by Wynne Roman
We pull up to the recording studio before I can answer. The label works with this studio, and I guess that’s where the tour bus is parked. All the activity is around back.
“What the fuck?” Noah says suddenly, using the phrase he relies on more than anything else. “You puttin’ the moves on our baby girl?” He glares at Rye, but I recognize the teasing in his eyes.
“Don’t be a dickhead.” Rye hugs me closer. “Just making her comfortable.”
“That’s right,” Knox agrees as the limo door opens. “He’s not doing a damn thing, because Bree’s off limits.”
Zayne’s the first one out. We all follow, and I’m the last one out. Ajia is there to help me.
“You okay, kitten?”
I blow out a heavy breath. Under other circumstances, I might like all the attention, but not after Ajia’s little performance last night. And not after everybody knows what Gabe did. Or tried to do.
“Fine.” I smile without looking at him. “Thanks.”
Standing in the parking lot, I get my first good look at the new tour bus. Wycked Obsession’s logo and Wicked Is As Wycked Does are painted on both sides of the bus. It’s bigger than the other tour bus, newer, but I see the old tour bus parked just behind it. It has a new paint job, as well.
“Is that the old bus?”
Rye answers. “Yeah. It’s for Baz and the crew.”
Baz is their manager. His real name is Basil, I think—some old family name or something, Knox said—but I’ve been warned to never call him anything but Baz. I’m sure not going to piss him off now. I haven’t seen him in a while and wonder if he knows I’m tagging along…and if he does, how he feels about it.
“There’s another truck—” Rye pulls me aside and points farther down, “—for our instruments, equipment, that sort of thing.”
It has the same Wycked Obsession paint job. I can’t help but laugh. “Damn. Y’all are big time now.”
He laughs with me. “Remember that old piece of shit van Zayne had? The thing barely got us to our gigs.”
“How could I forget? Worst shocks ever. And not enough seats. I had to sit on the floor every flipping time.”
“Hey, y’all! Inside!”
Knox is standing on the first step into the bus. He beckons, but I notice the limo driver delivering my suitcase and backpack to where others are loading the storage compartments under the bus. I snatch up my backpack—it’ll get me through the first couple of days—and follow Rye into the bus.
“Holy shit!”
Cream-colored leather couches line each side of the bus, with a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Farther back is a U-shaped booth, and behind that a kitchenette.
I follow the others and spot the bathroom—it is bigger, with a tub even—and then the bunks. Six on one side, three on the other. That’s where they got room for the larger bath. Custom made for Edge of Return?
The guys are huddled around the bunks, picking their own personal space for the next three months. I take a quick look myself. I think these bunks are bigger than the other tour bus. Maybe that’s another reason why there aren’t as many.
I turn to ask, but the guys are all crowded around the back of the bus.
“We’ve got a surprise for you, kitten.” Ajia reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible since they picked me up at the house, but I knew it couldn’t last.
“Wow.” I look around. “An actual bedroom.”
“It’s all yours.”
I pull my hand from Ajia’s and backed away. “No.”
“Don’t you like it, baby girl?” Noah asks from behind me.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not taking the bedroom.”
“But you’re the only girl.”
“Thanks for noticing, Zayne, but I’m still not taking the bedroom. I’m not even an official member of the band. I should probably be riding on the other bus with the crew.”
“No fucking way.” Knox’s voice is flat.
“Yeah, yeah. But the answer’s still no.”
“Bree…” Ajia gives me a serious look. I hold my body still but shake my head and look back.
“What if we compromise?” he asks. “Sort of…rotate.”
“Well…okay.” I nod once. “We rotate.”
They try to get me to go first, but I know better. If they get me in there, they won’t want to change. Rock, paper, scissors works out the schedule—each of us for a week—and I’m number four. Noah gets it first.
He flops on the bed. “Excellent! Starting the tour in style.”
“One request.” I glare at him from the doorway.
“What?”
“Keep it down when you bring your girls back here. And no naked chicks running around the bus.”
“Aw, baby girl.”
“I’m serious.” I try not to grin. “My bunk is right there.” I point to one on the other side of the bedroom wall. “I don’t want to listen to the sound of you fucking all night long.”
“Goddammit, Bree!”
“Shut up, Knox.”
I don’t look at my brother—or anyone else. Somehow Noah’s the only one I trust in this. The only one who knows how I feel.
“I promise,” Noah says, but I see the devil dancing in his eyes.
“I mean it.” I turn to look at the others, lounging on the couches behind me. “Y’all might be rock stars, but we’re not living like this is a frat house on wheels.”
Noah laughs from behind me and pushes me out toward the others. “See? I knew this was gonna work out having you along, baby girl. You’ll take care of us.”
“Yeah. Like a babysitter,” I grump.
“Sister,” says Knox.
“Friend,” suggests Rye.
“Mom?” asks Zayne with a shit-eating grin.
“Wife,” says Ajia, and then he shakes his head like he wishes he hadn’t said anything.
“That’s it!” Noah spins me around like we were dancing. “Bree-baby, you can be our wife!”
“She’s my sister, you dumb fuck.”
“Okay.” Noah nods. “You’re Knox’s sister and wife to the rest of us.”
I look at Ajia. I can’t help it. His hair’s pulled back today, and it makes his caramel eyes bright. Noticeable. He looks back, like he’s aware of every single molecule around us, and yet like he isn’t even there.
I get it. I feel a little like that myself.
I turn to the rest of them and force a grin. “You got champagne or something? We gotta toast! We’re on fucking tour!”
CHAPTER 4
AJIA
The tour starts in Houston.
It’s only a few hours’ drive from Austin, and we’re there by mid-morning. I have a vague recollection of heading out, maybe around five or six a.m. The band spent the night on the bus since we already moved out of the house, and we’re all still in bed when we pull out.
I don’t have any trouble going right back to sleep. Good thing, because I had a hard enough time falling asleep the night before. Bree’s in the bunk right below me.
Who decided that?
Don’t think she realized it when she picked it. Her wide eyes gave her away when I crawled in above her. Guess she couldn’t figure out how to change things up after that.
She’s still embarrassed about the scene in the garage; I can tell by the way her eyes skitter away from mine. I’m not, although I wish she hadn’t been the one to see it. You can’t live on a tour bus with four other guys and be uncomfortable about your sex life. We’ve all heard the others in foreplay, mid-fuck, and afterwards. Seen and done some shit, too. Together and separately. I just never counted on Bree being a part of it…or her knowing anything about what we did.
She’s different from other girls. She’s our baby girl. But now that she’s seen my cock…well, it wants her to see it again.
And more.
My body and my mind have gone to
war over her, and that’s just fucking unacceptable.
Breeanne Gallagher is off limits. Always has been. She’s Knox’s little sister. She was a kid when we met, babysitting some schizophrenic little kitten that made her crazy, and I’ve made sure she stayed safely that way in my mind. Then she saw my dick. She started talking about blowjobs, girls being eaten out, and threesomes. She snuggled up against me, her bare legs tanned and slim and gorgeous, and she pressed her soft, plush tits against me. Jesus Christ!
Even worse is the fact that her fucking stepfather hit on her.
Talk about fucking unacceptable.
Shit.
She isn’t a little girl anymore, and my fucking prick knows it.
I had a hard-on when I fell asleep last night, and it’s still there when we leave Austin. Both are because she’s so close. Is it my imagination, or can I smell the sweet scent of strawberry that I always associate with her?
Fuck. As relieved as I am that we got her out of Austin and away from that prick of a stepfather, I know it’s going to be a long fucking tour if she’s sleeping beneath me every night.
And not the kind of beneath me that my dick suddenly wants.
I try to settle down. Close my eyes. Count to ten. Go over the lyrics for Tonight, our new single. Run down my choices for the set list we’ll use in concert.
Relax and breathe…
“Ajia.”
She slips into my bunk.
“Bree…”
I can’t believe she’s here.
She presses her body against mine. “I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t sleep, knowing you were right here.”
“What do you want, Bree?” I force myself to ask the question.
“You. What did you think?”
“But Bree…baby…”
“But what?” She presses her lips to the base of my throat, drags them up to my jaw, stops at the corner of my mouth. “I want you, you want me. What more is there to say?”
“Jesus.”
She kisses me, and at the same time I feel her hand slide down my stomach, my hips, and then she has me. Her fingers wrap around my dick and caress, up and down. I’ve never been so hard.
“Bree.” I breathe her name against her lips, and then our mouths find each other. I catch her tongue with mine, find the hot recesses of her mouth, test the ridges of her teeth. Her breath catches, and I stroke my tongue through the whole of her mouth.
God, she tastes good.
She pulls away. Her mouth, open and kissing, slips over my chest, my abs, down farther, and then she pushes my boxers away. Her hands and mouth find my cock, and she presses a tender kiss against the head.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long, A,” she says. “When I saw you letting that other girl go down on you, I knew I had to take her place.”
“Bree—”
My voice breaks off when she takes me in her mouth. She’s hot and moist, and her tongue swirls around the head. She finds that special spot just below the head and teases it with her tongue, then pulls me farther in, until her mouth is halfway down my shaft. I know I’m probably too big for her to take all of me, but goddamn…this feels so fucking good!
“That’s it, baby.” I flex my hips, and she groans softly. She likes it.
She sucks harder and cups my balls. She caresses me, and then her mouth is there, before she licks all the way back to the tip. She takes me between her lips again, and this time I go deep enough to feel the back of her throat. My baby girl doesn’t even gag.
Goddamn but she knows what she’s doing! She licks and sucks, and I’m damn near lost. I know I ought to reach for her, caress her, give her the same kind of pleasure she’s giving me, but I can’t seem to move. All I can do is give myself over to her and let her bring me to the point where I have to come or lose my fucking mind.
“Ajia.” She groans my name.
“Ajia!”
I groan.
“You gonna stay in bed all fucking day? Bree’s cooking us breakfast!”
Fuuuuuck!
Her hot mouth and soft hands are gone. It was only a dream.
A fucking dream, and I’m in my bunk—alone—with Noah shouting at me.
I groan again.
“You got a girl in there?”
“No, asshole. I was asleep.”
“Well, get up. Bree’s cooking bacon and eggs, and we gotta meet Edge of Return in less than an hour.”
I look down at myself. My cock is hard as a fucking rock, and I can see a small damp spot at the front of my boxers. Precum. I didn’t actually come, but my body sure as hell wants to.
Nothing I can do about it now.
I climb out of the bunk and pull on a pair of jeans, zipped—not easy since I’m still hard—but unbuttoned. “Got time for a shower?” I ask, still turned away from the others.
“If you hurry.” Bree answers without looking at me. “Just scrambling the eggs now.”
“Right.”
I grab clean clothes, hold them in front of me to disguise my hard-on, and slip into the bathroom. All the bunks lift for storage underneath, and today I’m glad for the convenience. I don’t much care if the others wanted to call me on my morning wood, but I don’t need Bree seeing or hearing about my boner.
I shed yesterday’s clothes and step into the shower. I should make it icy cold, but first things first. I need to take care of the reasons for a shower, because my hard-on isn’t going away. I swallow another groan.
I close my eyes, fist the base, and slide my hand up my cock. Jesus. I try to go back to images from the dream, but it’s different now. Bree’s in the shower with me. On her knees in front of me, finishing what we started earlier. Her mouth is over me, taking me in, her tongue swirling around the head, and then she’s sucking me deep. My hand follows her rhythm, and my hips flex.
She pulls away, licks the length of my shaft and whispers, “Come for me, baby.”
She takes me again, all the way. My fist tightens, and I stroke myself hard. She moans, and I see her hand slip between her thighs. She’s touching herself, and that’s all I need.
My balls draw up and I feel the familiar tingle at the base of my spine. I drop my head forward and finally come. Hard. I growl long and deep in my throat.
Christ! It’s the first day of the tour, and I’m already jerking off in the shower.
I clean myself up, dry off, and dress with sudden speed. I have to figure out how to keep my mind occupied if I don’t want to fight a constant hard-on for the next three months.
“Just in time,” Bree says as I step out of the steamy bathroom. She hands me a plate of bacon and eggs scrambled with onion, red peppers, jalapenos, and cheese. It’s a favorite she’s been making for us for years.
I sit in the booth and she hands me a cup of coffee. The others are acting like starving animals, already eating without saying a word.
“You eat?” I turn to her.
It’s the first time I’ve really looked at her this morning. Images from my dream, my shower, shoulder for position in my head, but I force them out. Bree deserves better than that.
She’s dressed in a pair of ragged cut-offs and a racer-back tank top that says Keep Austin Weird. Bare feet, and I notice her toenails are painted bright red. Kind of like the color of Wycked Obsessions’ logo. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail that swings as she moves.
She looks fan-fucking-tastic, and my dick approves.
She stares back at me. “I’ve got mine here.” She lifts a plate, smaller than what she gave the rest of us.
“That enough?”
“Plenty.” She almost smiles.
“Sit down.” I gesture to the table. “You’re not waiting on us.”
She drags a slow gaze around the table and finally nods.
“Slide over.” I shove at Knox next to me, and everybody moves a little to the right. She has no choice but to sit next to me.
I take a bite and savor
the crunchy pepper and spice of jalapeno mixed with the eggs. Bacon is perfect, crispy but not overdone.
“You haven’t lost your touch, kitten.”
“Thanks, Bree.” Rye smiles from across the table. “Best breakfast I’ve had in a long time.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.” She smiles, but I can feel a tension radiating from her. No matter how close we’ve all been, going on tour with the five us can’t be easy.
“What’re you doing today?” asks Knox from my right. He must be talking to Bree; Wycked Obsession already has our day scheduled.
“Figure out how shit works around here,” she says. “Unpack some of my stuff. Talk to Baz. I already know what y’all like to eat, so I’ll put together some menus. You know.”
“Wife stuff,” puts in Noah.
We all look at him. “What?” he demands, and then Bree laughs. It releases some of her unease.
“Yeah. Wife stuff.”
He nods. “We’ll be around.”
“We’re meeting Edge of Return,” I tell her. “Interview with a local TV station. Finalize our set list. Rehearse.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her all this.
“No radio station?” she asks, and I smile. She knows her shit.
“Edge of Return did a morning show today,” Zayne tells her. “We do it tomorrow.”
“We’re here two nights?”
“Two shows in Houston,” I tell her. “Talent usually gets a hotel if we spend more than a night, but I guess not at the beginning.”
“Talent?” She looks around at all of us. “That’s y’all. I’m just the…wife.” She grins, but it looks a little awkward. “Think I’ll stay on the bus.”
“You can take turns sleeping with us,” Noah says. He sits back with a casual smile. “You know, like that Sister Wives show, except the opposite.”
That just pisses me off. It started as a joke, but it’s getting fucking old now. Noah’s a shit-stirrer and I know it, but suddenly I want to punch him in the face.
“She gets her own room—” Knox frowns his way around the table “—and you fuckers are out of luck. I worked it out with Baz.”
“Knox.” Bree leans forward to catch her brother’s eye. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine here. I—”