Betrayal (Bruno Mars Fanfiction)

Chapter 4

I press respond.

7:55PM

NEW MESSAGE

TO: 928-520-6382

Yeah, I thought I’d try a sane girl for a change.

After sending the text, I turn the phone off and toss it onto the kitchen counter, running back to the door and adjusting my hair using the reflection of the window next to the door. I step back from the door, making sure not to seem like the desperate asshole I am. I wait a few seconds before opening it when she knocks, and her face lights up instantly when she sees me.

“Hey!” she says enthusiastically as she steps forward to hug me. “You look so good!”

“You do too,” I say, truly taken aback by her stunning appearance. Her hair falls around her face in an afro-like assortment of messy curls, her large earrings deep in the midst of it. She wears a red lacey top with a black leather jacket over her shoulders, and there are bracelets covering the majority of the skin of her wrists. The light amount of lip-gloss she has on her mouth highlights her beautiful skin tone in the dark of the evening. My eyes make their way from her face, moving past her neck and slowly over her chest, along her slender waist, all the way down to her slim legs.

“…Bruno?” she asks, spooking me out of my trance.

“Sorry,” I say, slightly embarrassed by my lack of control. She doesn’t seem to mind though. “Come on in. Welcome to el casa de Bruno,” I joke, waving my hand towards the living room.

“You’ve been working on your Spanish, I see.”

“Always am, gotta keep myself educated. Fame doesn’t mean anything if you’ve got a sack of shit in your head.”

She laughs. God, I missed her laugh. “So, what did you have planned for tonight?” A lot more than I’m probably gonna get.

“I don’t know. I thought we could just hang. Maybe jam a little. Speaking of, you want a drink?” I ask, moving toward the kitchen and taking the alcohol out of the cabinet.

“Sure,” she says, taking the glass of iced vodka I pour right out of my hand and downing almost half of it in a matter of seconds.

“Damn, J! I don’t remember you ever drinking it straight up!”

“I usually don’t,” she says, cringing from the burn of alcohol in her throat. “I’m just in that kinda mood tonight, I guess,” she laughs.

“Well, in that case, you’ll probably want some more,” I say, pouring more vodka into her glass before making myself a glass of my own.

“So, when you say ‘jam’, do you mean like collaboration? Or just for fun?” she asks.

“For fun, for a collab, whatever you want. Do you want to collab?”

“I think it would be great! Think about it! I know your fans constantly beg for one with the two of us, I see tweets about it all the time. So, why not?”

“Alright then. Let’s go make a song,” I say, leading her to where I keep all of my instruments and recording equipment.

“Wow,” she says when she steps into the room. “You’ve got yourself a really nice setup here.”

“I try. I wanted to have something here just for the occasion that I had a really good melody and I couldn’t get to the studio. So I made myself a little one right here.”

She steps into the sound booth and immediately lays down a tune, and I pick up my guitar.

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A few hours later, Janelle and I are in the small studio room at the back of the house, blasting Whitney Houston and singing along drunkenly. I have my guitar in my lap and I’m strumming to a random beat I have in my head, and she’s dancing without rhythm across the room.

“It’s so hot in heeeerreee…” she says, smiling as she throws her arms back behind her to take off her black leather jacket.

“I think it might just be me,” I mumble, a smirk on my face as I lay my head against the couch, my refilled glass of vodka in my hand. “In fact, yes, I knoooow it’s me.” I take another sip and pull a cigarette out of my pocket, lighting it and taking a deep drag. When I exhale, she comes over to me.

“Bruno, how many times did I tell you while we were on tour that smoking is gross?” she says, taking the cigarette out of my hand and placing it between her pointer and middle finger as if she was about to smoke it. “I mean, really now.”

I can tell that she is wasted not only by the way she looks at me, but by the way she speaks to me. Her eyes roll to every corner of the room and she slouches her back.

“It makes me sexy,” I tell her. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t make you wanna pounce on me.”

She laughs loudly and drunkenly. “You know what… you’re right. Here,” she says, handing it back to me.

I take another deep drag as she watches me, her eyes seemingly stuck to mine.

She sighs. “Bruno… do you remember that one night on the tour bus when we… you knoooowww…” a snicker escapes her lips.

“…Yeah,” I say, more than enthusiastically. “Why…” I awkwardly clear my throat. “Why do you ask?” I spin around facing away from her, grabbing my glass and taking a huge gulp.

“No reason, I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about that night a lot lately.” She twirls her hair in her fingers. “And… I can’t shake the regret I have for not… letting us get further than we did.”

I almost choke. She can’t be serious.

“…oh,” I struggle to say.

“Yeah,” she responds. “And I never told you because I thought that you and your girlfriend were still together. I didn’t want to get in the way of that. But when you said that you’ve been broken up for a while—”

“I get it,” I say, mainly just to get her to stop talking about Jessica, which just so happens to remind me of the baby… fuck. “I’ve thought about it a lot, too.”

She’s silent for a moment. And then she smiles devilishly, a smirk underlying her features. “Oh, really?”

I spin around and pull her body to mine, and she laughs. “Yes. Really.” I effectively silence her with my lips. They’re soft and wet with alcohol as they move against mine, at first at a standstill and struck with shock, but eventually beginning to relax into the sensation.

What the fuck are you doing? She’s drunk off her ass.

We kiss gently at first, but soon she opens her lips, allowing my tongue to swirl around hers inside of her mouth. We begin to move roughly against each other, and I pick her up to bring her to the top of the table in the corner of the room, her legs open with my body in between.

Fuck. She’s gonna kill you.

Her hips grind up and down against mine, and I move against her in response. Our breathing becomes ragged and harsh, and I reach for the fabric on her chest. Her head leans back, granting me permission. I rip the material from her skin, looking up and down her body, drinking in the way her bra pushes up her breasts. She reaches for my head and pulls it back to her face, biting my lower lip desperately.

Shit, she’s so fucking hot.

Suddenly overcome with need, I drag her away from the table and push her up against the far wall, facing me. My arms on either side of her head, I move my lips from hers and begin to move them down her neck, to her collarbone. She lets out a slight moan when I suck on the skin there.

“Bruno…” she whispers. “Wait..." 

Damn it.