of. He’d made a friend this weekend,
solidified a relationship that had come to mean a lot to him in the last two
years. When he’d had a bad night he could complain to her, albeit in vague
terms, and she’d respond, cool and uninvolved.
He didn’t want that time back though. He wanted this.
“It’s what you do,” she said. “That’s why Murder City Ravens
is so huge. You turn that stage into a small room, and you speak to everyone
individually. And you speak to them about things they can empathize with, then
you lift it to something universal.” She flattened her palm against his chest,
warming his heart and heating his libido.
He kissed her lavishly for that, and when they emerged, both
a little breathless, he said, “Don’t say any more. I’m getting a big enough
head as it is.” He ground his erection against her stomach and dropped his
head, giving a helpless laugh. “That punished me as much as you. We can’t. We,
or I, have to get to the arena.”
“We,” she said firmly. “I want this. I’ll never get this
chance again, to live the rock-star life.”
“You might.” He refused to say any more, wanting her to enjoy
the moment. “Live every moment like it’s your last” had long been a maxim he
lived by. “Remember, sweetheart, live large.” He swung the bed sheets back and
with regret, left the bed for the shower.
They didn’t share, but he decided they would later, if she
was up for it. He had stage clothes at the arena, and they traveled with the
rest of the stage equipment, so all he had to do was find jeans and a T-shirt.
They had a couple of hours before they were due onstage, and here, they had to
be prompt, because the arena had an eleven p.m. curfew. “I’ll wear the three-fuck
jeans,” he said, as if to himself.
“What?” she looked up from donning her own clothes. She was
still adorably tousled, her hair damp from the shower.
“It takes me three fucks to get them on.” Tight, displaying
everything in a kind of well-molded way. He was kind of right. It took four.
“Fuck,” she murmured.
Five.
“Rock-star lifestyle.” He found an AC/DC T-shirt and pulled
it on. “Ready?”
She grimaced. “I guess. Underdressed now.”
To his eyes she looked perfect. Jeans and T-shirt, both
black, enhancing her fair skin and dark hair, which gleamed in the low lights
of the suite. “Fantastic.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her close for a kiss.
“Taste good too.”
“It’s your toothpaste.”
She’d applied a little makeup, enhancing her pretty
features. She wasn’t stunningly beautiful, not the kind of model looks that
would turn heads, but to his eyes, she looked perfect. And not the most
exacting lover could complain about her body. She was a feast, breasts full
enough for a generous mouthful, delectable indent at her waist, flaring out
into beautiful hips. “My toothpaste never tasted that good. It’s you. Come on,
before I take you back to bed.”
He wanted her again and he didn’t care if he didn’t stop
until his cock fell off, because it was too good to deny. But they were
strapped for time, so Zazz contented himself with one more kiss before they
left the room. He also handed her his spare keycard. “This will get you into
the lift, this room and the communal room.”
“I’m not even sure what that looks like.”
“Nope. But we should have eaten with the others. We’ll get
something at the arena.”
For the first time, they saw others waiting for the lift,
but since it was a goods lift normally, they had plenty of room once it came.
Zazz kept Laura by his side, but she went quiet, smiling shyly at the others.
Except for Kelsie. They exchanged grins, but Kelsie clung to Riku like a
limpet. Riku had a look Zazz knew—indulgence. Kelsie would get something out of
this, but it wouldn’t last much longer. Riku needed a woman who’d stand up to
him. He treated women, and some of the men he occasionally slept with, as pets,
and most of them let
solidified a relationship that had come to mean a lot to him in the last two
years. When he’d had a bad night he could complain to her, albeit in vague
terms, and she’d respond, cool and uninvolved.
He didn’t want that time back though. He wanted this.
“It’s what you do,” she said. “That’s why Murder City Ravens
is so huge. You turn that stage into a small room, and you speak to everyone
individually. And you speak to them about things they can empathize with, then
you lift it to something universal.” She flattened her palm against his chest,
warming his heart and heating his libido.
He kissed her lavishly for that, and when they emerged, both
a little breathless, he said, “Don’t say any more. I’m getting a big enough
head as it is.” He ground his erection against her stomach and dropped his
head, giving a helpless laugh. “That punished me as much as you. We can’t. We,
or I, have to get to the arena.”
“We,” she said firmly. “I want this. I’ll never get this
chance again, to live the rock-star life.”
“You might.” He refused to say any more, wanting her to enjoy
the moment. “Live every moment like it’s your last” had long been a maxim he
lived by. “Remember, sweetheart, live large.” He swung the bed sheets back and
with regret, left the bed for the shower.
They didn’t share, but he decided they would later, if she
was up for it. He had stage clothes at the arena, and they traveled with the
rest of the stage equipment, so all he had to do was find jeans and a T-shirt.
They had a couple of hours before they were due onstage, and here, they had to
be prompt, because the arena had an eleven p.m. curfew. “I’ll wear the three-fuck
jeans,” he said, as if to himself.
“What?” she looked up from donning her own clothes. She was
still adorably tousled, her hair damp from the shower.
“It takes me three fucks to get them on.” Tight, displaying
everything in a kind of well-molded way. He was kind of right. It took four.
“Fuck,” she murmured.
Five.
“Rock-star lifestyle.” He found an AC/DC T-shirt and pulled
it on. “Ready?”
She grimaced. “I guess. Underdressed now.”
To his eyes she looked perfect. Jeans and T-shirt, both
black, enhancing her fair skin and dark hair, which gleamed in the low lights
of the suite. “Fantastic.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her close for a kiss.
“Taste good too.”
“It’s your toothpaste.”
She’d applied a little makeup, enhancing her pretty
features. She wasn’t stunningly beautiful, not the kind of model looks that
would turn heads, but to his eyes, she looked perfect. And not the most
exacting lover could complain about her body. She was a feast, breasts full
enough for a generous mouthful, delectable indent at her waist, flaring out
into beautiful hips. “My toothpaste never tasted that good. It’s you. Come on,
before I take you back to bed.”
He wanted her again and he didn’t care if he didn’t stop
until his cock fell off, because it was too good to deny. But they were
strapped for time, so Zazz contented himself with one more kiss before they
left the room. He also handed her his spare keycard. “This will get you into
the lift, this room and the communal room.”
“I’m not even sure what that looks like.”
“Nope. But we should have eaten with the others. We’ll get
something at the arena.”
For the first time, they saw others waiting for the lift,
but since it was a goods lift normally, they had plenty of room once it came.
Zazz kept Laura by his side, but she went quiet, smiling shyly at the others.
Except for Kelsie. They exchanged grins, but Kelsie clung to Riku like a
limpet. Riku had a look Zazz knew—indulgence. Kelsie would get something out of
this, but it wouldn’t last much longer. Riku needed a woman who’d stand up to
him. He treated women, and some of the men he occasionally slept with, as pets,
and most of them let
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