a piece too."
She could barely see around the red haze as she reared back. This time, Jon lifted her off her feet and back before she could get a kick in. She struggled and screamed. "Get the fuck off me! I'm going to kill him myself!"
"Whoa there." Jon pinned her arms to her sides and took three full steps back. "Not that I don't think you deserve a good kick for what he did, but he's already done. He's got to be able to play tomorrow."
She bowed up and tried to break free, but his arms were like steel bands reminding her yet again how easily she could be subdued. She went limp in his arms, the warmth of his chest at her back and being in the same room with Alec again pushed all her buttons. He relaxed and she rushed forward again, this time she did get a boot in his ribs before Jon hauled her off. "Touch me or mine again, Alec and you won't have to worry about raping or backhanding another girl. I'll cut your little limp dick and your useless, talentless hands off!"
Al shrunk into himself, his knees curled up as he coughed up a ball of snot and blood.
The door to the hotel room bounced off the wall. "What the fuck is going on?" Doc thundered.
"Get him out of here," Jon said with a voice far too controlled. "I don't want to see him until soundcheck tomorrow."
Doc looked at Jon then down to the pathetic, gurgling Alec. "Okay, buddy, let's get you out of here."
"You've changed!" Al croaked out. "You're not the same guy I signed up with. Fucking led around by liars instead of your own people. The people that matter. It's always been bros before," he glanced up at her then down, "chicks." He'd obviously been about to say something else but thought better of it.
"Would you like me to ask Richie if he feels the same way about his sister?"
Al backed away, his hands up as he hid behind Doc's girth. "I won't touch her again."
Doc curled an arm around the slighter man's shoulders and shuffled him toward the door. "C'mon, Al--let's go get a drink, maybe something to make you feel better."
Disgusted, Jamie crossed her arms over her stomach. Just what he needed, more drugs. She turned away, her head whirling with the adrenaline high. She stumbled into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Her eyes were unnaturally large, the pupils near pinpricks as she hung onto the sink. "Fuck." She shut her eyes and sucked in a breath. "Fuck," she whispered.
Jon knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"
"No," she said with an hysterical laugh. Of course she wasn't all right. This was supposed to be the best day ever and now she'd made an enemy for life with Alec John Such. Just fucking wonderful. She'd seen it in his eyes. He'd never forget this, no matter what he'd said.
He opened the door, stepping in and closing it behind himself. "Jesus, Jon." He lifted his hand to her and she flinched. His eyes so bright and achingly blue they burned, but he didn't step back. He swiped his thumb under her eye and she closed them. God, she didn't even remember starting to cry.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. All the emotion was there--everything he tried to hide away behind shades and smiles. All of it was there and naked on his face. "I could have killed him, James."
"I know." She turned around, not quite able to face him. What was it about them that got so intense? Nothing was simple, just being in a room with him couldn't be simple. And it wasn't like she was innocent in this. Even today she'd dressed to wind him up. She'd wanted to see him lose control. But seeing it...being on the receiving end of it thrilled and scared her. What the hell were they doing?
What was she doing?
He pulled her back to him, his arms around her waist, his chin in her hair and his breath on her neck. "I don't know what's worse, the fact that I could have killed him, or even now, just thinking about him touching you makes me want to go out there and finish the job."
She closed her eyes, smoothing her hand over his forearm that banded across her belly. It wasn't even a question, it was just a fact. They were slowly driving each other crazy. How on earth did she think just a bounce on him would cure this? She scraped her nails through the rough hair, over the tapering bones at his wrist where it widened to his hand. She could feel the heavy gold and diamond JB ring under her hand as she laced their fingers together. "The man I want to touch me is right here. That's all I want to think about right now."
She slowly undulated against him, pushing his hand lower on her waist until the silk of her ruffled shirtgave way to her stretchy skirt. His breath hitched and a groan buzzed along her ear. He nuzzled deeper until his lips found the lobe of her ear and his teeth scraped down the outer shell, finding the small hoops there. The tip of his tongue slid along the gold, fluttering across her skin inside the circle then back out. Nipping lightly before his nose traced behind the shell of her ear. "I want you so bad I can't even think."
"Don't think." She pushed his hand lower. "God, don't think. Just touch me." Her hips tilted up even as her head fell back on his shoulder. "I swear I'm going to go insane if you don't touch me."
His fingers flexed under hers, knuckles crushing and bones scraping together with his indecision. There was no going back, there was no undoing this. She could see the war in his flame blue eyes that met hers in the mirror. She took the pain, holding onto that tenuous grasp of sanity between them and then he let go, and his palm slid lower. He eased up her skirt until the black lace peeked from between her thighs. "James."
She shuddered at the cool air kissing her skin, her breath a hiccupping stutter. His blunt tipped fingers there where she'd wanted them for so long . Panting, because he stayed right there, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror just before he looked down. She couldn't stop the low moan as he finally dipped down. She knew he'd been looking for lace and silk, and when his eyes shot back up to hers she hissed out a breath.
Her eyes fluttered shut. His gutteral voice in her ear as the pad of his middle finger slicked over her clit and between her soaking wet lips. She opened them again when he lifted his fingers away, just in time to see him lick his middle and forefinger clean. "Oh, God." His eyes went hot and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin as he went back for more.
"Did you think of me when you bought these?"
She didn't want to say yes. She didn't want to hand him that kind of power. Instead she just met his gaze in the mirror.
With his other hand, he held her against him, she could feel his hardness digging into cleft of her ass. "Watch," he said in a low, nearly toneless voice. Like she could do anything anything else? His fingers hovered right at the slit of her crotchless panties, moving a millimeter at a time until he tipped over the edge. Instead of sliding forward, he cupped her with his two middle fingers, just a whisper away from her clit. He waited there, she could feel herself getting wetter and wetter, until she felt the first drops of her own excitement dripped down her thigh. She couldn't peel her eyes off of them, off his intimate touch, but he held her too still. She couldn't bump him inside of her, couldn't make him go that fraction of an inch deeper.
His teeth scraped down her neck as the first knuckle of his middle finger coasted around her clit and inside of her, then his ring finger followed suit and the stretching...Oh, God. She couldn't even breathe. Her body was so primed, so tight, those two fingers felt like an invasion. Slowly, ever so slowly, his fingers totally disappeared inside of her. Her thighs shook, and her muscles clenched down on him when he tried to pull back. The groan behind her was music. She caught his gaze in the mirror. Gone was the smirk, leaving only blind pleasure as he stroked her, his fingers coated with her and then back inside of her, watching--always watching. He nudged her open with his knee until she was laid bare for him. The black lace stretching out and around her swollen lips, almost too tight against the excitement he'd caused.
She couldn't stop the low keening cries he dragged out of her as he fucked her with his fingers, then backed off and circled the stiff knot just beneath her hood. Ever watchful, ever fascinated, he brought her to the edge, then finger-fucked her again. She was so slick and ready she could have swallowed him whole for God's sake, but he just wouldn't let her go over. "Jon, for the love of God..." she panted.
He slammed inside of her, curling deep within the tissues he'd teased beyond mercy. "I want that to be my cock," he said into her ear.
"Yes." She tipped her hips up, seating him even more fully if that was possible. "God, yes." The tip of his middle finger brushed against that elusive pressure point deep inside. "Inside me. I need you inside me." Could that even be her voice? She sounded savage and out of control.
Ignoring her he just cupped his palm along her clit and rubbed. She jerked against him, the orgasm clawing at the edges of reason. She wanted him with her, wanted him to feel her pulsing around him as she came, but all the teasing and the friction took over. Instinct and her own innate need for pleasure vetoed any argument. She arched away from him, bucking against the screaming release that was one part pain, one part grace, and all pleasure.
He held her against him, his shallow breathing against her neck was the first thing she noticed, they'd slumped against the door was the second, and Jon was still so hard he could have hammered nails was the last. "Why didn't you come with me?"
He hissed as her butt grazed his hard on, his voice thick and dark. "When I get inside of you the first time it's not going to be a ten minute quickie. When I get inside of you it's going to be for hours."
She shuddered, moaning again when he finally pulled out, her body so overly sensitized she could barely stay standing. He'd said when. All she could focus on was that he'd definitely said when this time--not if. She turned around in his arms, her knee sliding between his thighs. "I can take care of that," she said and brushed a knuckle along the snap of his jeans.
Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue along her lower lip. "Just the thought of those lips around my cock is enough to make me come."
She met his eyes, then dropped her gaze to his mouth. God, she'd let him give her an orgasm even before she'd managed to really taste him. Hell, let him was as far cry from the reality of only moments ago. He'd yanked the orgasm out of her with the sheer force of his own will. She hovered a breath away from his lips. "Let me," she said softly. "I want to know what you taste like." She traced the divot at the center of his top lip with the tip of her tongue.
The fingers of his other hand slid into her hair and gripped at the base of her skull and he watched, yet again, as they moved ever closer. Just before their lips met, he closed his eyes and sunk into her. Teeth, lips, tongue--all of them just as destructive as his touch. He tasted like smoke and whiskey and something else. Something more. It was as if his charisma had its own flavor, and she was damn addicted at even just one taste. Worse than cocaine, worse than booze, worse than the highest high--he was passion in its purest form. She held on, knee to knee, thigh to thigh, pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest and wrapped herself around him. She steeped herself in him and it wasn't enough.
The hotel room phone rang.
He jerked as if they'd been caught, but she held on, biting on his lower lip until it pulsed at the tip of her tongue. "Not yet," she said into his mouth. "Don't let them intrude yet."
Sipping from her lips, he lingered just a moment longer, then slowly detangled himself from her. His fingers grasped her wrist as she tried to cup him. "You're killing me here."
"You don't have to wait." She bumped her nose with his.
"Your party awaits." His voice was strangled, but as firm as his grip.
She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. "My party would be you naked on a bed with room service and anonymity."
He curled his hand around her neck, his thumb grazing over the braided necklace at her throat, the heat of his skin warming the silver cross. She could still smell herself on his hand. She could practically taste her orgasm in the room. "It's going to have to happen. I've seen you come, I've felt you squeeze around my fingers. Nothing but you and me naked is going to do at this point."
He shook his head. "I don't know, James. I just don't know." As if he sensed her disappointment, he nipped at her chin, his tongue flicking over the tiny dent there. "You know the schedule is off the hook, and Richie's with me nearly every minute of the day. How is he not going to know that I want to fuck his sister into oblivion?"
She winced. Blood was blood, and Richie would pop a vein if he knew what they were doing. When she was here, in his arms she could tell herself that maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he'd understand. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose in his Suave scented curls until the phone rang again.
And maybe guitars sprouted wings and became the reincarnation of Hendrix.
She stepped away and instantly wanted him back. She tugged her skirt down and tried to fix her hopelessly crumpled blouse. How would anyone not know that she'd had the orgasm to end all orgasms? Digging her fingers into the cheap linoleum, she forced herself to calm. It was going to be one long ass celebration.
I'm no songwriter, so I snag music through the ages. Reality has no business in this story, so if I like the tone of the song, the words, the fun--anything goes. You'll see songs from 80's, 90's & Today. click on the links above for vids and downloads.