Rise by Cassandra Robbins

 

 

 

 

GIA

Past – Eighteen years old

San Francisco, California

My eyes blink open and for a second, I’m confused as to where I am. I reach for him, but he’s not there. Sitting up on my elbows, I look around. Yet another hotel room. This time, we’re in San Francisco.

“Rhys?” I yell. “How long have I been sleeping?” The room is silent. I flop back onto the pillows and wipe my hands up and down my face, then lean over and grab the pack of cigarettes and light up.

San Francisco, only fifteen to twenty minutes away from Berkeley. It wasn’t that long ago that I was sitting in my dorm room plotting with Julianna on how to get to him.

Now I feel ancient compared to that girl. I cross my legs, prop the pillows behind me, and look around the room. We need the maid, but Rhys is writing so, no one but us is allowed in.

Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and mentally prepare for tonight. It’s the last concert of the tour.

My mind wanders to how I need to call Julianna and tell her I’m not coming back.

I miss her. She’s the only thing I do miss about my old life. After the fucking nightmare with my mom and dealing with Christie, yeah, Julianna is definitely the only one I miss.

Rhys ended up firing his mom’s doctors. He then put her in a private hospital in Malibu. It sounds as if she’s making progress, and her medication is stabilizing her. I know she’s been calling, but he’s been writing music.

Watching Rhys write, create, seeing the way his mind works… God, I’m in so deep with him, nothing can tear me away.

He’s my everything, my fucking world.

He’s beautiful, a musical genius, and he can fuck like a god. My face turns pink and my nipples harden. I want him, twenty-four seven.

I’m starting to worry I have a real problem. All I have to do is think of him and I’m wet.

Damn it.

I need a shower and have to get up. I almost reach down to take the edge off. But why bother? It’s never as good with my fingers anymore.

It’s like he’s trained my pussy to crave his thick, pierced cock, and nothing else will do. Except for his fingers and tongue. Leaping out of bed, I put the cigarette out and march into the bathroom.

Rhys is probably doing a sound check, or did he miss that this morning? Where the hell is my phone? Not that he’s gonna answer. Most of the time, he forgets it. Although, with his mom in the hospital, I think he’s trying to be better.

My eyes longingly shift to the giant tub. Screw it, I have time. The concert is not for a couple hours, and soaking in the tub will do wonders for my body.

I turn on the gold faucet and reach for the pretty bottles laid out on a gold tray. They all smell delicious, so I dump in the one that smells like a combo of vanilla and lavender.

Turning, I look at myself in the large mirror. I look like a different person. My lips are swollen from constantly being kissed; my nipples are dark from being sucked. I’m flushed.

Jesus, I look wild. I definitely have lost weight, but who cares? I have full breasts, so it balances it out. Trying to shake my unease, I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth.

It’s weird that he hasn’t called or left a note. I take a deep breath. I’m being absurd. He hasn’t left the room in days, and he has to perform tonight. I’m sure he’s with the guys. Maybe he’s showing them his new stuff?

I spit and rinse. “Everything is okay,” I tell myself. Exhaling, I sink into the hot tub. But now I’m getting paranoid. I can’t enjoy this. I need to wash up and go find him. I’m just reaching for the gel when I hear the door click open and I freeze.

“Rhys?” Nothing.

“Rhys?” I shout, standing. “Rhys?” I reach for a towel, glancing around for a weapon. What if it’s a crazy fan who’s somehow gotten in and is going to kill me because I’m not Granger?

“Brat?”

I scream as I reach for the edge of the tub. “What the fuck? You jerk.” I throw the towel at him. Of course, it misses him, not even getting close. He looks at it, then leans against the door. His dark eyes inspect my face, and he smirks as he stares at my breasts.

“Stop it.” I sink back down. “I thought it was a lunatic fan coming to kill me,” I huff, leaning back until the bubbles are up to my neck.

He watches with his arms crossed, his hair a mess, the dark strands making my fingers itch to run through them.

Pushing off the doorframe, he enters, stopping at the edge. “Why are you all flushed?” His voice is deep, gravelly, and of course my nipples harden and my clit throbs.

“What do you mean? I’m taking a hot bath,” I snip. He leans down, his hands on both sides of the tub.

“Let me see,” he says, and I can smell the bourbon from here.

My eyes narrow. “Where were you?”

“Out.” He grins as his hand reaches into the tub and wraps around my ankle. “Rhys, stop it. I’m not in the mood.” I try to jerk my ankle away, but he holds on as water splashes up to my face.

In one quick jerk, my ass slides toward him and he holds both my ankles. “Now, beautiful, let’s try this again. Show me.” His nostrils flare as he watches the bubbles around my breasts.

“Show you what?” My voice tight. I have no reason to be mad at him, other than that he left to go drinking without me, and now he wants to get all domineering.

He does nothing but smile as my heart flutters. I hate him right now. It’s not fair for him to be this perfect.

“I want to see your cunt. Did you touch yourself?”

“No.” That was way too fast. Now he’s gonna think I did. “I didn’t,” I say to his raised eyebrow. “I thought about it, but I didn’t.” I bite the bottom of my lip as his hand slides up my wet legs.

“You look like you’re lying, Brat.” I gasp as he slides one arm through the water and stops right there.

“Talk to me, tell me.” His voice makes me arch up, but he takes his hand out and I almost scream, because now I’m needy as hell.

“I didn’t touch my—”

“You didn’t touch my pussy.” He corrects me. “Now say it right.” He sits on the edge of the tub, his wet hand playing with the bubbles around my breasts.

I take a breath. “I didn’t touch your pussy.” I whisper the pussy part.

“Nah.” He grabs the back of my hair so that my head is held tight at the base of my hair. “This is my cunt,” he says, and my eyes grow wide.

Blinking at him, I wonder if he’s been drinking tequila instead of bourbon.

“Now, say it. Tell me what’s mine.” He brings my head up as the water drips down my chest.

“I’m not saying the C word.” I’m trying to be outraged, but my breathy voice gives me away.

Kneeling, he whispers, “Say it and I’ll give you what I trained my cunt to need.”

“What the hell is happening?” I try to slap his hands away, but he’s already rubbing one of my nipples, his eyes like dark orbs.

“These are my tits also.” His calloused hand and fingers caress and squeeze it. As I swallow back a moan, he smiles at me.

“I want to pierce this nipple.” Leaning forward, he takes it in his mouth.

This time I do moan as he sucks it almost raw, my core clenching.

He looks over and bites it.

Hard.

“The fuck, Rhys?” He leans up and silences me with his lips and my sore nipple tingles as his hand leaves my breast to travel down to my clit.

I’m spinning, trying to keep up, then let go because I’m coming.

Hard.

Before I can recover, he pulls me out, carrying my wet, slippery body to the glass shower door. I wrap my arms around his muscled shoulders. His mouth attacks mine as our tongues twist, and I definitely taste the bourbon.

I feel his hand unbutton his jeans and my feet help push them down past his ass. In one fast thrust, he’s inside me.

He doesn’t move, only pulls back to look at me. Our eyes lock and I see everything I will ever need.

“I love you,” I murmur into his mouth as I kiss him. His hands move to the top of the glass door and he thrusts into me fast and hard, his piercing rubbing me over and over as my back slides up and down from the water, and now, our sweat.

He’s not even trying to hold back. He needed me. I throw back my head and he bites my neck as I shiver and moan loudly.

He’s inside me, and I never want it to end.

“That’s it, Gia. Talk to me, baby.” He grunts his approval and my core pulses and contracts as his hips slam into me.

He’s primal, almost intimidating. I’m climbing, my core contracting, and he doesn’t stop. My eyes close, but dots still appear as I orgasm. I think I scream. My pulse races and I see stars as wave after wave of addicting pleasure fills me.

“Whose cunt is this?” he hisses in my ear, still fucking me hard while I scream his name.

“I’m gonna fill my sweet cunt up.” His body jerks and he comes undone.

Steadying our breaths, neither of us moves. Finally, he pulls out and backs up. My legs shake and I grab his arm.

“Take a shower and get ready.” He kisses me.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” I look down at his wet, slick cock that still stands proud. I almost tell him to sit on the toilet so I can ride him, but he’s right—I need to get ready.

“No. I want to smell us and my cunt when I play tonight.”

“God, Rhys, you are so… vulgar.” He grins, then throws his head back and laughs.

“Vulgar?” He rolls the rrrr. “I like that. Hurry up.” He slaps my ass and I roll my eyes, stepping into the shower. There goes my relaxing bath. The way my legs feel like rubber, I could use it.

Sighing, I raise my face to the water and try to figure out what’s going on with me. It’s not like I’m in a bad mood. How could I be? I’ve had numerous orgasms already today. It’s more an unsettled feeling.

I grab the shampoo. This has to be because we’re in San Francisco. I wish I could skip tonight’s concert, snuggle in bed wearing one of his black T-shirts, and wait for him to come home.

Yet I can’t and I’m being ridiculous. Just because he hasn’t said what we’re doing next, doesn’t mean I should get weird. I hurry, washing and turning off the shower. I need to look fantastic, especially tonight. No clue why I feel this way, but I do.