by Salsbury, JB
* * *
I’m headed to the stage for sound check, hoping to get some time with Taylor before the show. Now that Ben has handed over the bus to us for the next few days, we don’t have to hide out in the dressing room bathroom or eat dinner in the trough. We can spend our free time in the privacy of the bus.
Ryder and I are shooting the shit as we navigate the labyrinth of hallways to get to the stage, moving by crewmembers and arena staff. We come upon a cluster of crew tucked away in a designated smoking section and I hear something that makes me pause.
“You heard he fucked her mom first, right? Bet he got a mother-daughter threesome.” The group of them chuckle before the same person says, “Lucky asshole.”
“You think he had them at the same time?”
“What do you think!” I recognize that voice. Peter that fucker. “He can have whoever he wants.”
“I didn’t realize Tom was such a slut.”
“Dude, she’s so thirsty. She sucked my cock in Atlanta.” His proud confession has me fisting my hands. “She couldn’t get enough of it.”
“Is that right?” I say as I come around the corner. “Is that why you were trying to get her blackout drunk? Women are a lot more fun to fuck when they’re conscious, but something tells me you don’t have a lot of experience with conscious women.”
I feel Ryder’s presence at my six. He heard what these pricks said, and being the intelligent man he is, he’s not trying to stop me.
Paul smirks, but I don’t miss the subtle fear in his eyes. “I only gave her what she asked for.”
I grit my teeth at his insinuation. Even if he is telling the truth—that Taylor gave him oral, that she lied to me about me being her first—I’ll still beat his ass.
“Tom and I have history you know nothing about.” He breathes out a plume of smoke, and I actually feel sorry that Taylor’s first kiss was with this ashtray mouth.
“Oh, I’ve heard about your history.” I step closer. “We laugh about it in bed together after our screaming orgasms.” Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Whatever you’re going to say? Don’t.”
His jaw hardens. I look at the other three men, their pale faces proof they’re not nearly as confident as Peter.
“Here’s what happens next.” I eye each motherfucking one of them so they know exactly who I’m talking to. “Once we get to LA, you’re all going to quit this tour.”
“What? We didn’t say anything—”
“I saw you!” My hands shake with the urge to knock out one of these fuckers. “Quit, or I file a sexual harassment complaint with Elite about your little conversation. Hundred percent sure Prophet will back me up.”
None of them say a word, but that Peter-fuck chuckles. I stare at him, daring him to open his mouth.
That dumbfuck must have some steel balls, because he says, “You can’t threaten us.”
“Pretty sure he just did,” Ryder says, the tremor in his voice giving away his anger. “If I were you, I’d walk away now.”
Peter Peckerface gives me a once-over. “Enjoy her while you can. When you break her, I’ll be there to put the pieces back together.”
I give the scrawny fuck a once-over. “You’ll have to get past the restraining order to do that.”
“Come on, let’s just go,” the smarter of the group says.
The dickhead finally listens and moves by me and Ryder, who stands at the exit from the area. Peter takes one last drag from his smoke and flicks the butt at my chest.
Black fills my vision. I slam my fist into his jaw. He stumbles back, his hand to his face as blood seeps between his fingers. As expected, his friends scatter.
Ryder steadies the guy on his feet then gives him a shove. “Get the fuck out of here.”
He finally walks away, leaving a trail of blood and a string of garbled curse words in his wake.
Ryder turns to me, smiling. “You better not have fucked up your hand.”
I make a fist, open and close it, and wiggle my fingers. “Nothing’s broken.”
He laughs. “Can’t say the same for him. Did you hear that crack? I think you broke his nose.”
“Good.”
We head toward the stage, where Ben and Jesse are waiting with impatient frowns.
“Where the fuck have you guys been?” Jes stares between us.
Ryder smirks. “Ethan just fucked up some crew guy for talking shit about Taylor. It was epic.”
Ben’s expression morphs from irritation to worry. “Are you okay?”
“No, Ben. Hold me while I cry—of course I’m okay.” I look at Jesse. “There are four of them. I told them they’re off the tour in LA. We’ll need to have them replaced.”
Jesse nods, quick and short. “Done. Now can we get this sound check over with already?”
Creeper hands me my bass, his eyes dancing with laughter.
“What the hell are you grinning about, old man?”
“Nothin’.” He snorts, trying to hold back his laughter. “Just heard Miller is taking Paul to the ER with a broken nose.”
“Guy wouldn’t shut the fuck up.” I adjust the strap of my bass on my shoulder. “I should’ve broke his jaw so they’d have to wire it shut.”
“Woulda done us all a favor,” Creeper says through wheezing laughter.
I search the side-stage, hoping to see Taylor, but she’s nowhere to be found.
Taylor
I’m racing from the loading dock to the stage, through the long hallways I’ve come to memorize after walking them what seems like a million times. I check my phone and see a text from Ethan that he’s headed to sound check with some good news.
What could possibly be better than what he told me last night? He’s in love with me. As I hear the words in my head, the skeptic in me can’t help but doubt their sincerity. I blame my dad for brainwashing me to see all musicians as shallow, lying, heartless womanizers.
Ethan is different. He has to be.
I turn the corner that leads to another long corridor and spot a half dozen crew huddled together, their voices tense with urgency. I slow and see Paul in the middle of them, his hands on his jaw and his eyes red-rimmed. In this business, injuries are common. I don’t know what happened, but from Paul’s pain-stricken expression and his protective hold of his face, I assume something hit him.
“Hey.” I move between Miller and Nero to get a closer look. “What happened?”
Paul’s watery eyes narrow, and I recoil at the hate I see inside them.
“Walk away, Tom,” one of the guys says. “You’ve done enough already.”
“Me?” My own hostility builds just below the surface. I’m used to being ordered around and used as a scapegoat, but I’m not a rigger and I wasn’t even in the building when Paul go hurt, so what the fuck?
Paul mumbles something, the words hardly audible, but it sounds as though he called me a “dumb bitch.” No. I must’ve heard him wrong. A hand clamps around my upper arm and roughly shoves me away.
Miller guides Paul in the direction of the loading dock. “I’m taking him to the ER. Let Dave know.”
I glance at Nero, who already let me go. “What hit him?”
He glares at me, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Your boyfriend.”
I’m left with my mouth hanging open as they all rush Paul away to get fixed up. I can hear Jesse’s voice and the band sound checking, and I turn on numb feet to head to the main stage.
Ethan hit Paul?
Why would he do that?
I find myself at side-stage, watching Ethan as the band makes last minute adjustments to the sound. Paul didn’t just have a black eye; he couldn’t even talk. Is Ethan’s punching Paul the “good news” he wanted to share? My stomach turns at the thought.
Ethan spots me and finishes up sound check before handing his bass guitar to Creeper. He watches me intently while Creeper asks him a question and he answers quickly before he crosses to me.
Ethan’s gaze is intense and his brows pinch toge
ther as he steps close. “You don’t look happy.”
“I just saw Paul being taken to the ER.” I cross my arms as if I could protect my heart with an extra layer of skin and bones.
He mimics my posture, eyes narrowed, tilted head. “You got something to ask me?”
“Did you punch—”
“Yes.” He lifts his brows as if to say so what? “I came up on him and his boys talking shit. I warned them to stop. They did. He didn’t.” He shrugs.
I feel my eyes widen. “I’m pretty sure you broke his nose.”
“I fired him too. You wanna give me some shit about that?”
I open my mouth to speak, but he steps close so quickly, I lose my breath. His eyes glisten with barely contained anger as he scowls at me. “I do not feel bad about it, nor will I apologize for defending you.”
“Defending me? What did he say?”
He hooks my elbow and pulls me to a more private area. “He was bragging about you swallowing his cock.”
“What!” I shriek in outrage. “He’s lying! I never did more than kiss him a few times—oh my God…” I take in Ethan’s hard jaw, his tense shoulders, and the fire burning behind his eyes. “You believe him.”
He doesn’t respond.
My blood heats to boiling. “After everything I told you last night, you think I’d lie about something as minor as a blow job?” I shove past him. “Fuck you!”
He hooks me around the shoulders and slams me against his chest. “Stop.”
I shove against him. “You fucking stop!”
He squeezes me tighter. “I believe you.”
“Oh, now you believe me?” I push him again, this time with a lot less force.
He buries his face in my neck and growls. “You make me fucking nuts. I can’t think straight when it comes to you.” His lips brush the tender skin below my ear. “I believe you. I just… I fucking hate that guy.”
“Jealousy is not a good look on you, Ethan Crow.”
“No? Well, get used to it, because now that I have you, I’m sick at the idea of you with anyone else.”
“I know the feeling.” Warmth blooms as his protective arms tighten around me. “But you can’t go around beating up my crewmates. They’re guys and they talk shit. I was raised being one of the guys.”
He’s already shaking his head. “That changes today. I sent the message. Now, are you going to keep giving me shit or are you going to let me fucking kiss you?”
No one has ever defended me before. As protective as my dad has been, he never sheltered me from being teased. I heard “man up” and “put on your big girl panties” more times than I can count. I was never allowed to be fragile.
I barely lift my arms before he wraps his around my waist and lifts me off the floor. He kisses me softly. I open for him and shiver when his tongue slides against mine without a care for who might see us. He smells like expensive body wash, making my mouth water to lick his neck. I’ll save that for when we’re in private though. With a long groan, he breaks the kiss. I bury my face in his neck and he nuzzles my ear.
“You said you had good news,” I say as he walks with me still in his arms, my feet dangling. “It wasn’t that you hit Paul, was it?”
“Pfft. No.” He doesn’t set me down until we’re at the mouth of the hallway that leads to his dressing room. He keeps me close as we walk in that direction. “Ben’s crashing with Jesse until we get to Los Angeles.”
“That’s… what?” I look at him. His stylish overgrown hair frames his jawline in a way that makes him look more cologne model than rock star. “Three more nights?”
“Yep.” He lifts his chin to the security standing guard, and the man promptly opens the dressing room door for us. Ethan guides me through first, and he follows. “I want you to ride with me.”
Three nights alone with Ethan? Yes, please. “I’d love to.”
His expression warms on me. “I love you.”
My cheeks flame. There’s no way it’s not obvious, so I rub the fuckers, trying to get them to calm the hell down. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing you say that.” Dammit, now they’re getting even hotter.
“There’s one more thing…” He sits on the coffee table, dwarfing the furniture with his size, and pulls me to stand between his thighs. He tilts his head back to catch my eyes, and I take the opportunity to run my hands through his thick hair. “When we get to LA, I have an event I have to attend, and I really want you to come with me.”
“As your date?”
His cocky grin makes my knees weak. “Yes. Will you go with me?”
I grab his cheeks and kiss him hard. “Yes!”
“Good. And I don’t know where things are with you and Prophet, but if you need somewhere to crash in LA until we’re back on the road for the second leg, I have a little extra space at my pad.” He winks.
“Only a little?”
I’m sure Ethan is the proud owner of one of the bigass houses in the Hollywood Hills. Or maybe he’s more of a penthouse in Santa Monica kind of guy. Either way, I don’t doubt he has loads of extra rooms to spare. Not that I need one. Anywhere but in the same bed with him would be too far away.
“Thank you. I might just take you up on that.” I imagine myself sprawled out poolside with a frosty drink delivered by one of Ethan’s servants. The image is enticing until I consider… “Wait, for the event. Will I need to get a dress or—”
“I’ve got a girl. I’ll give her your sizes and she’ll have some shit ready for you.”
“Wow, that must be nice.” Personal stylist, shopper… “I just give you my sizes and—”
“Nope.” He taps his temple. “I already got ‘em in here.”
“Nu-uh.”
He licks his lips, his eyes roaming my torso. He grips my hips, giving my ass a rub before grabbing two handfuls. “Thirty-seven.” He slides his hands up to my waist. “Twenty-five.” He slips his hands up my sweatshirt to my ribs, and then higher where my bra strap is. “Thirty-two.” He runs his thumbs under the elastic, then stands and kisses me long and deep before mumbling, “I’d guess you’re five-six, and I already know you wear a size eight and a half shoe.”
I pull back, staring at him in shock and disbelief.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never measured myself before. How do you know that?”
“I’ve studied every single inch of your body, baby. Memorized you.” His hands cup my breasts, squeezing them gently. “I’d like to get reacquainted with your body right now, but I won’t risk sharing you with my band so…” He bites my lower lip and sucks hard before releasing it with a pop. “Tonight.”
“I can’t wait.”
Ethan
“This is the worst movie I’ve ever seen,” Taylor mumbles from her near-sleeping state on my chest.
After our show, I hung tight in the bus, waiting for her finish striking the stage and loading trucks. She was beat when she stumbled onto the bus, so I did what I thought a boyfriend should do—I took her to the shower and fucked her hard against the tile wall. We tumbled into bed still wet and very naked, but the orgasm-induced endorphin rush wouldn’t let us sleep.
“How can you say that? Adam Sandler is playing Jack and Jill.” Honestly, it’s an awe-inspiring performance. “The flexibility and talent that—”
“Puts you to sleep.” She yawns and rolls away from me, her bare back exposed to the glow of the TV, soft skin that slopes into flared hips and a round ass.
I curl around her, the big spoon to her little spoon, wedging my hardening length in the cushion of her ass cheeks. “I’ll put you to sleep.” I kiss her shoulder and drag my lips to her neck and kiss her there until she’s squirming against me. She turns her head, giving me access to her mouth. “You taste so good.”
She licks my lips and smiles. “So do you.”
The kiss grows deeper, more urgent, and she attempts to roll toward me, but I hold her in place. “Stay like this.”
/> She shivers against me. I reach behind me to the small drawer bedside and grab a condom, then roll it on while I lick and bite the tender spot at the base of her neck. Her breath catches when I thrust slowly between her legs.
“I love being inside you.” I roll my hips again in a drawn-out tease. “Wish I could live inside you.”
She arches her back, opening to me, but I redirect, continuing to taunt her until her thighs quiver.
“I want to die inside you.” Another thrust.
“That’s…” She digs her short nails into my ass, feeling every flex and release of my thrusts. “Kind of gross.” She scratches me hard.
I hiss at the sting of her nails. My hips shoot forward, burying myself inside her. She cries out at the intrusion and wiggles against me, but I hold her in place, giving her a minute to relax. I kiss her until her body goes soft, then hook her behind the knee with my arm, opening her wider, sinking in deeper. She takes every inch until I’m fully seated inside her gripping heat.
“Fuck. You were made for me, baby.”
“You feel so good.”
“Hang on, it’s about to feel a lot better.” I start slowly, short gentle movements until I feel her body’s grip on me loosen. I speed up, lengthen, pull her knee to her chest as I split her in two with every blinding thrust.
She turns her head, a silent request for my lips, and who am I to deny her. There isn’t a single thing she could ask for that I wouldn’t do everything in my power to provide. Nothing I wouldn’t give up to keep her.
Her orgasm rips through her, the sensation ripping down my shaft and demanding my own release to follow. I groan into her mouth, and she eagerly swallows the sound as her body continues to coax pleasure from mine.
While floating back to earth and trying to catch my breath, I say, “Is it possible that every time will be like this?”
I always felt sorry for the guys in relationships. The same girl every night, practiced, predictable, nothing new. What a dumbfuck I was. Being with Taylor, taking the time to learn her body, memorize the way she likes to be touched, study all the new ways I can make her moan… I could spend a lifetime thinking up all the millions of ways to make her feel good and never get bored.