by Kacey Shea
Sean shakes his head and claps me on the back as he passes by to take the empty seat next to Austin. “He’s not lying. The bar we went to played some sick blues. I’d love to jam out like that.”
“Yeah, it sucks not being twenty-one.” I shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans before meeting their stares. I shrug and fight the grin that threatens to take over my face. “But when your balls are covered in gray hairs, I’ll still be in my prime.”
“You calling me old?” Austin laughs out loud.
“Yeah, Gray Bush, I am.” I give in to the smile.
“Gray Bush!” Trent cackles with laughter. He’s standing in the kitchen, and from my peripheral view I can tell Opal’s there, too. “I hope that nickname sticks.”
Austin glares at Trent.
Sean tips his chin in my direction. “So, what’d you do since you couldn’t go play with the big kids? You bounced pretty fast once we got to the hotel.”
“Oh, I—” My gaze flicks to Opal even though it shouldn’t. The hurt in her eyes when I left her alone last night has only amplified. Fuck. I drop my gaze to study my shoes.
“Whoa, why do you look so guilty?” Sean says.
Austin leans back and laughs. “He was probably watching porn, alone in his room.”
“Busted. My night wasn’t anything spectacular.” As hard as I try, I can’t not look at her. To gauge her reaction to my comment is foolish, but in some sick way, penance for the harm I know it causes.
There’s no light. No smile. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. Fuck, I’m an idiot. Without a word she slides from her seat in the booth and heads toward the restroom.
“Okay, guys! We’re rolling out!” Jay calls from the front of the bus, and with a rev of the engine we’re back on the road. The guys discuss the show from last night. They talk about the set. Shoot the shit. But I wander into the kitchen and pretend to look busy. Really, I’m waiting for Opal.
I wait. And wait, and wait, but she doesn’t come back. Fuck. I wait until I can’t stand it anymore and then I stroll down the hall and give a light knock on the bathroom door.
“One second.” The minute she opens the door I know I’ve fucked up.
“You’ve been crying.” I stand in the doorway so she can’t pass. I’m scared she’ll run and shut me out. That I might lose my nerve and let her.
“No, I—” She shakes her head, but then drops her gaze to the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”
“Second time I’ve put tears in those eyes,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m sorry, Opal.”
She runs her index fingers underneath her eyes, wiping away what remains of the wetness. The sight guts me and yet she’s as beautiful in this moment as she was last night. The oversized Three Ugly Guys T-shirt falls low on one shoulder, showing off her pale skin dotted with freckles I’d like to trace with my lips.
“It’s fine. I get it.” She shrugs. I wish she would lift her gaze and meet my eyes. Surely she’d understand how horrible I feel.
“I don’t think you do.” I glance down the hallway. The guys are still chatting and no one seems to notice or care the two of us aren’t there. I have to make this right between us. “Last night . . . I left, and I shouldn’t have.”
“Why?” Her brow furrows and her gaze snaps to mine. “Because you made me feel bad? I don’t need your pity.”
“That’s what you think?” I reach a hand up to the back of my neck, the muscles tense under my touch. “That’s not why I left. God, you have no idea.”
Her jaw hardens and she crosses her arms over her chest. “No need to patronize me by pointing out how clueless I am. I already understand I’m way out of my element here.”
That’s it. I can’t stand it anymore.
With one hand on her hip I push her backward inside the bathroom and let the door shut behind us.
“What are you—?”
My lips crash down on hers and this time I don’t go slow or hold back. I pour everything into this kiss. All the attraction I feel toward her. The pent up sexual frustration. Even the anger I have toward my uncle. I kiss her with all of it, and I don’t stop until my fingers tangle in her hair, our bodies pressed together, and I’m utterly breathless.
“That’s what I should have done last night.” I cup her cheeks, her skin flushed and pink. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, or doubt yourself. I was an asshole. I am an asshole. I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you. Fuck. I ran because I was scared.”
Her eyes, green with flecks of gold I never noticed before are wide, her voice a whisper. “Scared?”
“Yes, terrified actually. You scare the shit out of me, Opal.” I force my hands to my sides. The need to touch her is powerful, but more, I need to explain. “What I feel when I’m around you goes beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. And when you told me you were a virgin it made me stop and question what the hell I was doing. I’d never take something so special from you.” I don’t mention the blackmail. Mine or my uncle’s. The omission wedges a sliver of guilt into my mind, but I shove it away for now.
Opal watches me with those wide eyes and I think for a moment she might throw me out of the bathroom. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. But instead she takes a step forward, her hands finding mine as our bodies align. “It’s not taking if I give it to you. It’s a gift.”
Fuck me. I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a groan. “A gift I don’t deserve.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
My eyelids fly open with surprise. “What?”
“That’s my right. I determine if you’re worth it to me. Not you or anyone else. Unless . . .” She worries her lip between her teeth.
“What?”
She shrugs, steps backward, and I immediately miss the warmth. “If you’d rather be with someone else. Someone with more experience. I’d understand. I’ve seen the way the fans scream for you. You wouldn’t have a problem finding someone who knows what they’re doing.”
I shake my head. I don’t want anyone else. “They don’t hold a candle. Opal, you shine so much brighter than anyone else in a room.” My lips pull up with a grin and I reach for her, my hands on her hips to pull her close. “Or a sold-out stadium. I want you.”
“So, now what?” she says softly and glances up from beneath her lashes. With open palms she skirts her hands up my chest to rest there. Her lips part on an exhale and while I have no idea how to navigate this situation, there’s one thing I do know. I won’t be able to stay away from her. Not now. Not after laying out how I feel.
“Kissing.” The roughness in my tone is filled with need.
She lifts her chin and whispers it back. “Kissing?”
“I would very much love to kiss you right now.” I drop my chin and ever so slowly close the space between our lips.
“Only kissing?” She breathes when we’re a few centimeters apart.
“Opal?”
“Yeah?”
“No more talking.” I claim her mouth. Tasting. Seeking. My tongue dances with hers and it’s the most glorious experience. My entire body thrums with delight and joy. We’re doing this. She’s in my arms and for this one moment everything is perfect. Exactly where we’re meant to be. Whatever comes next we’ll figure out, but for right now we’re making out in the bathroom like two horny teenagers who can’t wait for a better space. Fitting, since technically we both are.
Laughter, boisterous and loud, comes from the front of the bus and only then do we finally pull apart. Opal’s lips are full and pink, her hair a bit of a mess, and she breathes as though she’s just run a mile. I have no doubt I look the same.
“We should . . .” she trails off and glances at the door, out to where reality awaits us.
I don’t want to go out there. As senseless as it is, I wish we could stay here in this bathroom for the rest of forever. Instead I nod and pull her flush against my body. “I’ll go first. Wait a few minutes and follow.”
She nods and her lips purse togethe
r.
“But this isn’t over. Us? We’re just beginning.”
I relish the way her lips pull into a brilliant smile. “I would really like that.”
“And fair warning.” I step back and grip the door handle. “I’m going to kiss you as much as I can. As often as possible. Preferably not always in this bathroom.
She giggles, and slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
My face pulls with a smile that probably looks as stupid as it feels, but I don’t care. I pull open the door and slip outside, thankful no one is waiting or watching. While it’s not anyone’s business but mine and Opal’s, I get the distinct feeling what we’re doing would not be welcome. The guys treat her like family, and since I’m playing in the band, this all could get messy. Probably will, but we’ll figure it out. I can’t stay away from her anymore. I don’t want to. It might not be the most noble sentiment, but I’m going after what I want. As long as she’ll have me, I don’t see the problem.
94
Opal
The next week passes by in a blur of stolen kisses, writing music, PA work for Trent, and of course, a concert every night. There are press interviews and pre-parties. Endless emails and fan mail. It should be overwhelming. Exhausting even. But instead I feel more alive than ever. And it’s all thanks to one man.
Leighton.
Lord, do I have it bad. Each night we stay up talking for hours until everyone else calls it quits and retreats to their beds. It’s then, under the blur of city lights and endless road we make out and grind against each other like the sexually frustrated teenagers we are.
It’s thrilling and stupid and yet I can’t get enough. He can’t either.
Or at least I think he can’t. He never pushes for more than kissing. He keeps it all very PG, if you don’t count the fact I feel every inch of his hard length press against me while we rub our bodies together and lock lips for hours. There’s no pressure. Just maddening, wonderful kisses. Each one sparks awareness and desire to every molecule in my body.
It’s the first time I’ve been with a guy where it doesn’t feel like he’s counting down the moments until he can try to get in my pants. Maybe it’s because of the late night talks, or the fact he’s a damn good kisser, but for the first time in any of my extremely limited relationships, I’m the one who’s ready for more. To take our intimacy to the next level. Without a doubt in my mind, I want him to be my first.
I’m ready, if and when the opportunity presents itself.
Which is the real problem. There’s not much down time on a tour like this, and even more scarce is time alone. Sure, we make out on the bench seat or one of the reclining chairs each night, but anyone could catch us. I don’t want my first time to be rushed or walked in on. I don’t think he wants that either. Not to mention, private time will be even more challenging to carve out once my sister rejoins the tour.
So we wait. Or at least try.
Tonight, as Leighton thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and I rock my hips against his body, dragging him to the bathroom doesn’t sound so awful. My body is on fire with the sensation of his touch, and yearning courses so deeply I doubt I’ll feel satisfied until we’re naked and aligned. I’m seconds from suggesting the crazy idea when Leighton pulls back.
“We should get some rest.” He whispers in my ear but his lips come right back to mine. He’s good at this. So good, and as his lips descend, traveling down between my breasts, I can’t help but arch against him.
“I want you,” I practically moan in his ear.
He pulls back, nods and exhales in a rush. The abrupt loss of heat as he climbs off my body is nearly as frustrating as the need to find release. I’ve never been like this. Ever. But I can’t imagine falling asleep tonight without either of us getting off.
“I should . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence but reaches out to pull me up off the seat. When I find my balance he runs his hand along the back of his neck and kneads the muscles there.
“Is everything okay?” I bite my lip, worried I’ve done something wrong. Maybe I’ve been too aggressive, too wanton in the way I pressed my body against his.
“Everything’s good. Too good.” He lets a rush of air whoosh from his lungs. “I have to stop. I’m sorry, Opal. It’s taking everything in my willpower not to strip you bare, eat you out, and fuck you until we both come.” He smiles, part mischief and pain. “But I can’t really do any of those things in this bus.”
His words border on crass and I should be offended, but I’m not. If anything, they make the pulsing between my legs worsen. I rub my thighs together to relieve some of the strain. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He shakes his head and steps forward, his hands finding my waist and pressing our bodies together. His hard cock juts into my belly, a proud declaration of his desire. But it’s his gaze that captivates me. His molten brown irises swim with an emotion I can’t name. “Don’t you dare apologize. There will be no shame or guilt here. Got it?” He raises his brows and levels me with a flirty stare. I appreciate his effort to lighten the issue I struggle with and it only makes me like him more.
“Yes, sir.” I nod and let the goofy grin takeover my face.
“Well, then, until tomorrow . . .” He winks before strutting over to our bunks and climbing up into his.
With a reluctant sigh I head to the bathroom before turning in. I consider locking the door and trying to get myself off with just my fingers, but the action feels empty and meaningless without the man I’d be imagining. No. I’ll wait for the real thing.
In my bed, the miles roll by from beyond my privacy curtain. I try to relax into the sheets and let the steady hum of the engine pull me under, but I toss and turn in my bunk for at least an hour before giving up. It’s useless. I can’t sleep.
The shuffle of fabric overhead makes me wonder if I’m not the only one. Grabbing my phone from its charger, I pull up my text messenger.
Me: Can’t sleep. You up?
Leighton: Yeah, I’m awake. Why can’t you sleep? Everything okay?
Me: I’m good. More than good. I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.
Leighton: Please continue . . .
Am I doing this? My face heats with my naughty and inappropriate thoughts. Thank God we’re in different bunks and he can’t see me. Actually, it’s perfect. I never thought I’d be the girl to sext her man, but with Leighton this feels safe. And after making out for the last hour, my panties are soaked and my center pulsing with an unmet need. I’m feeling all sorts of bold.
Me: I got so turned on tonight kissing you. You’re really good with your mouth.
Leighton: I love kissing you.
Me: I’m imagining you going down on me. Right now.
A bang, like that of a limb against the bus wall sounds, and follows with a curse. “Fuck.”
Me: Are you okay up there?
Leighton: No. I’m reviewing my old geometry notes to see whether it’s possible for us to both fit in your bunk.
I fight to hold in a giggle.
Me: That so?
Leighton: No, you just surprised me.
Me: Good surprise?
Leighton: Very. Tell me more. I believe you were about to touch that pretty pussy.
My body feels hot all over. With a little reconfiguration of my legs I slide my left hand under the waistband of my shorts. My fingers scrape the outside of my panties, but my body begs for more pressure. I dip my fingers beneath my underwear and rub circles around my clit and the bundle of nerves ready to explode.
Me: Done. Next?
The little bubbles come up and disappear several times over before his next message comes through.
Leighton: That’s hot. Hotter than hot. Please tell me you’re really touching yourself and not fucking with me.
My texting speed is dramatically slower with only one hand, but I don’t think he minds. I imagine my fingers are his, that he’s touching my wet, sensitive center, and it elevates my arousa
l.
Me: The only fucking I want to do is with you.
My cheeks heat. Was that too much? I have to fight back the shame that threatens to steal everything good about this moment.
Leighton: I want to touch you. Taste you. Make you come with my mouth.
Me: Yeah? I’m so wet.
Leighton: I’m stroking myself thinking about it.
My pulse speeds with the visual. My heart hammers in my chest so hard I’m surprised no one can hear. He doesn’t even wait for me to reply.
Leighton: Keep touching yourself. Get yourself off. Let’s come together.
Yes. I bite my lip so I won’t groan. Dropping the phone, I press my head back into my pillow with my eyes clenched shut and slide my other hand beneath my waistband. The thought of him doing the same right above me is inescapably erotic. The shuffle of fabric coming from his bunk spurs my fingers faster as they circle my clit. I’ve done this before, but never with a partner knowing, and somehow it’s more intense. Intimate.
I’m close. So freaking close. I switch up my movement slightly when a muffled groan sounds from above. Yes! That’s all I need. Knowing Leighton can’t keep quiet as he finds his release pushes me to chase my own. My pulse speeds, my skin beads with sweat, and all at once I break apart. Soaring. Flying, as my muscles spasm with pleasure. Before I come down from my orgasmic high, I reach for my phone and type out a message.
Me: Thank you! Now I can finally sleep!
His deep chuckle sounds from above.
Leighton: Speak for yourself. I made a mess.
Me: I’d help you clean up, but . . .
He groans aloud and it’s all I can do to keep from letting loose a giggle. I let a smile of satisfaction paint my lips as I type out one final reply.
Me: Good night.
I plug in my phone and turn onto my side, curling into a satiated mess of heavy limbs. My eyelids drift shut, the thrum of the bus easing me to sleep now that I’m not wrestling unquenched lust. There’s a shuffle overhead and Leighton’s feet hit the floor a second later. The sleep partition enclosing my bunk slides open just enough for his head to push inside my space.