Meadowlarks 3 : Endless (14 page)

“Where is Neil?” Gianna asks looking behind her.

“Right here!” Neil skips out. Coffee-charging through him, I just know it. “Sorry, I had a disagreement with the stylist. She wanted to put me in suspenders…Like, no way, right?” He unbuttons the top of his crisp white shirt and untucks it from his jeans.

Gianna laughs softly and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Are we about ready, Danny?”

The producer gives her his cue and we’re told the cameras will be rolling at any minute.

I repeat my mantra once more…

Gianna was instructed not to speak about my
abduction
on the air, and she kept her word not to. During the first break, Lucas came out to tell us that a crowd had formed outside the building. They want us to play.

“I think that would be a great idea! What do you think? I can have instruments brought in…” Gianna said melodically.

I looked at Neil, Jett, over to Aaron who was fiddling with his cuff again, and back to Lucas… “Let’s do it.”

“Wonderful!” Gianna clapped. “I’m thrilled. What will you be singing?”

“A new song…” I look at Neil, who nods and smiles. “It’s called Red Shoes.”

***

Weston

“She’s so beautiful…” I whisper to myself, watching Leah on Good Morning New York. I frowned when they broke for a commercial. I don’t care about the ability to do yoga in white pants while I’m told the newest tampon is made with such-and-such technology. Turn Leah back on, damn it.

“Welcome back, New York! It’s with my great pleasure that I welcome back South of Marshall to the show. This is their first time performing on the stage here at Times Square, and we hope it’s not the last. Ladies and Gentlemen, put your hands together for Leah and the boys, playing their new song Red Shoes!”

The lump in my throat is too big to swallow. I can barely fucking breathe. Red shoes? Really? Holy sweet shit, oh my
fuck
…I grip my hands into fists, preparing for the blow.

Leah stands on the stage outside, the glorious end-of-summer sun shines down on her. Like she didn’t already look like an angel. The camera pans back and raises up and over the vast audience. She’s wearing red shoes…not the exact pair from our night together, I can tell…but they’re red. And, they’re begging me to pull them over my shoulders again.

If I could multitask, I would totally reach into my pants and get myself off by watching her right now. I don’t care. Judge me all you want. But, alas, I’m frozen. Can’t move, and it’s okay. I think I hear my phone ringing somewhere in the background, but I don’t move, I keep my eyes glued on Leah and her swaying hips.

“Your taste, your touch,

it rains over me, it makes me scream.

We may not have much, it’s true.

We may not even have anything.

But we’ll always have that night.

We’ll always have those red shoes.”

I clutch my heart. She’s tearing it out. Her words have pierced me like a poison-tipped arrow. Riley was worried about me ruining Leah. She was wrong. Leah’s ruined me…in the best possible way. I can’t go back now. I couldn’t even if I tried. What’s ahead of me, is her. Leah’s my present, my future…my only.

“Thank you, America! We’re so happy to be here. Have a blessed day!”
Leah says so sweetly into the microphone. She looks right into the camera, right into my soul. Searing me to the core.
“Love you, all!”

I swallow—hard. “Fuck Sunday.”

Another commercial break allows me to gather my shit and get myself together. I call Riley to tell her I’m leaving Wyoming early.

“What about the office? I thought you were going to be here for the opening?”

“You can do it Riley, I have faith in you.”

“You just saw the show, didn’t you?”

“I can’t explain what the hell is going on, I don’t even know anything myself. All I can say is…Shit, I don’t know. This isn’t me.”

Riley laughs softly into the phone. “I know. I like this Weston. Especially when he’s not incessantly trying to get in my pants.”

I chuckle. “Sorry about that. Forgive me?”

“Keep Leah happy, that’s all I ask. Everything else is forgiven and forgotten.”

“You’re the best, Ry…”

Riley laughs again. “Safe flight. Give her a hug for me.”

“I’ll give her more than a hug…”

“Gross.”

“Bye, Riley. Thank you…Call me if you need anything.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Casey.”

***

Leah

My heart ached and throbbed and hammered in my chest all at once. The camera panned over the stage, the crowd and right into my face while I sung my heart out. Now that I’m back inside, quietly sipping a chai tea latte while sitting in my reverie, I’m starting to question my courage. I shouldn’t be so stupid. I am literally risking life and limb here.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Neil asks, pulling me from my private inquisitorial.

“Nothing, just tired.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

I shrug. He’s right. “I’m fine. Really.” I smile, too big and too phony.

“As much as I’d love to be Neil Whitfield, super awesome drummer of a badass country band
AND
personal therapist…alas, I’m not sure I’m qualified to deal with this. You really need to talk to someone, sweetie. No one bounces back from something traumatic like that as quickly. I don’t care who you are. You’re hurting, I can see it.”

His words melted me like candlewax. I let the latte slip from my fingers and didn’t even wince when the paper cup emptied the remaining tea all over my bare feet. “N-Neil…” I began to sob. “I want to tell you so badly…but…but I can’t.”

“You sign something saying you can’t? What the hell, Leah? What the fuck happened to you?” Neil’s leaning on the side of angry and irritated now.

“I can’t. Please drop it.”

Neil pulls his phone from his pocket. “Fine, I’m callin’ yo mama…”

“If you call my mother, I’ll
never
forgive you.”

Wide eyes, gaping mouth…Neil dropped the phone and gawked. “Wow. Okay…gotcha.”

“I’m really tired. I’m gonna go to bed, okay? Please don’t be mad at me. I’m trying to work through this. I love you, Neil.”

Although he still seems a little wounded, he smiles and hugs me anyway. “I love you too, you crazy, crazy girl. G’Night.”

After Neil sauntered out of the hotel suite and went into his own room, I leaned back into the couch and blew out a long breath just as my phone began to vibrate.

Weston: I’m here. Where are you, baby?

Weston. Now, my “Oh, I’m not afraid. I’m a big girl who can take care of herself…bring on the world, bitches” mentality has drained from my body…If he’s actually in New York, then she could be too. Fuck, for all I know she’s watching me right now. I glance around the empty and too quiet hotel room. A shudder sends through me just as another text comes in.

Weston: Leah?

My fingers tremble as they hover over the touchscreen. Just a few more millimeters, Leah…press a damn button.
Hi.
I manage. Somehow. The nail-biting anticipation of his response is killing me. Then again, my simple one-worded greeting to him could literally kill me anyway.

Weston: I will come to you.

I text Weston the address to the hotel. The second I hear the trademark
whoosh
…I regret my decision and start looking in the closet and under the bed for the blonde bogey
wo
man. The sides of my yoga pants are starting to get damp from how many times I’ve wiped my sweaty palms on them. I pace the floor in front of the large queen sized bed, chewing my nails and wearing down the carpet.

The knock stills me in my tracks. I don’t move. I can’t.

“Leah?” Weston’s deep voice flows from the seams of the door and trickles into my ears. My knees weaken and I drop my fingers from my mouth. Shaking my hands at my sides, I take a deep breath and slowly walk toward the door.

Is it possible his hair got longer in such a short time? It even looks like he’s lost weight. He’s still
big
…but he looks leaner. Standing there in jeans, a black V-neck shirt under a leather jacket unzipped…I’m positively aching in the deepest part of my belly.

Before my brain has a chance to catch up, or even register what I’m doing, I’m Weston’s arms. Those strong arms, holding me up, my legs around his waist and my lips on his. The feverish and frantic kissing is wet, molten, and completely making me forget anything and everything in the world.

Carrying me into the suite, Weston slams the door shut behind us, and wraps both arms around me once more. My fingers tremble when I pull them from his hair and start shoving down his jacket from his shoulders. His arms run under my t-shirt and press me hard into his body. His lips overpower mine, take them as his prisoner and keep them from stilling. Weston’s tongue laps with mine, dancing and tangling over the sweet and heated delicacy of our combined taste.

I’m not sure when he shrugged his jacket off, because when we reach the bed, it’s on the floor across the room and my hands are back in his hair. Pulling, kneading,
wanting
.

“Lee—
ahhh
…” He growled my name through a kiss, gripping my hips tightly with his long fingers and thumbs. Pressing his growing erection harder against me. The thin fabric of my pants is barely a barrier from the friction of his incessant pressing. I’m almost quickening at just that contact.

“I need you,” I whisper in his ear after I break our kiss. Running the tip of my tongue up the length of his ear, Weston leans down on the bed and lowers me to the sheets. My eyes scream out in mourning from the loss of his touch, my mouth pants, trying to catch my breath.

Weston pulls his shirt off his body—in that hot way that guys do, grabbing from behind his neck and tugging it off. I lick my lips, desperate for his kiss again. He
is
leaner, more toned, and my eyes wander around, drifting over each muscle and ripple.

“I missed you, baby.” A deep tone pushed into my lips just as his took my mouth for a kiss once more. This time, his bare chest pressed down, crushing against the swell of my breasts. “Why do you still have clothes on?”

I let out a small giggle. “I thought you would take them off for me.”

Weston raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Come here…”

I sit up, and he leans down to kiss me again. This time, he bites and slowly nips at my jaw and neck as his hands pull at the hem of my shirt, lifting it from my body. Oh, God, I can’t take anymore.

“I need to feel you, please. I want you inside me.” I whimper, fumbling for his button and zipper of his jeans. In a flash, he drops his pants and boxers, and I’m faced with the massive size of his manhood. A slight sheen on the crest, beckoning me to lick it off.

He catches my stare and I lick my lips. “Oh, no baby. I’m here to take care of you.”

I almost pout. “But…”

“Not tonight, beautiful. I want you wilted by the time I’m done with you. Lay back…”

I listen. I’m a great listener, actually.

He towers over me, gazing down with his arms holding himself up on either side of my head. Slowly pressing his erection against my aching flesh—up and down, to and fro. Over and over, pressing, pushing, but not penetrating. I could almost scream. With one hand, Weston pulls down one of the cups of my bra, springing my breast free, and he takes it into his mouth. Twirling and flicking my nipple, sucking and biting around the swell, groaning quietly in his mouth, sending vibrations through my skin.

Pushing the other cup down, he rains down the same delicious assault on my left breast. The big and soft as silk tip of his tongue flicks, and I spasm, bending my body up and into his mouth. I moan and cry out, wanting and needing more. So much more.

“Please!” I cry. “More! Harder…bite me, Weston!”

He chuckles softly and opens his mouth wide, to take as much of my breast as he can. Rolling his tongue over and over, clenching down with his teeth, and making me lose my freaking mind.

All the while, he’s still pressing and rubbing me without cease with his erection. Finally, he sits back on his heels and pulls down my pants. The cool air in the room hits my heated body and I whimper from the temperature change.

“So eager, baby…So ready for me.”

“Yes, please…touch me.” My fingernails claw at my scalp when I run my hands through my hair. If he stretches this out any longer, I’m going to explode.

“Here?” Weston presses ever-so-gently down on my throbbing flesh.

“Yes!” I scream.

Without another second to pass, he drops to his belly and flips my knees up, pressing them against my belly and hooking my legs over his shoulders. His mouth opens and I watch his long tongue dart from his lips. He watches me back, keeps his eyes locked on me as I lean up on my elbows and tug my lip between my teeth, desperate and ready to cry if he doesn’t start touching me.

Circling around my sex, slowly licking everywhere BUT where I want him, I fall back down on the bed and moan loudly. “I’m going to grab your head and push you in there!”

Weston lets out a full bellied laugh. “Oh, yeah? Maybe I like to take my time…”

“Well, baby…I don’t!” I lean up once more, grab his head with one hand and squeeze my fingers together in his hair. Pushing his head down, my fingers release as soon as his tongue touches me. “Yes! There!” I cry out, and writhe as he laps and sucks and hums on me until I’m sure I’ve soaked the bed.

Reaching up and pulling my knees from his shoulders, Weston pushes my legs together and holds them right up against my body. Exposing me completely. He slides in two fingers and continues his assault. I only last about seven seconds after that. Screaming, cresting, climaxing, falling and shuddering…over and over again until I’m sure my heart can’t take anymore.

“Please! No more…” I whimper. My body bucking at his relentless torture of pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Give me another one.” He growls out the words between more tongue lashings.