Tempt Me

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Tempt Me Page 7

by Olivia Cunning


  he played one of his most elaborate solos, Adam caught movement at the corner of the stage. He turned his head to find Madison watching him with her hands clenched together over her heart. He should play something just for her. He wondered if she'd like that. Near the end of his solo he lifted the neck of his guitar vertically next to his face and caught her scent on his hand again. He drew a deep breath into his lungs and his eyes drifted closed. Mercy, she smelled like honeyed sin.

  Reluctant to move his hand, Adam took his time lowering his guitar to rest in front of his suddenly attentive cock. Not the best time and place to become aroused, but he couldn’t help it. Her scent did that to him. Everything about her did that to him.

  The stadium erupted in cheers as he completed his solo and stepped back from the front edge of the stage. As loud as the crowd was, the only cheer that made his heart thud was Madison's fist thrown in the air with excitement. She'd never cheered like that at one of his shows before. She'd always hung back away from the action and tried to remain unnoticed. He wondered about the sudden change in her. He was glad she was having a good time, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to change. She was his anchor as well as the wind in his sails. He needed to know she was there for him even when he didn’t see her for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.

  The song ended, and Shade stalked the front of the stage, talking to the crowd as vocalists were prone to do. “How are we feeling tonight, Dallas-Fort Worth?”

  The crowd roared on cue. Adam stole a glance at Madison. She offered him a timid wave and then smiled and lowered her gaze. He couldn't see the color of her face from this distance, but he knew she'd be blushing. He loved it when she blushed.

  Shade was still jabbering at the crowd. He might as well have been talking like an adult in a Peanuts cartoon for all that Adam heard. The heavy thud of Gabe's bass drum snapped Adam to attention when the next song started. He really was out of it tonight; he needed to step up his game. He did have fans to entertain. He could concentrate on entertaining Madison in about an hour.

  Adam trotted to the front of the stage next to Shade the-attention-whore Silverton, and bent forward to play a hard and heavy riff to a cluster of fans in the pit.

  “Adam, you're a god!” someone yelled.

  He grinned. Did you hear that, Shade? They think I'm a god.

  “I love you, Shade,” someone else yelled like a banshee with a megaphone.

  Son of a bitch.

  Adam noted the amused grins on the faces of several people in the audience and knew Kellen was mocking him behind his back. He did it every show. The crowd thought it was hilarious, so Adam let it slide. He knew Kellen would never do something to intentionally harm a person—well, except maybe those lovers he tied to his bed. But they begged to receive his punishment. Adam wondered if Madison would enjoy something like that. All indications pointed to hell yeah.

  Shade charged in front of Adam so he could sing to the fans that Adam was favoring with personal attention. Seriously, dude? Adam rolled his eyes at Shade and trotted to the opposite end of the stage, climbing up on a platform and playing to the audience in the stadium seats. He pointed his guitar stock at the excited crowd and they yelled in enthusiasm. He pulled the neck of his guitar back and then thrust it forward again. Half the stadium roared on cue. He soon had them chanting at will. And when he bounced up on his toes, they jumped in unison.

  A rush of adrenaline flooded his body, and he bounced in time with the beat. His audience followed his cue, jumping up and down with the music. Adam loved interacting with the crowd. Especially one so eager to follow his lead. Occasionally they got a dud of an audience, but most of their fans were crazy fun. The audience on the opposite side of the stadium began to roar, and Adam glanced over to find Shade standing near Madison, who was barely hidden in the wings. Shade was thrusting his fist in the air to get the other half of the audience worked into a frenzy.

  And then the competition began. Who could get their side of the stadium to scream louder, to jump higher, to go crazier? Owen and Kellen moved down stage center to involve the audience members writhing in the pit. The craziest motherfuckers always rocked general admission. Several mosh pits formed on the floor, and bodies were soon ricocheting off each other in utter pandemonium.

  By the end of the second song, Adam was already drenched in sweat. His shirt clung to his back and his hair to his face. He wiped his palm on his jeans so his fingers wouldn’t slip on his guitar strings when he played their next song. He'd like to say his half of the stadium was the most worked up now, but he had to admit the entire audience was in an uproar.

  Adam moved back to Owen's live microphone and shouted, “You fuckers know how to rock!”

  By the roar the audience produced, they obviously agreed.

  Shade offered him a smile. “What do you say, Adam? Are you ready to set your fingers on fire?”

  Like steam, the tension between them evaporated. At that moment, all that mattered was the music they shared. “Light me,” Adam said.

  The crowd roared its approval as Adam started the intro to “Light Me.” By the time the rest of the band entered the song and he gave his left hand a half-second of rest, his fingers did feel like they were on fire. He loved the challenge of playing that intro live. Only the song’s minute-long solo offered a greater test of his skills. Adam had been so high when he’d written “Light Me,” he was surprised he’d been able to find the strings, much less compose his most inspired piece of music. He wondered what magic he’d be able to create now that he was sober. He only had one person to thank for the blessing of his sobriety.

  Adam searched for Madison in the wings and found her gazing at him in worshipful awe. He’d much rather put that look on her face in bed, but of the fifteen-thousand people giving him their undivided attention, it was her opinion that mattered most.

  By the end of Sole Regret’s set, Adam was overheated and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Despite the amount of energy he’d expended, he was too amped to be tired. He had plenty of energy to spare and when Madison took several steps onto the stage so she could wrap her arms around him, he knew exactly what he wanted to do to drain his remaining strength.

  Chapter Eight

  Madison didn't mind the dampness of Adam's T-shirt as she wrapped him in a tight embrace and buried her face in his shoulder. She couldn’t stop her tongue from collecting the salty tang of sweat from his neck. The guitar cutting into her belly only increased her awareness of him.

  Watching Adam perform and seeing how much his music meant to so many people infused her with pride. And worry. She couldn’t compete with the crowd or his music. Maybe she could steal him away from the world and keep him all to herself, but she had no business getting in the way of his music career. No right to make demands on his time that might interfere with his continued success. Yet could she give everything to this relationship and expect so little in return? Would she ever be happy with him? Would she ever be happy without him?

  Her arms tightened, drawing him closer still. She never had these confusing thoughts when they were alone together, just when she was confronted with his infamy. And fame was part of who he was. She had to come to grips with that somehow or this relationship would never work.

  “I need a shower.” He rubbed his nose against her ear, his labored breathing stirring stray hairs against her neck. “Care to join me?”

  She nodded and held him more tightly.

  “Let's go to the hotel,” he whispered into her ear. “I can't wait to be alone with you. I can smell your pussy all over my left hand. Every time I caught scent of it, I wanted to say screw the concert and drag you off to a secluded corner for another vigorous fuck.”

  She didn’t know whether to celebrate him telling her how much he wanted her or if she should feel guilty for breaking his concentration on stage. He had a lot of people who depended on him to perform at his best.

  “Sorry,” she said to his chest.

  “For what?


  “Making things difficult for you.”

  He pulled away and captured her face between both hands, tilting her head back so she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “I'm not sure what you're so worried about, but stop it. It’s starting to piss me off.” He didn’t sound the least bit angry. He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I don't want you to worry about anything for the rest of the night, except how you want me to make love to you next.”

  She forced her concerns to the back of her mind. She knew when they were alone together all the worries that weighed her down wouldn't even be considerations. He had a way of making her forget everything but the moment. Everyone but him.

  “Maybe the hotel suite has a bathtub made for two,” she whispered.

  “Baby, as far as we’re concerned, all bathtubs are made for two.”

  He handed his equipment to an anxious roadie, took Madison’s hand and led her toward the back of the stadium, where the limo was waiting for the band. Owen and Kellen were already inside the car.

  Owen had discovered Adam’s container of gingersnaps and was scarfing them down one after another. He seemed oblivious to the young woman tugging on his belt.

  “I want to see it,” his companion said. She had his zipper undone and her hand down his fly before Madison and Adam had even settled in the seat facing them. Adam cleared his throat to gain Owen’s attention and then nodded in Madison’s direction with his eyebrows lifted.

  Owen caught the lady’s hand and tugged it out of his pants. “Later,” he said. “We have company.”

  Apparently Kellen didn’t count as company. Madison realized Owen would be having a lot more fun right now if she hadn’t shown up.

  “Don’t mind me,” Madison said. In actuality, she wanted to see it too—assuming the woman struggling to return her hand to Owen’s crotch was interested in his piercing.

  “Are those my cookies?” Adam yelled and yanked the container out of Owen’s hands. A single gingersnap rattled around at the bottom of the bowl. Adam stuffed it into his mouth and then threw the container at Owen’s head. “Fucker,” he said through a mouthful of cookie.

  “They were delicious. Did your girlfriend make them for you?” Owen said in a teasing tone.

  “Yeah, she made them for me. Not you.”

  The fact that Adam hadn’t denied she was his girlfriend had Madison struggling to find air. He took her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Did she look that freaked-the-fuck out? She felt like a skittish horse being saddled for the first time. Was this really happening? Was Adam claiming her as his girlfriend? Publicly? What would her life be like if the media discovered they were dating? Would her face be posted all over the Internet and the tabloids? Would jealous fangirls find Madison’s every fault and insist she wasn’t good enough for the perfection that was Adam Taylor? Was she ready for this? There was no question that she was ready to love the man, but she wasn’t so sure about loving the rock star.

  “Where are Force and Shade?” Adam asked. He craned his neck to look out the window.

  “Don’t like waiting around for other people?” Owen asked. “Does it piss you off when your bros don’t value your time?”

  Adam huffed and shook his head. “Don’t you start in on me too.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Madison asked.

  “Shade was pissed that I was five minutes late to the show.” Adam rolled his eyes as if Shade was the inconsiderate ass.

  “Were you late because of me?” Madison asked.

  “It’s fine,” Adam said. “He’ll get over it.”

  “Oh wow, I feel it, Tags,” Owen’s female companion said. She had her entire hand down Owen’s pants and was moving it around inside the front of his jeans. “What’s it feel like when you’re hard? Oh! Do you leave it in when you screw?”

  “That’s the only reason to get one. It feels fantastic.”

  Madison made a mental note to share that tidbit of information with Kennedy. Her sister would be relieved to know Owen had pierced his fifth appendage for pleasure not pain.

  The young woman’s free hand moved to Kellen’s crotch. He was sitting next to Owen, shirtless and sweaty, his long dark hair sticking to his bare chest. A heated flush made his strong cheekbones appear even more pronounced. “Do you have one too, Cuff?” she asked, fondling him through his jeans. “Can I feel it?”

  “Uh, no.” Kellen lifted her hand from his crotch and dropped it on Owen’s thigh.

  She then turned and reached across the limo toward Adam. Recognizing her intent, Madison slid onto Adam’s lap, blocking Miss Touchy Feely from finding her target. Madison glared at the bold woman, whose gaze lifted from Adam’s suddenly hidden lap to Madison face. “Does Adam have his cock pierced?” she asked.

  “None of your business,” Madison said.

  “I’m sure his fingers move really fast when he strokes you down there, huh? You should ask him to play the solo to “Light Me” on your clit. That should get you off in, like, five seconds.” The fangirl nodded at Madison’s lap, lifted her eyebrows up and down and then laughed until she snorted.

  When Madison just stared at her as if she’d escaped a loony bin for sluts, Miss Touchy Feely stopped laughing and blew a raspberry. “Old prude.”

  Madison bristled.

  “You’re really getting on my nerves,” Owen said, pulling his fondler’s hand out of his pants, rearranging himself as discreetly as possible and securing his fly. “Bye now.”

  He leaned out the open door, said something to one of the security guards just outside and in an instant, the girl was gone.

  “Since when do you care how obnoxious a babe is behaving as long as you’re getting laid?” Kellen asked.

  “Madison doesn’t need to see someone acting like that,” Owen said. “She’s . . . nice.”

  Nice. It didn’t feel like a compliment. Madison kept encountering the women who naturally hung around the band and nice wasn’t the first descriptor that came to mind. Maybe that was why she felt so out of place.

  “She also makes the best gingersnaps I’ve ever tasted,” Owen added.

  Adam growled and tried to kick him, almost unsettling Madison in the process.

  The band’s drummer, with his black and red mohawk, tattooed scalp, and startlingly green eyes, slid into the seat next to Owen. If Adam was damp, and Kellen was wet, then Gabe was drenched. Madison wasn’t sure how Owen managed to look like he’d just stepped out of a styling salon. He didn’t have a single hair out of place.

  “Hey, Gabe, where’s Shade?” Adam asked.

  Now that Miss Groupie, make that Miss Grope-y, was out of the car and Adam was no longer in danger of sexual harassment, Madison tried to shift off his lap. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from moving away.

  “I think he’s on the phone arguing with Tina again,” Gabe said.

  “He can do that at the hotel,” Adam said. “Let’s go.”

  “Keep your pants on, Adam,” Kellen said.

  “If you had this woman on your lap, would you want to keep your pants on?”

  Madison flushed. She could not believe he’d said that.

  “Well, no. I’d already have my pants off if I was in your situation,” Kellen said, “but you might not want to piss Shade off any more than you already have. He’s having a bad day.”

  “Which I’m sure he blames on me,” Adam said. “Just like he blames everything on me.”

  Shade slid into the car next to Adam and the door shut. Someone slapped the roof of the car and it moved forward.

  Shade was still clutching his cellphone and didn’t spare any of them a glance, not that it was easy to tell what his gaze was fixed on as he always wore a pair of aviator sunglasses. While Owen enthusiastically described some sex club in San Antonio to Kellen, who seemed interested, and Gabe, who did not, Adam’s hand kept wandering under Madison’s skirt to stroke the inside of her thigh. Shade stared out the tinted window and didn’t say a word to anyone. Madison
’s need to counsel him was overwhelming. She extended a hand in his direction and opened her mouth to ask him a question, but thought better of it and pursed her lips.

  “Come on, Gabe,” Owen said. “You’ll have a great time.”

  “I told you,” he said, running a finger along his head at the boundary of his mohawk. “I have this thing I’m working on with Melanie.”

  “What thing?” Owen asked with a smirk. “Does it involve batteries or a gas-powered generator?”

  Brows drawn together, Gabe bit his lip and punched Owen in the thigh. “A relationship. You know, commitment?”

  “Never heard of it,” Owen claimed as he elbowed Kellen in the ribs.

  Madison’s attention turned to Gabe. She’d never known any of the band members to commit to a woman in the entire year she’d been acquainted with them. If Gabe could manage it, then maybe Adam could hang out with him while the other three went out and fooled around with their grope-ies. Or went to sex clubs. Or whatever other activities they partook in that might involve the indiscretion of Adam’s dick.

  Owen’s blue eyes shifted to Adam and then immediately diverted to Shade. Apparently he knew better than to ask Adam in front of Madison. “You’ll come, won’t you, Shade?”

  As the sound of his name, Shade pulled his strict concentration from the dark streets outside the car. “What?”

  “This club I heard about in San Antonio. You’re coming, right?”

 

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