Dirty Like Me Page 17

  Of course, we didn’t exactly have an audience in the bedroom at the back of the tour bus in the dark, but still. I knew he was up to something.

  When he ran the warm, wet tip of his tongue up the back of my neck, I was sure of it, but I still shivered, hard. He groaned in response and pushed in closer, so I had to push back or end up flattened beneath him. He ran the tip of his nose up the nape of my neck, through my hair, making me shiver again. Then he whispered in my ear, “Bet you give in before I do.”

  Evil.

  The man was pure evil.

  His fingers dug into my waist, holding me still as he shifted himself… fitting his very large, very hard cock right into the notch at the top of my ass, at the base of my spine… setting off sparks in that killer erogenous zone that was hardwired to my clit. I gasped and bit down, tasting cotton as I ate pillow once again. It was like the guy had some sort of manual. Press these buttons to drive Katie crazy.

  I felt the tickle of his hot breath against the back of my neck as he laughed.

  I stiffened, pulling away from him.

  Fuck this.

  The man thought he could play me like an instrument?

  I tossed the covers aside and stumbled out of bed in the dark. Yes, I was hot for him. Did that mean I was just gonna spread my legs and let him have at it?

  Not so much.

  I started peeling off my clothes. First the stretchy camisole, then the pj pants, and last, my panties. At the moment, despite the incessant ache between my legs that told me all I really wanted was for Jesse Mayes to shove his big, gorgeous cock inside me, as deep as he could get it, and pound me stupid, I didn’t really care how much I wanted him. There was no fucking way I was ending up just another conquest in his long line of broken hearts. Worse, some kind of one-hit wonder that he fucks right out of his system. Yes, he was hard for me this minute. What did guys call it? Available pussy. Well, I was definitely available. But if I gave it up, what happened tomorrow?

  I’d seen the groupies at his shows, angling to get backstage. Maybe he wouldn’t fuck any of them until our deal was done, but that didn’t mean I’d be able to hold his interest any longer than any of his previous lovers had, which, apparently, wasn’t very long.

  If the illustrious Elle barely got a year, I’d be lucky to get a week.

  I went around the other side of the bed and slipped in behind Jesse. I grabbed his hip and shoved my naked body up against his backside, exactly the way he’d done to me.

  Two could play at this fucked-up little game.

  He started to turn toward me, but I bit his earlobe. Hard.

  “Ow! Fuck,” he complained.

  I soothed the hurt by licking his ear, and then his neck, the way he’d done to me. “If you lose this stupid wager,” I said in my sweetest voice, nuzzling the hair at the nape of his neck, just like he’d done to me, and shoving my pussy up against his ass, “you play your next show naked.”

  “No fucking way,” he said, swallowing. His voice was low, rough, his breaths coming faster as I slithered against him. “I’ve done it with Dirty. When I was younger and stupider. I’m not doing it in my solo show.”

  I relaxed away from him an inch, my breasts still touching his back. I made sure he felt my hard, swollen nipples dragging against him. Yes, I was torturing myself, but as long as I was torturing him too, I didn’t care. I ran a fingertip down his spine and stroked that lovely notch at the top of his ass, which made him buck against me. The groan he let out gave me goose bumps.

  “Then I guess you’re not doing me,” I said, sounding a hell of a lot more sure than I felt.

  “Katie…” He blew out his breath through gritted teeth as I stroked him again.

  “Jesse,” I whispered.

  He rolled back, almost crushing me, but I slipped out of the way. He lay on his back, looking at me in the near-dark as the bus rumbled along. His eyes were in shadow, his dark eyebrows drawn together. His bicep flexed, his hand shifting under the sheet as he adjusted himself.

  I hoped he had the hard-on from hell.

  “You lose,” he growled, “and you give me a private show. Naked.”

  I stretched, leisurely, arching my back, and pretended to yawn a little. “Not gonna lose,” I mumbled as I cuddled into my pillow and went to sleep. Or at least, pretended to go to sleep. As I lay there aching in the dark, I really didn’t know who I was torturing more.

  Jesse groaned and grumbled. I opened one eye to peek at him. He was still on his back, and I watched as he gave his cock a single pump, then said, “Fuck,” and threw his arm over his eyes in defeat.

  And when he said, “You’re gonna kill me, Katie Bloom,” I smiled.

  CHAPTER 19

  KATIE

  By the time we arrived in New York City a few days later, I’d more or less wrapped my head around the whole crazy rock ’n’ roll routine.

  Each night was pretty much the same. Concert. Rabid fans. After party. After-after party. Fake make out.

  Followed by a raging case of blue clit.

  Even on the nights when there was no show, there were always so many events to go to, to “be seen,” that it felt like Jesse was always performing in some way. It was pretty inspiring, actually, to be around someone who was living his passion twenty-four-seven. And of course it was thrilling to be on the receiving end of some of that potent, seductive energy.

  Somehow, I was even managing to hold my own in the insane battle of will otherwise known as our fucked-up little bet. Though I didn’t feel as confident about actually winning the bet as I pretended to be. I just knew I couldn’t lose.

  But Jesse wasn’t showing any real signs of giving in either.

  It was our third day in NYC, following two sold-out shows, and I was wandering SoHo with Flynn after lunch, dipping in and out of shops looking for the perfect gifts for Devi and my sister, when Jesse called me.

  Jesse had never called me before.

  Normally Flynn just coordinated my “schedule” with Jude, and took me where I needed to be, which was wherever Jesse wanted me to be. Days were a little calmer than the nights, but no less packed. Usually Jesse sprang out of bed mid-morning, long before I was coherent, went for a run or a workout with Jude, then spent some time with his guitar. By then I was up and we had breakfast more or less together, though sometimes the other guys were also in and out, and Jesse was often on the phone, so it wasn’t exactly quality time. In the afternoons he was scheduled up the ass with interviews, meetings and appearances, some of which I accompanied him to—mainly the ones where any kind of camera was involved. There were none of those today, and no show, and no one had yet told me what we’d be doing tonight. I hadn’t really expected to see Jesse until the evening.

  But here I was, standing in the street listening to the slow, sexy classic guitar riff at the beginning of Heart’s Magic Man, completely confused as to why it seemed to be coming from my purse… when I remembered that Devi had programmed it into my phone as Jesse’s ringtone before I left Vancouver. I’d forgotten to change it.

  Flynn raised an eyebrow as I dug my cell from my purse. Blushing, I turned away and answered. “Hey, Jesse.”

  “Hey, beautiful. Meet me for an early dinner at five? Flynn knows where.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.”

  “Perfect.”

  He hung up. I grinned at my phone a moment, then tucked it away and continued shopping.

  For the rest of the afternoon I pretty much floated around, light on my feet, with this stupid-happy feeling percolating in my chest.

  I was having dinner with Jesse.

  I never had dinner with Jesse. His dinners were always on the go or over a meeting, while I ate with myself, Flynn or whoever happened to be around when I was hungry.

  I met him at five at a cool little bistro-bar, where he obviously knew the owner. We were shown to a private table at the back, behind a partial wall. Jude and Flynn had the nearest table, which was far enough away that we were on our own.

&n
bsp; Jesse hugged me and gave me a quick kiss. Just on the cheek, but no one could really see us where we were. Then he pulled out my chair for me and said, “You look hot.”

  Which I did. Literally. I’d caught some sun in Central Park and I was shimmering with sweat. I’d come straight from my shopping spree and it was a hella hot day, so I was wearing a new sundress.

  Jesse, as usual, looked amazing in a short-sleeve white button-up shirt and well-worn gray jeans, his sunglasses pushed up into his thick, dark hair.

  I tossed my tote bag on the chair between us, my sketchbook sticking out of it. Jesse ordered for us and as soon as the waiter departed with our order, he asked, “What is that?”

  “My sketchbook.”

  His eyebrows went up. “You draw?”

  “Sometimes,” I said, buttering myself a bread roll. In fact, in the first week of the tour I’d drawn more than I had in the last year; I’d already sketched everyone on our tour bus and was starting on the guys on the other bus. But for whatever reason, I didn’t feel like saying so. “So, you come to this place whenever you’re in New York?”

  “Usually.” He eyed my sketchbook again. “I’ve seen you with it at sound check. I thought you were writing. Like keeping a journal.”

  I shrugged. “I just like to draw.”

  Our drinks came and I dove into my SoCo and amaretto. Before I knew what was happening, Jesse plucked the sketchbook from my bag and started flipping through it. I slammed down my drink, a little harder than I meant to, and snatched the book from his hands.

  His dark eyebrows furled. “What was that? Raf?”

  “I dunno.” I closed the book on the sketch of Raf. “Lots of people in there.” I stuffed the book back in my bag and gave him my most serious stink eye.

  “It’s really fucking good.”

  “Just something to keep my hands busy. Baking on a tour bus seems unlikely.” I sipped my drink again, keeping an eye on him this time, but he made no further attempt to molest my privacy. “You have your oral fixation, right? Well, I’ve got a thing with my hands.”

  He sipped his bourbon, which I’d come to learn was his drink of choice, eying me over the rim of his glass. “I’ve got something you can do with your hands.”

  Sweet Jesus. We didn’t even have our appetizers yet and the man was already flirting. No, not flirting. Daring. Because of our stupid bet. And quite obviously he was doing his damnedest to make me lose it.

  But all I had to do was remind myself of that “private show” he was expecting if I lost, and I rallied my resistance.

  “No need,” I said coolly. “Busy enough sketching Raf.”

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed a little. Raf was an interesting looking dude. He wasn’t the sex god Jesse was, but he had an easy smile, attractive caramel-macchiato skin and a crazy Sideshow Bob hairdo that got him plenty of attention. It wasn’t like I could make Jesse Mayes jealous, but I suspected his giant ego wouldn’t appreciate me paying Raf a compliment, even indirectly.

  Evidently, I was right. He eyed my sketchbook again, like it was killing him not getting to look inside it.

  “And Dylan,” I said. Because fuck yes, I’d drawn him too, all six-foot-forever of him, kilt and all. “And Zane,” I added. Mostly to be cruel, but it was true, the sex Viking of rock was in there too.

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed further. “Heartless,” he said, and I grinned.

  For the rest of dinner the sketchbook was there between us, taunting him. I managed to steer the conversation toward other things, briefly, and got him talking about his day. Apparently his sister was in town and he was supposed to meet up with her, but she’d bailed on him, so he’d ended up running errands with Jude and later having a meeting with someone from his record company. I would’ve been happy to hear more, because his life sounded pretty fucking interesting to me. For one thing, I’d never been in a meeting with a record company exec. For another, I definitely didn’t have a sister who was a supermodel. I mean, Becca was pretty and all, but shit. I’d stalked Jesse’s sister on Google after he told me her name, and as it turned out, Jessa Mayes was drop-dead gorgeous and had modeled for more fashion labels than I’d ever heard of.

  But all I got out of Jesse on that topic were one-word answers. Any chance he got, he brought up my sketchbook again, asking how long I’d been drawing and what kinds of things I drew. I answered his questions as vaguely as I could. I never felt comfortable talking about my art. Maybe because I had so little to show for my aspirations. But I was definitely enjoying watching Jesse try to sort it out.

  All along, I knew what he was really asking. He wanted to know if I’d ever drawn him.

  I didn’t think he’d actually come out with it, but by the end of dinner, as he stared me down while I finished the last few bites of my pie, I almost broke. Instead, I channeled all my sexual frustration into licking the last bit of fruit filling from my fork. Slowly. It was blueberry. I would’ve ordered cherry if they had any, but he got the point. By now, I knew the guy must’ve been bursting at the seams from lack of sex. I knew I was.

  “You gonna tell me if I’m in your book, cherry pie?” he pretty much growled.

  Of course he was, but I wasn’t about to offer up that information. His ego was bloated enough.

  “Why? You were wondering?” I slid my fork back in my mouth for one last lick. The way he watched my tongue defile the utensil pretty much said it all.

  “You know I was.”

  I set the fork down on my empty plate and shrugged. “Seeing as you already get your ego stroked multiple times a day by your adoring fans, I really didn’t think you’d also need me to stroke you.”

  Damn. I was getting pretty good at this flirting thing. The smoldering glint in Jesse’s dark eyes told me so. I was pretty sure that last comeback was wood-worthy.

  I sat back in my seat, content in the knowledge that if his cock was throbbing half as hard as my clit was, I’d done my job.

  Lucky for me, I had a couple of hours to burn, alone, back at the hotel after this. Well, not alone. With my new vibrating friend.

  Jesse, poor guy, had another appointment.

  And since I was only his fake girlfriend, it really wasn’t my problem.

  CHAPTER 20

  KATIE

  After dinner, Flynn drove me back to the hotel in his rental car. All the way there I wondered if I’d taken things too far. Was I being a bitch? I thought we were having fun, but the burning look Jesse gave me as he got into the other car with Jude was worrying me. He never even said goodbye.

  I was trying to decide if I should text him to say sorry, when Flynn parked us in front of the hotel and came around to open my door. I didn’t know Jesse well enough to know how to navigate this sort of faux pas. I didn’t even know for sure if I’d pissed him off or if this was all just part of his game. Maybe he thought I was a cock tease and he regretted hiring me, but for all I knew, he just wanted to make me sweat.

  I got out of the car, then almost fell back in when Jesse loomed outside the door.

  I glanced over at the other car, where Jude had pulled in behind us. Jesse grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. “Hang out,” he ordered Flynn. That was it. No mention of what we were doing or when he’d be back as he yanked me toward the hotel.

  I hurried to keep up with his long-legged stride. He stalked through the lobby so fast that if any fangirls had been hanging around, they might not even recognize his blur.

  “Um, don’t you have an appointment?” As far as I knew he was supposed to be doing a radio interview with Raf in like half an hour. But he punched the elevator button and said nothing while we waited for it to arrive. His jaw was granite, but I couldn’t tell for sure if he was mad or what.

  Was I about to get fired?

  My heart raced. I’d never been fired from anything before. Plus, I was really starting to enjoy the perks of this job.

  The elevator arrived and the very biggest perk of this job yanked me onto the elevator with him. An elderly couple j
oined us, but as soon as they got off on the fifth floor and the door shut, I started to apologize. “Jesse, I—”

  He turned to me, wrapped his hand around the back of my head and kissed me. Hard.

  And holy hell, the man could kiss.

  I could barely keep up with the demands of his mouth. Every time he kissed me it was different; this time it was fast, hungry and dominant, his tongue plundering my mouth. My knees buckled a little and I clung to his shirt collar as he fisted my hair.

  Jesse Mayes was kissing me. He was kissing me. In an elevator.

  Where no one could see us.

  “No one’s… um… here,” I managed between tongue-gropings, feeling light-headed as the elevator settled.

  “Don’t care,” he said, and crushed his mouth to mine again.

  The elevator door opened and he ripped himself away, yanking me down the hall. I staggered along behind him. What the hell was going on?

  He pulled me into our room, slammed me up against the door and kissed me again. And I let him. I kissed him back, harder, faster.

  Then an ugly thought leapt from the dizzying pool of my thoughts.

  The bet.

  The motherfucking bet.

  He was trying to make me lose the bet.

  I wrenched my mouth away from his, panting for breath. “Wait,” I gasped.

  “Tired of waiting,” he panted, kissing my neck.

  “It’s only been like a week.”

  “Try two goddamn months,” he mumbled against my skin. “Never waited this long for a girl. Any fucking girl.”

  “Two months?” I asked, confused. “Since we met?”

  “Since we shot the video and I started thinking about doing this.” He gripped me under my knees, hitched my bare thighs up around his hips and thrust against me. I wrapped my legs tight around him and he growled into my neck, dry-humping me against the door like he wanted to fuck me right through it. “Fuck, Katie,” he groaned.

  I almost lost it right there. It was the tone of his voice, like he was starving for me. But I tried like hell to keep my head. Because I had no idea if I could trust my instincts on this, or if my wires were just short-circuiting from hormonal overload.