I reach for his cock and grasp it firmly before I begin to move my hand up and down his hard length. His breathing picks up and he stops what he’s doing and straightens. Smiling at him, I bend to take his cock in my mouth.
The minute I wrap my lips around him, his hand lands on my head and he groans. “Fuck, Presley...”
And then my phone rings.
I ignore it and keep sucking him. No way am I letting anyone interrupt us tonight.
“You wanna get that?” he asks, although I can tell he doesn’t want me to.
I swirl my tongue over him, and he sucks in a breath. “No. Whoever it is can wait ‘cause I’ve got more important things to do.”
“Thank Christ,” he mutters as his eyes flutter shut.
My phone stops ringing but then starts again.
Bloody hell.
We both continue to ignore it, but when it rings a fourth time, I swear and let him go. “Sorry, I’ll tell them to fuck off and be right back.”
He rakes his hand through his hair, frustrated, and smacks me on the ass. “Hurry up, my dick fucking needs your mouth.”
I love his dirty talk and answer my phone begrudgingly. “What?” I snap without even looking to see who it is.
“I’ve hurt my fucking ankle.” It’s Darla. Shit. I can tell from her voice she’s in a great deal of pain.
“Where are you, hon?”
“I’m in my hotel room, just got back, but I tripped in the bloody gutter and twisted it. Are you able to come to my room and check it out? I don’t think it’s broken, but I need a second opinion.”
My gaze shifts to Jett’s hard on. Fuck.
He catches my gaze and gives me a questioning look. I frown and give my attention back to Darla. “Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”
She sighs. “Thanks, babe.”
“Of course,” I say and hang up. There’s no way I can let my friend down in her hour of need. She’s been there for me every step of the way through my marriage break-up, and although I have an aching need for Jett to fuck me, Darla always comes first.
“You’re leaving?” he asks, but there’s no anger there.
“Yeah, sorry. My friend’s twisted her ankle, and I want to make sure she hasn’t broken it.” The regret is clear in my voice.
“Shit,” he says and begins to get dressed. “I’ll come with you.”
“What?”
“I’ll organise for someone to pick her up and take her to the hospital so you don’t have to worry about it. You can just take care of her while I sort this out for you.”
Mind blown.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I murmur, surprised at his offer. I’m more surprised at the way he’s handling this, though. If I’d stopped mid blow job with my ex to run off and check on a twisted ankle, he’d have been pissed and wouldn’t have hesitated to let me know.
“No worries.”
We get dressed and then head to Darla’s room. As we wait for her to answer her door, I say, “Sorry about this.”
He grins. “It’s all good, but you owe me and I’ll be collecting.”
Hell yes. I return his grin. “I like the way you think.”
Before he can say anything else, Darla answers the door and I take in her distressed state. Mascara is running down her cheeks, along with tears. Darla never cries so I know this is bad. I take one look at her ankle and suspect she’s broken it. “Shit, Darla, that looks nasty.” I usher her to a chair and then dial down to the front desk and request for ice to be brought up to her room.
I’m so engrossed in helping her, I forget to introduce Jett so he does it for me. “Hi, I’m Jett.”
She smiles through her tears. “Goddamn, you scored well,” she says to me with a wink.
Jett laughs, not even slightly thrown by her remark. I get the feeling he’s heard this before. “It’s good to - ”
Darla cuts him off. Her eyes have widened and she looks like she’s about to hyperventilate. “Oh my god, you’re Jett fucking Vaughn!”
“Who?” I ask, taking in her excitement and his blank look.
She’s excited, but the pain has taken over again, and she can’t answer me, so I look at Jett who is watching me with another look I can’t read. Usually I’m good at reading people, but this is the second time tonight I’ve not been able to read him.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “You didn’t know, did you?”
My brows knit. “Know what? I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
“Fuck,” he mutters.
“Are you going to tell me?” I ask, wishing one of them would fill me in.
Darla’s pain subsides enough for her to answer me. “He’s the lead singer of Crave.” That means nothing to me, and when she realises that, she exclaims, “God, Presley, how can you not know who Crave is? They’re one of the best known rock bands in the world. You of all people should know who they are.”
Jett steps in. “Not everyone has heard of us, Darla. I do occasionally find someone who doesn’t know me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, now you’re just being humble. Everyone knows who you are.” She gives me a pointed stare. “Except Presley which is odd because - ”
I cut her off. “I don’t know every rock star in the world.” I give her a dirty look and then look at Jett. “Sorry.”