We stop talking after that, getting lost in each other. Found in each other. Our hands wandering, dispensing each other of any remaining clothing, our fingers seeking. Stroking. I grab a condom and roll it onto his thick erection, just before he takes over, flipping me onto my back and sliding inside of my body with ease, all the way to the hilt. He holds himself there, hovering above me, that chain he’s always wearing dangling from his neck. The necklace he gave me when he came back from last summer’s tour is around my neck as well, a symbol of his love for me, even when he didn’t realize it yet.
“I love you,” he whispers as he slowly starts to move.
I move beneath him, hooking my legs around his hips. “I love you too.”
“Even though I’m an egotistical shit?”
“Especially because of that,” I say with a smile. He hits a particular spot deep within me and I close my eyes on a moan. “Oh my God, don’t stop.”
He hits that spot again and again, increasing his pace, and I can already feel it coming. My orgasm pressing down on me. Until it’s all over me, and I whisper his name, my body shaking, my inner walls squeezing him tight, choking the orgasm right out of him mere minutes later. Until we’re both a trembling, panting heap of tangled limbs and quivering parts, clinging to each other.
“That was almost embarrassingly fast,” he says after he’s found his voice.
“Mmm. I didn’t mind.” I snuggle closer, but he gently pushes me away, getting up so he can dispose of the condom. When he comes back into the bedroom, I’m already sitting up, the sheets falling to my waist, exposing my upper body to him. Of course his gaze drops to my chest, lingering there. “I want to get on the pill before we leave.”
He raises a brow. “Really?”
I nod, bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging them to me. “I’m tired of condoms.”
Jackson grins. “Me too.”
“We should get rid of them for good.”
“I agree.” His smile fades. “I’ve never had sex without one before.”
“That’s reassuring,” I tease him.
“You trust me? Is that what you’re saying?” he asks as he comes back to the bed and climbs beneath the covers, pulling me to him.
“I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.” I kiss his jaw. His chin. His lips. “I love you, Jackson.”
“I love you too, baby. You and me? We’re going to conquer the world together,” he says with all that Jackson Rivers’ confidence I love.
“We are,” I agree, settling in next to him.
Right where I belong.
Epilogue
Jackson
Summer
Adrenaline races through my veins as I stand on the sidelines of the stage, listening to the crowd. They’re chanting my name over and over again, wanting me to come back out and perform one last time for them. Some of them sound desperate, high-pitched female voices yelling, “Jackson, please!”
Ellie always tells me she can feel their pain. She knows what that’s like, wishing I would notice her. Really notice her. And I tell her what I say in the song that I wrote just for her. The one that’s currently racing up the Billboard charts, which is fucking unbelievable. “Pink” did well, but “I See You” is already doing better. Rick swears it’s going to outperform the first single.
He says it’s going to hit number one.
“They want you,” Ellie says, sliding her hand into mine. This is our ritual. One we started early on in the tour. Now it’s late August. She says this to me every time they’re out there chanting my name and we’re backstage, tucked in close together.
She supports me. Loves me. Encourages me. And I do the same for her. At the beginning of the summer, she started a YouTube channel about our travels and exploits, and she’s gained lots of followers fast. Rick wasn’t thrilled I was bringing my girlfriend on tour at first, but now he loves it. He loves all the attention Ellie’s social media brings to us, to me. She’s completely blown up. She even has sponsors now.
It’s fucking wild. Our lives have taken a total turn, and it’s amazing.
I couldn’t do any of this without her.
“Do you want me?” I ask. This is also part of our ritual. I know what her answer is going to be. It never wavers.