Staged (Exodus End World Tour, #3)

by Cunning, Olivia

  “My coaching skills apparently need more work.”

  He reached between their bodies and rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit. She gasped, her back arching off the mattress. “Steve,” she pleaded again.

  He entered her slowly, gaze locked on hers as he filled her inch by inch. Buried to the hilt, he relaxed against her, lowering his belly against hers and cocooning her in his arms. She’d never felt more cherished, more connected, more content. Her lashes fluttered as he lowered his head and kissed her, claiming her mouth with the same care he showed as he took her body. Emotion clogged her chest until she couldn’t breathe, and panic began to set in. Now that she knew what a love this perfect felt like, how would she go on if she lost it? If she lost him?

  Her breath quickened, and she pulled him closer using both her arms and her legs—squeezing him so close she was likely hurting him. He didn’t protest. Instead he shifted his arm and pressed something hard against her side. Her bullet, she realized with a flood of relief. He was wearing it on a bracelet. She released her tight hug and found his wrist, gripping the bullet in her hand until her panic began to subside. It didn’t take long. Only a few deep breaths. It’s getting a little better, she told herself. But maybe that was a lie.

  “I wondered if it was me or your lucky charm you were missing,” he said, and she opened her eyes to find him smiling kindly at her.

  “You,” she said without hesitation. “It’s the thought of losing you that makes me reach for this.” She squeezed the bullet in her hand and then released it to dangle around his wrist so that her arms were free to hug him close again.

  “I know.” He kissed her softly, not promising what he couldn’t promise. Just validating how she felt. Giving her exactly what she needed to find the stability she still lacked. “I will never willingly leave you.”

  She smiled and squeezed him tighter. That was all she could ask of him. “I’ll never willingly leave you either.”

  He shifted onto his elbows, and she slowly released her death grip, settling into the mattress and gazing up at him. He rocked his hips, moving inside her, and her eyes drifted closed as pleasure radiated outward from their joining.

  “Part of me thought you wouldn’t accept my invitation,” he said.

  “I couldn’t get here fast enough.”

  He kissed her neck, his strokes no faster than before, but oh so deep. Her toes curled, and she arched into him.

  “Am I presuming too much if I keep a toothbrush and some clothes in your room?” she asked.

  His hands skimmed over her shoulders, her breasts, her waist.

  “You already have a toothbrush in the bathroom. It’s the red one.”

  Her smile faded into an opened-mouthed gasp of pleasure as his lips caressed her jaw, her throat, her earlobe.

  “But you won’t need any clothes here,” he added.

  Her smile returned. “I might need them when I leave.”

  “You just promised me that you won’t do that.”

  And she wished she never had to. She touched his face. “I’ll have to leave eventually. I have a job to do.”

  “Make me happy?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He kissed her silent. “Watching you perform will make me happy too.”

  “So you aren’t planning to chain me to your bed?”

  “Now there’s an idea.”

  She lost her train of thought as his strokes hastened. She surrendered her pleasure to him, trusting him to bring her higher, higher.

  “Steve!” she cried as she shattered, her enter body shaking with power of her release.

  “I win,” he said, grinning down at her.

  Still quaking in bliss, she needed a moment to register his words. . She sucked in a breath and asked, “What do you mean, you win?”

  “Made you come first.” He beamed with pride.

  She laughed. “I think that makes me the winner.”

  “Nope. Me.”

  “I want a rematch.”

  “Maybe you’ll score second place, but I think I have that victory in the bag as well.”

  “We’ll just see about that.”

  But when he kissed his way down her body, spread her legs wide, and set his mind—and mouth—to claim another victory, she forgot to even try to win. Besides, she was the one claiming orgasms. She was pretty sure that made her the real winner.

  “Steve: two,” he said. “Roux: zero.”

  “I’ll try harder,” she promised. But he flipped her over onto her knees and entered her from behind. Being taken fast and rough after the care he’d shown her before sent her body reeling into a new dimension of pleasure. And when he reached around to rub her clit while he fucked her, she couldn’t help but allow him a third victory. Though, really, if this was what losing was like, he was welcome to tattoo a giant L on her forehead.

  “I’m on a roll,” he said.

  She managed to get him on his back, and took his cock into her mouth, sucking him and caressing his cockhead with her tongue. When his breath started to hitch in excited gasps, she decided a four-to-one loss wouldn’t be so bad. She shifted up his body to straddle his hips and slid him inside her with her hand. Using her weight to drive him deeper, she moved her hips in grinding strokes to rub her clit against his body. Steve seemed okay with her throwing him another point as she worked her way quickly to orgasm. He waited for her, sitting upright the moment she shattered to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight against him as he let go inside her.

  “I changed my mind,” he said as he collapsed backward onto the bed, pulling her down with him. “Coming is definitely winning, not losing.”

  She giggled. “I do know what I’m talking about sometimes.”

  “I’ll never doubt you again.”

  *~*~*

  When Roux’s cellphone rang a while later, she was dozing peacefully in Steve’s arms. She groaned, knowing before she even looked at caller ID that it was Iona and it was time for her to pretend she had a real job. Though she took her second career—making Steve happy—very seriously.

  “Do you have to go?” he murmured.

  She climbed from the bed before that sexy-sleepy voice of his made her consider a permanent career switch.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, leaning over the bed and kissing his lips softly. She knew she couldn’t spend the entirety of the tour in bed with him. Knew that, but hated it was true.

  “I need my rest anyway,” he said, looking even sexier than usual with his eyes all drowsy and his hair tousled from their earlier activities. “I’ll miss having you tucked against me while I sleep.”

  She lifted a brow as she retrieved her clothes from beneath the chair and began to dress. She knew how he slept, all sprawled out on his belly with scarcely an inch for her. She ended up less tucked against him and more clinging to the edge of the bed so she didn’t wind up on the floor.

  “You are a total bed hog.”

  He grinned. “Guilty. I’ll work on that. But only for you.”

  Now dressed, she kissed him again, forcing her feet to move toward the door. “I love you,” she said.

  “Love you,” he murmured, eyes now closed.

  She released a sigh, quickly committing the look of him to memory before opening the door. Roux took note of the middle-aged, mustached security guard in the hall who was arguing with some burgundy-haired woman. She recognized him from the after-party in New York as Butch, the head of Exodus End’s security team and the guy who’d given her wonderful advice about making Steve fall for her. Roux kept her head down as she passed the pair, still worried about hiding her alter ego from strangers. The woman paused in her diatribe about all-access press passes as Roux hurried past them and to the elevator. Her neck prickled beneath the iciness of the woman’s glare as she hammered the down button, as if that would get the car to the floor quicker. Something about the woman was familiar, but Roux couldn’t figure out where she might have seen her. She seemed out of place, ye
t not her looks. She looked every inch a rock star aficionado—from her chunky leather boots to her short burgundy hair to all the piercings and tattoos in between. But Roux felt that she didn’t belong there. Maybe it was because Butch obviously didn’t want her there. As soon as the elevator opened and Roux stepped inside, the woman began berating the poor guy again.

  “Sam assured me that I’m allowed on this floor and there’s nothing you can do about it, Butch.”

  Ah, Roux thought. That’s what’s off about her. She has an American accent, and we’re in England.

  “I’m not bothering any of them on your account,” Butch said sternly. “I don’t give a single fuck what Sam says.”

  Roux smiled. She did like Butch. The elevator door slid shut, and she pressed the button for her floor. When the door opened, the scene was quite a bit different. Where Exodus End’s floor was quiet and orderly and had security, the floor where the opening bands had rooms was utter chaos. Two young women streaked by in their underwear, paying Roux no mind as a chortling naked musician with a hard-on chased them into an open hotel room. Someone tried to pass her a half-empty bottle of whiskey, which she politely declined, and music was blaring from two different rooms. The songs were both loud and heavy but didn’t play over each other with any harmony. She eyed her keycard, hoping she’d gotten the floor wrong. She’d never be able to concentrate amid all this noise and confusion. Her sisters would likely have a blast in this environment, but Roux coveted peace and quiet.

  “Whatever made me think I could be a rock star?” she muttered to herself as she found her room at last. With dread, she realized that everyone in the hall had seen her without her stage makeup on. She should have planned better.

  She knocked to alert Raven that she had arrived and inserted her keycard into the slot.

  “I’m coming in,” she called.

  “Is that you, Katie?” Raven called back. At least she’d remembered to call her Katie.

  “Yeah. Is Roux ready to go to the venue?” she asked loudly before shutting the door.

  “Not looking like that, she’s not,” Raven said with a laugh. “You must have gotten laid. You’re glowing.”

  “I saw Steve; of course I got laid.” She hurried to her suitcase and found that Raven had already taken her costume out and had hung it to help smooth the wrinkles. “It’s crazy out in that hall.”

  “If it was anyone but musicians acting like that, someone would have called the cops by now.”

  “We do get away with a lot of troublemaking.” Well, not her, but real rock stars who behaved badly did. And Steve happened to be one of those.

  “Do I have time for a shower?”

  “Are you all covered in rock star cum?” Raven tutted. “Poor dear.”

  Actually . . . “And sweat. And saliva.”

  “Hurry up,” Raven said. “And don’t get your hair wet.”

  Minutes later, a cleaner Roux was shimmying into her costume while Raven came at her with her wig and false eyelashes. They hurried to complete the transformation, but the rest of the band was left waiting while they applied the finishing touches to Roux’s costume.

  “You’re going to have to leave Steve’s bed a little earlier next time,” Iona said, checking her wrist as if she were wearing a watch.

  “You can’t talk,” Azura said. “I barely got you to leave Kyle’s side.”

  “Kyle’s here?” Roux asked, her heart filling with joy for her sister. So the man was a mind reader after all.

  Iona smiled. “He took some time off to be supportive.”

  Azura snorted. “He took some time off to get sex.”

  Iona slapped at her. “And he wanted to visit his mum in London.” She went a bit pale. “Introduce me to his family.”

  “Isn’t his mum like a hundred years old?” Azura asked. “She’s going to think you’re a child.”

  Iona cringed. “Maybe she has cataracts and won’t be able to see me clearly.”

  Roux was glad she’d already gotten her “meet the family” out of the way with Steve. She hoped they visited them again after the tour was over so she could meet his father too. She’d had fun at the family farm and longed for that weird but wonderful feeling of home she’d experienced.

  “You know what Roux’s situation reminds me of,” Sage said, changing the subject completely, as she was prone to do. “Hannah Montana.”

  “Ew. No.” Raven shook her head so vigorously, her chin-length black hair went flying out in all directions. “More like Jem.”

  “Jem?” Sage scowled.

  Raven looked at her as if she were daft. “That rock star chick from the eighties?”

  Sage lifted her brows and shook her head, obviously not following.

  “It’s a cartoon,” Roux said. Raven was a huge fan of anime and cartoons, and because they’d shared a room since puberty, Roux had little choice but to know about those things. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if I had Jem’s hologram earrings to help me change personas, but I’m ready now. Let’s go.”

  Roux followed her sisters into the hallway, yelling, “See you later, Katie,” into the empty room before she shut the door.

  The entire band stared at her oddly.

  “It’s sad to leave Katie here by herself,” Roux said, widening her eyes and nodding to get them to play along.

  Raven snorted. “Yeah, that’s what’s sad about this.” She began to sing the theme song to the Jem and the Holograms cartoon as she made her way to the elevator. After Raven’s sixth repeat of the chorus, Sage finally told her that she remembered the show just to get her to shut up about how truly outrageous Jem was.

  They were shuttled via a small bus to the festival grounds. Several other bands were also on the bus—all friendly and welcoming and very loud. Roux mostly observed, finding the various personalities fascinating to watch. Iona had found a fast and ambitious friend in the lead singer of Killer Monkeys, and Azura and Sage were talking shop with several guitarists—all male, yet respectful of their female counterparts. Poor Lily was being harassed—as usual—about when her husband and the Fallen were going to make their comeback. It occurred to Roux that she was the only keyboardist present. That made her a bit of an oddity in and of itself, but she was also a quiet soul, and rock music was so loud and in your face. Maybe that was what she loved about the genre and the people who gravitated toward it. For her, the music filled a void in her otherwise serene existence. Sometimes a quiet girl just needed to rock.

  “So how does it feel to debut as opener for Exodus End and Sinners?” a deep voice said behind her.

  Roux turned. She knew that the spiky-haired man was in Killer Monkeys, but wasn’t sure what his name was. He must have realized that, because he extended a hand.

  “Kevin. Bass player.”

  Roux smiled and took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Roux. Keyboardist.”

  His smile faltered a bit, but then widened. “Are you about to shit yourself? I’d totally be shitting myself if we had to open for two huge bands right out of the gate.”

  “Aren’t you kind of opening for them here?” Roux asked.

  Kevin shook his head. “Festivals are different. We play on a side stage and people come and go as they please, but at a venue?” He widened his brilliant blue eyes and shook his head. “Everyone who bought a ticket to see superstars is stuck watching you.” He shrugged. “Unless they don’t show up until the headliners go on.”

  A new fear niggled at Roux. What if no one showed up until the headliners went on?

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you nervous,” Kevin said. “I’m supremely jealous of your luck.”

  Luck? Not skill. Or talent. Luck.

  “But yeah,” he added, “if I was in your shoes, I’d be shitting myself big time.”

  The guy beside him elbowed him hard in the ribs. “That’s because you have bowel issues, Kev. If I was in her shoes, I’d be dancing in the clouds.” He had long, dirty blond hair—the kind that could use a good washing
—and kind, dark eyes. He extended a hand, and she smiled a greeting before shaking it. “Todd. Another bassist. So you play keyboard? I don’t think I know any keyboardists.”

  “I’m a rarity.” Hence Steve giving her a hard time about it at the beginning.

  “I know one.” Kevin lifted a finger and then added a second digit. “Well, two now. Is it hard to head bang while you’re playing that thing? I think it would be hard to head bang.”

  Roux chuckled. “I don’t head bang.”

  “Do you dance around?” Todd asked. His gaze shifted to her chest. She waited for him to recover his manners and meet her eyes before she answered.

  “Maybe. Perhaps you should come check us out if you’re curious.”

  “I am definitely checking you out,” Kevin said, giving her the twice-over.

  Roux expected to be checked out when she was in costume; Baroquen didn’t dress in corsets and short skirts and sky-high heeled boots to be ignored. She did feel a bit uneasy when the attention was this up-close and personal, however. Especially since she was outnumbered. She really wished Steve were sitting beside her at that moment.

  “I meant our music,” Roux said, careful not to put too much iciness in her tone. She wasn’t here to make enemies either. The other members of her band would have taken this opportunity to flirt. Roux had always had a more difficult time with that part of their act. “Check out our music.”

  “Consider it checked,” Todd said, staring at her chest again.

  “My boobs will be onstage too,” she said, tilting her head. His attention snapped to her eyes.

  “Sorry, sorry. I’m just not used to being around such . . . nice . . .” His gaze started to drift downward again.

  “Keyboardists,” Kevin said, slapping Todd’s arm.

  “Right.”

  “It’s mostly dudes around here,” Kevin added. “Total sausage fest.”

  “Feel free to consider me just another dude,” Roux said.

  Todd shook his head. “Not humanly possible.”

  She laughed, relaxing slightly as she realized he wasn’t a threat. He thought she was attractive, and that was okay. She was supposed to be attractive while in costume. That was the whole idea.