Jess Dee - Rhythm of My Heart

Eve’s control, on the other hand, was gone. His demands left it in a pile on the floor.

She jumped him.

Just threw herself at the man, knocking them both backwards. His instincts impressed her. He caught her as they went over, crashing to the floor, cushioning her fall.

Where she found the physical strength to knock back over six feet of solid muscle, she had no idea. She just appreciated the fluid grace of his reflexes and the care he took to protect her. It turned her on even more. Fed her hunger.

She couldn’t climb on top of him fast enough, couldn’t fling her leg over his waist with the same agility he’d used to catch her. But then it seemed he couldn’t get her on top of him quickly enough. He grabbed her waist, lifted her up and slammed her back down.

Too hurried. There was no synchronization.

She missed her target. Instead of impaling herself on his cock, she flattened it, and then almost wept as she slipped over his length, her slick pussy and clit caressed by the satiny steel of his erection.

God, he felt so good.

His choked moan had her raising her hips again. Had her grabbing his dick behind her back and holding it in place. This time when he lifted her, the urgency was still there, but he guided her down more carefully, took a little longer, so when the tip of his shaft touched her pussy lips, she could center herself, center him, and slide down onto him, around him. Envelop him.

Sensation careened through her veins, intoxicating in its speed and strength.

Thick and long, he filled her. She leaned forward, accommodating him better, and the action inside brought a fierce groan to her throat.

“Jesus. You are perfect. Fucking perfect.” He began to move her, lifting her up by the waist and guiding her back down, rocking her over his dick, on it, fucking himself with her body.

Instinctively she tried to hasten his pace, fuck him harder, faster.

But unlike her, their joining seemed to have calmed the beast in him. Instead of the frenzied man who’d been desperate to get her on his dick, Zachary became the attentive lover, the man concerned only with her pleasure and his.

His fingers drummed against her hips as he rocked her, back and forth, up and down.

The deluge of pleasure was so intense it took a while to realize he moved her to a beat he must have heard in his head. It wasn’t just mindless sex. It was the slow, tantalizing rhythm of a tune she’d never heard before.

A throbbing, concentrated beat that swept through her as his fingers tapped, as he rocked her in time with those fingers. And then she caught the tempo, felt it deep inside her chest, like music playing through her.

She rocked in time with it, rising and falling on his dick as though they danced together to a favorite song.

Zachary watched her, his gaze never leaving her face as she found his rhythm and joined it. As she danced to his song. His mouth softened in a smile even as his gaze held hers.

His hands wandered, leaving her waist and finding her breasts, cupping them, strumming them, tapping out the beat on her nipples and around.

Eve thought for sure she’d found heaven. Landed there when Zachary plunged inside her. But when he began to hum in that rich baritone of his, harmonizing his voice with the tap of his fingers and the rocking of her body, she knew she’d been mistaken.

Heaven could only be complete when Zachary offered everything of himself. His rhythm, his beat, his body, his voice. His heart.

Because she saw it, sitting there, in the depths of his green eyes.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. His voice became a seductive whisper. She felt it like an internal caress just as she felt his hands stroking her chest.

What had begun as a wild ride—a forceful need to fuck—transformed into something very, very different. Something beautiful, unique. Something she’d shared with no one but Zachary, and she knew, deep in her heart, he’d be the only man she could ever share this rhythm with.

They swayed together for an eternity, Zachary humming, a wordless song meant just for her. And him. His voice crept along her skin, igniting every inch of her flesh. Her heart beat in time with his music. Her urgency dissipated in the beauty of their physical harmony.

She simply felt. Experienced the magnificence that was Zachary, became one with him.

Until he upped the ante. Changed the beat.

Zachary dropped one hand to her pussy, and just like his left hand tapped the tempo on her breast, his right tapped her clit. Just a finger. It was all he needed.

Sensation skittered up her spine and down again.

Liquid heat pooled afresh between her legs.

She opened her eyes, stared at him, and the naked heat, the raw passion in his gaze almost slayed her.

His song became too slow—she couldn’t keep to his pace. Not when his finger strummed, seduced, delighted. Not when every ounce of her awareness now focused on the small, swollen nub he played, and the inner muscles riding his shaft.

Eve rocked harder, losing the beat.

Zachary tapped faster, increasing the cadence. The song kept the same tune, only he played it with a different tempo, a faster one. Faster, then faster still, Zachary timing his taps with Eve’s wild rocking. He hummed a little quicker, his voice just as deep, just as beautiful as before, only now it was louder, echoing through her ears, down to her breasts.

Sensation built. She couldn’t hold it back much longer. Didn’t want to.

“Z-Zachary—”

The provocative hum stopped, transformed instead into a rapturous groan.

“Z-Zac…” She couldn’t speak.

The tempo against her clit picked up. And then she wasn’t the only one rocking. Zachary’s hips surged up, driving himself into her, deeper, harder, faster, filling her.

Harder, faster still.

Eve couldn’t keep up, stopped trying. The music in her mind played louder. Orchestras joined the drumbeat. Violins, trumpets, cellos. She heard them all. Felt them in every cell of her body.

“Oh, fuck, Eve.” Zachary lost it. The beat vanished as he surged up one final time and roared.

She watched, almost transfixed, as he came, every muscle in his body rippling with his release, a study in perfect male beauty.

And then she couldn’t watch anymore, couldn’t focus. The beat took her, sending her over the edge. She came in an exquisite rush of music and pleasure. Came as Zachary emptied himself inside her.

Came to the sound of violins playing and drums crashing.

And when it was over, and the last notes of the song had finally filtered away, she collapsed on top of him, their rapid panting the only sound that filled the now silent, sated room.

The persistent, annoying ringing of her phone woke her.

“’Lo?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy, but seriously, what did the caller expect, forcing her out of her dream world like that?

“Evie!” The shrill scream had her bolting upright.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my God. You kissed him. You kissed Jonah Speed!”

The words hit home, jerking her fully awake. “Bree?”

She looked around, orienting herself. Hotel room. 7:43 a.m. Early. Way too early for someone who’d found her bed less than three hours ago.

“Details, Eve. I want every detail, right now. And don’t leave out one thing. Not even one word of any conversation you had with him. Holy shit. My little sister kissed Jonah Speed.”

Eve dragged a stunned hand over her eye and down her cheek. “What the…? Wait, Bree, how do you know?” Nothing like a little early morning madness from Briana to get her heart racing like the devil.

“How do I know? How do I know? The whole world freaking knows. It’s only in every newspaper in Queensland. In color. Full-color photos of you and Jonah Speed, pashing your little hearts out.”

She gasped. “In the newspaper?”

Bree was silent for a long second. When she spoke again her voice was more serious. “Uh-huh. In print and online. The Courier Mail, the Australian, news.com.au, smh.com.au.”

Eve shoved a hand through her wild hair. A knot of panic and unease built in her belly.

“Bree, take this one step at a time and tell me what you’re talking about. In detail.”

The air was perfumed with roses, but their sweet scent did nothing to settle her.

Roses. From Jonah. No…from Zachary. Her heart lurched.

“Okay, so I’m fast asleep, it’s still too early to wake Hannah, and Anthony walks in, newspaper in hand, and shakes me awake, right? ‘You’re gonna wanna see this, Bree,’ he says to me. ‘See what?’ I ask. His answer? ‘Your sister, getting hot and heavy with the drummer from Speed—for all the world to see’.” Bree stopped and took a breath. “And seriously, Evie, there you were. On page one and three of the Courier!”

Eve’s stomach sank. Shit. The pictures. The flashes going off. Hundreds of them. She’d forgotten about them in the aftermath of Zachary’s kiss. What with her vision and the talking and Zachary making love to her, she hadn’t even given the photos another thought.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jonah had kissed her at the after party in a room crammed full of people, for all and sundry to see—and photograph.

Damn it. Maybe she should have poked Zachary in the eye after all.

Both eyes.

The last thing she wanted or needed was to be in the public eye again. Eve’s specialization was backstage theatrics, in masking the real person, not displaying herself to the whole world.

“S-so it’s in the Courier Mail?” she asked shakily.

“Uh-huh. But…that’s not all. After looking at the articles, I grabbed my iPad and searched news.com.au, and sheesh, Evie, you should see the headlines there. International rock stars Speeding through our Aussie women.”

Eve dropped her head in her hands with a loud groan.

“So it’s true? You really did kiss Jonah Speed?”

Kiss, fuck, make love to… Yeah, it was all true. Not that she said any of that out loud. “You’ve seen the pictures, Bree. You tell me.”

“Uh…”

“Uh…?”

“Not just pictures.”

“What?”

“There’s a video too. That’s how I knew for sure it was you. Someone caught the two of you in a full-on lip lock. Mouths, lips, tongues, hands tangled in hair, the whole caboodle. And after, when Jonah breaks the kiss, there’s a full frontal, of you, looking up at him.”

“Shit.” It was nothing but a whisper.

“It’s not all bad, Evie. You look stunning. I mean seriously gorgeous kind of stunning.”

Eve snorted her disbelief. If anyone knew exactly how Eve looked it was her sister. Not that Bree thought Eve was ugly. Not by a long shot. But she did see the scars for what they were: a permanent reminder of a terrible tragedy.

Although she didn’t agree with Eve, Bree had always understood her reluctance to show her real face in public. As a result, it was Bree who’d persuaded her to explore her talents with a makeup brush, who’d encourage her to experiment with different brands, colors and techniques until finally Eve had felt confident enough to be seen in public.

“Jonah also looks hot,” Bree went on, ignoring the derisive snort. “Seriously, fire-raging, inferno-burning hot. And the look’s not because he’s the hottest man on earth—which is an undisputed fact, by the way. It’s because he’s looking at you as though he’d like to eat you for freaking breakfast. His lips are swollen and pouty, his cheeks are flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded. Jeez, Eve, he looks like you’ve just given him a BJ.”

“Bree!”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Give him a BJ?”

“At a freaking after party? In front of all those people? Are you nuts?”

“Not at the party. He hauled you away from there. Ran with you. Anything could have happened then. Anything. Including a BJ.”

“Jeez, Bree. For heaven’s sake, think logically about this. I didn’t give him a BJ.” She bit her lip. At least that she could say with all honesty. Because whatever else had happened last night, the one thing that hadn’t was a blowjob.

Bree clicked her tongue. “Well, why not? Seriously, from the look on his face you could have given him anything. Anything at all, and he would have grabbed it gratefully. What stopped you?”