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The man was born to perform, that much was clear. His grouchy persona just worked, along with his thick, rough voice and the slight air of menace that accompanied him wherever he went.
And then you let him make you come.
And her whole body was still on fire because of it.
“Okay then,” Marley said, pulling up outside of her house. He was driving and Presley was up front with him, leaving her and Alex in the back. Thankfully, Alex was mostly snoozing, leaving her to her thoughts. “Here you go, Cassie.”
She pulled the door open. Their instruments were all in the back, but Marley and Pres would unload them back at the studio. “Thanks for a good evening,” she said, looking back at them.
Pres caught her eye but said nothing. Like he knew she was talking about more than the gig.
“You were amazing,” Marley said. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Discuss next steps. But I think we can all say tonight was a success.”
“Wha?” Alex blinked his eyes open. “Oh, we’re here.”
“Want me to walk you to your door?” Presley asked, ignoring him.
“No, it’s fine.” Truth was, she couldn’t stand to be close to him and not touch him. And something about his demeanor told her there wouldn’t be a repeat of that kiss. Not tonight.
She grabbed her jacket and her bag and jumped down from the cab, walking up the driveway to her little house. When she got to the door she slid the key in and waved to them.
Alex and Marley waved back. Presley just nodded.
As soon as she stepped inside she let out a long breath. Tonight was… interesting. And electrifying. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep, which wasn’t great because tomorrow was Saturday and she had classes most of the day.
She dropped her bag on the floor and hung up her jacket before heading straight upstairs. The heat of the bar still clung to her, so she shucked the rest of her clothes off and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
The warm spray on her body felt like heaven. She tipped her head back, feeling the spray dousing her face. Her eyes were closed and all she could see behind them was Presley.
His intense stare as she’d spasmed against him. The way his voice hit those low, aching notes during the gig. She let out a long breath and moved her hands to her chest, slowly cupping her breasts, remembering how hard his body had felt against hers. How demanding his lips were.
How good his hand felt.
She moved her own hand down, between her thighs, feeling the slickness of her desire. She pressed her finger where she needed it most, her mouth parted as she circled once, then twice, imagining it was his fingers.
His lips.
Her thighs were shaking. All of her was. Behind the curtain of her eyelids she saw him walking into the shower, as naked as she was. Seeing her hand between her legs and lifting a brow.
“Let’s get one thing straight. Nobody touches you but me.”
She’d seen enough of his body through the drenched t-shirt he’d been wearing tonight to know the thick hardness of his chest muscles, the plane of his abdomen dipping into that low v.
He wouldn’t be gentle. She knew that much from the way he’d gotten her off. And maybe she craved that. Craved the roughness of him. The raw need that she’d seen in his eyes.
Her breath caught as she pictured him lifting her the way he had at his house, pressing her against the shower tiles and thrusting in.
He was big. She knew that much too. He’d fill her until she was breathless. Until the pleasure coiled in her stomach, the same way it was coiling now.
With her other hand, she pinched her nipple. Hard and rough, like him. And then she felt it. The tightness. The darkness before the dawn.
“Presley…” His name caught in her throat as she came, her body tightening around her fingers, her legs barely able to keep her upright. She contracted again and again, leaning against the tile so she didn’t fall, imagining him kissing her through her orgasm, his face tender.
Loving.
And when it was over she felt her cheeks flush. Dear God, what was wrong with her? Yes, there was some kind of connection there, some kind of raw attraction that she felt to the deepest of her bones. But he’d made it clear that was all it was. From the way he’d apologized for the kiss to the way he’d so easily replied to Alex a few seconds after making her come.
He was complicated, and maybe a little broken. And he didn’t want her, apart from in her imagination.
