Nalini Singh - Rock Addiction

She shivered.

“Cold?” A breath of hot air against her skin as the skirt fell to her ankles, followed by a tender kiss to the delicate crease of skin where her buttock met her thigh. “Better?”

“More,” she said, shameless.

But being shameless with Fox had its rewards. She got a second kiss, long caressing strokes of those rough-skinned hands over her thighs. “Lift your leg.” Another kiss after she obeyed. “Now this one.”

An instant later, the skirt was gone from around her ankles, leaving her clad in nothing but black heels and panties of blush-colored lace that matched the bra already on the floor. Fox had given her the decadent lingerie as a gift, as he gave her so many things. She truly was spoiled. Most of all because he was hers.

“Did I ever tell you I love taking you while you’re wearing heels?” Kisses up her spine as he rose to his feet behind her.

Sucking in a shallow breath, she said, “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

His laughter low, masculine, intimate, Fox drew her hair over one shoulder and, sliding his hands between the wall and her skin, palmed her breasts. Her sensitive flesh was crushed against his hold by the heavy press of his body, but it wasn’t painful—no, it felt wonderful. Especially when he drew one hand back to undo the button on his jeans, lowered the zipper what sounded like halfway and, taking her bound hands, tucked them inside.

Molly moaned. “You went commando before a press conference?” Hot and thick and erect, he felt too big to fit inside her, but he did. He always did, and the fit was perfect.

 “Why the hell not?” Running the fingers of one hand lightly over her neck and shoulder, he rolled and tugged at her nipples with his other. “How would you like me, Molly? Like this.” He ground himself against her lace-covered behind, her hands trapped in between. “Or should I throw you on your back, spread your thighs wide and pound into you while you lie helpless?”

Molly squeezed her fingers on the part of him she held, to his groan. “Whatever you want,” she whispered.

“Oh, I like the things you say.” A firm tug on her nipples before he caressed one hand down her body and into her panties from the front.

It was a bold, self-assured hold, that of a man who knew the woman he touched belonged to him. She could feel herself growing wetter against his palm with every second that passed, his mouth busy on her throat and shoulder, his free hand continuing to roll and tug at her nipples, shooting darts of sensation directly to her clit—which she tried to rub against his hand, but her position wasn’t quite right, and she could only manage the most frustrating of brushes.

“Fox.”

“You said I could do what I liked.” It was a gravelly purr. “And I want to tease you.”

 Molly whimpered, tried to clench her fingers on him, but he’d already stepped back, her hands sliding away from all that rigid male heat. “You want me, baby?”

“Yes.” Her fingers curled into her palms.

Sounds behind her—the light thud of shoes being kicked off, fabric rustling, a zipper moving the final few inches. “I’m naked,” he told her a minute later. “I’ve got my hands on what you want. I’m stroking it hard and fast, rougher than you ever do.” A quick kiss to her nape before he stepped out of reach once more. “That’s not a complaint—I love your hands on me. Shit, I jerk off to the thought of you jerking me off.”

A palm pressing between her shoulder blades when she would’ve turned. “Nu-huh. Don’t make me tie your ankles too… or maybe I should.”

“I’ll fall.”

He spanked her on one of her bottom cheeks, the ripple of sensation arcing through her flesh. “As if I’d let that happen.” Hooking his fingers in the sides of her panties, he tugged them down and off.

 She felt fabric around her ankles the next instant. “It’s my T-shirt, not your top”—Fox’s voice, low and with that gritty undertone that made him so powerful as lead singer—“so don’t get mad.”

Hobbled by the tie and in a slightly unbalanced position against the wall, she had to stay where she was or risk taking them both down, because Fox was right—he’d never let her fall.

“You have no idea how hot you look.” A kiss to her nape. “My strong, smart, fucking perfect Molly.”

Heart aching at the stark emotional power of his words, she drank in the sight of him when he stepped back and scooped her up in his arms. The words she wanted to say flirted on the tip of her tongue, words that meant everything to her, but that Fox could well reject.

Carrying her to the bedroom with effortless ease before she could give in to temptation, Fox said, “I wouldn’t want you to abrade your skin,” and placed her carefully on her front, making sure her face was turned to the side and her hair out of the way. “Okay?”

His tenderness undid her. “Yes,” she whispered, feeling something break inside her—old pain, old fear, the last hidden fragments crumbled into dust at the brush of his callused fingertip across her cheek. “Fox.”

“I have you, baby.” Maneuvering her lower body until she was on her knees, her butt in the air and her face against the sheets, he ran his hands down her curves with unhidden pleasure. “Now this would make a pretty picture.” His words turned the ugliness of what had happened into something beautiful, claimed it for their own.

An open-mouthed kiss on her lower back, his hand pushing between her thighs again, his fingers sinfully busy. Brought to the edge of what felt like a shattering orgasm, she screamed when he stopped… only to start again a minute later, after he’d eased her down from the high… then he repeated the cycle.

Until she was an incoherent pile of trembling woman, every one of her senses primed. That was when he drove into her. The fact her thighs were pressed together by the tie around her ankles made the thick heat of him feel like an invasion, hot and welcome. She was branded, she was owned, she was taken.

Molly came, sobbing her pleasure. And kept coming as he pounded into her again and again, his fingers digging into her hips and buttocks. When he gripped her hair in his hand near the end and tugged up her head, the pulling sensation on her scalp sent her over the edge.

She came so hard she passed out… but not before she heard Fox groan her name as he slammed deep into her one last time.

Molly rose to consciousness cradled in Fox’s lap, her rock star sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. Her bindings were gone, his heartbeat a hammer under her ear as he ran one hand along the curve of her spine, the other down her arm. Her own heartbeat not exactly steady and her skin sheened with perspiration, she snuggled closer.

“Hey.” Fox tipped up her chin. “You okay?”

Seeing the concern in his gaze, she found the energy to reach up and kiss his jaw, his stubble coarse under her lips. “I can officially say that was the hardest orgasm I’ve ever had.” The confession got her a deliciously male, flagrantly smug smile that wrapped another thread around her already claimed heart. “I used to read that in romance novels and scoff. I mean, who passes out from an orgasm?”

“My Molly.”

“Your Molly.” Her veins sluggish from the aftereffects, she ran her fingernails down his chest in a light caress. “Do you have to report in for anything today?” There might not be a concert tonight, but the band was constantly fine-tuning the show, part of what made them so good at what they did.

“Nothing that can’t wait.” He kissed the top of her head. “Do you want to sleep?”

Molly nodded, knuckling her suddenly heavy eyes. “It’s been a crazy day.” She’d expected to feel scared, humiliated and broken after what had happened, but instead she was content, happy… and proud.

“I survived the world seeing naked pictures of me and knowing they might see a whole heck of a lot more,” she said, sitting up to look into Fox’s eyes. When the green grew stormy, she shook her head and cradled his face in her hands. “I discovered I’m stronger than I thought. You know what else I realized?”

A shake of his head, his expression unreadable.

“That we don’t blame and fracture when the going gets tough. We don’t abandon each other.” As her father had abandoned her mother in so many ways. “We stand together, and Fox, if we can do that now,” she whispered, “can you imagine how strong we’ll be in the years to come?”

His smile creased his cheeks, his gaze potent with emotion as he said, “I see you in every dream I have of the future.”

“I love you.” It spilled out, what she’d held inside for so long because she knew that for Fox, those three words in that particular order meant loneliness, neglect, and rejection.

He froze, but Molly wasn’t about to allow her rock star to carry this hurt inside him forever. “I know that statement doesn’t have good memories for you,” she said, eyes locked to his. “That’s why we’ll make new ones together.”

“Might take a hell of a long time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” No fear, no regrets, no other always but Fox. “Just remember, this is me, Molly, saying it to you. And it means my heart.”

He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, his strained muscles easing beneath her. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” she said, understanding on a storm of emotion that this was the first time in his life he’d heard the words from someone he trusted not to kick him in the heart. “So much. Until it hurts and the hurt is one I want to feel forever.”

They slept intertwined, warm and safe—and woke to another phone call from Thea, this time on Molly’s phone. Molly immediately put her on speaker. “Thea?”