The Power to Break Page 18

  I’m falling into something I’m sure I won’t be able to get out of.

  My eyes fall to his hands as he does what he was born to do. He grips the sticks and then tosses one up in the air. It makes a series of somersaults before he catches it only to hit the cymbal in perfect stride with the song. His talent on the drums never ceases to amaze me, and seeing him from this angle sends a shiver down my spine as a wave of something plows through my chest. I’d like to say that something is simply lust. I can’t admit it might be something more than that.

  The song ends and the lights go down. Mark passes by me first and beelines right for his wife. I watch their silhouettes in the darkness with only a few spots of light shining from different areas—a flashlight, the soundboard, some cell phones, some very dim lighting. It’s mostly dark back here, but it’s pitch black out in the arena just on the other side of the curtain. I listen to the roar of the crowd as they wait for the band to come back for their three encore songs—the last of which I’ll join them for.

  Reese hands Mark a fresh shirt and a towel, and he grabs her into his arms after he wipes his face. He kisses her—really kisses her, like he needs her mouth so he can breathe again, like they’ve been apart for months, not mere hours.

  I smile that he’s found the one who holds the other end of his thread, and when I turn away from them, Ethan stands directly in front of me. His eyes are intense as usual—penetrating and imploring and serious. Beads of sweat form into lines as they race from his forehead down his cheeks. He uses his shoulder to swipe at the moisture, and then Vick hands him a towel. He takes it without looking away from me.

  I clear my throat, my smile fading. “Great set,” I say softly, echoing his words when he’s been in this exact spot watching me.

  He wipes his face with the towel and then tosses it on the floor beside us. He finally breaks our eye contact to pull his shirt off, and I can’t help the gasp that falls out of my mouth as my eyes fall upon the hard cuts of his abdomen, on the broad planes of his inked chest. We’ve fucked, and his mouth has been hot against my body, yet I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing his naked form standing before me. We’re halfway there now, and I wish we didn’t have to go back out to the stage, wish we didn’t have a job to do, wish we could go back to one of our buses and spend the night exploring each other.

  But we can’t—not yet, anyway.

  He finally grabs me by my biceps and hauls me into him. His body is hot and he smells like he’s been working in the sun for hours. He presses a hard kiss to my mouth. When he lets go, he eyes me intensely for another beat and then drops his arms from my biceps. He takes the shirt Vick holds out for him, pulls it on, and heads back toward the stage to take his seat behind his drums without looking back at me.

  I’m not sure what that encounter meant. We didn’t even technically exchange words—I told him he had a great set, and that was it. The other guys in the band run back to the stage, and I stand and watch the first two songs of the encore before Mark introduces me back to the stage.

  I glance over at Ethan. His eyes are hot on me, but he doesn’t crack a smile, doesn’t show any emotion on his face other than what can only be described as intensity, and a needy ache presses between my legs.

  I ignore him as I sing with Mark, as we grin at each other and I put on an act like I’m not totally insecure with the knowledge Ethan is watching my every move while he drums a few yards behind me. On our final note, a few sparks fly out of the front of Ethan’s drum set, and the crowd goes crazy. The houselights come up in the arena. I kiss my hand and slap my ass, and then I run off the stage so the boys can take their final bow without me there. I watch from the side as Ethan tosses his drumsticks out to some fans standing in the front row, and then I turn and head back to my dressing room. I wait there for a bit, filling a glass tumbler with more whiskey than is probably necessary, and then Griffin pops into my room.

  “Bus call is eight in the morning. You have the same hotel room tonight and I’ve got someone on standby for whenever you’re ready to go. You have a club appearance in an hour.”

  “Fuck. I do?” I don’t want to do an appearance. I’m being childish, but I just want time with Ethan. He told me we’d talk later, and it’s later. I’m ready to hear what he has to say.

  He nods. “I told you about it yesterday. They want you to perform ‘Another Shot.’”

  “Right. Of course they do.” I’m sure he did tell me about this, but I’ve been so distracted—mostly by Ethan, if I’m being honest—that I haven’t been paying as close attention to detail as usual.

  “What do you need?” he asks me.

  “Clothes for tonight. I’m sorry, I forgot.” I take a long sip of whiskey, reveling in the burn as I swallow it down. I wait for the liquor to alleviate some of the tension in my body and the ache I feel for Ethan deep in my core. It’s not helping.

  “Already hanging up in the bathroom whenever you’re ready. There’s a pack of smokes in there, too.”

  “I need a hit of something stronger. I’m all keyed up.”

  “Weed?” he asks. He avoids eye contact. He hates when I smoke cigarettes, but he hates when I smoke weed even more. That’s as far as I go, though I can’t say I haven’t tried some harder shit in my time. It just wasn’t for me. I have too much to lose by doing something really stupid.

  “Fine.”

  “Will you be okay in here while I get you something?”

  I nod, and he takes off. I stand to head to the bathroom to change into whatever he picked out for me—a black dress with a tutu for a skirt, I discover. I adjust the shoulders and look in the mirror. I still need to touch up my make-up. Club appearances always equal lots of photo ops, and I’m sure something taken somewhere tonight will end up in the tabloids. Probably also why Griff shot me a dirty look when I asked for weed. Whatever—he’s not my father.

  My father.

  I’m reminded of that email I still haven’t read. I brush the thought aside just as there’s a knock at my door. Perfect timing since I need someone to zip up the back of the dress.

  “Yeah?” I yell from the bathroom.

  The door opens, and Ethan Fuller steps into my room.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ETHAN

  “Nice dress,” I say, eyeing her up and down lazily. It hugs her curves perfectly, but it would look better on the floor. “You going somewhere?”

  “Club appearance.”

  My excitement falters a bit until I come up with a solution. “Let me come with.”

  She rolls her eyes as she takes a step toward me. She seems nervous, but it’s no match for the rush I’m feeling in my own chest as I stand this close to her.

  Just one more taste. I just need one more taste of her sweet peach. I need her tang in my mouth and on my tongue again. I crave her like I need a hit—like she’s an addiction I can’t quit.

  She turns around so her back is to me. “Zip me up.”

  “If I’m being honest, I’d rather take this thing off you than cover more of your skin.” I trail a fingertip up her back and my focus lands on one of her gorgeous tattoos. “What’s this one mean?” I finger a single flower.

  She shivers, and I don’t know if it’s because of my touch or because she’s cold. “It’s a carnation for my mom.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry seems so trivial for the gorgeous ink that means so much to her. I brush my lips against it instead, and then I close the remaining fabric with the zipper. “Shame to keep it hidden,” I say softly once the zipper has reached the end of its track.

  I brush my lips across her neck as I wish for time. She shivers again.

  “You sure I can’t come tonight?” I ask against her skin.

  “Yes,” she moans.

  “Yes, you’re sure?” I ask, my voice husky as I continue kissing the sweet, soft curve of her neck. “Or yes as in I should come?”

  She spins around and glares at me, my lips breaking contact with her skin.
“What, exactly, do you mean by come?”

  I can’t help my grin. “There’s my feisty girl.”

  She falters and I realize my mistake. She’s not my girl.

  She raises a brow at me. “If you don’t care about the rumors we’ll surely spark, come along.”

  “Are you performing?” I ask.

  “They want ‘Another Shot.’” She walks over to a counter and pours herself a glass of whiskey then motions to it as if to ask if I’d like a glass. I nod.

  “Of course they do.” It makes sense, but it’s not the best show of what she can do. The crowds don’t care, though—they just want to hear her sing her most popular song. “But I want to hear you sing ‘Break Me.’ I missed it tonight.”

  “Where were you?” she asks.

  I roll my eyes. “We had an in-studio radio interview and then a meet and greet.”

  “How’d it go?” she asks. She steps over and hands me the whiskey.

  I nod my thanks. “Fine. What time do you need to go?”

  She glances at a clock on the wall then shrugs. “Griff will let me know.”

  I glance around. Oh yeah—Griffin. “Where is he?”

  “Scoring me some weed.” She steps over toward a vanity and picks up a small palette of make-up. “I’m fresh out.”

  I chuckle as I think of my stash on my bus. “You should’ve asked me.”

  “You’d share?”

  I don’t share with just anyone, but with her? I’d share the world. I shake off the thought. “You let me hit your cigarette and drink your coffee. It’s the least I can do to pay you back.”

  “I figured you paid me back when you went down south.” She brushes her cheek with something.

  I shake my head. “Eating the peach was a treat for both of us, Mace. No payback required.” Just thinking about her sweet pussy is getting me hard again.

  She glances down at the bulge in my pants. “You’re saying you don’t want payback?”

  Fuck it all, I want payback more than anything in the world right at this moment. My addiction is getting out of control. But that’s not what this is about, and I need her to understand that. “I’m saying I don’t need payback. It’s not a tit for tat thing. I wanted to suck on your cunt, so I did. If you want to suck my cock, you’re more than welcome to.” I make a show of grabbing my cock through my jeans. “I’ll admit, after I tasted you, I beat off for longer than usual.”

  She chuckles as she fingers her make-up brushes. She selects one and a different palette. “Didn’t find someone else to satisfy that craving?” she asks.

  Our eyes meet in the mirror and I shake my head. “I don’t want anybody else.” My voice is so soft and tender as I try to convey how genuinely I feel that way.

  “Why did you tell me earlier we’d talk later about why you bolted last night?” she asks.

  I shrug as the uncomfortable emotions dart around in my chest again. “I just...I was overwhelmed again. Like I just said, I didn’t want you to think you had to just because I did. And I had a late appearance last night, so I had to run.”

  I take a step toward her and reach out to trace the line of her neck. She arches it to the side for me, and I’m about to press my lips to her skin when Griffin bursts into the room, completely ruining the intimate moment that passes between us.

  We both jump and look toward him. He pulls a baggie out of his pocket and sets it down on her vanity.

  Her eyes dart down to the bag. “Thanks, Griff,” she says.

  He nods. “You need anything else?”

  “A light.”

  “I’ve got it,” I say, my hand already on my trusty engraved lighter in my pocket.

  “Let me finish my make-up first.”

  “No need,” I say, and our eyes meet in the mirror again. It’s true. She’s gorgeous just the way she is.

  She takes her time finishing her beauty routine anyway, and when she’s done, I pull the lighter out of my pocket and flick it for her. She closes her eyes and inhales, and I see her visibly calm before she blows out the smoke. She takes another hit then passes me the joint.

  I take a hit and offer it to Griffin, who declines.

  “Ethan’s coming with me to this thing tonight,” she says.

  “Is that a good idea?” Griff asks.

  She lifts a shoulder and giggles. “Probably not.”

  I laugh, too, and I think for a minute how intense sex would be with her when we’re both a little toasted like this. She takes a couple more hits then passes it to me to finish before Griff ushers us out to a limo.

  “Griff, ride up front,” Maci says. “How long’s the ride?”

  Griff looks at the driver. “At least fifteen minutes, ma’am,” he says. “Probably longer.”

  She nods and sets a timer on her phone, and then she climbs into the backseat. Her ass is sticking up in the air, and I can’t help myself as she accidentally flashes me. I slap her ass with my open palm, a loud crack echoing in the quiet night. I tumble into the car behind her, both of us laughing.

  She closes the privacy glass separating us from the front seat, and that’s a clear signal she wants it. Who am I to deny a beautiful woman what we both want?

  “Nice panties,” I say. “Take them off.”

  “Why?” she challenges.

  “Because I want to fuck you with my face again.”

  “What if I want you to fuck my face with your cock first?”

  “What if I want to kiss you first?”

  We’re talking in ridiculous circles, but the ability to care taken by the joint we smoked has been replaced by a strong bout of horniness. “Kiss me,” she murmurs.

  My mouth falls to hers, our tongues caressing and circling. I taste a hint of whiskey on her tongue as she reaches down to cup my cock. She strokes her hand over me, and I groan into her mouth as I give into the sweet pleasure of a woman’s hands on my body. But this isn’t just any woman. This is a woman who I’m developing real feelings for.

  A woman I don’t want to lose.

  We’re both a little high and a little drunk and very stupid. Our kissing feels like it’s worthy of a pornography, and then I reach beneath the short skirt of her dress and tug on her panties until they snap clean off her body.

  “Ouch,” she squeaks, and I chuckle as I think about her up on stage at the appearance sans panties. I urge her on top of me, forcing her legs to fall open on either side of mine.

  “Oops,” I say, and then without warning, I shove two fingers into her. She arches back, pressing her breasts into my face without meaning to. I bury my face in her cleavage as I think this must be what heaven’s like.

  “God, you smell like a fucking fantasy,” I say. She’s all lavender and clean, soft woman.

  She cries out when I curl my fingers into her. Surely the driver and Griffin can hear us despite the privacy glass, but the pot has diminished any sense of reality either of us has. She pulls one of her tits over the top of her dress, and I suck it right into my mouth. She reaches down and strokes my cock over my jeans some more, and I bite down on her nipple before I suck it hard again.

  My dick is painfully hard, and I need her to fix that. Stat. I need to come into her, onto her, over her, for days.

  “I want to fuck you, Mace.” My words are a whispered understatement because want is such a weak word for how I feel right now. I crave her. I need her. Our connection is my oxygen, and I won’t be able to breathe until my dick is inside her body.

  “Fuck me,” she says. “Fuck me until I can’t walk straight.”

  I tilt my hips so she’s far enough back that I can unzip my jeans and pull out my cock. It’s thick and full of pulsing veins, harder than ever and ready to find his way home.

  A look of lust crosses her face as she stares down at me, the first time she’s seen my cock in front of her.

  “Fuck,” I mutter as I realize one important roadblock to having sex with her right now. “I don’t have a condom.”

  She doesn’t bother to
hide the glaze of need as her eyes meet mine. “Then pull out. I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

  It should make me hesitate, but I’m half-high and half-drunk and half-in love. “Hold this,” I say, lifting her skirt. She bunches it up in her hands around her waist. We both look down at my cock, throbbing and pulsing as it points up just centimeters from her sweet cunt.

  I position myself so the head of my dick presses against her clit. I’ve never gone in bare before. Ever. Not even once.

  Just the feel of her clit against the head of my dick nearly has me coming. So sweet and so soft. I can’t stop myself now. Even if I wanted to, there’s no going back.

  I dip the head of my dick inside her. She tries to push down, but I hesitate. I want to treasure this feeling, to live inside it forever, but I assume she’s on the pill or something—she surely wouldn’t have told me to go in and just pull out if there were unnecessary risks involved.

  I torture us both by pulling back out.

  “Fuck me, Ethan. Just fuck me,” she mutters, and her voice is so full of need and desire I can no longer stop myself.

  I thrust up into her, both of us watching as my dick disappears inside her. She closes her eyes and we both savor the smooth, soft feeling of skin on skin, nothing between us as I pump up into her.

  God, it feels like heaven. It’s perfect and hot and welcoming. It’s home. It’s the only place I want to live for the rest of my life.

  “Fuck, I’m gonna lose it,” I mutter, pulling out again. “I can’t. I can’t. It feels too goddamn good, Mace. I can’t do it.”

  She takes my glistening cock in her hand and pumps her fist up and down. I watch as she presses a finger to her clit. “Just lie back,” she whispers, then she gets on her knees between my legs, pulls me into her mouth, and rubs furiously at herself as she takes me to the back of her throat.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter over and over. She lets go of me for a beat before she pulls me back in all the way to the back of her throat. Her alarm starts to go off, the one she set to let us know we were getting close to the venue, but I reach over and shut it off before I cup the back of her head. I thrust into her mouth, controlling the speed as she lets me fuck her face. She’s so warm and perfect and I can’t stop now.