Life On Stage: Beat Part 17

Jesus, this woman tests every bit of restraint I have. My body aches for her. Without a doubt I want her. But not like this. Not with her boyfriend twenty feet away. Not with her still sleeping in his bed at night. I drop my hand and release her, backing away. I'm going to walk away because I want her. And not this way.

I manage to accomplish the impossible, keeping distance from Lucky when she's with Dylan, on a bus where there are few places to hide. The sun is setting by the time we pull into Little Rock. The tour manager hops on the bus at the airport and hands Mick two plane tickets. Mick has a fistful of a.s.s from the woman on his left, and his tongue in the other one's mouth.

Duff and I are sitting on the couch watching the end of a movie. He takes a draw on his beer, lifts his chin toward Mick and his two f.u.c.k buddies and says, "It's like having live p.o.r.n. Watch the next move. He's gonna turn his head to the other side and stick his tongue in her mouth. The left hand will slide up to that one's back while the right hand grabs a handful of the other one's a.s.s. Then he's gonna whip two signed postcards out of his back pocket with his autograph next to the city he met them in."

Amused, I sit and watch the end of the Mick show rather than the movie. The last scene plays out exactly as Duff described it. The two women giggle when he hands them the postcards and escorts them off the bus. I chuckle. "Guess he's been using those moves for a while, huh?"

"Yep. Two-on-one gets a signed postcard. Mick's an a.s.s man. Taking it Greek gets you tickets to the next night's show and an encore performance before you're handed the one-way first-cla.s.s plane ride and a kiss-off at the airport."

"s.h.i.+t. He kept me up half the night with those two. Guess I should be glad they weren't Greek or I wouldn't sleep again tonight at the hotel."

Duff finishes off his beer. "Nah. They would have been postcarded anyway. We're in Little Rock, it's wife night."

"Mick's married?"

"Yep. Going on fifteen years. Married his high-school-f.u.c.king-sweetheart. Lydia. She's a b.i.t.c.h. But who could blame her, married to that jacka.s.s? Two kids, a dog and a white picket fence around his house in the suburbs too."

"No s.h.i.+t. You married?"

"Divorced." He shakes his head and laughs cynically. "It's ironic. I'm the only a.s.shole that stopped dipping my pen in the tour ink when I found a good woman. Surprised her one night by coming home early from a gig. Had flowers in my hand and all when I found her blowing our CPA. A f.u.c.king accountant for Christ's sake."

"Wow. Sorry."

"The worst part? She stopped giving me head after the wedding, and here she is on her knees for some pencil d.i.c.k."

"What did you do?"

"Broke the a.s.shole's nose, divorced the b.i.t.c.h and vowed never to get married again." He shrugs. "I like getting head too much to try it again anyway." Duff reaches into the small fridge on the side of the couch that's only stocked with beer and pulls us each out one. "You got a girl?"

"I'm working on it."

He nods. "Well. Wife night usually means the band goes out to dinner. Tour manager has a steady woman who will come and won't say two words. Lydia will pick a fight with Mick during appetizers. And Lucky will obviously be there."

Not wanting to call attention to my interest in Lucky, I haven't poked around any. But a little poking here won't seem out of the ordinary. We've already chatted about all the other guys' women. "Those two serious?" I ask casually and crack open my beer.

"As serious as Ryder gets."

And that means? "Not the settling-down type?"

"He wants to sp.a.w.n. Lucky seems like a good woman. I'd bet he makes it official sooner rather than later." He sips his beer and I think he's done, but then he adds, "But doubt it will stop him from banging groupies. He's got a twenty-nine-year-old retired p.o.r.n star he hooks up with every time we pa.s.s through Vegas the last ten years. Be interesting to see if he disappears for a few hours while Lucky's on the tour with us."

With no sign of Mick since we pulled into Little Rock, I'd suggested Lucky and I work on my voice rehab in my room. She'd hesitated to agree at first, taking that plump bottom lip in between her teeth while she mulled it over. When she'd said yes, I'd smiled in victory, doing a little internal fist pump.

But as I wait for the knock to come at my door, I realize it probably wasn't the smartest of ideas. Privacy, a big bed, and a woman I want beneath me so badly, I'm f.u.c.king dreaming about her at night. Yeah...not too bright.

The full-of-myself part of me thinks if I pushed, there's a good chance we'd wind up clawing each other's clothes off. But I don't want to be the other guy. She's inside me, I want to be inside her. And, for a change, not just my c.o.c.k.

A few minutes later, the knock comes and I open the door to find her standing there. She's wearing white shorts and a tight white tank top that has the Rolling Stones' iconic mouth made from crystals of some sort. I step aside for her to enter, and light from the tall windows streams in and hits her at just the right angle so her glossed lips sparkle as much as her s.h.i.+rt. f.u.c.k. Definitely a bad idea.

Chapter Nineteen.

Lucky

I told myself I was being silly for being nervous about coming to his room. It's my job, I reasoned, and Flynn is a friend. We both just got caught up in the moment that day on the stage. I was emotional. It was a moment of weakness. That's all.

The door clicks closed behind me. The room is...all bed. I turn around, and Flynn hasn't moved. He looks at me, his gaze dipping to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then down over my bare legs, before his eyes return to meet mine.

He stares.

Really stares.

Like he wants to eat me.

s.h.i.+t. We may be having another moment.

My heart thumps.

His eyes once more sweep over my body and devour me.

I watch his throat work as he swallows.

I'm trying to keep my cool, but I have some serious flips going on in my stomach.

Then he groans. The sound is a haunting mix of pain and frustration, but G.o.dd.a.m.n if it's not s.e.xy as all h.e.l.l. Suddenly, I'm aware of how many nerve endings must be inside the human body. Because I feel every one of them abruptly zap to life. I seriously wouldn't be surprised if I was lit up like a Christmas tree.

He paces back and forth a few times. "This isn't a good idea."

"Why?" The reason is obvious, but I ask anyway.

He stops pacing and looks at me. "You want me to say it?"

Swallowing hard, without saying a word, I hold his gaze and nod. My body trembles as he stalks in my direction. Invading my personal s.p.a.ce, our bodies just shy of touching, he looks down at me, the height difference between us making me tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.

"I'll tell you why. Because if we're alone in this room for another minute, I won't be responsible for my actions." He pauses and I watch as his pupils dilate and his chest rises and falls. "Because I want to pin you against that wall behind you and hold your hands over your head while I suck on those nipples that I've been staring at every morning while I was forced to drink coffee instead of you. Because I want to keep you pressed up against that wall while my face is buried between your thighs and your legs are dangling down my back. Because I want to make you soaking wet so when I bury myself into you hard and deep, I won't have to go easy. Because it won't be easy. Because I won't be able to take my time with you like you deserve the first time. Because I won't be able to control myself when I'm buried so far inside of you that I'll literally explode when you explode around me. Because I want to feel you tremble from the inside out while my mouth is crushed to yours until you can barely breathe."

I'm shocked I'm still even standing. I'm breathless and dizzy and never in my life have felt as desired as I do in this moment. I hate to do it, but I have to break our gaze just to catch my breath and slow my spinning mind.

His warm fingers lift my chin to meet his eyes. "You should go," he whispers in warning, his voice strained.

"But what if I want to stay?"

We stare at each other for a long time. His eyes challenging me, mine daring him. His gaze burns into mine. Fire. Pa.s.sion. And maybe even a little anger pulses through his veins.

"I told you to go," he growls. Narrowing the distance between us, he moves in so our bodies aren't quite touching, but I can feel the heat emanating from his. I take one step back, b.u.mping into the wall behind me. He takes a step again, arms caging me in on both sides of my head. His eyes blaze so hot, I think I might melt. The muscle in his jaw flexes and I know he's hanging by a thread. "Is this what you want?" He searches my eyes as one hand moves to gather both my hands and he lifts them over my head. "Tell me. Is this what you want?"

I nod. "I-"

The words are lost as his mouth crushes down over mine. I completely forget everything else except this kiss.

This kiss.

It's the most consuming thing I've ever felt in my life. I feel it everywhere. My mouth, my nipples, the wetness responding between my legs, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It's as if my entire body has been asleep for the last few years and suddenly...this kiss...has awakened it.

One hand glides down the side of my body, caressing slowly as it comes to slide along the back of my thigh and lifts. I whimper when I feel the hard length of him through his jeans for the first time.

Instinctively, I reach for him, wanting to urge him closer, dig my fingers into his hair, but I forget he has my hands bound together. I attempt to pull away, but it only makes him tighten his grip.

Oh, lord. I've never been subdued before, but the feeling could only be described as decadent. My body hums and I kiss him harder, wild with need. His free hand wraps into my hair and he tugs, giving him better access to my neck. He sucks and bites his way from one ear to the opposite collar bone, then back up to the other ear. "You're so beautiful," he groans.

He makes me feel that way. Beautiful. Like it's an honor for him to have me, instead of the other way around.

My nipples harden as his thumb brushes over my breast through the soft cotton of my s.h.i.+rt.

"These things," he confesses, pinching one and then the other. "These things have been taunting me every G.o.dd.a.m.n morning."

I gasp when he pinches again, much harder this time, shooting a jolt of fire directly from their stiffened peaks down to between my legs.

Desire races through me as he lowers his head, lifts my s.h.i.+rt, and his thumb slips down the cup of my bra so he can blow on my already pebbled nipples. He alternates between licking and blowing, teasing me into a frenzy. By the time he catches the swell of my nipple between his teeth, I'm thinking I might finish before we even start. A soft moan billows from my lips.

I need more. Just more. So I lift my other leg and wrap it around his waist, locking my ankles together. Arching my back from the wall, legs spread wide around him, I get the friction I desperately need. His jeans, hard with his straining bulge, rubs against my sensitive skin-the thin fabric of my shorts doing little to impede me from feeling every inch of him. Every. Many. Inches.

Flynn keeps me pinned against the wall, ravaging my mouth, inflicting sweet torture on my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, until I'm a panting mess. Then he lets go of my hands, my legs drop, and he takes a step back. For a second I think he's going to put an end to this recklessness, but then he smiles. It's a slow, devilish smile, with so much intensity in his eyes it almost sweeps my breath away.

"Flynn..."

"Take off your shorts."

Mr. Nice Guy has a bit of a bossy edge to him. I like it. A lot. Turns out I'm finding out a lot about myself today, things I wasn't aware could be so ridiculously hot.

Slowly, I hook my thumbs into the sides of my shorts and s.h.i.+mmy them down my legs. I'm generally not self-conscious about my body. I like my curves, and I've been blessed genetically to be able to eat whatever I want and remain thin, but if I had any body issues, they'd disappear with the way Flynn is looking at me.

He doesn't leer. He appreciates. As if he's looking at fine art that should be treasured. I'm not sure if it's another one of his intangible talents or if he truly adores what he sees, but in the moment I could care less. Because I feel how he makes me feel. Beautiful.

After taking his time drinking me in, he drops to his knees. He's making good on all the things he told me he wanted to do when I asked him why I should leave. Still keeping me pressed with my back against the wall, he looks up at me, locking eyes as he lifts one leg over his shoulder.

The cool air on my wet, sensitive skin, coupled with the way he's watching me, makes me gasp. The sound makes his eyes blaze even darker.

"Watch me," he says, and then his mouth is on me. Licking and sucking, his face buried between my legs as he devours every inch of me. His tongue lashes against my c.l.i.t, twirling and flicking until I can barely form a coherent word.

"Oh G.o.d." My fingers dive into his hair as I climb higher and higher, my body greedily rocking against him as he strokes and strokes with his tongue lapping hungrily until my o.r.g.a.s.m rips through me. I shake almost violently as he continues to draw more and more from my body with an unrelenting vigor. Just when I think my body is over the edge, that I'll begin the slide down on the other side of the o.r.g.a.s.m rainbow, he pushes two fingers inside me. Gently but firmly, he twists while he pumps, literally stroking one o.r.g.a.s.m to roll directly into another one.

Still trembling, it barely registers that he's lifted me up until he's setting me down on the bed. With dexterity that I don't want to think about how it was earned, he unclasps my bra and sheds the rest of my clothes before starting on his own.

He guides my back down and follows. With a rough timbre and a wicked grin, "You've been inside me since the day we met. It's time I return the favor. Only I'm going to be much more literal."

I reach down to grab him, wrapping my fingers around his thick shaft, but he quickly peels my fingers back. I look at him questioningly.

"I won't last. I'm already teetering on the edge just from the taste of you on my tongue. When I come, I want it to be inside you." Those d.a.m.n dimples dip into cavernous wonderlands. "Plus, it's been a while."

Out of everything he's said since I walked in the door, something about that last sentence does me in. "Well, then we shouldn't wait any longer," I whisper hoa.r.s.ely.

He quickly rolls on a condom and is poised at my entrance. Our gazes meet and hold. With one hand around his neck, I pull him down for a kiss and, just as our lips connect, he slides inside me.

We kiss for a minute as he inches his way in and then, once he's completely seated, once I'm completely filled, he pulls his head back and our eyes hold again.

He thrusts in deep, but slow as he studies me. It feels like he's memorizing my body's reactions to everything he does. Sliding his hand under my a.s.s, he tilts my hips just slightly, but it allows him to penetrate even deeper. The feeling is heavenly. My eyes flutter closed, succ.u.mbing to the incredibly full feeling, as he whispers in my ear, "Beautiful."

Finding our rhythm quickly, we move in perfect unison, as if we've been doing it for years, rather than it being our first time. It feels so...right. My body climbs yet again, a faster build, but no less powerful when it crests. I shudder and hold his gaze as I begin to come again and then he starts pumping harder. "You feel so. d.a.m.n. Good."

He groans my name as he releases into me before my own o.r.g.a.s.m has even fully ebbed. Afterward, we hold on to each other tight, slowly rocking back and forth as we catch our breaths.

But I catch my breath too soon. Because I only lose it again when the pounding knock comes on the door.

Chapter Twenty.

Flynn

"What if it's-" she asks, a look of panic on her face.

"I'll deal with it." I'm pulling on one leg of my pants when the knocking comes again. This time louder, more insistent.

Lucky searches the bed frantically for her clothes. "But if he's...I can't find my clothes. I should hide."

"You're not hiding."