The Rookie and The Rockstar Page 13

  Long gone is the guy who blushed at our first shared sexual innuendo and in his place is a man who knows what he wants and knows how to get it. When my back presses against the wall of the stairs, I moan. Bo’s mouth leaves mine to drop hot, wet kisses down my neck, his hands cupping my ass and lifting me off the ground.

  Gripping his biceps for support, my eyes roll into the back of my head as he licks the base of my neck and trails his way up to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Aah,” I cry, squeezing his torso with my legs and being fully aware of the hard body I’m wrapped around.

  Hot.

  Hard.

  Honed.

  And playing me like a fucking violin.

  I can’t help the wanton moans that continue to spill from my lips as Bo’s hands claim my ass and he grinds into me.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Bo murmurs between tastes of my skin. “So fucking delicious. I’ve wanted to touch you like this since the first night we met.” Pausing, he pulls back to look at me, our breaths heavy and labored, not from effort so much as desire. “You scare me, Charlotte. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

  His confession is quiet and honest, full of vulnerability, and it makes my insides clench. “We can go as slow or fast as you want,” I tell him, meaning every word. If all we do is make out again like horny teenagers and go to bed early, I’ll be happy because I’ll be with Bo.

  “Which way to your room?” he asks, his expression darkening.

  I don’t speak for fear of sounding desperate, so instead, I motion over my shoulder, signaling that my room is up and to the left. Without another word, Bo turns and begins carrying me up the stairs.

  We spend the few moments it takes to walk to my bedroom just drinking each other in, a silent conversation passing between us. This isn’t just about getting off or a random fuck. It’s more than that. Bo doesn’t do casual, I already know that. And I used to, but it hasn’t been my style for a long time.

  This is more.

  We’re more.

  I wouldn’t want to label it because I’d fail miserably and probably jinx the good thing we have going, so instead I’m just going to roll with it and let it happen. For once, I feel like I’m making choices for Charlotte, not Lola. Even though Bo has become a high-profile rookie, this isn’t about that. If he was flipping burgers at Krystals, I’d still want him, just like this. I want what’s on the inside just as much as I want what’s on the outside.

  “Which one?” he asks, not even a little out of breath.

  So. Fucking. Hot.

  “Second door on the left,” I instruct, my arms still wrapped around his neck, loving the way his body feels pressed to mine.

  Thank God Casey’s room is at the opposite end of the house and she’s on a Netflix binge right now. She probably won’t even come out of her room until morning, which buys us some privacy.

  When we reach my door, Bo steps inside and kicks the door closed behind us.

  “What was it that you wanted to show me?” he asks with a crooked smile, a hint of the reserved guy I met that first night coming out to play. I like it. I like the combination of shy and confident. He’s got the goods to be a cocky bastard, but he’s not. The way he balances his God-given attributes and talents while staying humble and real is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever witnessed. When he lets go of my ass and I slide my way down his body, feeling every ridge of muscle beneath me, my breath hitches. Every cell in my body is firing on all cylinders.

  When I take a step back and reach for the hem of my shirt, I notice the way Bo’s eyes take a trip down my body and he visibly swallows. Once the article of clothing is tossed to the floor, I make eye contact with him and lick my bottom lip, an open invitation—Touch me, take me, have me.

  Taking a few slow steps forward, Bo reaches out, tentatively at first, slipping an arm around my waist. Then his grip tightens and he pulls me forward, burying his head in the crook of my neck and breathing me in. Gentle kisses start assaulting my neck and shoulder, and then across my collar bone, sending charges of electricity through my body.

  His audible breaths against my skin are like an erotic love song, permeating my soul.

  Slowly, he kisses his way down my body. Kneeling at my feet, Bo begins to unbutton my jeans, his mouth now devoted to the skin just above the waistband of my panties.

  Close—so close—to where I want him, but then again, I want him everywhere. My knees feel weak as he touches and tastes, taking his time. I run my hands through his hair, gripping the strands when his tongue darts under the thin fabric. My pants aren’t even all the way off and I feel like I could come at any moment. The build-up is making me physically ache with need.

  “Bo.” I moan his name, my fingers tangling with the soft strands of his hair. When I pull a little too hard, he hisses, looking up at me through the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a man.

  It should be against the law.

  “What do you want, Charlotte?” he asks, his voice rough with need.

  Staring down at this beautiful man who’s basically worshipping at my alter, I feel like crying and laughing at the same time. It’s the weirdest rush of emotions I’ve ever felt during a sexual encounter.

  Everything.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I refrain, opting for the second best answer. “You. Just you.”

  A deep, guttural growl comes out of Bo as he stands and grabs me, tossing me to the bed. My hair flies around, falling in my face as a laugh escapes my lungs. The look of wonderment on Bo’s face as he hovers above makes time stand still.

  “What do you want?” I ask in return.

  “You,” he whispers, a shadow of some unspoken words passing behind his deep blue eyes. The lazy grin he’s giving me grows a little before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I think I come a little at the gesture. A low, seductive chuckle vibrates through him, shooting straight to my core.

  When he presses his hard cock against me, showing me just how much he wants me, I really begin to lose control.

  “Oh, God,” I moan, when he repeats the movement with a little more pressure. Even through the denim, I can feel his length and hardness and it’s hitting at just the right spot.

  “You can call me, Bo,” he muses. “But if we’re doing nicknames already…”

  Kneeling between my legs, he discards his own shirt, putting his beautiful body on display. His muscles flex beneath his golden skin, kissed by the sun. I want to ogle him for hours, memorize every inch, but I don’t get the chance. Before I even make it down to his happy trail, he’s lowering himself onto me, the weight of him glorious. When I drag my nails up his back, he moans and it’s all I can do to not dig into him, marking him, letting everyone know he’s mine.

  The intense kissing from the stairway reconvenes, but this time there are less barriers. Our hands explore each other’s bodies, learning every dip and curve. Bo’s fingers skim lightly over the sensitive skin at my waist, silently asking permission to move lower.

  In an effort to answer any questions he might be having about where this is going, I break away from him and push my jeans down my legs. After I kick them to the floor at the end of the bed, I lie back and stare up at him, panting from desire. Now, all that stands between me and him is two sheer pieces of material. And his jeans, which seriously need to go. Like, right the fuck now.

  Bo swallows hard, slowly shaking his head as he takes me in and I feel like I’m on top of the world, floating on a cloud. “Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his mouth and then through his hair, letting a low, seductive chuckle rumble through his chest.

  “Is this what you want?” I ask.

  Instead of answering, Bo dips down, bringing his head to my chest, and latches onto my nipple, sucking it through the flimsy fabric of my bra and sending me into orbit. My hips buck up under him on their own accord, my thighs falling open.

  “You taste so good,” Bo murmurs, turning his attention to my other nipple, giving it equal amounts o
f attention while his hand tugs on the other one, keeping it stimulated and my body wanting more...more touching, more sucking, more him. “I knew you would. Ever since I got a taste of you that first night, I’ve had dreams of tasting every inch of you.”

  The timber in his voice, paired with his words of what he’s dreamt of doing to me stokes the fire building in me, the tightening in my stomach intensifying from the friction he’s giving me.

  “I’m going to savor you,” he whispers, kissing and licking a path down my torso.

  “Please,” I beg, squirming under him.

  He places open-mouthed kisses along the edges of my panties, right at the juncture of my thighs where I want him. When he licks my slit through the fabric, I can’t help grinding into him, begging for more. Looking down, I see him peering back up at me, his long lashes hitting me full force as his mouth is latched onto my pussy, bringing me pleasure, and it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh, my God, Bo,” I groan. “If you don’t touch me, I might die. And while fucking a corpse isn’t against the law in the state of Louisiana, I frown on it.”

  He stops what he’s doing, which displeases me immensely. When I glance back down, he’s looking at me with wide eyes and a humorous grin. “You are so weird,” he says, a light chuckle escaping, his breath fanning the sensitive skin beneath him. “Like, in the best way,” he adds, his tone dropping. “And touching you would be my pleasure, Charlotte.”

  Always the fucking gentleman.

  But I’d like that to be in the literal sense.

  The break in tension with my crass comment seems to have released whatever was holding Bo back, because he pushes himself up and sits between my legs, gripping the edges of my panties with both hands and tugging them down. His eyes are glued to me, drinking me in and I feel myself getting even more aroused—if that’s even possible—under his scrutiny.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs, before lowering himself back down. I prop myself up on my elbows, wanting a front row seat to the show that is Bo Bennett zeroing in on my pussy. His strong biceps and forearms are braced on either side of me. His head blocking me from seeing exactly what he’s doing, but when his tongue darts out and licks, I lose my damn mind.

  It’s been a while, like a long fucking while since I’ve been with anyone. A year ago, I was with a random guy I know from the music industry, but it was a quick fuck in a back room at a studio in LA. Before then, it’d been a year since my last semi-serious boyfriend and he wasn’t really into oral. And I wasn’t really into him.

  “Oh, God,” I squeak, trying not to completely lose my shit as his tongue traces the sensitive skin.

  Bo’s moans of pleasure, paired with his talented tongue dipping and swirling, bring me to the edge in record-breaking time. My hands instinctively go for his hair, tangling with the short strands, pulling and pushing as I lose myself under him.

  Writhing on the bed, I feel my body begin to shudder with pleasure. My legs want to close around him like a vice grip, holding him to me and never letting him go.

  “Oh, my fucking...Ah,” I scream in pleasure, my hips coming off the bed to meet his mouth, begging for more and less all at the same time. It’s too much and yet somehow not enough.

  I look down to see him pull back, his mouth glistening with a smug look on his face as he slides a finger inside, then two, matching the pace his tongue was keeping. When his thumb begins rubbing circles around my clit, my head falls back, and I give in to the tidal wave—my legs shake, my walls spasm, my mind is blown. I cry out in pleasure. And then I see fucking stars.

  Somewhere, in the midst of my orgasmic fog, I’m vaguely aware of soft, tender kisses and then a movement on the bed. When I eventually open my eyes back up, I’m rewarded with the vision, and I do mean fucking vision, that is Bo Bennett—naked, hard. His gorgeous cock is standing at attention while he digs in the back pocket of his jeans, coming back with a condom.

  A second later, he has the package ripped open and is rolling the latex down his length.

  How is it that putting a condom on can be sexy?

  His forearms flexing and his hands on his cock has me clenching my muscles in anticipation. Bo’s not scary huge, but he’s well-endowed. I’m in the camp that cocks can be beautiful, and Bo’s is in the running for top honors. I want to touch it and taste it, but for now, I’ll settle for it being inside me.

  “My turn,” I tell him, getting up on my knees, and motioning for Bo to get on the bed.

  His eyebrows raise and he smiles—sinful—but obeys my command, slipping back on the bed and lying on his back. In a bold move, I straddle him and collect some of the wetness from my center and rub it onto his cock, stroking him from base to tip before I line myself up and slowly sink down.

  When he’s completely inside and I feel impossibly full, I pause for a second, letting my breathing catch up.

  “Fuck,” Bo groans, gripping my hips in his strong hands as his head buries into the pillows behind him. “Just a sec,” he begs, holding me in place. “You feel so fucking good and it’s been too long.”

  That.

  That confession.

  It’s one I’ve wondered, but haven’t had the chance to ask about. We’ve talked about past relationships, but I wasn’t sure if Bo had been with anyone recently. Shamelessly, I love that he hasn’t. I want to be the only one who knows him like this, feels him like this, and that realization scares the shit out of me.

  But I scratch it from my mind by leaning forward and placing open-mouthed kisses on Bo’s exposed neck, relishing in the strength of his muscles and toned body. It’s a masterpiece. He’s a masterpiece.

  “Move, Charlotte,” Bo finally commands. It’s the most demanding thing I’ve ever heard him say. He begins to move my hips for me, setting a slow, steady pace. “So, fucking good...better than I dreamed.”

  “So much better,” I agree, my lips just a fraction of an inch from his, sharing his breath as he pushes into me. From this position, I get the pleasure of his cock while my clit rubs against him. It’s a perfect combination and like he just said, so much better than I’ve dreamed. And I have dreamed. Bo’s starred in every dream and fantasy I’ve had since the day I met him.

  We fall into a rhythm with the sound of our bodies offering the melody. “Feels so good,” I say against his cheek, sucking in a breath when he begins to thrust faster, his fingers digging into my ass.

  “Do you like it like this?” he asks, bringing one hand up to swipe the hair out of my face, our eyes locking onto each other’s. “Can you come like this? I want to see you come.”

  “Yes,” I reply, on the verge of tears from the intense pleasure and connection I feel with this beautiful man. “Yes.”

  Pushing up on his chest, I brace myself as he picks up the pace and I meet him thrust for thrust.

  “So fucking perfect, Charlotte,” he mutters, one hand leaving my ass to slip up my stomach, between my breasts, and then to my collar bone. When his long, deft fingers wrap gently around the column of my neck, he brings me down to him, claiming my mouth.

  Chapter 17

  Bo

  Having Charlotte above me, watching her perfect tits bounce as my cock slides in and out of her, it takes everything in me to not come. I want to, I want to explode inside her, but I also don’t want this to end.

  She’s all I’ve thought about for weeks and now that I have her, like this, I don’t ever want to let go. The sight of her and the perfect sounds she makes are invading my senses and I’ve forgotten everything else. My mind is only filled with Charlotte.

  When she tosses her head back, her hair brushes my thighs and everything that is Charlotte is on full display—tits...smooth, soft skin...long, lean neck. Gripping her hip with one hand, digging my fingers in, I pick up my pace, pushing up into her, while I reach down and find her clit. When my thumb begins to circle the sensitive spot, Charlotte cries out, not holding back. “Ah! Oh, my God...Bo.” Her words are choppy and my name falling fro
m her lips while in this position is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen or heard in my entire life.

  Better than the sound a bat makes when you hit the sweet spot of a ball.

  Better than thousands of fans cheering you on as you round the bases.

  Better than an ump yelling “safe” as you slide into home.

  “I’m gonna come,” she breathes out, tilting her head back down to look at me, our eyes locking. She braces her hands against my chest, riding me and seconds later, her orgasm. As her walls clench around me, her thighs squeezing my hips, I let go, a roar breaking free from my chest as I completely lose myself.

  Holding Charlotte to my chest, we both continue to breathe heavily, my body on a high like I’ve never felt before. I kiss the top of her head and she wraps her arms tighter around me.

  “That was...amazing,” I tell her. There’s no need to try to save face or pretend like that wasn’t the singularly most incredible sexual experience of my life.

  “The fucking best,” she mumbles, sounding sated and like she’s somewhere between awake and asleep. “Like, honest-to-God, the best I’ve sex I’ve ever had.”

  I chuckle lightly, stroking her hair. “Come on,” I tease. “You’re Lola Carradine...I’m sure you’ve had—”

  Her head pops up from my chest and she clamps a hand over my mouth. “Stop. Don’t do that. Don’t ruin it.” The expression on her face is nothing but serious, so I stop talking. “I’ll never lie to you, Bo. If I say it’s the best sex I’ve ever had, you can take that to the bank.”

  I kiss her palm and then nip at her fingers as she finally starts to pull her hand away. “Okay, Charlotte...I believe you.”

  “Good,” she whispers, a small smile on her beautiful lips. When she leans forward and kisses me, it’s soft and sweet. I’m beginning to love every kiss we share for a different reason. I fucking love the hot and heavy kissing we were doing in the stairway. And then the ones where we were basically mouth fucking. Those were great. But these tender kisses she gives me feel important, like something I want to remember and take with me when she’s not around.