Protection: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Page 10

  “It’s new!” she says. “Gisella helped the wardrobe people design it.”

  I try not to scowl.

  “It’s nice,” I say.

  “That’s it?” Elly says, sounding exasperated. “You can’t even compliment me in this?”

  “It’s sexy, but… pretty revealing.”

  “Duh.” She walks over to the mirror to fix her hair and check her lipstick.

  “I’d rather you not wear stuff like that in front of thousands of people, but I don’t think you want to hear that.”

  She shoots me an annoyed glance. Inside, I’m dying. Outside, I try to stay neutral.

  I wish I could tell you how I really feel about that little number. I would like it better ripped to shreds, lying on my bedroom floor.

  “Let’s check out the crowd through the peep hole,” she says.

  I follow her over to the one-way mirror that looks out into the arena, and we both scan the audience. Mostly young girls, Elly’s usual crowd. I’m always looking for male faces. Well, looking for one in particular.

  “Hey, there’s my friend Anna!” Elly says, pointing into the front row. “I forgot that I gave her tickets. She’s got a twelve year old kid if you’d believe it…”

  I freeze, picking out an all-too-familiar face in the crowd next to Elly’s friend.

  “What?” she asks, tapping my arm. “Is it… him?”

  I give myself a shake.

  “No.”

  “You recognize someone?” she asks, lifting up on her tiptoes to look.

  “Unfortunately. Don’t worry about it.”

  “No, tell me!” she insists. “Is there gossip? You know I love gossip.”

  I rub the back of my neck, pushed way outside my comfort zone.

  “Come on,” Elly says. “Distract me from my stalker thing.”

  I grunt.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “I think you’d be the first one to say that life isn’t fair,” Elly says with a grin.

  “Fine,” I sigh. “I had a shitty ex, and she’s here. She’s in the front row right next to your friend.”

  Elly makes a weird squeak and presses her face to the mirror again.

  “The blonde?” she asks.

  “Yep.”

  She gives me a skeptical glance. The two minute warning bell sounds, but Elly’s totally absorbed in creeping on my ex.

  “You dated her?” she asks, glancing back at me. “She looks like a stripper, Connor.”

  I don’t think I’m imagining the note of jealousy in her voice.

  “Says the woman wearing lingerie in public. Besides, you blackmailed me into telling you in the first place,” I say. “Can you not make a thing of it, please?”

  “Uhhh no,” Elly says with a snort. “I live for making a spectacle. Literally. And seriously, Connor. You can do a lot better than that chick. She has serious resting bitch face. She’s gonna wrinkle really young.”

  I roll my eyes but don’t respond. Really I’m thinking, I can do better than her, huh?

  Then, not gonna happen, asshole. You’re getting too fucking comfortable.

  The final warning bell rings and Elly gives a little growl, turning and walking to her starting position at the side of the stage. A couple of her assistants check over her makeup and give her the bedazzled mic she uses every night.

  The audience roars, the lights go crazy, and Elly pastes on a huge smile as she struts out onstage.

  “Hello, Milwaukee!” she cries, barely audible over the sound of the cheering crowd.

  She launches into her first song. I put in my earpieces; they protect me from getting hearing damage, plus they pipe in Elly’s voice at a very low volume. In case she has to give me some kind of signal during the show, mostly.

  The danger I’m expecting never comes. The show goes off without a hitch, just Elly and her unbelievably excited fans. She slows things down near the end of the show, doing a quieter, unplugged version of one of her ballads.

  During the song, she does something that almost makes me shit a fucking brick.

  “Hey guys. I’m having such a good time with you tonight,” she murmurs into the mic. The crowd loves every bit of it, of course. “I feel such a connection with you, I’d really like you to know something special and personal about me. Something I don’t share with a lot of people.”

  What the fuck is she on about? Please, please don’t get down into the audience.

  Instead, she turns and points right at me, though I’m hidden from most of the audience’s view.

  “Connor, could you come out here please?”

  Uh… no the fuck I cannot. I shake my head at her, not understanding what she’s trying to do. Are you fucking crazy, showing off your security detail? Why not just tell Greg Dahl how best to find and hurt you?

  “Connor, I can see you,” Elly says, a little louder. “Please come out here.”

  Someone shoves me forward, and a few seconds later the stage lights are hot on my back. The second I walk out, people start cheering, which makes no fucking sense.

  “Come on, come on,” Elly coaxes, beckoning. She walks over to meet me in the middle of the stage. Then she surprises me further by flinging herself into my arms with a flying leap, forcing me to catch her and scoop her up in my arms like a fairytale princess.

  “What are you doing??” I growl in her ear.

  Elly wraps her arms around my neck and plants a huge, deep kiss on my lips. No peck on the lips, but a forceful kiss with all the tongue in the world. In front of her fans, who are going absolutely fucking ape shit.

  It might be the most confusing moment of my entire life. Why is this happening? Why are they cheering?

  “Put me down,” Elly whispers into my ear.

  My brain has gone totally numb, and it’s all I can do to put her on her feet without dropping her on her ass. She’d deserve it if I did, come to think of it.

  “I’m going to get on with my song,” Elly says, though she’s almost drowned out by the wild screams of the audience. “And Connor’s going to go backstage. He’s shy, guys. I just wanted y’all to meet my amazing man. Say goodbye, Connor!”

  I raise my hand, feeling weirdly flushed as the fans scream. I finally launch myself away from Elly, and then I can’t get off the fucking stage fast enough. When I’m safely in the wings again, I drop my hands to my knees and try not to dry heave.

  “Nice job, Romeo,” Karen says, clapping me on the back. “Real smooth. Also, you’re on the wrong fucking side of the stage.”

  “Fuck… off…” I say, shaking my head to clear the lingering panic.

  “I’m gonna go around the back to the other side, give you some time to recover. Bravo again, though. Born for the stage,” she says, cackling as she leaves.

  Karen’s been spending too much time with Elly. I straight up hate this new chatty version of her, I swear.

  By the time Elly gets off stage, I’m practically shaking with anger. I control it as best I can, seething all the way back to the hotel. Everyone avoids me and my obvious temper; when the elevator doors open on the staff floor, people bail like rats from a sinking ship.

  Karen and Elly are the exceptions; Karen’s working Elly’s hallway tonight and Elly herself is oblivious, excited and talkative the whole way to her hotel room door. I shoot Karen a look that says, stay out of it, and grasp Elly by the arm after she opens her door.

  Elly looks up at me, a frown puckering her brow.

  “What?” she says.

  I hear Karen snort as she heads back to stand near the elevators. Giving us some privacy, I guess.

  “Just get inside,” I grit out.

  I give her a little push and then close the door, going above and beyond with my due diligence in checking the room. I had a lightbulb moment earlier today when I realized that we should be sweeping for bugs and cameras before Elly comes in for the night.

  Elly vanishes to change and take off her stage makeup while I work, using a couple of handheld device
s that I had Lawrence pick up. When she finds me standing on the couch, holding an electronic wand near the light fixture, she puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head.

  “Seriously?” she asks. “You really are so paranoid.”

  “Don’t,” I say, climbing down. I’m seething inside, a second from going off, and she’s about to get a lot more than she asked for if she says one more goddamned word.

  “You are such a jerk.”

  She walks over to the hotel minibar and grabs a bottle of water, walking over to lean on the marble counter separating the living room from the kitchenette. I look her up and down, wishing she was wearing more than those sexy little short shorts.

  Or way, way less…

  I don’t even bother to feel guilty this time; it doesn’t seem to have any effect on my libido these days. And the reason for all of this pent-up frustration is right here in front of me, her lower lip stuck out like a sulky teenager.

  “Fucking hell, Elly.”

  “What?” she asks, setting down the water and crossing her arms. That just pushes up her tits, which doesn’t help me any.

  I stalk over, stopping an inch away from her, and stare down at her. Her chin comes up, and she gives me this defiant stare that is making my cock hard. Not making, keeping my cock hard. I’ve been hard for her all goddamn day.

  All goddamn month, in fact. I need to say something, I need to drive a wedge between us before this heats up any further. The way she’s looking at me, like she’s going to pounce any second, or maybe slap me… it’s killing me.

  “It’s like you’re trying to make your stalker angry,” I say. “Pulling me onstage, after he lashed out at you? Not smart, Elianna.”

  Her eyes blaze bright violet when I use her full first name. Interesting reaction, I think.

  “No, of course not,” she says, her expression going stormy. “I was trying to do something nice, for god’s sake. Not that you’d understand that.”

  I grit my teeth.

  “Yeah?” I ask. I think about how I held her last night, and I can see that she’s thinking about it too, because she blushes.

  “You’re a jerk,” she insists. She pokes the center of my chest with a finger, her lips coming up until they’re only inches from mine. “You wouldn’t understand what I did, because you’re selfish. Maybe try being more giving—”

  The challenge in her voice, the I dare you expression on her face, snaps something in me. I’m so fucking sick of jerking off in the shower when I think about her, so sick of the tension between us that I can’t shake.

  I need something to happen.

  I dig my fingers into her hair, drag her mouth up to mine, and just take what I want. Our tongues and teeth clash for a moment, and then we both groan as we find a rhythm.

  Her hands grip my shirt; I grab her by the waist and lift her up onto the marble counter, crushing her against my body. Her legs go around my waist, her tits up against across my chest, her nails rake my shoulders, the nape of my neck.

  Yes. Fuck, yes.

  She’s so responsive when I touch her, chest heaving, hips rolling against mine. When I cup one of her breasts through her shirt and run my thumb over her hardened nipple, she breaks the kiss to groan against my lips. I swear to god I almost come right there, that’s how fucking bad I want her.

  She’s not passive, either. She rips the collar of my t-shirt in her urgency to get my shirt up and over my head, and her hands are all over me. She presses her thumbs into the twin grooves at my hips and tugs at the button of my jeans. She runs one hand over my cock through my jeans, making me jerk forward into her hand, seeking. When she feels how big I am, how fucking hard I am for her, she makes this breathy little ohhhh sound and fuck I can’t wait to be in her.

  I pick her up and somehow get us to the couch, her body under mine. She’s so much smaller and softer than me, which is so god damned hot. Her tongue twining with mine, she pulls off her own tank top, gasping when I move down to cup and kiss her tits. They’re so fucking perfect, round and bouncy and natural.

  I scrape my teeth over her nipple, she cries out and I can actually feel the dampness between her thighs through her shorts, pressed against my belly. I’m sorry to relinquish those nipples, but if I don’t get these shorts off her I might literally fucking die of want.

  I move back and rip them down her legs, and of course she isn’t wearing panties. This girl is my fucking wet dream come to life, and somehow she’s here underneath my body. Though I’m dead sober, I feel a little drunk, like this is some surreal thing that can’t really be happening.

  I’m about to fuck Elly Parsons. I have to turn my brain off, because a small voice in the back of my head is already protesting, telling me what a bad idea this is. At the moment, I absolutely could not fucking care less about right and wrong.

  “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” I tell her as I stare down at her. Since I’m already standing up, I shed my jeans, leaving me in just black boxer briefs.

  Elly blushes, but she’s eye-fucking me, too. Watching her watch me strokes my ego, but I’d rather feel her hands on my body.

  I drop down to kneel on the floor and pull Elly into a sitting position.

  “Connor!” she says, protesting when I spread her knees wide, baring her perfect pink pussy.

  “Damn,” I say. “God damn, Elly. You’re so wet for me.”

  I put my hands on her inner thighs and open her wider, dropping down and pressing my lips to her glistening sex. She’s tense for about three seconds, then she lets out the hottest fucking moan I’ve ever heard.

  “Oh. Oh!” she cries, her hips rocking against me as my lips and tongue find her clit. I groan against her pussy; she tastes so fucking good, as sweet and musky as I imagined, and her excited response is making my cock jump against my belly.

  Soon, I promise myself.

  I take my time making her come, sucking her clit, filling and stretching her hot, slick core with my fingers. She’s impossibly tight, different from anything I’ve ever experienced. One part of me is beyond excited, can’t wait to fuck the daylights out of her and fucking ruin her for anyone else. Another part of me is worried that she’s too tight, and that I’ll hurt her.

  When she screams my name and comes against my mouth and fingers, pulling my hair and writhing against me, though… My worries vanish.

  I ride out the last waves of her orgasm, using my tongue on her in gentle strokes until she pulls me away.

  “Umph,” is her actual response, which draws a self-satisfied chuckle from me.

  “Come here,” I say, standing up and picking her up like a caveman taking his chosen woman home. I throw her over my shoulder, ignoring the way she says my name all indignant.

  “Connor!”

  “Connor, Connor. You’re about to be screaming that in a second, I promise you,” I tease, and she smacks me on the ass.

  Seriously, though…

  I throw her onto the big bed, then I grab a couple of condoms from my suitcase, tossing them down on the bed. I laugh at the way she blushes at the condoms, like we’re clearly not about to need them.

  I drop back onto the bed and chase her down until I have her spread out on her back and I’m on top of her. Kissing her with long thrusts of my tongue, pressing myself against her soaking wet pussy, though I still have my boxers on.

  She writhes under me, her hands pushing down the elastic of my boxer briefs, and I’m quick to strip them off entirely. I’m still kneeling above her, and she reaches out and closes her fingers around my cock, giving me a hesitant stroke.

  “Mmm.” I thrust into her hand, my eyes closing for a second.

  When I look down at her again, though, something’s wrong. She looks kind of… scared.

  “Elly,” I say.

  She glances up at me, blushing twenty shades of red.

  “I— I’m not sure how this is going to work,” she admits. Like she’s some blushing virgin or something. It’s hard for me not to laugh, but I think about how t
ight she was… maybe she’s just worried about that. I thought the same just a few minutes ago.

  “Simple. You’re going to be on top,” I tell her.

  I roll onto my back and pull her along with me, giving her a smack on the ass. Then I get distracted, cupping her ass cheeks as I guide her to straddle me.

  This ass is…

  Seriously…

  There aren’t even fucking words for how perfect it is.

  The dirty old man living in my mind is already thinking about how he’s gonna fuck that ass, real hard, real soon. Not tonight, though.

  “Wait,” I say when she grips my cock again, moving close. “Condom.”

  She gives me a funny look.

  “Oh. Right, duh,” she says. Her blush is making my fucking cock throb.

  When she doesn’t reach for them I do, ripping the foil open with my teeth and rolling it down my length.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I tell her. “I’m clean and I’d love to fuck you bareback, but…”

  She’s so red, I can see that I’m tormenting her.

  “Maybe next time,” I say, drawing her down and kissing away her embarrassment.

  Elly mumbles something, but I’ve moved on. I guide her hips closer, bring her hand down to stroke my cock again. She seems a little unsure of herself, but I can tell how bad she wants it.

  “Come on, baby,” I tell her, the line sliding out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I want to say, I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just… habit, or something.

  Elly gives me a weird look, but in the next second she’s aligned her core with the throbbing head of my cock. She presses herself down on me in slow thrusts, and it’s all I can do not to bust just from that.

  “Fuck, Elly,” I groan. “You are so fucking tight.”

  “Is it okay?” she asks.

  “Damn. Yeah. Feels so fucking good. Here,” I say, grabbing her hips and guiding her into a slow rocking rhythm. “Fuck, just like that. Fuck, Elly. God damn, you are so fucking perfect, I swear.”

  She groans when she takes me down to the hilt. It’s slow torture, but I can feel the gentle ripples of her muscles against my cock.