Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)

6. eternal life

[ 6 ]

ETERNAL LIFE

LENNON

“JUST FOUND HEAVEN” BY DAUGHTRY

O ne moment, I’m telling a man I just met and will probably never see again all about who I used to be, and the next, he’s breaking his no-kissing rule and slamming his lips against mine.

I moan, opening my mouth to allow him entrance. His tongue dances with mine as his hands roam my body and my fingers tangle in his hair. For a man who never kisses the women he sleeps with, he sure does know what he’s doing.

This is the best kiss of my fucking life.

I whimper as his large hand firmly grips my ass, and he takes it as an opportunity to break the kiss and move down to my neck.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, my eyes fluttering shut as he licks from the column of my neck up to the lobe of my ear. “ Baxter .”

He pulls back at the sound of his name falling from my lips, and I gasp for air. So I take a moment to make sure we’re on the same page.

“Just one night, right?” I ask, locking my golden-brown gaze with his ocean-blue one .

He nods, glancing down at my swollen lips before meeting my eyes. “One night,” he rasps, crashing his mouth to mine again.

He stands upright, lifting me as he does. I wrap my legs around his waist as he moves us up to one of the bedrooms in this house, not once breaking the kiss.

He tosses me on the bed and makes quick work of removing his shirt. Inhaling sharply, I take a moment to admire the absolute work of art that is the man standing in front of me. My eyes move from his face down to his chest, lightly dusted with dark hair and covered in tattoos. He has a six-pack that blends nicely into the V that all women drool over on men like this—myself included.

“Catchin’ flies?” he teases, tossing his shirt to the floor and snapping me out of my stupor. He looks at me like a man starved. “I have a better idea for what you can do with that mouth.”

“Mmm, and what’s that?” I purr as he leans over to unzip my dress. I pull it down over my chest, and he slides it off my body with ease, dropping it next to his shirt on the floor. My bra and panties follow closely behind.

“You know exactly what, Trouble.”

That’s the third time he’s called me that , I think as I shift onto my knees at the end of the bed and reach up, dragging my fingers down his body. And I like it.

“You’re fucking everything,” he rasps, his hungry eyes roaming my naked body.

A blush rises up my cheeks as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. Tearing my gaze from his, I shift to my knees to unbutton his jeans. He removes them along with his boxers, letting his dick spring free.

“Jesus Christ,” I curse under my breath, admiring the nicest cock I’ve ever seen. I’m almost certain he could split me in two with this thing.

I take him in my hand and stroke him, the skin smooth and the head silky.

He jerks forward, his hand tangling in my hair as, “Fuuuuck,” falls from his lips in a growl.

That noise coming from him because of me is all the encouragement I need to keep going. I smirk, locking eyes with him before flipping onto my back, my head hanging slightly over the edge of the bed. “Well, then what are you waiting for?” I feign innocence as I take his balls in my hand. “Fuck my face, Baxter.” I open my mouth wide, letting my tongue drag across the underside of his cock.

“My god, woman,” he growls, his hands moving to my breasts. He pinches my nipple at the same time he thrusts into my mouth, and I gag, opening wider to take all of him. “You’re something else.”

I wrap my lips around him and suck as he does exactly as I asked. I continue playing with his balls as he reaches down my body, dragging his finger through my slit.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you?

“Mmm,” I hum around his cock as his finger skims my clit again. He circles it with perfect rhythm, showing me just how good he is with his hands. The feel of him there and in my mouth pushes me closer and closer to the edge with every thrust.

“ Fuck , Lennon,” he curses. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” He continues fucking my mouth as he puts just enough pressure on my sweet spot to send me cascading into pure ecstasy, my entire body tightening. “That’s it, Trouble. Come while you choke on my cock so I can fuck you properly.”

I do just that as he thrusts in deep, hitting the back of my throat. I struggle to breathe with him in my mouth as he strokes the most sensitive part of me, making the orgasm that crashes through me that much more intense. My legs shake and my lips make a popping sound as he pulls out of my mouth.

Before I have a chance to catch my breath, Baxter picks me up and flips me over with ease. With my stomach flush against the bed and my feet on the ground, he shoves a finger inside me, curling it to hit that perfect spot. “Can I, Lennon?” he asks. “Can I fuck you properly?”

My hands reach for something to hold on to as I nod, whimpering as he continues working his finger inside of me. I tremble as he repeatedly hits my G-spot, barely noticing the sound of the condom wrapper ripping or him rolling it on before he thrusts inside me.

A scream breaks free, my fingers digging into the duvet. He gives me no time to adjust to his size before he grips my hips, pulling me flush against him. It stings for a moment before it morphs entirely into pleasure.

He pulls out slowly before slamming back into me. His fingers squeeze tighter around my hips, so tight I’m certain he’ll leave fingerprints in his wake, but I can’t focus on anything but the feel of him buried deep inside of me and the sound of the words that fall from his lips.

“You feel so fucking good. It’s like you were fucking made for me.”

At this moment, I feel like maybe I was made for him. I squeeze my eyes shut, delirious on the pure bliss coursing through my veins. “ God .”

His hand connects with my ass in a sharp pain and I yelp. “There’s no God here, Lennon,” he growls. “It’s just me .” He continues to drive into me, his pace quickening as he shifts my right leg onto the bed to allow him to get even deeper. He’s at the perfect angle, every thrust hitting my G-spot just right.

“ Yes , right there, baby,” I pant, unaware of the words pouring out of my mouth.

But Baxter catches them clear as day. He grips my hair in his hand, pulling me up so my back is flush against his chest. He bends over, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, and then wraps a hand around my throat. He holds me still while the fingers on his free hand trace my sensitive nipples.

“Call me that again.”

With the hand grasping my neck, he turns my head to meet his eyes. I drown in his navy pools swirling with lust.

“Baby,” I moan, holding our eye contact.

It’s the most intimate feeling I’ve ever experienced.

Groaning, he presses his lips to mine, tangling our tongues together as he drags a finger down further to put pressure exactly where I need it.

I see stars.

I can’t breathe and I can’t move as the most intense orgasm of my life crashes into me. I cry out, my whole body tensing. The orgasm takes hold of me and doesn’t let go as he keeps fucking me.

Before I’ve even come down from my high, Baxter roars my name, stilling inside of me. He drops me onto the bed before hovering over me, still buried to the hilt as I lie there limbless and satiated.

Once he’s had a moment to catch his breath, he pulls out and moves to dispose of the condom. I climb further onto the bed and roll onto my back, absolutely numb from how intense that orgasm was.

Baxter returns a moment later with a warm washcloth and begins cleaning me up. I shudder when the cloth grazes the most sensitive parts of me but relish in the way someone so intense and rough around the edges can be so gentle and caring at the same time.

“Thanks,” I breathe, sitting up against the headboard.

He smirks, placing the washcloth back in the bathroom as I take a moment to examine the room we’re in. It’s massive, decorated the same way as the rest of the house. A huge floor-to-ceiling window stands to my left, but I can’t see much of the view since it’s getting dark outside now. That’s January in Toronto for you—nearly pitch-black by five p.m.

Based on the ensuite bathroom and king-size bed, I know he brought me up to his room.

Something about that, about this literal rock star trusting me enough to let me into his space, makes my heart flutter. I get the sense he doesn’t do this with just any woman.

He returns, pulling his boxers back on before hopping onto the bed. He turns to face me, resting on an elbow. I’ve tangled myself in the throw blanket he had on the bed, not ready to get dressed yet, but also not wanting to be completely nude. I glance up at him, his flushed face and glassy eyes. I can’t even begin to describe the look he gives me, but it nearly splits my heart in two.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“?Cause you’re gorgeous, and we said only one night. I wanna memorize you.”

My stomach flutters as his words register. I swear, this man had no idea the effect his words have on me until right this moment, when my face tells it all. I blush, and the smile that forms is one of a giddy teenager. I move to cover my face with my hands, but he stops me.

“Don’t hide, Lennon. I get the sense you haven’t smiled in a while. I like seeing it.”

I pull my arms away from my face, holding eye contact with him. “You sure do have a way with words.”

He huffs a laugh. “Well, I do write my own music, you know.”

Sitting up further so I’m eye level with him, I confess, “I did know that, but if I’m being honest, I’ve never really followed you…so all I know are the radio singles, and those usually aren’t the most poetic songs.”

He rears back, placing his hand to his heart. “Oh, hit me where it hurts, why don’t you?”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head and laughing. “Sorry, Lover Boy. It just never caught my ear.”

He looks at me as if what I’ve just said is completely absurd, which reminds me exactly who I’m in bed with. No matter how sweet or gentlemanly he may act, he’s still playboy Baxter James who is at least a little bit obsessed with himself.

Not that I blame him.

“Can I ask why? I mean, I know my music’s not for everyone, but you’re the daughter of rock stars… You telling me you don’t listen to rock music?”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “You know there’s more rock music than just you, right?” I laugh. “I listen to rock music, Baxter. I just don’t listen to yours .”

“I’m gonna need you to change that, please,” he begs as if whether or not I like his music will make or break his decade-long career.

“Okay, Bax.” I laugh, moving off the bed to get dressed. “I’ll get right on it.”

I pull my underwear back on and can feel his eyes tracking me the entire time.

“Leaving so soon?”

“I have to work in the morning.” I swing around to face him as I clasp my bra. Swallowing, I add, “First day back.”

My face falls as I say the words. It’s been almost three months since I stepped foot in Revolution Records. Knowing I’ll be back tomorrow is a bittersweet feeling, honestly. I love my job so much, but it also hurts, because the label belonged to my parents.

They started it just under a decade ago, shortly after I went into remission. It was a good project for the two of them once I was better and they were able to begin working again but didn’t want to jump full speed ahead back into the lives of rock stars, so they created Revolution Records Incorporated.

It’s not as big as some of the other labels out there, but it’s a label created by artists for artists, and that’s what makes it special. Unlike at the bigger labels, there isn’t a soul who works or plays in that building that isn’t at least a little bit musical. It’s a label that truly is more about protecting its artists than making money, which definitely sounds made up, but it’s the biggest reason why I love it there.

I started working there pretty much as soon as I graduated high school. It was practically guaranteed from the time I could walk that I’d end up in the music industry one way or another. I was one of those kids who knew the lyrics to every song on the radio and was always head-bobbing along. Of my siblings and me, I’m the one who inherited both my parents’ love for music and their talent. Neither of my siblings can hold a tune to save their life, and while Paige and Dylan both appreciate a good song, music doesn’t impact them the way it does me.

I’m the type of person who remembers the moment she heard a song for the first time. I remember where I was, what I was doing, what I was feeling—all of it. I have happy songs I associate with sad moments and vice versa, simply because that’s what was playing at the time. I grew up writing my own songs—terribly, but writing them nonetheless. It was my outlet when I needed one, and though none of those songs will ever see the light of day, I’ve held onto all of them. Music has saved me in more ways than I can explain, and I truly don’t know what I would do without it.

So the fact that I can’t write right now is slowly killing me.

But I am excited to be back tomorrow, even if it reminds me of my parents, because it’s the kind of memory I want to hang on to. The start of their label changed the lives of so many people who may never have gotten their big break otherwise.

And being back is the first step to getting back to myself—hopefully.

Baxter quirks a brow. “Where do you work?”

I hesitate, trying to decide whether or not I should tell him I work at the very record label he’s signed to. There’s no reason he would know, since I work for Revolution’s publishing house and am a songwriter for the label. Baxter writes his own songs, and he has people who deal with publishing for him. Our paths have never crossed professionally in the six years I’ve worked there, and I feel like I should keep it that way.

“Nice try, Lover Boy. I’m not going to give you any way to find me after tonight. One night only, remember?”

“Too bad. We could’ve been friends with benefits,” he jokes, a wicked grin playing on his face .

I raise my eyebrows, scoffing. As if Baxter James would ever be friends with benefits, but that comment does give me an idea—a brilliant one, if I do say so myself.

“We’d have to be friends first for that to work.”

He grunts. “At least stay the whole night, then.”

I look at him stunned as I turn my dress right-side out. “You let all the girls spend the night with you?”

He shakes his head, moving off the bed to stand in front of me. “No, I don’t. I usually don’t even bring girls here when I fuck them. But I’ve already broken two of my rules for you, so what’s one more?”

I fight the smile that aches to spread across my face. He places his hand on the side of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he presses a firm, passionate kiss against my lips, reminding me of the other rule he broke for me. “You said it yourself—it’s just one night.”

“Okay,” I agree easily, my eyes fluttering open. If it’s only going to be one night, I may as well enjoy it for as long as I can. “I’ll stay.”