Blow

by McLaughlin, Heidi

  “Bodhi!”

  “What?” I shrug and raise the privacy panel between us and the driver. “He can’t hear or see anything. Not to mention he works for my parents, so he won’t say anything. We could fuck in the car and he wouldn’t even know.”

  Never in my life have I seen someone as beautiful as Kimberly or been so aroused by a woman’s mere presence. She could wear a garbage bag as a dress and I’d find it sexy. Her short dress is molded to every curve of her body; her blond hair is curled to perfection and resting on her shoulders. I want to say fuck it and take her right now, but I don’t think she trusts that no one will see us. It’d be so easy to whip my dick out and have her sit on me. Fuck, even thinking about it has me engorged and needing a release.

  My hand squeezes hers as the car turns the corner in front of the venue and the fans start screaming. They have no idea who is in the car, but they don’t care. It’s someone they want to see. Our car is in front and in the one behind are Brayden and Carson. I had requested that Kimberly and I arrive in a separate car, rather than with the two of them; Rebel was clearly displeased, but the guys didn’t care.

  As we file out of the car, the deafening screams pierce our ears. I hold on to Kim’s hand tightly as I wave to the crowd. It’s in this moment that I make my move. That I show her and everyone who is watching that I’m off the market.

  Cupping her cheek with my free hand, I lean in and kiss her. The noise level is not lost on me. Before I pull away, I rest my forehead on hers.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I tell her, meeting her gaze. “You have no idea what this dress, your hair, and your perfume are doing to me, but know this, Kimberly—I’m so in love with you.”

  “I love you too. Now go to your fans before they maim me.”

  I look her over once more and shake my head. “You and me, in that car after the show, whether you like it or not.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  I groan before saying, “Over and over again.” I take her over to the bodyguard we’ve arranged for; she and Natalie will stay near him while we sign autographs. When we’re on the red carpet, she’ll be right behind me, never out of my reach.

  Questions from fans are thrown at us, all personal, which we don’t answer. We smile and ignore them, doing exactly what Rebel taught us. The three of us work the crowd like magicians. We pose for selfies, sign posters and pictures from magazines and random pieces of paper. Every now and again I look over my shoulder at Kimberly, and out of the corner of my eye I catch Rebel watching me carefully. I know bringing Kim isn’t what Rebel wanted, but it’s what I need. When I’m with Kimberly, I don’t worry about how I’m going to get through the day, or feel the need to numb myself. She makes me want to feel and experience with a clean and sober body what this opportunity is giving me. This is the first time I’ve done this fan thing with Virtuous Paradox without being high, and I have to say it feels pretty damn good.

  The next set of stars arrives and the crowd goes crazy. When we get to the end of the barricades keeping the fans back, we go back to where Rebel is standing and follow her across the street. I hold Kim’s hand and tug her along behind me until it’s time for us to pose for pictures on the red carpet. There are a few taken with Kim, but most are done with just the three of us.

  The publicist works the lines, securing us interviews while we pose for photos. They want us together, Brayden, Carson, and me, but also each of us by ourselves. I catch a glimpse of Kim and Natalie with bright, excited faces as they covertly point out some of the biggest stars in music and film. It’s endearing, but something she’ll get used to.

  “Seems like the hype hasn’t died down and everyone still thinks we’re hot,” I yell over the noise into Rebel’s ear while she smiles at someone shouting her name. It’s crazy that she’s just as popular as we are, if not more. Musicians beg for her representation. And to think I almost threw it all away. She was afraid that if two months went by without the three of us being seen together, we’d damage our status with the fans. Boy, was she mistaken. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  “That’s because you are. Check your ego at the door, McKnight, and remember you were chosen because of your looks. Everyone will remember what you wore and how you walked the red carpet, so keep smiling and selling yourself with those baby blues. But don’t forget how little you cared about your appearance a few months back. These fans deserve what they’re seeing now, not that shit we had to look at. Tomorrow morning your faces will be all over the front pages of every celebrity magazine and website, commenting on your style.”

  She moves away to greet the woman who is calling her name, leaving me stunned by what she said. I study them for a moment, watching as they kiss each other on the cheek and lightly hold on to each other’s arm while they chat. I feel a hand slide into mine and turn to find Kimberly next to me.

  “Are you doing okay?”

  I know she’s asking about my mental state right now. Is this a trigger? Do I want to run and find the nearest dealer? It wouldn’t be hard to find one if I wanted to, but I don’t. I feel great, exhilarated even.

  I pull her close, cupping her cheek again. There’s no mistaking the frantic clicking noise as the cameras go off. I’m giving them an image they can sell ten times over, but for Kimberly and me, I’m giving us confirmation that we’re a couple.

  “With you here,” I tell her, “I’m on top of the world.”

  Before I can make any other declarations of love, I’m pulled away to do interviews. I’ve given them something to ask about aside from music and my parents.

  “Bodhi, who’s your date?”

  “Bodhi, when’s the wedding?”

  “Bodhi, how long have you been together?”

  Each question gets ignored, as the publicist yells, “Next question.” I don’t mind sharing Kimberly with the world, but the world needs to be patient. I wish I could keep her to myself a little bit longer before the tabloids start following her around. I’m a realist, though. I’m aware that by the end of the night people will know who she is.

  We make our way down the carpet and into the venue. Kimberly and our bodyguard are hot on our heels as we’re ushered into a greenroom. When I step in, I see a woman with long blond hair and for a moment think it’s Aspen. Everything comes rushing back to me, throwing me off balance: the lines of coke I snorted off her body, the partying, and the subsequent feeding of my addiction.

  “Are you okay?” both Rebel and Kimberly ask, each of them grabbing one of my arms.

  “Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t want to tell them that I thought I saw Aspen. That I was remembering the night when it all started. I think that would hurt Kim, and I don’t want to do that. Those memories should be tucked away and stay there.

  The bustle around us is furious. Wardrobe and makeup are in the same greenroom. Commands are being hollered out and we’re being directed to stand here, sit here, put this on, and mike up. There’s a pounding on the door, someone yelling out that we have five minutes.

  Rebel gathers us in a circle, our arms wrapped around each other. “This moment is yours. Show them all that Virtuous Paradox is here to stay. Go out there and shine. Work that crowd and entertain them.” Then she lets us go and motions for us to head toward the stage. We’re the opening act. I’ll never know how she scored the coveted spot for us, but if we can pull it off, I’ll be forever grateful.

  Everything moves in a rush backstage. A few people with clipboards and headsets are whizzing past us, trying to get to their talent; others are barking orders into their headsets, and the rest seem to be bossing everyone else around. You would think this is the first time anyone’s ever done an awards show; it’s not, but the chaos will always remain, no matter how many times they’ve been through this.

  The three of us stand in position onstage, with our matching black jeans and white shirts that probably cost a fortune. Carson is in the middle, with Brayden on his right. Our heads are down, legs slightly apart.
We can hear the emcee in our earpieces as he introduces us. The crowd starts to cheer, and as the curtain rises they get louder, their chants and screaming sending shock waves down my spine. It’s different now that I’m not in the haze of being high. Their energy is enough to feed me; it’s not fake or induced by my own stupidity.

  We wait until the music starts and the spotlight shines on the three of us. It’s only then do we move. We bounce, kick, turn, and gyrate to the music, working our way to the center of the stage, almost close enough to the front for the female members of the audience sitting right down front to touch us. I wink at one who catches my eye before I deliver my verses. I love this. I love the way I feel.

  Each move is calculated to go with the music and the lyrics. Our routine tells the story of love, sex, and devotion as Carson, Bray, and I move around each other in sync. There are no miscues or stumbles. We flow just like I knew we would when I proposed the idea to Rebel all those months ago.

  Our song finishes and the crowd is on their feet. We stand in the center with our hands clasped and arms raised as we take a bow before exiting. Rebel is there to meet us, but there’s no smile on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Brayden asks.

  “Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “It was good, but I want better. I want you guys to be so sought after that we’re turning away offers. We have a lot of work to do. This is just the beginning.”

  “When is it the middle?” I stupidly ask. The look on her face tells me that she’s not happy with me. I get it, but I want to know when we reach the middle. Every time we turn around, it seems, Rebel’s telling us it’s only the beginning. At what point does that change? We’ve already had sold-out shows, and our faces are everywhere. What else do we have to do to prove that we’re here and that we have staying power?

  “It’s the middle when I say it’s the middle. Your performance was good, not great. We need better,” she says, pointing at each of us in turn while the others backstage look on. “If you want stardom, you’re going to have to work.” She walks away from us, leaving us speechless. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for her to give us a compliment, tell us that we did a good job—hell, maybe even pat us on the back.

  “What crawled into her earpiece and bit her?” Carson asks as we watch her walk away.

  None of us know, and the people who saw her lecturing us are whispering. I’m trying not to look, but I can’t help it.

  Just then a man I don’t know approaches us. “I saw your performance. It was great,” he says. “What Van Zandt said is bullshit. You’re new and the hard work you’ve put in is evident in your performance. If you ever want to work with a real manager, give me a call.”

  He doesn’t introduce himself, leaving only his business card in our hands. When he turns away from us I let mine drop to the ground. I’m in no position to seek out a different manager.

  We head back to the greenroom. I’m expecting Rebel to be there, but she’s not. Kimberly and Natalie are, and they look like they’re involved in a very serious conversation. They both smile and stand when we walk in, with Kimberly coming over to greet me with a sweet kiss.

  “You were great.”

  I shake my head, Rebel’s words still plaguing me. Maybe I’m a better performer when I’m high and just going through the motions. That’s not something I’m willing to consider, though, because right now I have too much to lose. I know Brayden and Carson care about me, but they’re also watching me carefully, waiting for signs that I’ve screwed up. Same with Kimberly. And they’re the last people I’d ever want to let down.

  “Thank you. I happen to think you’re pretty great yourself,” I say with a wink. She giggles, and the sound of her laughter goes right to my crotch and my heart. She owns me, every part of me. That feeling is beginning to become familiar, and I pray that it never goes away.

  I rush to the back of the room and change back into the clothes that I arrived in before taking Kimberly’s hand in mine and pulling her toward the door. As soon as the next commercial break happens, we’ll be seated, but until then she and I are going to stand outside this room and get lost in each other. I lean up against the wall and pull her close to me. Her body presses into mine, and her breasts push up against my chest, giving me ample viewing pleasure.

  Right now would be the ideal moment to kiss her, but there are too many people around and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, so instead I fish for compliments. “Are you sure we were good? You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass?”

  Kimberly thinks about my question for far too long until my mouth is dropping open in disbelief. Maybe Rebel was right and we truly need to work more.

  Then she flashes a grin. “Just kidding. I thought you guys were great. Natalie and I were dancing backstage. I loved your performance.”

  “But?”

  “No but.”

  “I sense a but,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head before resting it on my shoulder. I use this to my advantage and press my lips to her skin, nipping along her collarbone until I’ve reached her ear. She shies away.

  “Tell me,” I beg, whispering into her ear.

  Kim looks at me and shrugs, trying to hide the smile from her face. “It’s weird, seeing you onstage and knowing that we’re in a relationship. I honestly never thought I’d be dating a member of a boy band.”

  “So don’t think of us as a boy band,” I suggest, trying not to laugh. I’ve said the same thing many times to the guys, but let’s face it—we don’t play instruments, we dance around in choreographed moves, and we sing fucking pop songs. If that doesn’t scream boy band, I don’t know what the hell else would.

  “I don’t think of it as a bad thing,” she tells me. “I mean, when you’re onstage and moving your hips”—Kim leans in, her lips grazing my ear—“it does things to me. Watching you onstage gives me a feeling that I can’t describe. My body aches, begging for you to touch me, for your lips to kiss me, and for your—”

  “Commercial break. Please take your seats.” The announcement causes me to jump, and the words quickly deflate the stiffy that was growing in my jeans. I feel like sending a memo to my dick that it should just stay hard when Kim’s around, because I’m bound to get it more action soon. The up-and-down sensation from being hard to not is no fun.

  “You’re evil,” I tell Kim, but she shrugs as if she did nothing wrong. We head down the hall, following the gofer they sent to retrieve us. The dim hallway gives me a chance to discreetly adjust myself before we enter the auditorium. I know the people in the audience will look, even stare, because I’ve done the same to other artists when they’ve entered the auditorium in a rush to get to their seats before the commercials are over.

  I take the outside seat, letting Kim sit next to Natalie, with Brayden next to her and finally Carson. I sneak a look at Brayden, who is focused on the stage. His hand rests on his knee with his index finger aimed slightly at Natalie. I don’t know how long he’s going to keep up the charade that they’re just friends, because I can see through his bullshit. Natalie, on the other hand, is angled toward Kimberly, making me wonder if she’s put Brayden in the friend zone.

  Kimberly is angled toward me, as close as she can possibly get with the armrest in our way. When I look at her, she bites her lower lip, and her lust-filled blue eyes return my gaze, telling me that she’s going to welcome my advances when we get in the car later. That dress she’s wearing will be around her waist the second the car door shuts and that sweet pussy of her will be wrapped around my dick, keeping it happy for at least an hour.

  Twenty-Three

  Kimberly

  Bodhi tells the driver to take the long way to the after-party before he pushes the button to raise the privacy panel. I don’t bother trying to pull down my dress when I sit, and indeed, before the driver even pulls out into traffic, Bodhi’s freed his cock from the confines of his jeans and begins stroking it, knowing how much I like to watch.

  His thumb light
ly grazes over my parted lips. The next swipe has a little more pressure, and this time my tongue sneaks out, wetting the pad of his thumb. He lets out a low growl as my eyes go from his down to his arousal. I lick my lips as wetness begins between my legs. I can’t wait any longer and straddle him, sliding my tongue over his lips as I do. The sensation of him filling me is too much to handle, causing me to cry out.

  “That’s it, baby, ride my cock.” Bodhi slouches down, giving us a better angle, and plants his foot against the other seat, giving him more leverage to thrust into me.

  The top of my dress is pulled down, and one breast is covered by his mouth and the other by his hand, with his fingers tweaking my nipples. My hands move everywhere—his hair, his face, his lips, his chest, and back again—as I try to satisfy the desire I’m feeling.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he coos. “You’re enough to keep me high, Kimberly.”

  That’s what I want. I want to be the one he needs to stay clean. I grab at my breast and throw my head back as my orgasm takes over. Bodhi pulls me forward and slams into me as hard as he can until he’s grunting and releasing inside me.

  “Mr. McKnight, we’re pulling up now,” the driver says through the intercom.

  Bodhi reaches over and presses the intercom button. “Thanks. Give us a minute, please.”

  I slide off him and grab a few tissues to clean myself as discreetly as possible. Once my dress is righted, I checking the mirror to make sure I don’t look freshly fucked. I’m a little surprised that we did all that and my lipstick still looks flawless.

  “We fucked with no foreplay,” I tell him.

  He chuckles and kisses my shoulder. “I’m always hard, you’re always wet. Match made in heaven, if you ask me.”

  I can’t help but laugh at him. Maybe this is all someone needs in life, amazing and spontaneous sex. But that gets you only so far in a relationship.