Chapter 53: Smart Girls Are Rocket Queens

I know you've been waiting awhile for this chapter, so I tried to make it worth it! Don't worry, this is very hot, but Marley is pretty classy even in her head, so I think it's okay to post one version...no radio edit/explicit cut here...just Marley's exuberant perspective...

One note: I did something I've never (rarely?) done...I posted a second song in the middle of the chapter. Definitely switch to that YouTube audio to capture the intensity of the rest of the love scene.....

Marley

I shouldn't be this nervous.

I've had the boy.

But the man?

I haven't had the full pleasure yet, and I have wanted him for so long now.

At least since Labor Day, when he stopped my angry words with a kiss that exploded into my brain and my heart, fracturing my sense of self.

Now, as he presses against my lower back like he knows the secret spot to collapse me, and follows right down on top of me, I feel like he's putting me back together again.

His breath is jagged as he threads a hand in my hair, tilting my head, kissing along my jaw and my neck.

"Never knew I wanted this. This life. This love," he murmurs gently. "But I do. So fucking much, Jasmine. I always have. I always will. No matter what."

His hands, words, even the pressure of his body, are gentle and sure. But his breath—provoked and unsteady—lets me know.

We are both desperate. We are both scared.

History. Family. Responsibility.

Darius.

Gangsters. Drugs. Deals.

Treachery. Lies.

Stray bullets.

Ghosts. Graves.

This is a dangerous odyssey we are on.

A wild ride. A blind curve.

We need each other.

Now.

We need to grasp on tight and give each other everything. No matter what the outcome, no matter how much it might hurt in the end.

Suddenly I don't want slow. I want everything he wants to give me—his love, his passion, his strength, his body—all at once.

I push off his open shirt and tug frantically at his tank top.

Catching my frenzy, he divests himself of all clothes, even as one hand roams my lingerie. His mouth is everywhere, sucking, licking, gasping against my throat and chest. His cock hangs heavy on my stomach as he pushes up off me, trying to slow our speed.

His shaking hand skirts the edge of my hairline. His smile is straining to be sweet, but his amber eyes are dark, already burned black in the fires of his desire.

"I promised you slow—"

I wrap my legs around his perfectly hard ass. I hold his face with both my hands.

"I promised you ride-or-die. I won't ask you for your secrets, but you give me everything here. Now. No holding back."

For one second, he looks at me with such...pride.

Then, he's in my mouth with his, diving into my soul—one hand is hauling me up against the couch arm and the other is pushing aside the strip of my thong. He groans against my tongue as his fingers explore my slipperiness, spreading me, smearing me.

Then he's pushing in and in and in. I arch backward over the sofa, trying to open in every way.

He's so thick. So hard. I've never like this stretch, his depth.

He pulls my head forward, so that I have to watch as he draws all the way out and plunges back in.

"Look. At. Us." His words are so low they could be a growl or a prayer.

Again, he slides out then fills me. The tension of my walls fighting him never goes away.

It's beyond pleasure, beyond pain. It's transcendent.

Watching him fuck me is the best thing I've ever seen. The cuts of his perfect body. The glisten of his cock. The pattern of the lace I wear. The angle of my legs open for him. The shades of our skin on skin—his darker than mine now.

He tugs my hair lightly, forcing my attention to his face now.

"You see? What you are to me?"

I nod my full understanding.

"Say it. Say what you are. What we make."

He fills me again, slowly, so slowly, this time. I feel my exquisite surrender—inch by inch.

"Perfection," I gasp.

He smiles, covering his mouth with mine, lifting me higher against the arm of the sofa, bracing his elbows there and giving himself over to the rhythm that always drives him.

Bodie's love is a structured mania. His fevered kisses, his rippling muscles, his relentless, undulating piercing of my body and soul. His sweat, dripping and mixing with mine.

I didn't know it could be like this. The thickness I shied from two days ago becomes the source of a consuming feeling of pleasure like I've never known. Complete bliss with every stroke, rushing up my walls, pulsing against a thrilling spot inside, thudding deep, driving up my spine, filling my entire inside with...rightness, flooding my heart and my mind.

I never want him to stop. I sincerely want Bodie to fuck me forever and forever. My stupid snorty chortle erupts with the thought.

He's staring at me intently, but at my laugh, his beautiful lips pull back into a sexy smile.

"Having fun, Jaz?" he asks innocently as he gives me a double quick pump now.

"Uh-huh...fun..." My own words sound faraway.

"You sure? We could take a break..." he teases, wiping his forearm over my sweaty forehead. He withdraws slowly, until his cock rests just at my opening.

"No!" I whine, wrapping my legs around him tighter, pulling myself up onto him. He makes an amused sound.

"Oh, you like it now, huh, baby?"

"Uh-huh...don't stop...please..." I whine again.

"There ain't no stopping you and me," he growls, thrusting fully.

His stamina is maddening. He never once touches my clit—I would go off like a firecracker if he did. Instead, he rocks into me, grazing my upper wall, and the intensity grows and grows.

He makes love to me for what seems like an hour at least. It's the most vivid time period in my whole life...our bodies pooled together in rapture and sweat, his eyes locked to mine, my hands roaming his magnificence, his lips intermittently seeking me and air. His words offering assurances of my perfection and his love.

He picks up the pace, lifting us both over some barrier.

Beyond the barrier? Nothing like I have ever experienced.

Did I say wild ride?

No.

Bodie is a rocket to the stars.

I can't find any more air. Or any more space inside me to bank pleasure. I burst into bright endless shudders—torrents of joy.

His fire finally consumes him. I am pinned beneath his acceleration, my ecstasy extended as he explodes into me.

For a long time we just drift, falling slowly back down to earth.

When I can sense again, I realize our positions have shifted. I'm to the inside of the sofa, lying on my side and he's cradling me, a muscular leg thrown over me, his lips pressed against my shoulder.

"Jaz?" he murmurs, low and sexy.

"Yeah?"

"You okay, baby?"

"No."

His limbs tense. He lifts his head, searching my face.

It takes all my effort to raise a hand to his face. "I miss you inside me already. I think I'm going to need you to do that to me continuously."

The concern on his face breaks and he laughs—a clean, strong, free burst.

I've never heard him laugh like that, except once—at the Atlanta Bandhouse party, when Soundcrush finished their performance—a flawless return after a six month hiatus.

He rolls on top of me, peppering my lips with three emphatic pecks.

"Hmmmm...that's not a bad plan. At least for tonight. I need a pick me up before I oblige you." Another kiss then,and he's upright, pulling a throw off the other end of the sofa, drawing it up me.

I love the way it feels, cashmere tickling my skin. I feel so alive.

I'm so enraptured by the sensation, I don't realize for a long moment that Bodie has walked away. Not until I hear the hiss of steam and the creak of metal heating.

I sit up, realizing I fell asleep.

He's maneuvering confidently around the mysterious professional appliance behind the counter. I draw the blanket around me as I pad across the cool concrete floor to join him back there.

"Hey," he smiles at me. "You drifted off. I learned how to be a barista during your nap."

"I'm sure the health department would have something to say about your service standards," I lean against the counter and snicker, completely charmed by this ridiculous and wonderful man—who is making espresso completely naked.

"Ya think? I was actually considering re-opening this place. Maybe even working the grand opening like this," he gestures to his body, and gives me a wink.

I lean against the counter, feeling perfectly boneless. "Well, it would be a huge attention getter. People would come from out of state to get a picture of that thing." I examine his penis, still quite impressive as it sways in its semi-erect state.

"Ha.Ha." He rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the machine, and slightly away from me, I note.

I hold my blanket tight against me and smile at him. For some reason my rather frank admiration embarrasses him. Or maybe it's just that I am the only woman in the world that has experienced the boy and the man. Either way, I think he's adorable and incredibly powerful at the same time. I love the facets of my drummer boy.

I don't need the blanket; it's not at all cold in here. From behind, I tie the blanket around his torso and my arms around his chest.

"Bodie?"

"Yeah, baby?" he says, covering my hand on his pec with one of his as he trials the milk frother.

"I would love you if you weren't the world's most amazing lover, but I have to say...now...not only am I madly in love with you...I'm also completely obsessed with the way you use your penis."

He lets loose another one of those free and crazy laughs. He laughs so hard he cries. He leans against the espresso machine. Then he turns and gathers me in his arms, kissing my nose.

"That might be the nicest thing any girl has ever said to me. You know I love you too, Jaz. I'm also crazy for the way you physically love me. The way you...met me, there. Wherever we went to," his gaze grows soft as he looks over toward the couch. "That was...out of this world."

"Cosmic," I agree.

"A lot different than the first time," he says lightly, giving me a shy grin. "This time I didn't make a fool of myself."

I hug him tighter. "Is that what you thought of our first time? Bodie...I thought it was wonderful. I always thought it was so special and loving and good. "

He grins at the ceiling. "It's just a little weird for me, you know? Here I am, this guy with a reputation for being a stud, and here you are, the girl that knows the kid underneath...the kid that was freaked out and completely crazy to get with you at the same time he had no idea what he was doing."

"You knew. As I recall, I came twice."

He squints. "Really? You weren't just...putting on a show so I didn't feel bad?"

I slap his pec. "No. I swear. Bodie...it was shockingly good for me. And it was your first time. You should be proud of our history, not embarrassed."

He tucks my hair behind both ears and holds my face. "I am proud...to be with you. We've traveled so much distance between now and then. I can't believe I spent fourteen years without you. I can't fucking believe I didn't recognize you when I saw you in the Lunar Lounge parking lot. What the hell was wrong with me?"

"I hurt you. Badly. You walled me off in your mind. It was a defense mechanism. It's not that uncommon, actually. I understand. I really do."

"I know you do, Dr. Watkins." He hugs me tight. I lay my head on his shoulder. "I love you so much. All of you. The girl that I will crave until the end of time. The mother of my child. The doctor who has helped me so much."

"I love you, too," I say, my words muffled as he holds my head close against him.

The machine interrupts our tender moment with dire sounds of steam.

He disentangles. "I better figure out how to pour this coffee before the damn thing blows up."

He's dispensing the espresso now, into a surprising number of little cups. He lines them on one side of the counter, and then lifts me up, depositing me beside them.

We drink in comfortable silence, me in my white lingerie, legs swinging, him, the blanket around his waist, bracing himself with one hand on the counter.

He is working on his second espresso when he puts a casual hand on one of my knees.

"So," he says. "Are you thinking about Round Two yet?"

Like my body is under his control now, my hip muscles automatically relax, giving him room to press our flesh closer. "I thought you'd never ask," I sound breathy, unlike myself.

"I didn't mean on the counter," he looks down like he's considering. "Not yet, anyway. I actually had something a little more...unique in mind. How do you feel about fantasy fulfillment, Dr. Watkins?" His grin is crooked, charming.

I scrape lightly across his back with my nails.

"I think it can be healthy and hot. I also think you need to elaborate before I consent, Rock Star."

"Something special. Something I've never considered with a random. Something I've been waiting for a long time to share with the right girl." He picks up my tiny cup, plying me with more caffeine as he gulps down the last of his second. "But something that takes a lot of...energy. Want some water?" he asks. "Or a snack first?" he gestures to the case.

I notice how he avoided answering my question. Wow, is it something that kinky? I look around the room and I realize, there's a curtain drawn in a semicircle around the back corner opposite the couch. I sip the espresso, considering what might be behind that curtain.

A bed with restraints to tie me down? A Saint Andrew's cross to chain me up?

I look at Bodie, considering how far I'm willing to let this man take me.

After this last hour? Who am I kidding? This man owns my sexual will.

He's picking up a third cup of espresso. I smile at him, and press my hand over his heart. "Hey, that's a lot of caffeine."

He smiles. "I know. But to be perfectly honest, I might...need it. I earned my reputation as an All-Nighter amped on methamphetamines, you know..."

"Oh," I bite my lip. I run a hand along his face. "I didn't mean to set expectations. The way you made love to me was unbelievable. Astounding. I feel...perfect. We can go home...go to bed...make love again in the morning, if you want. It doesn't have to be an All-Nighter."

"Oh yes it does," he assures me, downing the third cup. "You think I'm even capable of letting the thought linger in your head that I worshiped you less than some stranger? Think again." He kisses me deep. "Besides...I am dying to get you behind that curtain. And what I want to do...requires energy of an entirely different level."

"Okay, now I really have to know..." I swivel on the counter, hop down and skip to the curtain. I pull it open and I laugh, confused.

There's no kinky sex apparatus. There's only a stage with some monitors, DJ equipment, and a drum kit. It explains where the coffee house music is coming from, but not his fantasy.

I turn around grinning. "I don't get it."

He strides over with two bottled waters and offers me one. "Drink, we're both gonna sweat a lot," he whispers, pushing my hair back off my shoulders, tying it loosely with some twisty tie he got behind the counter. He steps to the DJ station and stops the coffeehouse music playlist. The sexy buzz of a bass vibe fills the speakers.

Bodie chugs his water and examines the seat behind the kit. It's not a normal drummers stool, but something like a weight workbench, except with two thick straps running front to back for a seat with a gap in the middle. The material reminds me of trampoline fabric. He drops the blanket, kicks a leg over and sits,leaving a little space between him and the front. He bounces slightly and his impressive member sways between the straps of fabric. "I had this custom built. I think it will work, don't you?"

"You..." I'm grinning and blushing at the same time. "You want to have sex while drumming?"

"I damn sure wanna try." He gestures for me, with the wag of a hand. I walk over, almost obediently. He runs a hand up my outer thigh as he looks up at me.

"Will you put the heels on?"

He watches me like a predator, his eyes never leaving me as I cross the room, strap on the sandals, and return, standing before him.

"And lose the panties this time, please?" he asks sweetly.

I bite my lip. I turn away from him, bending at the waist, giving him a view as I slide my thong down.

"Mmmmmm...so pretty," he moans. He grasps my waist and guides me down on the seat in front of him, facing away from him, toward the kit. He scoots the seat forward, and he puts the drumsticks in my hands.

A slow, sexy song blooms seamlessly out of the bass buzz. A club mix that he probably put together. I am frozen, completely incapable of keeping time.

"Bodie I can't—"

"We can," He's pressing tight against me, his chin resting on my shoulder. His fingers slide between mine, crawling up the sticks. I become a drape over his muscular arms.

For a while, he taps only one drum. I feel like I'm hindering him at first. "Relax your hands. Move with me," he encourages. I put my fingers in between his, close my eyes, and imagine we are holding hands.

I begin to feel the beat. My hand wants to make it with him. "That's it," he says, and our other hands are suddenly in motion, too.

The groove is slow and hypnotic. I feel the heady potential of creation. The beat becomes everything—a quake we make, a vibration that returns to us, a pulse that binds us together. Bodie begins to kick the bass drum and suddenly my arms and body are moving, leaning, as he rolls us effortlessly through a lick.

I can see why he loves this. It's addictive. It's powerful. It's hot.

Bodie has skills beyond the finest of drummers. He begins to kiss my neck, never missing a beat. I lean back against him, loving the feel of my body moving with his will. I feel his erection grow hard and warm at my back.

The song fades but the bass remains. Bodie stops playing. Another sensual song begins. Eventually I recognize the guitar line. Purple Rain.

"This song...is one of many that reminds me of you. I only ever want to see you laughing. I think even the skies should rain purple for you, because you're a Queen. My Queen."

I'm too overcome to speak as he lays down the sticks and runs his hands from my lace-covered breasts down to my aching need. His strong fingers rub me rhythmically. He keeps working me up as he adds a bass drum beat with his foot. Then he picks up one stick and adds a snare.

Without even meaning to, I begin to bounce slowly to his beat, rubbing against him as he teases me.

"Turn around and fuck me, Jasmine," he says huskily.

I'm up in a shot, turning, straddling. His eyes never leave mine as I wrap my fingers around him and slowly, slowly ease myself onto him. When I gasp at the full sensation and his thighs accept my full weight, he picks up both sticks and rejoins the song.

We begin to move to the slow sensual beat. I see now, why he wanted me to put the heels back on—my feet are on the ground, giving me the leverage to move. He's right, I'm fucking him this time.

Just like the first time.

But also nothing like the first time. Because this man has risen to his full power, in his element, inside the euphoria of his craft. He's focused on my face as I take him inside me over and over, and he brings me inside his world, his passion, his sound.

Purple Rain ends, but we don't. The next song that lays over the bass is older, classic rock. It starts smooth but builds. As Bodie's beats pick up, so does our motion.

Nothing is like this. The driving of him inside me, the pounding rhythm invading me, the slide of our drenched bodies, the rapture on his face.

The song fades. My world tilts to frenzy as Bodie runs a rapid fill and then throws a stick, grabbing my ass to increase my tempo as a new song emerges and he wails away with one foot and one hand.

Oh my god.

Guns N Roses. Rocket Queen.

"I can't," I pant.

My legs feel weak already and now he's taking sex to work-out level.

"You can. Feel it. Lose yourself," he commands.

He rips off my camisole, fondles a breast, sucks a nipple, listens to me moan as he reaches down and pulls a new stick from somewhere—stuck somehow on the bass drum. He's bashing and cymbals are crashing and his jaw is clenched and his utter sex-godness inspires me.

I summon all my remaining energy and bang him like he's banging the drums.

It sounds crazy but it's the most fun I have ever had—riding Bodie's dick until I nearly pass out. Somewhere in the middle of the song a woman's sex sounds can be heard, but they are nothing compared to mine as I orgasm hard and long. Bodie throws his sticks and holds me tight, increasing his own motion, refusing to let me finish without him.

He comes with a triumphant shout of , "Fuck! Yes! Jaz!"

Then he wraps my arms around him. "Hold on a little longer, baby." He produces more sticks, and bops along to the somewhat more cheery end to the song.

The man is not human.

Then he stands up, me clinging to him like a koala as he slaps over a few cymbal stands as he yells, "Fuck yeah!" some more.

I'm sliding off him at this point. He grabs my legs, wrapping them back around his waist. "Where...you...going, baby?" he pants. He rakes back my sweat soaked hair and kisses me.

I have the sudden horrible thought that he means to go again. "Time-out," I gasp, making the T-sign behind his neck like he could see it. I'm making no sense whatsoever. The man actually blew my mind.

"No shit," he huffs back.

He carries me back to the couch where he throws me down in his exuberance. I giggle as I nearly bounce off, but he catches me and rolls me back.

"Sorry," he murmurs, all sweetness now as he maneuvers pillows and offers me another cashmere throw.

"God no," I swat it away. I'm so hot I might stroke.

But if I die, I die happy as fuck.

He chuckles. "You look gorgeous, lying there naked, sweaty and utterly destroyed."

My eyes flutter up to him. "You look...very fucking smug."

He makes the rock on sigh with both hands and sticks out his long tongue, curling it suggestively as he strolls away arrogantly.

He returns in seconds, dropping down to his knees in front of the couch, applying a cool cloth to my neck. It's the second best thing I've ever felt—sex with Bodie being the obvious first by a distance of a million light years.

"Thank you," I moan as I wipe my face and make a half-hearted attempt to mop up my chest and abdomen. The rest of me will have to wait. Bodie's toweling himself off as he holds out another water for me.

I gulp it and suddenly I'm shivering. Before I can even reach for the throw, Bodie is sliding on the couch beside me and covering us both with it.

I don't even care that we are both disgusting by modern hygiene standards. I love every part of this man—his sweat, his stink, his semen oozing all over this expensive couch.

We are as close as two people can get. I hear his heart hammering and his lungs filling and deflating rapidly.

"Jesus Fuck, I love you," he mutters, kissing my sweaty forehead.

"You better. I think you just broke me. I'm sure you've heard the policy...you break it, you buy it..."

I love the way his chuckle sounds, deep in his chest. "You lie. I couldn't break you if I tried. You're like Wonder Woman, baby. They way you just fucked me? Superhuman."

"I was just trying to keep up..." I murmur.

That's the last thing I remember saying. When I wake, the blinds at the front of the coffee shop are glowing with the break of dawn, and Bodie the Barista is back at it, making the machine and clunk and hiss, barechested, barefooted in his sexy ripped jeans.

I rise on shaky legs, wrapping the throw around me. I'm sore, much more sore than I've ever been. In all the places.

But it feels wonderful...my aching body a perfect counterbalance to my full heart.

Bodie watches me advancing slowly. His lips press thin as he hands me a cappuccino with a heart swirled on the top.

"You're hurting. I'm sorry. It was too much..."

"No," I shake my head, sloshing the froth on the counter as I carelessly sit him down and embrace him. "I loved it. I can't wait for more. My legs are just a little tired, that's all."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. I'm not."

He smiles a little then. He gently boosts me onto the counter again and massages my feet, my calves, my thighs.

"Maybe I should talk to the trainer about leg strengthening." I sip my cappuccino. "I think we could go longer than three songs."

Bodie laughs. "So you like drum sex that much?"

"I loved it. I'm addicted. Seems like you liked it, too?"

"All the cursing and cymbal throwing is what clued you in?" He says wryly as he slides open the case. "What looks good?"

"Mmmmm...the cannoli." I make grabby hands. He refuses to give me the pastry, feeding it to me instead, between sips of cappuccino.

We eat two as he stands between my legs. Tracing his tats, I feel the heat of flames licking my lower belly. I kiss down his neck, then up, nibbling his ear.

"Take me again," I whisper.

He groans, a lazy, sexy sound. "You're insatiable, woman."

"Your fault."

"Yes, but also my pleasure."

This time he leans me over the counter and I grasp the other side for support. He rocks us gently—sky-high.

The ride home, the shower, the falling into bed is a haze. Sometime in the early afternoon, a banging on our bedroom door wakes me. Bodie's arms tense around me as he jolts awake, too.

"Are you guys in bed? Still?" Darius' voice is indignant. "It's two o'clock."

"It was date night, dude," Bodie replies, indignant.

Darius' snort of disgust is clearly audible through the door. "You guys are really too old to be actin' like this."

"Love knows no age, Darius. And rock stars are forever young, so you are just gonna have to put up with me being wild for your mama until I'm at least ninety. Deal with it." Bodie's voice is hoarse, but amused.

"Fine," Darius says. "But I could use some help packing up the drum kit to take to TJ's while you guys are in LA. And Marl—Mom, I can't find my extra school uniform shorts? And uhhh...Dad... TJ says you need to come over and help him put up the storage shed he bought, because Mama Pat and Shay ain't about me making a ruckus with the kit in the house..."

Bodie sighs and pulls me to him. "Can't we get him a nanny?" he says into my hair as I giggle.

"I heard that."

"Yeah, well you are gonna hear some things you don't want to hear if you don't get away from our door, boy," Bodie reaches up to the headboard and bangs it against the wall as he yells "Yeah, Mama...that's right...get it, girl..."

"Bodie!!!" I slap him hard this time and he growls but that only adds to his sounds.

"Oh my god!" Darius yells and stomps off.

Bodie rolls on top of me. "Now I'm kind of horny again, actually..."

"You are awful!" I laugh at him. "And my vagina needs at least another nap and possibly an Epsom Salts bath..."

"Go take a bath..." he kisses me. "I'll find his damn uniform shorts and show him how to pack up the drum kit. And figure out lunch. Then I'll see about hiring somebody to put Darius' music studio up in TJ's backyard..."

"You're amazing," I tell him, and I mean it.

"I plan to keep you amazed for a long fucking time, Jaz." He gives me a tender kiss and then he's trotting to the closet for clothes.

I lie in the bed a little while longer, looking at the ceiling, wondering how I got so lucky in life.

Just as I'm almost finished in the bath, I hear Bodie's ringtone. He must have forgotten to take his phone down to the basement. I hop out dripping, hastily throwing on a robe, rushing to check if the call is important.

It's worse than important.

It's Arabella fucking Burns.

Well...you know the euphoria couldn't last....how in the world do you think Arabella is going to ruin Marley's day?

Wait...let's back up. Thoughts on  Bodie's sex style and his drum sexing? I 'd love to hear your reaction!!!