by Tara Wylde
“Does it hurt?” I ask, worried that she wasn’t ready, that I’m moving too fast.
“No,” she pants. “It’s amazing.”
We work well together, her matching each of my strokes with a slight shift of her hips. I want to lean in and kiss her but I don’t want to break this incredible rhythm.
Tina lets out an involuntary groan with each thrust, which turns me on even more. Shockwaves of intense desire travel up my cock into my belly and then radiate throughout my body. It’s like I’m having a full body orgasm with every thrust. I’ve never felt anything like this.
After what seems like an eternity of pleasure, I lower myself down so that we’re nose to nose. “I want you on top of me,” I hiss, eyes locked on hers.
She nods, but seems unsure of what to do, so I simply pick her up and manhandle her. She’s as light as a feather. I stay inside her and carry her with me as I turn and take her place on the sofa. Tina's eyes are wide with amazement as we settle into our new position.
As I settle into her.
She lowers herself fully onto me now, slowly, deliberately. I want to lose control, to just grab her and start thrusting, but I know I can’t. Not yet. Not tonight.
Instead we find another rhythm, this time based on her motion, sliding up and down, up and down, my entire world a variety of snatched breaths and intense lust.
I place my hands on her hips and help adjust her so that the motion is more back to front, allowing her clit to press against my pubic bone with each stroke.
She gasps again at this and I smile a stupid, disbelieving smile. I can’t believe that this is happening, that I’m here, with her!
I want Tina to love this, to understand that sex should be something that leaves you weak in the knees and spent, like you’ve just run a marathon of pleasure. As we continue our rhythm, I can see she’s getting close, so I add my own urgency into our little dance, rocking my hips and matching her thrusts with my own.
The intensity builds with each stroke as Tina leans farther forward, until at last her mouth covers mine and our galloping breaths mingle in each others nostrils. Finally, we both give in to the resulting earthquake that neither of us could hold back if we wanted to. She sinks her nails into the flesh of my shoulders and lets loose with a war cry of delight in my ear.
Afterwards, she lays on top of me, her body rising and lowering with my chest as I try to get my breathing under control. Her own lungs are working like a bellows in my ear.
“That was,” she manages to say. “That was…”
“Incredible?” I offer.
She drops her mouth on mine and kisses greedily, like she has to catch every drop of whatever is in there.
“Incredible,” she says finally.
The knock at the door shocks us both, breaking the spell and slamming us back into reality.
“Tina?” Carol calls from the other side. “You in there? Darling, you really must be present at your own after-party.”
Tina sighs in my ear. “What I really must do is get away from her for a night.”
Chapter Twenty
TINA
“Do you ever eat anything but steak?” I ask as Xander shoves another forkful of what I swear is his tenth rib-eye in as many days into his mouth. Ten days that have zipped past in less than a blink of an eye. The orgasm Xander gave me feels like it only happened a couple of minutes ago. It was the first, but believe me not the last.
He looks up at me and grins through a mouthful of meat.
“Hey,” he says. “I ate lobster and tacos when we were in L.A., didn’t I? And you don’t maintain a body like this one on Cobb salads.” He flexes a cannonball bicep under his Kings of Leon t-shirt to accentuate his point.
Cocky bastard.
I can’t help but giggle. Things have really gotten so much easier than they were at the start of the tour. And it’s great to be nearer home again, even though Houston is three hundred and fifty miles from New Orleans. Being able to see the Gulf again is enough to make me feel like I’m back to my roots.
So does spending all day and night with Xander. It’s like high school all over again. Except for, you know, all the concerts. And all the mind-blowing sex, rather than playing grab-ass in the closet. And as if that’s not enough, we’re play-fighting like boyfriend and girlfriend, too.
“Next time I get to pick the restaurant,” I say.
I was really looking forward to some Thai fusion at Merlion up the street, but of course Xander wanted steak, so here we are at T-Bone Tom’s. I’m not kidding, that’s its real name.
At least it has a view of the bay. The salt smell coming in off the beach is just about enough to make up for having to eat a shrimp salad and coleslaw. It was pretty much the only thing on the menu that wasn’t deep-fried and a thousand calories.
Xander slides the hand not holding his fork across the table and puts it on top of mine.
“I’d be happy to make it up to you tonight,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
“I’ll take you up on that,” I say. “It’s so much easier with Carol back in L.A.”
“Yup. And not a single backstage note since I showed up on the scene.” He flexes again and does an abysmal Arnold Schwarzenegger voice: “No one dares come near… The Intimidator.”
I stifle a giggle and pull out my phone.
“Hold that pose, Hercules.”
I snap a pic and post it on Instagram with the tagline: My hero. I’m sure more than a few of my female fans will be masturbating to it tonight. Hell, probably some of the male ones, too.
As I send the pic off into the ether, Jason shows up on the patio and sits down. He’s loosened up lately, too; he’s even wearing golf chic today instead of his usual suit. Then again, it’s ninety degrees here in Houston.
“I know I sound like a broken record,” he says as he pulls up a chair and sits down. “But the numbers are looking great. As of this morning, there isn’t a single seat left at the next five shows. Carol says we might even be able to book a second night in New York to close out the tour.”
My eyes go wide. “That would be amazing!”
“And very profitable,” Jason says, rubbing his hands together.
Xander raises his glass of Diet Coke in a toast. “Here’s to you two,” he says. “Who would’ve thought back in high school that you’d come this far? You’ve worked your asses off to get here and you’re reaping the rewards. I’m crazy proud to know you both, and I’m grateful that you’re letting me ride your coattails.”
“Nonsense,” Jason says.
I think he’s been hanging around Carol too much; it’s affecting his vocabulary. “You’ve got a role to play in this, too.”
“Xander just pointed out that we haven’t had a single incident since that first night,” I say. “Carol’s plan may have seemed nuts at the time, but it’s working out great.”
“Absolutely,” says Jason. “Your social media following is up by almost forty percent since the beginning of the tour. That stage kiss is still making the rounds almost two weeks later.”
I glance at Xander and smile. “Like you said: if you can fake sincerity, you got it made.”
Jason checks his watch and jumps up like he sat on a live wire. “Is that the time? I have to get to Jones Hall. Carol’s work is never done, especially when she adds it to my workload.”
He bends at the waist and gives me a peck on the cheek. “See you in two hours,” he says. He turns to Xander. “Make sure she gets there, bud. I’m leaving you in charge.”
Xander raises a hand in a salute. “Aye aye.”
“A simple ‘aye’ will do, sailor,” Jason says with a chuckle.
“Actually, it won’t. ‘Aye’ means yes. ‘Aye aye means ‘I understand and will comply.’”
For just a moment I see a shadow of annoyance pass over Jason’s face. No doubt he’s flashing back to the smug Xander who always got his goat back in the day. It’s gone just as quickly.
“As you were, then,” he says, and trots back
inside the restaurant towards the parking lot.
As soon as Jason is out of earshot, Xander leers at me.
“You heard the man,” he says. “I’m in charge.”
“I did hear him,” I say, feeling a flutter in my belly. “He also said we have two hours before we have to be at the theater.”
“A Navy man can do a lot in two hours.”
“I certainly hope so, sailor,” I say, dropping a hundred dollar bill on the table and fumbling for the key to our hotel room. “Because there’s a lot that needs to be done to me.”
“Aye aye,” he says with a grin.
Chapter Twenty-One
TINA
“Do you remember those girls at the Bellagio the other night?” I murmur.
“The birthday party ones?” Xander replies from behind me, his powerful hands delicately massaging conditioner into my hair. “Sure. Why?”
The oversize shower heads spray deliciously cool water from three different directions onto my breasts. I softly massage them clean with one hand while the other… services Xander’s erection.
He finishes with my hair and I rotate to face him, then tilt my head back to let the water flow over my head and rinse away the conditioner.
“They were pretty out of control,” I say. “It was pretty obvious they were new to drinking.”
We were staying at the Bellagio the night of my Vegas show and had encountered a group of young women in one of the nightclubs. One of them wore a tiara and a pink satin sash that said “CARD ME! I’M 21 TODAY!” She could barely stand by the time we got there after the show.
Xander squeezes some body wash into his palms and takes over for me on my breasts, lathering them up with the scent of rose oil. “That’s what twenty-first birthdays are for, I guess. Losing control.”
With my hair taken care of, I take a little body wash myself and get back to work on his hard cock. It twitches lightly in my hand, obviously happy for the attention.
“I think some people really like the feeling of being drunk that first time, especially if they’ve never been drunk before. They go overboard because it feels good and they don’t know that you’re supposed to limit your intake. That it’s possible to get too much of a good thing.”
Xander finishes with my chest and steps in closer, cupping his hands under my butt and squeezing.
“What are you getting at?” he asks with that signature grin.
I smile up at him. “I worry that I’m going overboard with sex.”
I’m only half-joking. We’ve made love every night since the dressing room at the Palladium, with a few extra quickies sprinkled in here and there. Once in the bathroom of a truck stop, for God’s sake.
Not my proudest moment.
Even if I’d definitely do it again.
Xander leans so that his lips are at my ear. “So I should stop?” he breathes as his hands open my cheeks and his fingers roam around my outer lips.
It’s a good thing he’s as strong as he is because I lose all strength in my legs and suddenly he’s the only thing supporting me. I clasp my hands behind his neck and hold on for dear life.
“No,” I groan. “Don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
Xander flexes slightly and my feet actually leave the shower floor. I tilt my pelvis forward so that his cock is parallel with my opening, pushing against it, and wrap my legs around his hips. I pivot back and forth, teasing him with just a taste of my slick flesh. He groans into my ear.
As always, when we’re together like this, I lose all sense of time. The only thing I’m aware of is pleasure. A vague thought forms — some people get addicted to sex, am I one of those people? — but it flies out of my head as Xander’s mouth finds the nape of my neck.
After a few more moments — hours? I have no sense of time — Xander lowers me back to the floor and turns off the faucet. The room is bathed in steam, and I honestly don’t know if it’s from the water or us. We towel ourselves off, neither of us taking our eyes off the other as we do.
Xander takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom of our suite in the Hotel ZaZa, a gorgeous boutique hotel overlooking Hermann Park. I glance out the window as we pass and see the traffic heading into the Museum of Natural History across the road.
“I never would have thought Houston would be this beautiful,” I say. “And we’re close to Route 69, so we can get on the road early tomorrow morning and start the twelve-hour drive to Nashville.”
“What a coincidence,” Xander says, picking me up again as if I weighed no more than a bag of potatoes. His grin is more evil than I’ve ever seen it.
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“You will.”
Still holding on to me, he lowers himself onto the four-poster bed and lays flat. He holds me in the air like I’m Simba from the freaking Lion King, and I feel like I’m weightless. Next thing I know, he’s spun me around so that I’m still parallel to him, but now I’m facing the other way — looking directly at his hard cock.
He lowers me onto my hands and knees as I spread my legs over his own face. This is new, but it’s something I’ve been dying to try. I sigh as his lips caress my labia and his tongue darts out to say hello to my clit. I return the favor, encircling the head of cock with my tongue and beginning a slow slide down its shaft.
I’m getting better at this. That first night I could barely get halfway down. Today I’m at least two-thirds. Although I’ve never heard Xander complain either way.
We continue like that, reveling in the pleasure of each other’s mouths, until I happen to glance at the clock on the nightstand. Suddenly I’m very aware of time.
“Xander!” I grunt, letting his shaft slip out of my mouth. “We only have an hour to get to the theater!”
Xander stops what he’s doing, prompting a whimper from me. “Well then,” he says. “We best get this over with.”
I feel something short and narrow slide inside me as Xander puts his tongue back to work. I realize it’s his thumb when it starts to press against my G-spot. I feel like I’m in a sports car and someone just floored the accelerator. Instantly, I’m rushing headlong into an orgasm.
I do my part, furiously working Xander’s cock with my hand and mouth until I hear him grunting under me. As the moment of release comes, I buck my hips and drive my pussy hard into his mouth as he squeezes one final time with his thumb. In the last instant before ecstasy, I grasp the base of his erection as hard as I can and I feel an eruption of heat run down my arm.
We collapse together in a spasming, panting heap.
I don’t know how the hell I’m going to be able to perform tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Two
TINA
“We should do an after-sex selfie on Instagram,” I say, grabbing my phone from the nightstand.
“A what now?” Xander asks. I can’t help but smile. He’s totally oblivious to online culture.
“It was a thing a while ago,” I say, snuggling into the crook of his shoulder. We’re in the master bedroom of the penthouse suite of the Peninsula Hotel in Chicago, and we’re both so exhausted we can barely move. Well, I am, at least. Who knows with Tarzan here? The man never seems to run out of energy.
“What are you talking about?”
“People would take pictures of themselves after they had sex and post them on Instagram. Miley Cyrus did it once and it caused one heck of a stir.”
Xander turns to me, eyes narrowed. “Who? That Disney kid?”
I hold back a laugh. “She’s hardly a kid anymore, Xander. She’s almost as old as we are.”
“Huh,” he grunts. “And why do you suppose she’d want someone to see a picture of her after she’s had sex?”
I don’t have an answer for that. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a publicity stunt, but she hardly needs any more publicity.
“She went through a bit of a wild phase there for awhile,” I say.
He winks at me. “Kinda like you are now?”
I
belt him with my spare pillow. “Funny guy!”
We laugh for a bit, but I’m just too tired to do anything but just lie here, smelling the pungent mixture of Xander’s after-shave mixed with his drying sweat. I think of that first awkward night in L.A. and it already seems like a lifetime ago.
The floor-to-ceiling windows in the room give us a breathtaking view of Chicago’s skyline lighting up the night. It looks unreal, like something out of a movie.
Kind of like my life right now.
There are times when I think I have to pinch myself and wake up, but those are usually the time Xander puts his hands on me, and I realize that if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.
Xander’s stubbled jaw unhinges in a Herculean yawn that, of course, prompts me to yawn right back at him.
“When does Carol want us downstairs?” he asks sleepily.
“Limo will be out front at nine. We’re going for breakfast at a place called Yolk.”
“Yolk? You’re shitting me,” Xander grunts.
“I shit you not.” I adjust my position slightly and lay my cheek on his chest. I’m positioned right on top of that massive anchor tattoo. “I’m glad to have her back on the tour again. I kind of missed her when she was back in L.A.”
“I suppose I did too,” he says. “She’s quite a gal. My daddy would have called her ‘uppity,’ and she is, but in a good way, if you know what I mean.”
I chew my lip at the thought that comes to me: Carol is more of a mom to me than my own mother ever was. Mom is a good woman, don’t get me wrong, but she never believed in my music career. Good girls don’t leave their hometown—they go to college, find a man and settle down to raise babies.
Just like she did.
I know my father’s proud of me, but he’s such a quiet man that it never really shows. Mom has always been the one who does the talking. Dad gave me a hug and a kiss before I headed out on tour, and I’m pretty sure I saw tears shimmering in his eyes, but that was the last I heard from him. That’s actually better than Mom, who only calls on Sundays to remind me that I’m missing church.