Karyn Gerrard - Heart of Rock

Byrne took one last lick of her red, swollen nipple, and then gazed into her eyes. "No, I don't want to fuck. I want to make love—to you."

He kissed her hard with a possessive claiming. His hips moved in a sensual rhythm, and she could feel every thick, long inch of his prick pressed against her core. His tongue was magical, its thrusts matching the movement of his slim, muscular hips. They were both panting and moaning.

"Oh, Jaysus!" he groaned. He pulled back and gazed down at her. "Do you want to go further?"

Did she? Hell, yeah, she'd said so. Wait a second—VD. "Do you have a rubber?"

"Aye, in my wallet. Are you sure, Carly?" His voice was husky, sexy, and turning her to liquid.

"Aye," she smiled.

Byrne laughed. Even his laugh sounded sexy as hell. She had never seen a man move so fast. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out through his fly. She couldn't keep the gasp from escaping her lips. Okay, it was a slight exaggeration he could strap his prick to his leg but it was damned close. Seeing his dick up close aroused her further. He rolled on the condom.

Carly laid back and closed her eyes. She expected to be fucked. Instead, Byrne again kissed her. The result was molten, blood-boiling ecstasy. The head of his cock teased her soaking wet folds. Still, he didn't enter her. Slowly and languidly he caressed her body and senses. She opened her eyes. He was beautiful. No, Byrne was not fucking her. He was making love to her, just as he'd said. Carly blinked back her gathering tears. She did not expect this tender, thorough lovemaking from Brogan Byrne, the rock monster. His cock moved aside the slim piece of silk covering her wetness, pushed into her folds a couple of inches, and then he pulled back. Next he moved in a little deeper and then back out again. It was torture—agonizing, sweet torment. She wriggled her hips impatiently. Carly could feel the smile in his kiss. His tongue plunged deeper, and at the exact same moment his cock pushed in to the hilt.

She cried out, not from pain but from pure raw pleasure. His tongue thrusts matched the movement of his cock. She dug her heels into his back even more, angling her hips for a slick, solid stroke. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Her hands grasped the muscular globes of his jean-clad ass. Carly pulled Byrne in as tight as she could. He pulled away from the kiss and nuzzled her neck again before he traced passionate kisses down to her collarbone, then up to her neck. His tongue whorled her ear and he bit down on her earlobe. Oh, hell, the sensations. Still, his cock continued his desirous pumping. He never broke his stride.

Brogan didn't plan this—not today, anyway. He halted his movements and looked down into her flushed face. Perhaps Carly was interested in him a little. He never thought it would be enough to consent to sex. Okay, maybe he had an inkling she might be game for a toss in the sheets. This was beyond some quick shag on the sofa, even though every indication stated this is just what it was.

He stared deeply into her glorious hazel eyes. For once he hid nothing, and for once neither did Carly. Something passed between them beyond the physical. A joining of souls . His hands cupped her blushing cheeks. "Do you feel it?"

Carly bit her lower lip. She nodded in agreement as she understood his meaning. Brogan brushed his thumb past her full, swollen lips. Aye, this was more than sex. He moved his hips, and Carly moaned. He increased the power of his thrusts. He wanted to savor every touch and every slide of his cock. His thoughts were interrupted by Carly's moans growing more intense. She was going to come. He captured her lips in his and swallowed her cry of desire as she shook and shuddered under him. Feckin' hell, he was going to black out from the intensity of his own building orgasm. His head lifted, and he growled through his clenched teeth as his climax followed hers. The spasms went on for several minutes. Carly clasped his body and rode the wave with him. Brogan lowered his forehead to hers.

"Carly—Jaysus."

"Aye," she whispered, cupping his cheek.

Brogan heard heavy boot steps in the hall. He scrambled off Carly, tucked his semi-erect prick back in his jeans, and pulled up the zipper. Carly stuffed her luscious tits back in her bra, and her fingers struggled to do up the buttons on her shirt. He helped her, and his reward was a dazzling, sweet smile that shot straight to his little-used heart, giving it a decided zap.

Gio walked into the room. Brogan glanced at Carly. It was bleedin' obvious what they'd been doing. Their clothes were still slightly askew, they were both flushed, and the unmistakable odor of hot, musky sex hung in the air. He turned his head to gaze at Gio.

Gio gave him an I'm-going-to-kick-your-arse glare. "It's Nigel. He wants to talk to Carly right away. Like now." His intense gaze never wavered from Brogan.

Carly jumped to her feet and walked out of the room with Gio.

"What are you playing at, boss? You want to get burned… by Byrne?"

"Funny, Gio. Let me handle it, I know what I'm doing," she whispered hoarsely. They closed the door behind them.

Brogan heard their exchange, and his face broke into a wide smile. He was alive, more than he had been for years. He flopped onto the sofa as his limbs still snapped and sizzled with lustful awareness. His legs were shaky, and he was still feckin' hard. He wanted her in all ways, and the revelation shocked him. Could there be something between them, something more than the obvious? He crossed his arms and he frowned. This was one of his many weaknesses. He fell too fast for the lasses. Well, certain lasses anyway. What in the hell was he playing at? At first he wanted to seduce her for the sport of it, put her on her knees in front of him like he had so many other women. He didn't want that anymore. He liked sitting with Carly talking quietly, he liked her company, and he liked her, liked her a lot. This was getting dangerous. No one could heal him or undo the scarring on his heart and soul. His thoughts drifted to Tarrah. How could his life ever be worthy of her sacrifice? He knew his life would never be worth it. No one knew his guilt, his pain, and no one ever would.

Carly heard the knock at her hotel room door. It was Byrne. She sensed his damned sexy aura and could smell his enticing, spicy masculine scent. If she were smart she wouldn't give him access. She had never claimed to be clever when it came to hot, handsome men. She'd made a couple of mistakes in the past, and she had the sick feeling Byrne could be her biggest mistake of all. The concert tonight had been one of his best on the tour. His glorious voice, stage presence, and performance were off the charts. Everything clicked. She basked in the love and adulation of the Montreal fans. Hell, if she had a lighter on her, she would have held it up as well. The man truly had a talent. Another knock brought her back to the present. Fuck it. Why fight it ? She opened the door.

Byrne had showered, and his hair was still slightly damp. His white shirt hung open, teasing her with a glimpse of rugged, muscular chest. He wore skintight brown leather pants and held an ice bucket with cans of Pepsi and two glasses.

He smiled. "Thought we'd celebrate. It was a bloody great concert, wouldn't you say?"

Carly stepped aside and bade him enter, then closed the door behind him. "Yes, it was fantastic. Too bad the tour is almost over. You're on a roll now."

Byrne set the ice bucket and glasses on the desk. "There is only Washington DC left. I've been on the road for more than year. I don't know if I'll be able to take it easy."

Carly reached for a can, pulled the tab off, and poured it in both glasses. She handed one to him. Their fingers brushed by each other, and the electric current tore through her body from the touch. She bit her lip and clinked glasses with him. "Cheers. You deserve a rest. Relax, write some music, and continue to recover from your… ah…"