Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) (6 page)

“Why?” he immediately shoots back.

“I guess I just don’t love the band enough to
go through having my neck opened up.”

“My understanding is they go through your
mouth, but I wouldn’t want it either. It seems common for your
genre, though.” I catch his eyes and quickly drop mine. No way in
hell anyone is putting me under to work on my throat next to my
windpipe. I thought that I would have money aplenty to fall back on
when I refused, but hearing you’re not good enough without it
stung. With it . . . well, he can kiss my ass.

“No.”

“Hmm.” I get another squeeze and mercifully
he stays quiet for the rest of the drive. It’s pretty, the highway
on the coast. When we pull up to my house in Malibu he starts
walking around the hood, leaving me scrambling to exit so he can’t
be the gentleman he pretends to be. I slam the door on his Lotus
and walk toward the door with a strut in my step. I know he wanted
to open that door. HA!

I sail through the entrance of my house and
attempt to close it behind me with a flick of my wrist. My face
contorts as I hear his palm slap the hard wood, along with his
chuckle behind me.

I turn to see him sail past my kitchen and
straight for the double doors leading to the deck. No one has ever
walked out there since I took ownership of this house. It’s my
place to decompress. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to look.”

“Why?” I ask as I trail behind him. He looks
out into the night before turning and leaning against the railing,
spreading his arms wide.

“You smell like the sea sometimes,” he says
simply. That’s all. I’m looking out into the surf as he reels me in
with a long arm. Patiently, he pulls the hair back from my neck and
over my shoulder. “Right here,” he claims before opening his mouth
onto the tendon straining at the side of my neck.

I blink languidly and move my head to the
side to give him better access. This space is mine. I come here to
connect with the most basic form of myself. I try to disconnect
with my feeling for Batty by opening my eyes. All I see is black
tipped with foam waves, and feel a velvety tongue I long to feel .
. . everywhere.

“What are you doing?” I mumble.

“Exactly what you want.” I feel his hand
snake inside of my jeans to squeeze my ass, pulling me toward his
erection. As I rock against him, I find I can’t catch my breath,
and hate myself for it. Why does he do this to me? I push against
his chest.

“Knock it off.”

“Did you want to talk about something? Or did
you want to feel about something?” he says against my neck, opening
his mouth after he’s done asking his asinine questions and sucking
on my neck, tonguing the tendon running there.

“Why are you doing this here? We usually fuck
in the house.” My words try in vain to pull us away from the new
moment he’s painstakingly creating.

“I like the way you taste, Sadie. Let me
taste you out here.” Shit. My mind blanks as I try to scramble for
what I’m supposed to do next to thwart his sexiness from invading
my space when I haven’t forgiven him yet. Despite me, he grips my
thighs and I instinctively wrap my legs around his body. He walks
us until he sits on my favorite lounge. As I move my feet to rest
on either side of him, I pull back. Batty is resting on my favorite
chaise like it was made specifically for him.

“What are you doing?” I grind out between my
teeth. He smiles as his head rests on the back of the cushions and
flexes his hips, licking his lips. “What you want me to do.”

I forcibly move my eyes to the few stars in
the sky and the next building over, which is dark and empty. “You
could have had me against the rail easily enough.”

My head is forcibly moved by his hand
gripping my jaw. “You want me here. I want you here. Why don’t you
take me here, Sadie?”

I swallow roughly at the look in his eyes. I
never imagined someone out here with me, where I connect with the
waves and let them wash away my metaphoric pollution, dirtiness, if
you will. I bought this house for the sole reason of being alone.
I’m never alone. That he’s invaded even this part of my life causes
panic.

“Stop it.”

“Fuck me, Sadie.”

“I said no,” I say, straining against him. He
shoves his hand down the front my jeans and I have the front row
seat, watching his eyes turn gunmetal.

“Feels like you don’t want me to stop, baby.
Are you going to say ‘Stop, Finn, don’t make me scream into the
night’ or are you going to make me leave with this?” He pushes his
length against me in emphasis of his words, as if I needed the
visceral image of how hard he was for me. His cock springs forth in
my mind, and I whimper against my will. It’s all the encouragement
he needs. “That’s a yes. I know your body, Sadie.”

“I don’t like you right now,” I say, moving
my hips against his to get the most friction against my aching
core.

Batty’s free hand comes up to my face, moving
my eyes to meet his. “You don’t have to like me right now, babe.
Let’s just do what we’re good at, huh?” he says so quietly I barely
hear him over the waves, but my eyes are mesmerized by his lips, so
I don’t miss a word. I barely nod before his mouth claims mine.

Our tongues duel in the most beautiful fight,
my hand reaching for his head to pull him as close as possible.
From the very first moment, we’ve ignited like the most powerful
fireworks and tonight is no exception. When Batty curls his fingers
inside of me, I moan involuntarily into his mouth. I feel his smile
against my lips, forcing me to bite them in spite. The things he
does to me.

He rocks me against him hard, creating the
perfect friction I need as his hips rise up to meet mine. He pushes
my shoulders back, then viciously yanks on the button of my jeans.
My lips part in a sigh. I know this Batty, the one who demands and
takes what he wants, the same thing as me. I can handle him.

I stand, quickly shedding my jeans and
underwear. He pulls the caped shirt first from his body, which is
difficult since he’s sitting on his long material, then mine. As
his mouth fuses to my collarbone, I focus on his belt. I’m not
gentle and rip it from the loops harshly. The gleam in his eye
tells me he likes it as much as I do, our breathing erratic and
urgent.

I palm his hard length with cool hands, his
intake of breath causing an uncharacteristic giggle to escape,
which Batty rears up to taste before it can dissolve. He holds me
with one hand, pulling me against him, rubbing me the way I need,
while the other reaches behind him to pull the wallet from his back
pocket.

“Always prepared,” I whisper into his mouth,
his tongue caressing mine before he replies.

“I’m Batman.”

“You’re Batty,” I correct him quickly. I have
no illusions that I’m fucking a fictional character. I know it’s
flesh and blood beneath me. To prove my thought, I push him back
and dig my short nails into his tattooed chest. He groans in his
throat, his eyes on me the whole time he rolls the condom onto his
dick. The second he’s done, I’m rising, accepting him into my
body.

We lock eyes, both of our mouths open and
gasping. It’s always like this with us. We ignite in a way I’ve
never experienced. My nerve endings shoot from my sex up through my
body, to my scalp and back down. My senses are immediately
heightened. The sound of the waves are muted to the faintest roar,
the sound of our bodies sliding together more prominent to my ears.
The fine hairs on my body stand on end in the faint breeze from the
ocean. I take a deep breath through my nose, smelling salt and the
distinct aroma that is Batty. His hands roam my body, up my torso,
then venture to tweak my hard nipples.

I set a rhythm, undulating my body as he
watches, the heat in his gaze spurring me on. After he tortures my
breasts enough, Batty wraps his hands in my long hair, pulling me
into another kiss. I don’t relinquish my pace as I cover us in a
curtain of my hair, our mouths feeding from each other roughly.

We breathe each other’s air as he starts to
pump from beneath me. We’ve always come together so seamlessly.
This part of us, there’s no misunderstanding. We are synced
together in the bliss of our bodies. He feels me tightening and
lets go of my hair to grip my hip, grinding me more forcibly
against him. “That’s right, baby. Come all over me,” he growls into
my mouth. He knows my cues. He knows what’s going to happen before
I realize it.

“Ah!” I yell inches from his lips as I come.
His grip tightens, simultaneously pulling my hair tight and
squeezing my hip to ride out my orgasm. I’m still seeing stars when
suddenly I’m falling. Now I’m literally seeing the stars. He’s lain
me down on the legs of the chaise to rise above me. My head falls
slightly over the end as he rears up on his knees to go deeper. I
feel my breasts bounce with his thrusts, the force increasing to
the point that I feel him in the deepest part of me. In these
moments, I’m not Sadie or Popper, not docile or violent. I’m a
woman, taking a man in the most intimate act of all.

I’m shaking my head, my eyes half lidded,
struggling to see him, overcome with sensation. His cheeks are
rosy, jaw tight as he watches me squirm. “What do you want,
Sadie?”

“Everything,” I gasp incoherently. He pumps
into me harder.

“That’s it, Sadie. Take it all.”

His words cause me to tighten and on his next
lunge I’m seeing all kinds of stars, they explode above me and
inside of me. I don’t allow my eyes to close this time, watching
Batty’s neck strain as he pulses his release inside of me. He
groans loudly into the night, making me grip his cock tighter,
scratching down his tattooed chest.

“Fuck!” he yells, surging one last time
before his elbows give way.

My eyes close as we struggle to catch our
breath. I give myself precious seconds to relish his weight on me,
his breath whisking across my chest. Too soon he’s pulling away,
gripping the condom as he leaves me and stumbles inside.

I force myself up to grab my shirt. He
should be leaving soon. As I’m buttoning my jeans he walks outside
again, glorious in all of his naked, tattooed maleness. His eyes
are expressionless as he watches me before pulling his shirt on.
It’s my turn to back against the railing. I wait for him to leave.
Instead, after he’s secured his wallet back into his pocket and
stands before me fully dressed he says, “We need to talk.”

BATTY-

I’ve asked myself a million times why I put
up with her shit. She’s a pain in the ass. I’m convinced Sadie has
magical powers. She can make me forget every single thing but the
touch of her hand, the taste of her mouth. Every other second of
every day I feel the pressure that my life consists of dragging me
down, except when I’m with her While I feel like I’m merely
existing every other day, Sadie makes me feel alive.

“You didn’t think of that before?” I ask. Why
is he changing the script?

“No. All I could think about was you. We need
to talk business.”

“I have a phone,” I remind him.

“You don’t like to use it very much, if I
remember correctly.” One side of his mouth lifts in a half smile. I
shrug. His head moves in the direction of my house. I watch him
carefully as I make my way inside, sitting on the uncomfortable
couch in the living room.

“So talk,” I prompt after he watches me for
several seconds, making me uncomfortable. He walks around the area,
looking at the abstract paintings and comes to a stop next to a
shelf and stares up before turning back to me.

“You need to sign the contract for the
show.”

“What’s it called, anyway?” I ask, only
mildly interested.

“Triple Threat. There are three parts of the
competition you’ll need to familiarize yourself with. Since you
chose venues, there’s going to be some travel. It’s important
everything is signed so that the expenses are paid.”

“Fine. Have your secretary message me a time
and I’ll be there.”

“Will you?” he asks without inflection.

“Yes, I’m broke, remember? I said I would do
it and I will.”

“Good.” He looks relieved that I didn’t put
up a fight. “I need you to come in for some promotional stuff soon.
This is all coming down to the wire and I can’t put it off any
longer.”

“What kind of stuff?” I ask warily.

He shrugs. “Promotional photos and interviews
about the other judges.”

“Great. What are they going to say about me?”
I hate that I’m so self-conscious, but these people have to hate
me.

“They’ll be professional. What you need to
think about is what kind of image you want to portray.” He comes to
rest on the coffee table, sitting down directly across from me.

“What do you mean?”

“You have a chance to change the image of
what people know. The image of Popper from Chimera is an option,
but the news is going to hit soon that you’re divorced from the
band. You have a chance here to make yourself over.”

I study his serious face, wondering what he
would change about me. Finally, I ask quietly, “What would you
change?”

His eyebrows rise in surprise, but he doesn’t
hesitate. “Firstly, I would suggest you introduce yourself as Sadie
from the start. Separate yourself from the band. Let me ask you, do
you like the greasy haired, scantily clad woman you present to the
world?” he asks as delicately as he’s able.

I laugh without humor. “You mean the slut
grinding microphone stands isn’t fit for prime time?”

His lips press together. “Stop it. This is
your chance to represent who you are. Not your band.”

I want to ask him who am I? But I can’t.

“What would you suggest, oh CEO record label
executive?” I ask as sarcastically as I can.

“Stop it,” he says more forcefully then leans
forward. “You may never get the chance to show people the real you,
instead of the persona you invented. You’re not pigeon holed to be
that person anymore.”