Forever Wicked: Wicked #4 Read online

  Forever Wicked

  Wicked #4

  Piper Lawson

  FOREVER WICKED is a reader-driven story that follows the bestselling new adult rock star trilogy WICKED!

  * * *

  Enjoy Jax and Haley's story in order:

  1.Good Girl

  2. Bad Girl

  3. Wicked Girl

  4. Forever Wicked

  FOREVER WICKED

  I wanted to fall for a boy. Instead, I fell for a legend.

  Jax Jamieson was the biggest rock star on the planet.

  And he loved me.

  We've been through ups and downs I thought would tear us—and me—apart.

  But we made it back to each other.

  Now, I don't want the big ceremony, the dress, or the paparazzi.

  I only want Jax. His heart, his soul, his hoodie.

  Forever.

  * * *

  After all the twists and turns of books 1-3, this sweet story focuses on the week leading up to Jax and Haley’s wedding. Catch up with Annie, Tyler, Serena, Wes, Nina, Jerry, and the band!

  1

  Haley

  Five days until the wedding

  There’s nothing like a man on his knees.

  Naked to the waist, eyes closed.

  Especially when that man is Jax Jamieson and he’s on his knees for me.

  “I wonder if you taste as good as I remember.”

  The biggest rock star in a generation yanks my skirt up around my hips, his half-lidded eyes locking on their target between my thighs.

  My greedy gaze roams his gorgeous face and tight jaw, his sculpted shoulders and chest and abs.

  It still blows my mind that he’s mine.

  The damp air in the garage is nothing compared to the dampness between my legs right now.

  “It hasn’t been that long,” I protest breathily, my hands kneading his shoulders.

  “No man should be without his wife for a month before their wedding.”

  “It’s not fair to him?”

  “It’s not fair to her.”

  Our plan to sell my father’s house in Philadelphia before moving the last of my, and his, belongings to Jax’s mansion in Dallas with time to spare before the wedding had seemed foolproof.

  Still, some emergency roadblocks complicated the sale, meaning I’d had to spend the last month in Philly while Jax and Annie were here in Dallas because of Annie’s school and a promotional gig Jax had committed to.

  Now with less than a week until the wedding, we’re still tripping over moving boxes from Philly while our friends and loved ones are descending on Dallas.

  Did I mention we haven’t gotten a moment alone together since I got back?

  Jax’s hands skim up my thighs, thumbs grazing so close to where I need him.

  “Wider.” That voice the world has paid millions to hear is commanding, and right now, it’s commanding me.

  My body tries to comply, desperate to give him access to what he wants—what we want—but my foot is blocked by something hard.

  I try to lift my leg higher, to catch the top of the cardboard moving box, but there’s another stacked on top of it and my foot slides back down.

  On a growl, Jax grabs my hips and turns me without even rising. My shoulder blades hit a metal shelf, and I suck in a breath, but I manage to widen my stance a few inches.

  Each pore on my body, each fiber of my being, insists that Jax’s tongue between my thighs will fix every ache I own.

  He’s hovering millimeters from where I need him. Vibration tingles through my body, radiating down my legs, to my fingertips that grab his shoulders for balance. The muscles there ripple, making the tattoos down his bicep and forearm jump in time to my heartbeat.

  “Tell me how much you missed me,” he rasps.

  I take a moment to appreciate Jax’s fiery amber eyes, the cocky tilt of his full mouth, the determined line of his jaw.

  “I might have thought of you once or twice,” I say saucily because I take my job of managing his enormous ego seriously. “I also thought about seating charts and flowers and whether we should add a sorbet to dessert.”

  He hooks a finger in the panel of my panties, already soaked, and drags it to the side. His breath on me has me trembling.

  Though I hadn’t been looking forward to spending time away from Jax, I’d reasoned it would be possible. I spent twenty-one years without him; a few weeks wouldn’t kill me.

  Apparently, that was optimistic. Because in those twenty-one years, I hadn’t gotten used to his commanding presence at my side and in my bed like I have in the year we’ve been engaged.

  It was like growing up without the sun only to be forced back underground the moment you experienced its warmth.

  During my month alone in Philly, I learned phone sex does less to resolve tension than to escalate it. And getting myself off to the memory of my fiancé’s touch, his lips, his cock, is a poor substitute for the real thing.

  “The only dessert you thought of is me eating this pussy until you’re begging me to stop.”

  His finger slides against my entrance. Not fair.

  He teases me until I moan.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  But instead of devouring me like I want him to, Jax pulls back.

  “We’re going upstairs.” His breath is unsteady. “I’m going to lock the door. And fuck my future wife until she swears to never leave me again.”

  His words have me boneless, but even though I want to float away on a wave of desire, the logical part of my brain won’t leave.

  “I can’t take this afternoon off,” I manage. “I have a dress appointment, then I need to find somewhere quiet to review an app for Carter and... oh—”

  Jax’s finger flicks my clit hard enough that I jump.

  “Don’t say his name when I’m fucking you.” His harsh edge is dulled by the wave of pleasure radiating from my core as his fingers continue to caress my opening.

  “You’re not fucking me. You’re teasing me.” My hands flex in his hair as need to assert myself twines with longing, the ever-present temptation to ignore the world and say yes to anything this man could ask of me. “And I can’t drop work for this entire week on account of the wedding.”

  “I don’t want you to drop work for a week. I want you to drop it for two.”

  His fingers press inside me as if to prove a point, and this time, I do moan. It’s impossible to reconcile the sudden fullness in me with the need for more as my hips arch against his hand.

  “Next week it’ll be you and me on a beach in Bali, and every sweet inch of this”—his thumb rubs a circle over my clit, and I hiccup at the bolt of desire that shocks me—“is mine until I say so.”

  Bali. It's like a prayer. Something to cling to when it's all too much.

  Sand.

  Solitude.

  Me and the man I love and zero interruptions.

  I’d figured once everything in Philly was finalized and my belongings were here, the actual wedding would be straightforward, but since the moment invitations went out more than six months ago, congratulations and gifts have poured in by the hundreds.

  The biggest wedding of the decade—which has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that I’m marrying Jax Jamieson—has gone from “massive” to “Richter scale registering,” a storm that’s built its own velocity and is threatening to destroy everything in its path.

  But Jax’s mouth lowers between my thighs, and I know the desperate ache in me is about to resolve.

  “Promise you’re mine for the next two weeks,” he murmurs against my needy skin, “and I’ll make you come so hard they’ll hear you back in Philly.”

  The vibration from Jax’s
mouth has me clutching the shelf behind me, fingers slipping on the cold metal as I swallow a moan. But the feel of his soft hair in my fingers, his hot mouth between my thighs, his commanding grip on my ass, tears at my control. “Yes.”

  “Fuck, I love hearing you say that word. Almost makes up for all the times you told me no.”

  White-hot pleasure descends on me as his mouth finally claims me.

  My fingers grasp for the shelf, and this time it tips forward—just a few inches, but enough to send something rolling off the front.

  “Jax, look out!” I startle out of my haze fast enough grab the can of paint as it drops through the air, a millisecond before it lands on his beautiful face.

  The shock of what nearly happened rips through the arousal, leaving me shaking with adrenaline.

  My almost-husband smirks. “We’re not even married yet, and you’re trying to kill me?”

  I set the can on the floor, shaking off the horror from the sight of it falling toward Jax. “I don’t want to kill you,” I pant. “I’d miss your mouth too much.”

  Jax straightens, eyes glowing as he brushes an impatient thumb down my cheek. “I miss every part of you, Hales, and we’re both right here.”

  My heart melts as I take in the man I love, the one I still can’t believe I’m marrying in a few days.

  His dirty words have me aching again. He trails a finger down my stomach, making my breath hitch before it dips between my thighs.

  “Haley! Jax! I know what you’re doing in there,” a voice shouts through the closed door to the house.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as Jax’s hand stills, willing us both to block out the sound.

  When nothing comes after one heartbeat, two, five, I think I’ve succeeded.

  Until a pounding comes at the door.

  “Haley, you have a dress fitting in thirty minutes, and there’s an accident in town! We need to leave now.”

  Alarm breaks through my sex-induced haze. “Shit! I thought it wasn’t for another hour and a half.”

  “I won’t be done with you in thirty minutes. But if they want to come to the house, I can work under the dress.”

  My thighs press together at his seductive promise.

  “I’m coming in,” Serena threatens, separated from us by only a few inches of wood.

  My face drains of blood.

  “Fucking hell.” Jax withdraws from my body, and I bite my lip to stop from complaining. He starts toward the door, fury in every taut muscle.

  “Jax! Stop it.” I lunge, hooking two fingers in the waist of his jeans and wincing as they nearly dislocate. I manage to get between him and the door without tripping over myself, and I work my clothes back into place between words. “Don’t bite Serena’s head off. It’s not her fault.”

  Frustration and concern color the amber eyes I love. “Let’s elope. I’ll have a charter on the tarmac in an hour.”

  My lips curve into a trembling smile. “We wanted to do this right, remember? I wanted our friends. You wanted it in Dallas...”

  Reluctant hands help me straighten my ruined underwear and wrinkled skirt as he drops his forehead to mine.

  “Fine, but I’m going to make you come once for every night we spent apart,” he vows. “You’re getting at least a week of orgasms tonight.”

  He presses his mouth to mine in a hard kiss that’s a reminder of what we were just doing and that the patience he’s exhibiting right now is a gift.

  “What’re you doing this afternoon?” I ask. “Helping Brick taste-test the cake? Or arranging carbon offsets for all the guests with Kyle?”

  “Something better.” His eyes gleam as if he's holding a secret over my head simply to punish me.

  It's working.

  I’m dying to know, but hearing my name shouted through the door again pulls my attention away.

  “This isn’t over. Tonight.” He presses my hand against the bulge in his jeans that has me lusting after him even more.

  With a last look that does nothing to cool my insides, he grabs his shirt off the floor, tugs it over his head, and starts for the door.

  2

  Haley

  “You look hot. I’m seriously attracted to you right now.”

  I laugh as I trace the lines of my dress, meeting Serena’s playful gaze in the mirror at the boutique. “Remember Wes? Your seriously attractive genius of a boyfriend?”

  My friend waves and goes back to working the zipper up the back of my dress. With her pale-purple floor-length gown, her blond ponytail, and her trademark red lipstick, she looks like one badass maid of honor. “If he was going to lose me, he’d respect that it was to a fellow nerd.”

  I bite my cheek. I love seeing my friend happy.

  Every one of the handful of times I met Serena’s boyfriend over the past year, I wished I got more time with him. The guy has a PhD in genetics and started a DNA dating app that’s slowly taking over the world.

  He also melts when he looks at Serena. My friend is a marketing ninja who can plan parties and deal with egos without breaking a sweat. They’re opposites, but they’re also so cute it hurts to watch them together.

  “You guys moved in together this year, but you’ve been strangely quiet about how it’s going.”

  “Only because we’ve been busy christening every surface of the new apartment.” Her lips curve. “But I like where we’re at. This ‘we’re serious but not ready to require lawyers in order to fight over the potted fig tree in the living room’ place.”

  I laugh. “Well, I hope he understands what he’s getting into by spending the week here.”

  “He’s level-headed like you,” Serena insists, screwing up her face. “The craziness won’t even make a dent. How’s Jax handling it?”

  “He’s been edgy since before I went to Philly,” I admit. “Big Leap was denied national funding that would’ve expanded the music program to new states, and I think he took it personally.”

  “Where is Big Leap? I didn’t see it in the driveway.”

  I think of the renovated tour bus turned mobile studio we use to run music workshops for underprivileged kids.

  “In Philly with staff for the summer. Jax will go back to it eventually, but he’s not used to rejection. When we got the bad news, he decided to fund its expansion himself. I told him that defeats the purpose of having partners. We need to collaborate.”

  “And?”

  “And he did it anyway.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny his heart’s in the right place. The money he invested will help staff take the bus to two new states over the summer, linking up with local community outreach programs, but our ultimate goal is to integrate with elementary and high schools.

  “I think he knows that to expand in the long run, we need to play within the rules. But red tape to Jax is like a red cape to a bull—all he sees is a signal to charge.

  “In the meantime, he says he’s been doing things around the house, but whenever I try to talk to him about his future, he tells me not to ‘deny a man his hard-earned retirement’.”

  Serena snorts. “Jax will never retire.”

  I think she’s right, but Jax is the last person to admit it.

  My friend looks back at the dress. “Okay, suck in a second. I’m going to get this fastened if it kills me.”

  I do, and Serena shoves the zipper up with a cry of triumph.

  I take as much of a breath as I can manage given the tight fabric. “Listen,” I gasp, “I appreciate you taking charge on the dresses and the bachelorette.”

  Serena waves me off. “Nina’s doing the hard work.”

  Since Jax’s former tour manager started dating Brick after years of flirtation, she’s been stepping away from life on the road and into local event planning.

  This wedding was the perfect opportunity. She knows Jax and the circus that follows him better than anyone.

  “Must feel like old times,” Serena prompts.

  “It does. Except Lita couldn’t make it because she’s touri
ng. But Jerry’s flying in tomorrow.”

  “How is he?”

  I chew my lip. “I visited him last week. The medication has done wonders to help him stabilize over the past year. Still, you can slow Alzheimer’s, but you can’t stop it.”

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t get him to move here.”

  I nod tightly. “It’s his decision, and I understand it.”

  But I had hoped to move Jerry, the man who took me under his wing on Jax’s tour, to a facility near us in Dallas. I’d researched options, found the best possible care. But when I presented it to him, he rejected the idea outright.

  It’d never occurred to me that, without any family to speak of, he might choose to stay in Philly. Even though Jax and I have committed to visiting Jerry every chance we get, Jerry’s decision is a reminder that I’m leaving behind the only home I’ve known.

  New beginnings don’t come without endings.

  “He’s going to be so proud of you this weekend. Your mom would be, too.”

  Serena’s words bring me back, and I find a smile. “I miss her.” I know she, like my father, had a hand in bringing me and Jax together. I know they’d both be happy in their own way if they hadn’t passed. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

  Serena squeezes my hand.

  “You ladies decent?” The designer walks in without waiting for an answer.

  The petite woman who can’t be much older than us cocks her head, yanking a pencil from the messy chestnut bun pinned on top. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen a lot over the years. Nothing under there”—she waves her pencil at us—“could shock me.”

  Serena and I picked out a dress last year, but when I saw Ava Cameron’s designs, I changed my mind. This dress is my one “rock star’s wife” indulgence, even though I insisted on paying for it myself.

  It turns out the woman is even more amazing than the clothing she dreams up.

  “Thank you for flying in from New York to do last-minute adjustments,” I say, fluffing my skirt. “Do you do this for all your clients?”