Music of My Heart - *NSYNC Fanfiction (Ch 18)

This serial is romantic fanfiction based on public personas. I don't know these people in real life. Also, this chapter is NSFW.

Zoe woke to the sound of horses nickering in the distance. The Montana morning light filtered through wooden shutters, casting stripes across her bed. After a a month at JC’s mountain retreat and a week at Kelly's ranch, she still hadn't adjusted to the quiet that followed sunset or the chorus of animal sounds that preceded dawn.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand: 8:15 AM. Kelly's text had arrived right on schedule.

"I think I found a solution for the mess we made of the outro to 'Wreckage.' Ass in the studio chair after you eat."

Groaning, Zoe rolled onto her back. She'd been up until 2 AM wrestling with lyrics, the words refusing to align with the melody she'd crafted earlier that week. Her notebook lay open beside her bed where she’d left it when she fell asleep. The pages were covered in aggressively crossed-out lines and frustrated scribbles.

The guest house Kelly provided was rustic but luxurious, all reclaimed wood and leather furniture with stone accents. A small kitchen occupied one corner, though Zoe rarely used it since meals were provided at the main house. Her guitars—both the one she'd brought and three Kelly had insisted she borrow—stood in stands along one wall. A vintage upright piano dominated the living area, its worn keys bearing the signs of countless hours of use.

Zoe padded into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. The mirror reflected the dark circles under her eyes, evidence of her late-night struggles. Her skin had grown pale after weeks away from the California sun and daylight hours spent inside a dark studio.

She sighed, finger-combing her tangled hair. Songwriting had always been her escape, but lately it felt more like a prison. She'd accomplished more in a week with Kelly than in months on her own, but the pace was relentless.

Twenty minutes later, she trudged up the gravel path to the main house, clutching her notebook and a travel mug of black coffee. The morning air carried an earthy scent that reminded her of pine and hay.

Two of Kelly's horses grazed in the nearby paddock, lifting their heads briefly as she passed. “Sup fellas,” she muttered.

Kelly's ranch sprawled across hundreds of acres. The main house perched on a gentle rise overlooking a valley. Unlike JC's sleek modern retreat, Kelly's property embraced rustic elegance—exposed beams, natural stone, walls of windows that brought the landscape inside. Where JC’s mountain home boasted photos of the artists that had recorded there, Kelly’s home was decorated with instruments hung along the walls—not as decorations but as tools frequently pulled down and used.

"There she is!" Kelly's voice boomed from the kitchen as Zoe entered through the mudroom. "I was about to send a search party."

Kelly stood at the center island, hair piled on top of her head, in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo of her son's soccer team. Despite her casual appearance, she radiated energy that filled the massive kitchen.

"Sorry," Zoe mumbled, sliding onto a stool at the island. "I was up late trying to unfuck Wreckage. Something’s… not right."

A plate of eggs and bacon slid toward her. Some days, Zoe really missed Manny’s cooking. "I saw your light on when I let the dogs out at midnight,” said Kelly. “And again at two.”

“Do you sleep?” Zoe grumbled. “Shit.”

“Yes. Then my bladder wakes me up because I’m over forty and I’ve had two kids." She topped off Zoe’s coffee without asking. "What did you work on?"

"The bridge is… stupid." Zoe stabbed at her eggs. "The transition feels forced, but there’s not a natural…" She flurried her hands while she chewed. “…place for it to build. You know?”

Kelly nodded, leaning against the counter. "We can tackle it after breakfast. Fresh eyes, fresh ears. And like I said, I have some ideas for the outro. We can work from the end forward.”

Zoe's phone vibrated in her pocket. She leaned over the dig it out and glance at the screen, though she knew who the text would be from.

Morning, superstar. Have a productive day.

Her heart squeezed as she read the message. Their conversations since she'd left for Montana had been sporadic, mostly short texts that skimmed the surface of what remained unresolved between them. They'd managed two phone calls, both awkward and filled with long, painful pauses or aimless, boring chatter.

"Earth to Zoe." Kelly waved a hand in front of her face with a sympathetic smile. "You disappeared on me there."

"Sorry." Zoe tucked her phone away. “I’m here.”

Kelly's eyes narrowed knowingly. "JC?"

Zoe's silence answered for her.

"You know," Kelly said, leaning in, "He's always been a tough nut to crack. At least that’s the gossip. Even back in the boy band days when everyone else was an open book. He's got some walls."

"Thick ass concrete walls with barbed wire on top," Zoe muttered.

"All artists have their coping mechanisms, right?" Kelly took a bite of toast. "His is distance. Being unavailable. Sweetest man alive but also kind of cold. But he cares about you; that much was obvious when you performed together."

"A lot of good that does me." Zoe pushed her plate away. "One minute he's all in, the next he's giving me the focus on your career speech."

"He’s not wrong. You should. But how's that working out for you? The focusing part, I mean."

"I'm here instead of laid up at his house begging for scraps of attention.”

Kelly laughed. "Physically, yeah. But your head's been laid up at his house." She leaned closer, her expression softening. "I am no relationship counselor, but here's what I know: creativity feeds on emotional honesty. Whatever you're feeling, you need to use it. Channel it. Let it fuel your work instead of distracting from it. You don’t have to be Avril and Taylor and Gwen and actually record and release it…but you have to let it create growth.”

Zoe nodded "That would put it to good use at last. I don't even know what we are to each other."

"Have you asked him directly?"

Zoe let out a harsh laugh, one that was more bitterness than humor. "So many fucking times. Especially right before I left the retreat. He danced around it."

Kelly shrugged. "Ask again. Or don't. Either way, put that emotion somewhere." She gathered their plates. "Now, go get your guitar. We've got work to do, and I've got ideas."

The studio occupied what had once been a barn, now converted into a state-of-the-art recording space that maintained its rustic exterior. Inside, acoustic panels and sound baffles created a professional environment while preserving the soaring wooden ceiling. Equipment worth millions occupied the space, from vintage microphones to cutting-edge digital workstations.

Kelly settled into a rolling chair behind the board. "Play me what you've got so far."

Zoe positioned herself behind a microphone, adjusting the guitar strap across her shoulder. The song—a moody mid-tempo piece about taking risks—had emerged during their first session together. Kelly had pushed her to dig deeper into the emotions that had led her to Montana in the first place.

As Zoe played through the verse and chorus, Kelly's eyes closed, her head bobbing slightly with the rhythm. When Zoe reached the problematic bridge, Kelly's brow furrowed.

"Okay, stop," she said, holding up a hand. "I hear it. It’s forcing a shift that doesn't feel earned. You haven’t worked your way up the ladder to justify the intensity you’re trying to bring. The song needs to breathe before it can change direction."

"I thought the contrast would create tension," Zoe argued, though even to her own ears the explanation sounded weak.

"It’s a jump scare," Kelly countered, not unkindly. "It creates confusion because you're rushing the emotional journey." She wheeled her chair forward. "What's ‘Wreckage’ really about, Zoe?"

Zoe's fingers stilled on the guitar strings. She'd been dodging this question—from Kelly, from herself—since they started recording. The easy answer was that it was about the remnants of her relationship with JC, but that wasn't entirely true.

"It's about..." Zoe stared at the strings of her guitar, plucking them absently. "It's about standing in the aftermath of something you destroyed, not sure if you should rebuild or walk away. It's about wanting something and being terrified you can't have it. Or that you'll lose it if you reach for something else.”

Kelly nodded slowly. "You're hiding behind vague lyrics when you should be telling the real story. Dig into why you’re afraid to let the music reflect that ambivalence? That fear? The bridge should acknowledge the risk you’re putting yourself into before it resolves. That's what you’re taking your listener through."

They spent the next three hours deconstructing and rebuilding the song. Kelly alternated between brutal honesty and enthusiastic, clap filled encouragement.

By lunch, they had a structure that felt good, though the lyrics remained incomplete.

"I need you to spend some time with your notebook and work on the lyrics. Let it percolate," Kelly advised as they walked back to the main house. "Sometimes you need to live with a melody before the words reveal themselves. Your brain is still working on it even when you think it's not."

Zoe nodded, exhaustion and satisfaction mingling. "This process is… different than what I'm used to."

"Oh? How so?"

"More... direct. JC would nudge me toward solutions, but make me discover the puddles on my own. You just tell me exactly what's not working."

"Different approaches work for different artists. And for different teachers." Kelly held the door open. "Maybe JC sensed you needed space to find your own answers. I think you need permission to trust your instincts, and someone to call you on your shit when you're hiding from the truth. We all need different things at different times."

Inside, Kelly's assistant had laid out a spread of sandwiches made with fresh baked bread and fruit from a local farm. They ate standing at the kitchen island, discussing production ideas for the growing collection of songs they'd been developing.

"The goal is to get at least three fully produced tracks done before you leave," Kelly said, reaching for an apple. "That gives you something substantial to build on when you get back to LA."

"If I survive eight more weeks of this pace," Zoe joked weakly.

"You'll do more than survive.” Kelly's phone chimed, and she glanced at it. "Crap. I've got a call with my management team, then I need to pick up the kids. The afternoon is yours. At dinner I want to hear what you’ve done with the lyrics."

Left alone, Zoe wandered out to the covered porch that wrapped around the house. The air was pleasantly warm but not oppressive as she settled into a rocking chair, notebook open on her lap.

But the words wouldn't come. Instead, her thoughts drifted to JC.

She pulled out her phone, already defeated by her inability to turn off her feelings and scrolled to his last message, thumbs hovering over the screen as she considered her response. After several attempts, she typed:

Montana is beautiful. Working non-stop with Kelly. Miss our morning coffee talks.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. JC was not the best at texting. He would eventually reply, but his reply could come in minutes, hours or days.

A few minutes later her phone buzzed.

She working you hard?

Brutal schedule. The crack of 8:30AM and I’m already on my own for the afternoon. :) But it's good. How's LA?

Busy but good. Starting interviews for the next retreat cohort.

Zoe frowned at the screen. Their exchanges remained stubbornly superficial, neither addressing the unresolved tension between them. With a frustrated sigh, she typed:

Do you ever think about us?

The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, then reappeared. Finally:

Every day.

Her heart thudded against her ribs. And?

And

I miss you.

Three simple words, yet they set something off inside her.

Home come we’re not talking about it?

Another long pause. Then:

Because I don't know what to say that won't sound selfish or needy.

I can’t distract you from what you're doing there. It’s really important and I want to acknowledge that.

Zoe stared at the screen.

Call me tonight. After dinner.

Can't tonight. Dinner out with Podwall and the crew and you know how he rolls. Soon, though.

The dismissal, however polite, stung. He may as well have signed off by calling her kiddo.

She tucked the phone away without responding and turned her attention back to her notebook. Kelly was right; she needed to channel this frustration into her work instead of letting it paralyze her.

By the time the sun began to cast long shadows across the valley, Zoe had completed the lyrics. They weren't perfect, but they captured the emotional tension Kelly had identified, the fear of loss tangled with the desire for more.

She walked back to her cabin to freshen up before dinner, stopping to watch a family of deer graze near the edge of the woods. The quiet beauty of this place still caught her off guard after years in LA's constant noise and motion.

Inside, she showered quickly, changing into lounge pants and a thin sweater against the evening chill that came with a late Montana spring. As she wound her damp hair into a loose braid, her phone rang. Alec's name flashed on the screen.

"Hey. How's cow country?" he asked when she answered.

"Not as many cows as you led me to believe," Zoe replied, settling onto the edge of her bed. "What's up?"

"Checking in. And delivering news. Kelly's team sent over a contract for a duet you two were discussing. They want to release it as a single through her new label imprint."

"Already? We've barely started producing it."

"They're eager to capitalize on the momentum they think you’ve got going, especially from your appearance on her show—which continues to rack up views online, by the way."

“Pretty sure that’s all JC’s fans.”

Alec paused, still unwilling to wade between whatever was happening between Zoe and JC. "Anyway, I checked out the numbers. They're offering a fair split on revenue, given that you’re an unsigned artist. The reach would be massive and might even ramp up expectation for your EP and these deal offers that keep coming in. I think you should sign."

"I'll talk to Kelly about it at dinner," Zoe promised. "Anything else?"

"Just RCA again. They're getting antsy." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I told them you're in an exclusive development period and unavailable for meetings. They did not like that"

"Tough shit," Zoe laughed. "They had their chance. It might be time to tell them to kick rocks. Not great my ass, as I sit at Kelly Clarkson’s farm writing and recording. Fuck them."

"But let’s play with them and see how far they’ll go, first. Oh, uh….”Alec hesitated. “Here’s a weird thing—Eric Podwall left me a message, checking on how you're doing."

"JC's manager? For what?"

"He claims it's a professional courtesy as a previous mentee. Maybe JC put him up to it. Subtle way of keeping tabs on you without being obvious."

"Not subtle enough, apparently."

They chatted for a few more minutes about industry gossip before Alec had to run to another meeting. As Zoe hung up, the reminder of how far she'd come in just a few months grounded her in her purpose.

Night had fallen by the time she headed back to the main house. The path was lit by solar-powered lanterns, the stars impossibly bright overhead without LA's light pollution. The ranch hands had gone home for the day, leaving just Kelly's security team patrolling the perimeter.

Music drifted from the kitchen as she approached—a current pop hit with Kelly's voice soaring over the chorus. The kids perched on stools at the island, their homework spread before them while Kelly stirred something that smelled divine on the stove.

"Hope you're hungry and you like garlic," Kelly called out. "I went overboard on the pasta."

“My two favorite things,” said Zoe, waving at her two children, the rounding the island to the stove. Kelly stirred a pot full of pasta, vegetables and a white sauce, wine glass in her free hand. "Can I help?"

"Grab plates from that cabinet?" Kelly gestured with her wine glass. "The kids like those little red plates.”

Dinner was relaxed, the conversation flowing easily between industry stories and Kelly's upcoming projects before the kids got bored and ran off to play. Zoe indulged in tales of difficult producers and strange studio experiences, laughing over Kelly's imitations of music executives.

"God, you should've seen this one suit," Kelly said, waving her fork dramatically. "He really wanted me to do this bubble-gum pop album. I was like, have you ever listened to my voice? Not everyone needs to sound like they're twelve and hopped up on pixie sticks. I’ve lived a little life. I’m never going there.”

Zoe nearly choked on her wine, laughing. "What did he say?"

"He told me I didn't understand the industry," Kelly rolled her eyes, her fingers forming air quotes around the word understand. "Mind you, that guy is now selling insurance in Tulsa. Not that there's anything wrong with selling insurance! But maybe don't tell me what my voice is meant for. That's the thing about this business—everyone thinks they know what's best for your career except you."

As they cleared plates, Zoe mentioned the contract Alec had called about.

"I was going to bring it up tomorrow, but since Alec already called you…what do you think? Ready to be official collaborative partners?"

"More than ready," Zoe said. "Though we probably should finish recording first."

"That's next week's project," Kelly assured her, loading dishes into the dishwasher. "I blocked out three days in the studio with my engineer. He's flying in from Nashville. Honestly, I think this could be huge for both of us. It’ll be nice for me to be tied to a new voice."

After helping clean up, Zoe thanked Kelly for dinner and headed back to her cabin, fatigue settling in. The day's emotional and creative demands had left her drained.

She was halfway down the path when headlights swept across the property. A vehicle approached the main gate. Security would handle it, she figured, continuing toward her cabin, but still nosy enough to watch to see who had pulled up.

When the passenger door opened and JC stepped out, backlit by the headlights, Zoe froze, her heartbeat accelerating to an impossible rhythm. She blinked, certain her exhausted mind was conjuring hallucinations. But no—she recognized JC’s voice as he was speaking with the security guard.

He wore jeans and a dark jacket, his hair pulled back in a messy knot. When he spotted her standing frozen on the path, he stopped, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Surprise," he called, the word carrying across the quiet night.

Zoe stood rooted to the spot, conflicting emotions washing over her—joy, confusion, lingering hurt from their last conversation.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to ask as he approached.

"I told you I missed you," JC said, stopping a few feet away. "I figured it was time to show you instead of just saying it."

"You flew to Montana on a whim?"

"Not exactly a whim. I was already on my way when we texted earlier."

"That's why you couldn't call tonight. Early meeting, my ass."

JC laughed, the familiar sound warming her despite her confusion. Her feet found motion

again, propelling her forward until she stood directly in front of him. Up close, she could see the fatigue around his eyes, the stubble darkening his jaw. When he opened his arms, she leaped into them, relief washing through her as his arms encircled her waist. For a moment, she allowed herself to melt against him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I’m sorry I lied. Though in my defense, the flight was at an ungodly hour."

Zoe giggled as she pulled back. "What, the crack of 12 PM?" The reality was still sinking in as she stared at him, holding his hands for the first time in weeks, taking in the details she'd missed—the new lines around his eyes, the slightly longer, much grayer beard. “Uhm… so how long do I have you?”

"I'm here all weekend. If you want me to be."

The question hung between them, loaded with everything left unresolved when she'd left California. "I want you to be," Zoe said quietly. Honestly.

JC's relief was visible, his shoulders relaxing. "Good. Because I've got a lot to say that shouldn’t be in a text." He glanced toward her cabin. "Can we talk? Somewhere private?"

From the main house, Kelly called out, "You kids have fun! Call me if y'all need anything. Studio's off-limits after midnight!" She disappeared inside, leaving them alone in the starlit darkness.

JC held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Zoe took it, their fingers intertwining naturally. "Lead the way," he said.

The walk to her cabin passed in silence, both of them seemingly afraid to break the fragile connection reestablished between them. Inside, Zoe turned on a single lamp, casting soft light across the rustic space.

"Nice place," JC said, taking in the guitars along the wall, the piano, the notebook-strewn coffee table. "I can see why Kelly set you up here. The acoustics are probably incredible with these wood-paneled walls."

"Kelly doesn't do anything halfway," Zoe replied, suddenly self-conscious about the scattered evidence of her creative process. She bent to gather papers from the couch. "Want something to drink? Water, beer? Wine?"

"Water's fine. Need to keep a clear head for this conversation."

She retrieved two bottles from the small refrigerator, using the moment to gather her courage. When she turned back, JC had removed his jacket and sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, looking as uncertain as she felt.

"So," she said, handing him a bottle and sitting beside him, leaving careful space between them. “You did not come all the way to Montana to let me down gently. Please tell me that.”

"No," he said, then laughed. "I would not do that to you. The reality is…I had a whole speech prepared on the plane. Then I saw you and…I can't remember any of it."

"Start with why you're here right now. Especially after our last real conversation.”

JC nodded, taking a deep breath, linking his fingers together. "I'm here because I've been miserable since you left. Because I couldn't stop thinking about how bad I handled things between us. Because text messages and phone calls don’t cut it when I need to see you and hear your voice in my ear and make you laugh and…other sounds. Some things need to be said in person."

"You…were honest about your reservations."

"No, I was scared," he said, turning to face her fully. "I told myself I was being realistic. I was protecting you from expectations I couldn't fulfill. Really, I was protecting myself from the possibility of watching you walk away once your career took off."

Zoe’s brows furrowed. "What are you talking about? I wouldn't walk away. That's not who I am."

"You say that, but…that's what happens," he said simply. "People change and priorities shift and schedules get full and pretty soon you’ve been in New York for three weeks and then you’re leaving on a seven month tour. Everyone always has the best intentions at the beginning. Everyone intends to travel a lot to be with the person they want to be with, but eventually it becomes a lot of fucking hard work. And a lot of fucking money. And I’m just… not in that life anymore. I haven’t been on tour in twenty years. Getting me to go anywhere but the retreat house is doing a lot. I can’t…I can’t disappoint you when I fade away.”

Zoe swallowed hard, fighting the urge to close the distance between them. "So…but you’re here. What changed?"

"Nothing and everything." JC closed the space that she refused to. She had to let him come to her. "I guess I just realized that fear of what might happen was costing me what was happening right in front of me. At some point, I have to trust the connection and see where it leads."

"And what is that, exactly? What am I to you?"

His eyes never left hers as he answered. "You are the woman I'm falling in love with, Zoe. That's the reality of it that I didn’t really want to face. That’s been kicking my ass the entire time we’ve been apart.”

The words hung in the air between them, as shocking as they were longed for. Zoe's breath caught, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Do me a favor," she whispered. “Say that again.”

"I am falling in love with you, Zoe." His voice was steady now, conviction replacing uncertainty. "I don't know what that means for us long-term. I don't know how we navigate our careers and the distance. But I know I can’t…not be with you. I can’t not try."

"That's all I wanted," she admitted. "For you to be willing to try. To not dismiss us before we had a chance."

JC's forehead pressed against hers, their breath mingling. "I'm done dismissing anything about you."

The kiss, when it came, was at first tentative, as if they were learning each other all over again. Then Zoe's hands were in his hair, pulling loose the tie that held it back, and his arms wrapped around her waist, erasing the careful space between them.

They fell back against the couch cushions, weeks of separation dissolving into urgent touches and hungry kisses, igniting a friction that erased the distance between them. The kiss deepened as JC’s hands moved over her back, pulling her closer still, while Zoe lost herself in the scent and texture and undeniable reality of him being there with her. In the flesh.

"I missed you so much," he murmured against her skin. "Missed touching you, tasting you."

Zoe tugged at his t-shirt, needing to feel him against her. He pulled back just long enough to pull it off, revealing the broad chest she'd dreamed about during lonely Montana nights. Her hands explored the familiar planes of muscle, relearning the peaks and valleys of him.

"Bed," she managed between moans, already working on the buttons on his jeans.

Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash

Everything past this point is NSFW

JC stood, lifting her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her through the doorway, depositing her gently on the bed. They undressed each other, clothing discarded carelessly onto the floor.

When they were both gloriously naked, JC hovered above her, his eyes roaming her face. “Tongue or dick?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent delicious shivers down her spine.

“I have to choose?” She managed the words as a gasp, arching toward him

"Well you’re getting both. Tell me what you want first."

"Doesn’t matter," Zoe answered, breathless, He had barely touched her and already every nerve was screaming, already every space where he wasn’t was pulsing for him to be there. "I want to feel you everywhere," she said, the words rushed and insistent as she grabbed at him, pulling him down, pulling him closer, wanting him closer still. “All over me. Your hands, your mouth, your dick. I want it. I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember when we were ever apart."

A groan rumbled through JC's chest as his control slipped. "I missed that mouth of yours."

“You’ll be reunited with her soon.”

He captured her lips again, the kiss turning demanding and desperate. His hands slid down her body, cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks before his mouth replaced them. He sucked and licked, sending shocks of pleasure to her core.

"Yes," she moaned, fingers tangling in his hair. "Fuck…you feel so good."

JC's lips trailed lower, across her stomach, pausing to nip at her hipbones. "I've been thinking about tasting you since I got on that plane," he murmured against her skin.

His breath ghosted over her center, making her shiver with anticipation and her stomach tightened in response. Her hips rose, seeking him, wanting him. When his tongue finally made contact, drawing a long, slow stroke through her folds, Zoe cried out, hips bucking involuntarily.

The sensation was electric, spreading through her like wildfire. JC moved with her, holding her steady, his tongue relentless in its exploration. "Fuck!" she gasped as he focused on her clit. "Right there. Don't stop. Pleeeeaasssseeee don't stop."

Her hands clutched at him, holding him in place. JC groaned against her, the vibration adding to the sensation. He was exactly where she needed him to be, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

"You’re so fucking wet for me," he said.

JC looked up to meet her eyes, the connection as intimate as the touch itself. She watched him, mesmerized by the way he was entirely focused on her. He didn't break eye contact as he slid one finger inside her, then another, the movement synchronized with his tongue, sending her reeling. Stars burst behind Zoe’s eyes, the universe gone hazy and unfocused and utterly blissful. She could barely breathe, could barely think, every thought and every breath and every sensation tethered to him. "I could do this all night."

"Fuck, this is good," Zoe panted, grinding against his mouth. "I need you inside me when I come.”

The crude demand broke something in JC's restraint. He immediately moved back up her body, the blunt head of his dick pressing against the slickness between her thighs.

"Look at me," he commanded. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."

Their eyes locked as he pushed forward, stretching her deliciously with each pump of his hips as he worked his way inside. Zoe's mouth fell open, a string of blissful expletives tumbling from her lips as he seated himself fully inside her.

"Fucking hell," she moaned. "Did you get bigger? Shit!"

JC laughed, though his jaw clenched with the effort of control. "You okay, baby? Does it hurt?"

“No, you ass. I just haven’t been railed night and day for weeks. Move!” she said, rolling her hips. "And don't hold back. You know I won't break."

"You got that snapper pussy," he growled, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in. "I don't think I can go slow right now."

The pace he set was relentless, each thrust pushing her further up the bed until she had to brace herself against the headboard. The sound of bodies pounding together, punctuated by sharp breaths and increasingly vocal reactions filled the cabin. JC's fingers dug into her hips, leaving marks she knew she'd admire later.

"Harder," Zoe demanded, nails digging into his skin. "Fuck me harder, JC. I wanna feel it tomorrow."

"Greedy little thing," he panted, but obliged, shifting her legs higher to drive deeper. The new angle hit a spot that made her vision blur and the pitch of her cries tip higher. "That's the shit I’m talking about. Take it all."

"Oh my God," she nearly screamed as a tight coil twisted to an almost unbearable intensity. "Fucking do not stop! I'm gonna come!"

JC's hand slipped between them, thumb finding her clit with unerring accuracy. "Let me feel your pussy squeeze me."

The combination of his words, his thrusts, and his touch sent her careening over the edge. Zoe's back arched off the bed as a violent orgasm ripped through her, walls pulsing, milking him.

JC's rhythm faltered as he felt her contract around him. "Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice strained. "I can't—" His hips snapped forward one final time as he buried himself deep, trembling as his own release overtook him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, body trembling. “Yesyesyesyesyeyesyesssssss," she hissed, coiling her body tight around him, pulling him deeper. "Are you coming? Come with me!"

With a hoarse shout of her name, JC buried himself one final time, his entire body tensing as his release jerked his hips against hers.

When he finally collapsed beside her, they both lay panting, limbs still entangled. JC pressed messy kisses to her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he could reach without moving too far.

"Jesus..." Zoe started, then laughed, unable to find adequate words. “That was…”

"—worth flying to Montana for," JC finished for her. "And we're just getting started." He pulled her against his chest, the blanket draped haphazardly over their cooling bodies. They lay in comfortable silence for several minutes, heartbeats gradually slowing to normal.

“So we’re fucking all weekend? I like those plans.”

"Well, I thought we would do other stuff to work up an appetite," he murmured. "We could walk the ranch—it’s my first time seeing it in person. Right now, though, I'm thinking about not leaving the bed."

Zoe propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "You're really staying all weekend?"

"Until Sunday night." His hand brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I have interviews on Monday for the next cohort. I'll come back if you want me to. Or we can figure out when you can get a weekend off and come back to LA. I want to make this work, Zoe. We've already let fear dictate too much."

"Me too." She settled back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "But you were right the first time. I’m here to do work and I only get nine weeks with the powerhouse that is Kelly Clarkson. I don’t want to miss any time with her.”

“Okay. You’re saying… what?”

“I’m saying you need to get used to flying to Montana for the next nine weeks. You pushed me to do this, so you come to me.”

JC pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Yes ma’am.”

"I'm serious," she added, tracing patterns on his chest. "If we're doing this—and I desperately want to—we both have to recognize that my career is at a critical point. I can't divide my focus."

JC's eyes softened. "I know. That's what I was trying to protect before, in my clumsy way. But I realize now I was making decisions for you instead of with you.”

"So we talk. We figure it out together." She pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "And you suffer through first-class flights to Montana."

"Such hardship," he quipped, his hand sliding down her back to cup her ass. "The things I do for love."

Zoe yawned, curling into his warmth. “Yee-motherfucking-haw is how Alec put it. Get with the program, Chasez.”