Page 50 of Dead Rockstar

I tugged off his black boxers and ran my hands tentatively up his thighs, feeling the coarse dark hair there, enjoying the sighs of pleasure in my ear. I took him in my hand, gently, then a little rougher, and he drew in his breath sharply. “Jesus,” I said, unable to stop myself. “I figured you were big all over, but...”

He laughed, his breath tickling my ear. “Flatterer,” he said, his tongue darting out and touching my earlobe. “If you keep touching me like that, I might not be able to contain myself. It's been a long time.”

“I don't want you to contain yourself,” I whispered. I guided him down between my legs, where I was ready for him. With a quick movement, he pushed his way inside me, and I gasped; so did he. I had expected a little pain, but there was none. He moved in me with delicious thrusts, looking into my eyes, his arms holding mine above my head, but not in a show of dominance; rather a surrender to me, let me serve you.

No awkwardness like there had been with Tess, that furtive, almost embarrassing sort of bump-bump and me lying there with my eyes closed, wishing it were better. No, this felt right and perfect and like it had been written in the stars. Maybe it was the spell, maybe there was some invisible, mystical cord attaching us, and the attraction between us would be severed once I released him. But right now, it didn't matter, because all I could focus on was how good he felt between my legs, warm and full and lusty, his thighs rough and strong against my own, the weight of him strong and alive and heady. I bucked my hips against his, unable to lie still, unable to let him fully take control, wanting to dominate him as he was dominating me. His hair fluttered against my face, his rosebud lips placing kisses on my cheeks, my eyes, my forehead, making my entire face feel ticklish.

Only a few blessed moments and it was over. He hadn't been kidding. I supposed twenty-three years was a long time, even if he had been dead. I smiled into his shoulder as he groaned and muttered an apology and ran my hands up his back. He felt so good lying on me, a weight that I relished, that made me feel secure and calm. “Stop,” I said, laughing. “You'll have other opportunities.”

“I will?” His face glowed in the moonlight, his eyes bright.

“What did you think?” I asked, tracing a circle on his cheek. “That I'd love you and leave you? That seems more your M.O.”

“Why?”

“You know, rock star and all...”

“Not all the stereotypes are true.” He leaned down and pecked my cheek.

“I've read a few interviews, my dear.”

“Well,” he said, having the decency to turn a little red, “I'd like to think I wasn't quite as bad as some others. But anyway, that part of my life is over. That life in its entirety is over. I'm a different person now – truth be told, I was before I died.”

“So you're not going to kick me out of your room to do the walk of shame now that you've had your way with me?”

“Never,” he said, then his face turned thoughtful. “I just thought...it's blurry for me, you know, because of the spell. I didn't know how much I was just assuming and how much you might actually – you know, like me.”

“Of course I like you,” I said, incredulous. “Fuck the spell. Phillip, for god’s sake, I had pictures of you on my wall when I was fourteen, standing around in nothing but tight purple underwear and combat boots. To say I'm attracted to you is the understatement of the decade.”

“Oh jeez, I remember that photoshoot.” He groaned. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, until I saw the magazine. There was one shot where they actually had me turned over, with my ass in the air-”

“Leaning up against the couch,” I finished for him. “With one hand tucked into your waistband, pulling it down.” I remembered it all too well. “Just one hint of butt cheek showing. It was pretty hot.”

He rolled off me and pulled me into his arms, nestling his chin in my neck. “It was humiliating, is what it was. The guys gave me shit about it for months. They called me pinup girl.”

“It sold a lot of records.”

“I guess it did.” He laughed. “I have to tell you, Stormy, it's kind of nerve wracking, being with a woman who fell in love with your persona. You know, so much of that was just...”

“I know, smoke and mirrors.” I sat up. “You live up to expectations just fine. If anything, I like you even more than I thought possible.” I smiled and brushed a strand of his hair off his face, noting his pleased expression. “I might just keep you around.”

He kissed me gently on the lips, his mouth still pursed in a smile. “I like it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Touch my hair.” He bent down and nuzzled his face against mine. “I always used to hate it when people touched my hair. And it was always the first thing women went for.” He shrugged. “It's weird – when you do it, it feels so good.”

I reached up and caressed his cheek, gently pushing his hair behind his ears. “I wonder why that is.”

“I don't know,” he said, his face buried in my neck. “It just feels good, you touching me.”

His lips met mine again, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his face close to me, running my hands through his dark mane, letting my fingertips graze his scalp. He had so much hair – silky but tangled. I gathered it in my hands and pulled it back from his face as he kissed me. He made a noise in his throat as his mouth moved against mine. We were locked in place, our bodies a perfect fit, his weight surprisingly comfortable on top of me as he held himself slightly upright with an arm.

“Can I have another chance?” he murmured, pulling back to look at me. I still held his hair, pulled tight from his face, giving his jaw an angular, wild look. His eyes flashed in the dim room. “The first time was a fluke. I can do so much better.”

“I have no doubt,” I said with a slow smile.

In one quick motion, he was inside me again, moving against me in a glorious rhythm, while I held his hair back from his face, memorizing the lines of his jaw and chin. We cried out together and I let go, watching the strands fall around his cheeks, over his forehead, and down to his shoulders like black rain.

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