Stripped (5 page)

Emily looked at him again, her body confused.  She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or scream again.  Her wrists hurt, but oddly in a good way.  Her nerves felt pinched, annoyed she couldn’t get away but she couldn’t resist her urge for Bryce and what he had hidden.

She opened her mouth to call for him again but it came out as a low muffle when Bryce put his lips to hers.  Their open mouths closed in a deep wet kiss, no tongue at first.  Bryce then flicked the tip of his tongue between Emily’s lips, offering a hint at other intentions simmering in the back of his wild mind.

He kissed her one more time and said, “Good girl.  Very good girl.”

Bryce took his hand from Emily’s breast and took his sunglasses off.  He closed them using his chin and hooked them to his sweatshirt.  The sight of his blue eyes made Emily wet.  The gush soaked her panties and made her knees bend again.  As she tried to seek relief with bent knees, Bryce wanted nothing to do with it.  His hold on her wrists was intense.  She yelped in pain, but then moaned from the feel of the wetness between her legs.

“Now, let’s see something else...”

Bryce’s hand touched her breast again but he moved down her shirt.  When his fingers curled around the bottom of her shirt, Emily exhaled a shaking breath.  She looked down and watched as Bryce’s big hand slowly crept up her shirt.  He touched her warm skin with his rough fingertips.  It made her shake and shiver, and when Bryce reached the bottom of her bra, she put her head back and whimpered. 

But Bryce wasn’t done yet.

His fingers forced themselves under Emily’s bra, allowing his hand to climb up and against Emily’s breast.  The first thing Emily noticed was that his hand was big enough to cup her large chest.  That alone sent an orgasmic shock through her body.  He gently began to squeeze Emily’s breast, but kept his hold rough and strong at her wrists.  The moves were so opposite.  Emily began to understand the pleasure and pain thing.  Her wrists were aching from her bones being forced together, but the feeling of Bryce’s other hand on her chest, moving slow and methodical, the palm of his hand massaging her nipple in a clockwise motion, forcing it against her breast, gave her more than enough pleasure that it overtook the pain in her wrists.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I understand...”

“What do you understand, Emily?”

“Pain.  Pleasure...”

“What hurts?”

“My wrists.”

Bryce squeezed harder on her wrists and opened his hand on her breast.  The pleasure subsided and the pain took over.  Emily cried out.

“What feels good?” Bryce asked.

“My breast...”

Bryce still held Emily’s wrists but now his hand held her breast again, pushing slowly, but with purpose. 

The pleasure came roaring back but the pain didn’t leave.  They started to collide, and Emily thought she was losing her breath.

She looked at Bryce again, her face desperate, her eyes wide and confused.

He was taking her innocence, right there in the stairwell of a rock club. 

“Now... let’s see...”

Bryce curled his fingers and lifted his palm from Emily’s breast.  His fingers then came together, digging their way into her soft, warm skin.  They came together at her nipple, feeling their way along her erect skin.  One by one, they moved off her nipple until there were just two fingers left.  His thumb and middle finger.  Just the presence of his fingers at such a sensitive spot made Emily’s toes curl.  Then he applied pressure, not little by little, but all at once. 

The pinch sent instant shock and pain into Emily’s body, but Bryce did his best to even it out with his tight hold on her wrists. 

Emily screamed his name, letting it reverberate along the stone walls again.  She stared at Bryce, refusing to look away, refusing to close her eyes.  Bryce stared right back, working her through the pain with a gentle smile. 

As Emily reached her personal breaking point, her nerves desperate to act upon the instinctive need to defend herself, Bryce thrust his body forward, against Emily’s.

She felt him... the length and hardness...

Her body tightened as she felt an orgasm suddenly begin to crest.

She whimpered and moaned as the intense pressure in her lower stomach climaxed.

Bryce moved himself up and down, left to right, ensuring Emily and her body understood what this little encounter had done. 

To Emily, Bryce’s body seemed endless.  He could have been down to her knee for all she knew and as thick as a closed fist. Just the reality of feeling it and imagining Bryce inserting himself into her tender body, brought the climax and pleasure on more and more.

Emily came and shuddered at the same time.  Her hands were fists, her own nails digging into the palms of her hands.  She wanted to touch herself.  She wanted to be touched.  Never in her life had she experienced such a satisfying orgasm yet she wanted more of it.  Bryce continued to move along her body, working with her motion, allowing Emily to enjoy such a wild orgasm.

In a perfect fitting to their sexual experience, as Emily let out her last pleasure filled, orgasmic breath, the music upstairs came to a stop.

The band was done.

Emily was done too.

Bryce then opened his thumb and middle finger, easing the pressure off Emily’s nipple.  All his fingers came back and he touched her breast one last time, taking away the pain and leaving her shivering for more.  His hand came down her body and left her shirt.  Then his hand at her wrists opened and was gone, but Emily didn’t move her arms.  She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to, or allowed to.

Bryce backed up, taking his body from her.  She stood in the corner with her arms above her head, her wrists touching.

“You still want it,” Bryce said.  He took a deep breath and exhaled with a growl. 

“Can I put my arms down?” Emily asked.

“I never said you couldn’t.”

Bryce tore the black aviator sunglasses from his sweatshirt and slid them on his face. Emily didn’t even get to have one last look into his beautiful blue eyes.  But the snarl of his lip suggested something had suddenly gone wrong.

Emily brought her arms down and stood with them at her side.

“Emily,” Bryce whispered.  “Come back here, tomorrow night.”

“Maybe I will,” Emily said.

“I didn’t ask.  I didn’t suggest.  I’m telling you.  Come back here.  Tomorrow night.”

Bryce reached out and drew a line around Emily’s lips.  He seemed annoyed, angry, pissed off.  He turned and took the steps two by two, his heavy shoes hitting like smashes of a sledgehammer to concrete.  Emily froze in place.  Eventually the sound ended and then a strange silence fell over the entire scene.

Emily brought her wrists forward.  The first thing she noticed was that she was shaking.  Pleasure, pain, desire, and fantasy... all colliding at once. The second thing she noticed was her wrists themselves.  They had marks on them.  The sexual encounter was that intense.

Then her mind played back something Bryce said.

You still want it.

Emily blinked a few times, trying to calm herself.  She looked to the empty stairs and smiled. 

Bryce was right.  Even though she had no idea who he was... he was right.

Emily still wanted it.

4.

Emily crept her way back to the bar, looking for Bryce with each step she took.  He was long gone, probably planning the next encounter for tomorrow evening.  Emily hoped it wouldn’t occur in the stairwell of the club, but then again, if that was Bryce’s version of pleasure and pain, then it could happen anywhere. 

She sat at the bar, finding her same seat.  In fact, both bottles of beer waited for her.  They were soaked with sweat, leaving Emily smirking and blushing.

Behind her, another set of roadies were hard at work, this time setting up for the main act.  For
Dying Desires
. 

Emily peered over her shoulder, watching as the rough looking men - most of them with heavy beer bellies - rushed around the stage like organized chaos, setting up mic cables, attaching the drums together, taping set lists to the stage. 

It was all part of the art.  The behind the scenes stuff that happened allowed Dying Desires to create their sound.  Emily compared it to her writing.  The background stuff of thinking, plotting, typing, editing. All for the enjoyment of a reader.  The difference was that Dying Desires would see their fans.  For all Emily knew, she could have plenty of readers in the audience, but she would never know them and they would never know her.

It almost depressed Emily, but the lingering pleasure moved through her body.

Thank you, Bryce.

Emily turned back around and took a sip of beer.  It wasn’t warm but it wasn’t ice cold.  She saw Chris, still working down the other end of the bar, and decided to just leave him there.

“Whoa, who is drinking here?”

Emily looked to her right as Ann sat down.  She grabbed the bottle Bryce had left. 

“Oh.  That.  Not mine.”

“Someone was hitting it hard.”

“Yeah,” Emily said and smiled.  “How was your interview?”

“Just fine,” Ann replied with a vixen grin.  “Got all I wanted.  Maybe more.”

“Look at me, right now,” Emily said. 

Ann did.

Emily looked deep into her eyes.  “Did you mess with drugs?  Did they give you anything...”

“I knew what I was doing,” Ann said.  “I need you to trust me.  I’m not going to get myself hurt.  I promise.  It’s all part of my job.  And plus, if you can enjoy a line with the lead singer of Dying Desires before he tastes your body, why not?”

Emily started to feel disgusted but then thought of Bryce. 

Ann twisted the top off the bottle and took a sip.  She winced as she swallowed, just bringing more testament to those men who could drink alcohol like it was a bottle of water. 

“I’m surprised those guys are still alive,” Emily said.

“Me too,” Ann said.  “But they actually eat really healthy.  They just have other indulgences.  The lead singer...”

“Rex,” Emily said.

“Yes.  Rex.  He actually died four years ago.  Right after a show.  They were in... Sweden.  Yeah.  Sweden.  He fell on his face and they took him to the hospital because his face was bleeding.  Then the medical help realized he wasn’t breathing and his heart had stopped.”

Emily looked to the stage again.  It was fully set, ready to go for an hour of rock.  The crowd now packed the floor, shoulder to shoulder, gently swaying with the movement.  A few people chanted, some yelled out lyrics, and most just talked.

The room started to build a little.

It was an interesting feeling.

“I can’t imagine it,” Emily said.  She wasn’t sure if she was referring to Ann’s story or to the aura of the club, waiting for the music.

“Tell me about your night,” Ann said.  “You look like a sexy mess right now.”

That got Emily’s attention.  She snapped her head back at Emily.  “What?”

“Your hair looks messy and your face is flush.  And I know you’re not drunk.  Were you flirting with Chris?”