Rock Stars Do It Dirty by Jasinda Wilder
Jamie lifted an eyebrow at him. "You take a month-long vacation every year?"
He shrugged. "It's not uncommon, actually. For Europeans, at least. You Yanks are so obsessed with work you never take more than two weeks. A month is standard for most of Europe."
Jamie sighed wistfully. "A whole month off? God, I'd kill for that."
"Make it happen, then."
She shook her head. "I wish, but no. It's pretty much impossible." Jamie stuck her hand out to him. "I'm Jamie."
"Ian." His handshake was firm but gentle, his hand swallowing hers.
Jamie felt another flutter in her belly. Maybe this distraction would be more effective than she'd anticipated.
"So, Ian, where are you headed?"
He shrugged. "Actually, this is the time of year I'm usually in Australia, but Mum is traveling this year, so I came to America for my holiday."
Jamie laughed. "You came to Buttfuck, Michigan, on a vacation?"
"Is that the name of this place?" Ian asked, laughing. "I knew you Yanks were weird, but that really takes the cake. Kind of a strange name for a town, innit?"
Jamie found herself giggling. "I know you must get this a lot, but your accent is hot."
Ian swigged from his beer. Jamie got the sense he might be embarrassed.
"I might have gotten that before, yeah." He grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "So...feel your panties dropping, then? 'Cause that's what one bloke told me, just this week past. He said, 'Your accent is a panty-dropper, man.'" He said the last part in a passable American accent, which Jamie found supremely odd-sounding.
Jamie shrugged nonchalantly. "Keep talking, and we'll see what happens."
"So your knickers are feeling a bit loose, then?"
"I'm not sure I'm wearing knickers."
Ian choked on his beer. "I didn't take you for that sort of girl, Jamie. Knickers is just another word for panties."
Jamie laughed. "Oh. Well, I am wearing panties, yes. But they might be feeling the slightest bit wiggly. Especially if you buy me another round."
Ian lifted his bottle at the bartender, then gestured at Jamie's glass, holding up one finger. "In that case, we should toast to sexy accents and dropping panties." He chuckled, making it seem like a joke.
Jamie clinked her glass against his bottle again, laughing with him. As she sipped, she wondered if he had any idea how close to the truth their toast was.
I'm back to my old tricks, I guess, she thought. 'Cause I'm about to take this boy back to his hotel and fuck him silly.
She let him buy her a few more drinks, discovering over the course of two more hours that he was an IT consultant, and he was actually in Michigan on a mix of business and pleasure. He'd finished his contract in Detroit and had decided to venture northward with no real destination in mind. She also discovered that he was an only child, unmarried, and that he lived in London.
A couple more rounds revealed that he was staying in a motel just down the street from the bar.
"So, Jamie. What are your plans for the rest of the evening?" Ian asked.
"Don't really have any," she admitted.
She'd managed to avoid answering too many questions. Mainly, she didn't want to admit she was trashed in a bar hours from anywhere.
"Well, why don't you come back to my room with me?" Ian said. "Just...you know, till you sober up a bit?"
Jamie nodded, trying to calm her hammering heart; she wasn't sure why she was nervous, but she was. Being nervous was a good thing. "Sure. Sounds good."
"I hope you don't mind a bit of a walk, though," Ian said as he stood up, "seeing as I didn't drive from the hotel."
"No, that's fine. Probably do me some good."
"That it will, love. You seem a mite wobbly, if you don't mind me saying."
Jamie laughed as she stood up, swaying unsteadily. "Yeah, just a mite." She exaggerated her unsteadiness, using it as an excuse to wrap her hand around Ian's arm. "Mind if I hold on to you?"
Ian glanced down at her; standing up, he towered more than six inches over her. "Not a bit. Wouldn't want to go and have a spill, now, would we?"
Jamie just shook her head in response, concentrating on the feel of his thick arm, corded with muscle. It was a nice sensation. He smelled good, too, she realized, leaning into him. Faint cologne, not overpowering, a spicy, male scent, along with deodorant, and that other more indefinable scent of clean man.
Ian laugh rumbled through her. "Did you just sniff me?"
Jamie giggled in embarrassment. "Um. Maybe? Shut up. You smell good." She leaned in again and sniffed at his shirt. "A man who smells good is as much of a panty-dropper as a sexy accent."
"So...if I've got both..."
Jamie glanced up at him through her lowered eyelashes. "I plead the Fifth?"
Ian just snorted. "The Fifth Amendment is an American thing, love. I'm British, so it doesn't work on me."
"Oh, damn."
Ian didn't push it, and she let it go. She had to be a little hard to get, after all. Right, she thought. 'Cause this is hard to get.
They were following the main road, walking across parking lots and stretches of yellowing grass, cars whizzing by to and from the freeway. A hotel sign about a quarter mile down announced their destination. They reached it after a few more minutes of walking in a surprisingly companionable silence.
Ian led her to a ground-floor room, unlocking the door and throwing it open with a flourish. "It's not much, but...well...that's it, really. It's a hotel room. Sorry I can't offer you better."
"We are in Buttfuck, Michigan. I can't really expect the Ritz, can I?" Jamie said.
She didn't spare the room much of glance; it was the same as any Best Western anywhere in the country. There was a pile of clothes on the bed, and Ian rushed over and scooped them into a Samsonite suitcase, which he closed and tossed into a corner.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled. "Wasn't expecting company."
"No problem," Jamie said.
An awkward silence ensued, in which Jamie wondered how long she should wait before attacking him with her face. Ian seemed, if Jamie was any judge, to be wondering the same thing.
"I'm not as drunk as you think," Jamie blurted. "I mean...I was kind of hamming it up. So I could hold on to you."
She heard the words coming out but couldn't seem to stop them. Embarrassment was shooting through her, centered in her belly as a knot of nerves. She hadn't been nervous around a guy in...a very long time. Since high school, probably. Even with Chase she hadn't been actually nervous; she'd been anxious, flooded with uncontrollable need and burning desire. She'd been mixed up around Chase, an emotional wreck, a physical mess. He turned her inside out and upside down and set everything about on fire.
Ian was different. He was...comforting. Familiar, somehow. And yet, she was nervous. She wanted him, but she didn't want it to be like all the guys she'd picked up at the bar. He was only in the U.S. for a month, she assumed, so it was a limited-time offer only. Maybe that was the source of her nerves. She wasn't really sure. She only she knew she didn't mind being nervous. It was a new feeling, something besides the ache in her heart and the coiled knot of need low in her belly.
Ian regarded her with something like amusement. "Yes, I'm aware. I wasn't going to say anything, since it seemed to be working in my favor."
Jamie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "This is where I say 'I'm not usually this kind of girl,' except...I kind of am."
Ian lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "Well, I guess we're evenly matched, then, because I'm in the same boat, more or less."
Jamie laughed. "Un-mix your metaphors, Shakespeare."
"I just mean I'm supposed to say something like, 'I don't normally bring girls home from the pub,' but I do, rather often, actually. I'll admit I'm relieved you said it first, though."
Jamie relaxed then. She sat on the edge of the bed, her purse still hanging from her shoulder, and glanced at Ian. "I
Ian crossed the space between them in a single stride, kneeling between her thighs and kissing her suddenly, silencing her. His hands were on her legs, and he tasted like beer and faintly of spearmint gum. "I get it, Jamie. I do. You don't have to explain."
Jamie wasn't sure what to say, for once. She wanted to explain. She wanted him to understand what he was getting into, but she wasn't sure what it was herself. It didn't feel like a one-time-only hookup, and nothing had even happened yet. They both clearly knew the score. They both knew how it was supposed to go: They'd fuck, and then Jamie would sneak out at some point in the early hours of the morning and walk back to her car. Only...she didn't want to.
She kissed Ian back, hesitantly, exploring the sensation of lips on lips, his hands daring up her thighs to curl around her hips inches above her ass. She felt butterflies in her stomach at his touch. She was looking forward to feeling him peel her shirt off, strip her of her jeans. It wasn't fire in her belly, but it was enough.
Ian might even be more than a distraction, she thought. She could run with that.
When he pulled away to slide up onto the bed next to her, Jamie kicked her shoes off and set her purse on the floor. She watched as Ian untied his shoes and tossed them near the table by the window.
"Ian?"
"Yeah?" He sat cross-legged and barefoot in the middle of the bed, combing his fingers through his shaggy blond hair.
"What if I said I didn't want to do the walk of shame tomorrow morning?"
He shrugged. "Then don't."
She picked at a loose thread on the comforter. "I mean...wake up here, tomorrow. I mean, we both know how this usually goes. This is your hotel room, so normally I'm the one who's supposed to sneak out at four a.m. But...I don't want to. I'm not sure what that would make this between us, but...yeah. What if I just want to do things differently?"
Ian nodded. "Ah. I...you know, normally that would make me rather uncomfortable. We've been honest with each other thus far, so I'll go ahead and continue the trend. I actually asked a girl to leave once. She was just...lingering. All bloody morning, she was there. Tea and breakfast, and checking her email and whatever, and I just wanted to tell her that wasn't how it worked. So I asked her if she would mind being on her way. I said I had business to take care of, only it was Sunday and I didn't. I felt like rubbish all the rest of the day. I kept seeing her disappointed face, like she thought we were going to be something and it was awkward. I hated that. I've never gone looking for a relationship, you know? I had one once. A serious one, too. Introduced her to Mum and Dad and went on holidays with her, all that rot. It was nice for bit, having someone to come home to, someone to watch the telly with." Ian's accent, fairly unpronounced until then, had grown stronger. "She was a beautiful girl, Nina was. Great in the sack. But...she was a slob around the flat. Couldn't make a decent cup of tea to save her life, either. And it was shite like that that did us in. The little things. No one cheated on anyone, we never really fought, and I really did enjoy having her around, but it was just...it wasn't right, you know?"
Jamie nodded, unsure where he was going with it. "Relationships are hard," she said, just to fill the silence. "I'm never sure how they're supposed to work. I always feel like it should be just sex, and he obviously thinks it's something more, but I never know what it's supposed to be, you know? Like, it's fun, and they're nice, and it's great not being alone at home all the time, but..."
"What's the point?" Ian finished for her.
"Exactly. If it's not just sex, and we're not getting married, what's the point?" Jamie pulled the thread free, popping seams until she had a few inches of clear thread like thin fishing line. "So...yeah. I guess I'll go, then. I really don't want to do the whole hook-up thing. I'm tired of it. I don't know what I do want, but I know I don't want that." She stood up, slipping a toe into her sneaker.
Ian looked up sharply, confusion on his face. "Go? No, that's not what I meant. I'm not sure why I said that. I shouldn't have told you all that. I'm sorry." He scooted across the bed and pulled her down by the hand so she was sitting on his lap. "Stay. Please? Stay here tonight. Let's both of us try something new. No expectations either way. You don't do the walk of shame, and I won't wake up alone, stuck somewhere between relieved and disappointed."
"So no expectations either way?"
"Right."
"I can do that." She let herself settle onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I have to warn you, though, I'm pretty sure I'd make a shitty cup of tea."
"I drink coffee, too." Ian grinned, sliding his hands under the hem of her shirt to touch the skin on her back.
Jamie explored the muscles of his shoulders and back through his shirt. "Well, you're in luck then, 'cause I make a killer pot of coffee."
His lips touched her neck on the side an inch above her shoulder, then moved down to her throat, kissing the hollow at the base of her throat. Jamie let her head fall back, feeling an exhilarating rush of pleasure at the touch of his mouth on her flesh. She found the bottom edge of his shirt and lifted it up over his head, tossed it aside, then resumed her roaming of his torso with her palms. His skin was fair and smooth, his body toned and muscular, but not overly developed. He continued kissing her throat, then slid to the right, moving the neck of her shirt aside to touch his lips to her shoulder blade. With his other hand he touched her belly, dragging his fingers upward, lifting her shirt as he went. Jamie pulled back and raised her arms over her head, and Ian drew the fabric off, tossing it aside.
His gaze roved over her body, her full breasts held in by the red lace of her bra. "You're very beautiful, Jamie." He reached up and brushed one of the bra straps off her shoulder. "Very beautiful indeed."
Jamie glanced away. "Thanks."
His fingers slid the other strap off, and then he was unhooking the back with one hand, his eyes never leaving hers. Jamie held his gaze as her breasts fell free, and then her eyes slid shut involuntarily when his fingers grazed the underside of one breast. She clutched his forearm, and he cupped the heavy weight of one breast in his hand, then pinched the nipple between two fingers, rolling it. Jamie let herself gasp. She wriggled her bottom on his lap, feeling his erection thickening. Slipping sideways off him, Jamie lay back and pulled Ian down over her, tangling her fingers in his hair as he dipped in to kiss her lips. She felt her pulse quicken as their lips met. Butterflies again, more of them now, fluttering in her belly.
She slid her palms down his spine, curved around his waist and found the button of his jeans, popped it open and unzipped his fly. He was on his hands and knees over her, his palms by her face and his knees on either side of her hips. She pushed his pants down and he lifted up to let her get them off. She grasped his shaft in her hand, her pulse go from a rabbiting patter to a hammering thunder. He was well-endowed, thick, straight, pointing away from his belly. She slid her fist down his length, then paused at the base as he lowered his mouth to her breast, and she gasped when he sucked her nipple between his teeth. He reached between them and stripped her of her jeans quickly, then let his fingers roam along the outside of her hip, running in along the swell of her hipbone, across the dip where leg met groin, then down between her thighs.
Jamie let her legs fall apart, stroking his length as he slid a single finger along her crease. She reveled in the sensation of a man who knew what he was doing. He didn't just plunge in, but let the tip of his finger tease her, dragging up and down her pussy before probing in, ever so gently at first, then more and more, until his finger was inside her to the first knuckle, and then the second. She rubbed her thumb over the tip of his cock, drawing the pre-co
He circled her clit with his middle finger, slowly, teasingly, then brushed the nub quickly, once, twice, and then she was arching her back and whispering a moan. He had her moments away from coming already, and they were just starting. This boded well. He slipped his fingers deeper into her, curling in to unerringly find her G-spot, then flicked his fingertips across it, pushing her closer to the edge, rubbing it, and now she was there, right there...Ian added his thumb, pressing it lightly against her clit, and that was all it took. Jamie gasped, shuddering, as the orgasm ripped through her. She pulsed her fist on his cock as she came, and then when the waves lessened, she pulled him toward her.
Ian pulled away. "Wait...wait. My trousers. I have a rubber in my wallet." He hung off the bed and dug his wallet out of his jeans while Jamie watched.
She was on the pill, obviously, but she didn't stop him. An aftershock rippled through her, and she pulled him to her as he sat up with the wrapper in his hand, moving toward her.
She took the condom from him, ripped it open, and slowly rolled the latex over his cock. He moved his hips into her grip, then settled himself over top of her again. He paused, his ocean-blue eyes pinning hers, and his mouth opened as if he was going to speak. She met his gaze evenly, waiting for him to say whatever was on the tip of his tongue. But he didn't. He just smiled at her, a half-curve of his lips, and then swiveled his hips to caress her nether lips with the tip of his cock. Once again, he didn't simply drive in but took his time, weight on one elbow, the other brushing her red curls away from her eyes and drifting down to cup her breast.
She ran her fingers through his coarse blond hair, then down his back, and cupped his firm ass, pulling at him, wanting him inside her.
He just shook his head. "Not just yet."
She didn't answer, held onto the hard globes of his ass and waited. His strong hand explored her body as he probed into her pussy with slow, soft rolls of his hips, teasing, teasing, and now he was inside her but only a few inches, and oh, god, he was right at her G-spot, gliding into her and away, sliding across that perfect place in a deliciously slow rhythm, driving her already orgasm-sensitive flesh wild. She clawed her fingers into the muscle of his ass, wanting to pull him in, pull him harder, but instead she merely held on and let him go at his own pace.