by S. L. Scott
Closing my eyes, I moan from the pleasure, but it’s cut short when I’m picked up. As he carries me across the room, he whispers in my ear, “I want you.”
Matching his volume, I ask, “You sure, before the show?”
“Posi-fucking-tively.” Our mouths crash with enough pressure to let me know this is gonna be quick and probably hard. I squirm with my legs wrapped around his middle just from the anticipation. I’m set down on a table against a wall. “Take your pants off.”
I slip off the table. Bending over, I slide the zippers down on my boots and quickly remove my jeans.
After unzipping his jeans, he watches me and asks, “Fuuuuck. No panties?”
“I wanted to save time.”
“It’s gonna be fast.”
“Then make it count.”
“Turn around, Holliday.” I turn and press my hands against the wall like I’m about to be frisked—hoping actually. He chuckles behind me, but the lightness leaves the moment his fingertips side down my back and over my ass. “You are perfection,” Dalton adds as his fingers slide between my legs. “And so wet for me.”
Teeth sink into the skin over my shoulder, not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a print long after the concert starts. His fingers rub as his tongue soothes the mark. I struggle to keep my eyes open and my head up. “I can’t take the teasing, Babe.”
“I just got started—”
“We don’t have much time.”
“I want you to come on my hand. I want you all over me. I want to play your pussy, then I want to play my guitar.” His words are sultry and naughty, a secret that will be ours in spite of the thousands surrounding us.
“Faster,” I say, my breath coming out harsher as he brings me closer to making his wish come true. “Oh God, Dalton. Harder!” The pressure mounts and my body tremors as I lose focus and my hold loosens against the wall.
His hand is swiftly replaced with his cock. I drop my hands to the table in front of me as he thrusts in deep, causing my head to drop back and my mouth to open. He holds me tight as his pace picks up. “Fucking hell, you feel amazing, Baby.”
I drop my head forward, keeping my eyes closed and enjoying the feel of him filling me. His hands glide up my body and under my shirt and bra. He grabs my breasts again, squeezing them while fucking me from behind. Angling back, I tilt my neck for a kiss, but my body goes stiff and I gasp loudly.
“What?” Dalton asks, stopping.
“Sorry,” Ashley says, standing at the door, not sounding sorry at all. “The door was open.”
His head whips around. “Get the fuck out!”
“I was sent to tell you—”
“Get out!” he shouts louder than I’ve ever heard him before, making me jump.
She hurries out, slamming the door as she leaves. His hands move down and his arms tighten around me, covering me from behind. “You okay?”
I can’t say anything, all words escaping me as the shock of what just happened solidifies in my veins. My vision blurs as I reach for the stability of the hard surface in front of me. My heart picks up, beating faster, and the world spins around.
Dalton’s voice is bogged down underwater as his words fade off, “Holliday? Holliday? Are you okay? Baby?” The distance grows… until the room goes black.
“She’ll be okay…”
“…no doctors.”
“…only a ten minute delay…”
Rochelle’s voice breaks through my foggy brain, “Holli?”
I slowly open my eyes and see her first, then Dalton just behind her. “Hi,” he says, stepping around her. His tone is friendly, too friendly, opposite of the expression on his face.
Rochelle smiles. “I think you’re gonna be okay. Can you sit up?”
Nodding, I move to the side and drop my feet to the ground. “What happened?”
Dalton sits next to me. “You passed out. How are you feeling? Do you need a doctor?”
I lean my head on his shoulder. He rubs my bare leg and I jump remembering I was naked from the waist down. When I look down, I see I’m in boxer shorts. Finding relief in that, I ask, “Do I even want to know?”
Dalton smiles. “Probably not.”
Tommy stands across the room near the door. “If you’re feeling well enough to skip a hospital visit, we need to start the show.”
Shocked they held the show up, I start apologizing profusely, “Go. Don’t keep the crowd waiting because of me. I’m sorry.”
Dalton says, “I wasn’t going to leave you.”
Taking his hand in mine, I kiss it and say, “I’ll be fine. Go on. I want to watch you play.”
Kissing me on the cheek, his hand tightens around mine. “Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I’ll go out after I drink some water.”
Rochelle adds, “I’ll get her something to eat too. We haven’t eaten much. I’m sure it’s just that and the travel.”
He stands and grabs his guitar from the chair where he set it down earlier. “Don’t come out unless you’re feeling better. You know how it gets out there.”
“Don’t worry about me. You go and kick ass on stage.”
He walks out and Tommy shuts the door, following him out.
Rochelle puts her hand to my forehead. “You don’t feel warm. That’s good. What happened? You scared us.”
“I got dizzy, I guess.”
“I think you’ve been working too much and been dealing with a lot of stress, but you’re gonna be okay.” She stands and hands me my jeans. “Or maybe Johnny Outlaw is just so fucking good that you passed out from the shear ecstasy of it all.”
That makes me giggle. “Yeah, that’s it for sure.”
Standing up, I go to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I’m cleaned up, have color back in my cheeks, and my jeans are in place. When I walk out, she asks, “Seriously, do you know what happened?”
Flashes of that girl come to mind and I grip the door frame. I take a deep breath, trying to act as normal as possible, and then head for the main door. “I want to support Dalton. He’s worried. I need to be out there, so he can see I’m all right.”
“Good point. Let’s get a sandwich on the way out. I think you should have a soda to get some sugar in you as well.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re led to our seats. Everyone is standing, so we find our spot in front of our chairs. It doesn’t take long for Dalton to find me. I see a small smile quirk as he sings into the microphone while strumming hard on his guitar.
I watch him, captive to his energy and passion, drawn to the darkness in his voice as he sings about broken pieces of ourselves often lost, seldom found again. The muscles in his arms flex, his power visible. There’s an edge to his tone that speaks of desperation and desire, sexual prowess, and hunger. In the large arena, I’m not unique in my desire for him. I’m unique because he only desires me.
The next song is fast and hard, the tempo reminding me of our dressing room escapades before the interruption. I let my gaze move to where she stands. Her hair is up, messy, her shirt tight around her chest, her eyes fixed on Dalton. Leaning over, I can’t keep the distaste out of my mouth when I tell Rochelle, “The new equipment manager walked in on us.”
Her eyes go wide. “In the middle of sex?”
I nod.
“You didn’t lock the door?”
“I thought he did.”
She laughs, but stops. “That’s what caused you to pass out?”
“I don’t know what caused it.” Reminded, I take another gulp of the cold soda. “I’m feeling better though. I think it was the lack of food and drink.”
“That or you’re preg…” Her hand touches my back and she leans in. “Could you be pregnant, Holli?”
My head is shaking before I even answer. “No. No. No way. I’m on the pill.” Our eyes hold steady on each others. I know what she’s thinking because I’m now thinking the same thing. She’s just nice enough not to say it. “I’ve never had a problem with the
pill. I don’t see why it would fail now.”
“You’re probably right. The pill is super safe.”
She starts laughing, so I ask, “What’s so funny?”
“Dex said he wants his boxers back after the show.”
I start wiggling. “Ewwwww. Why am I wearing his underwear?”
She’s still laughing, now holding her stomach. “Because your husband wasn’t wearing any.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be showering all night now.”
She makes a frowny face. “Aww, Dex isn’t so bad.”
I glance over surprised by her response. “Well, you’re not wearing his dirty underwear.”
Laughing, she says, “True.”
Tracy and Adam are dancing next to me and she hip bumps me. I smile and start dancing too. Rochelle rubs my back once more before her hand drops away.
I look back up at the stage, wanting to savor every minute of the show, wanting to be as present as I can for him. Dalton sings as if the flames burn too hot to keep the fire inside. Holding his finger in front of his mouth, he sucks in and slowly drags it back out. The crowd goes crazy over the blatant sexual act. My knees weaken and I whimper knowing exactly what he tastes.
“Sometimes you’re fucked before you even know it.” ~ Johnny Outlaw
We went backstage as soon as the show was over. The band and Tommy were already in the dressing room by the time we got there. Dalton stands and comes over. He appears tired, maybe from the performance, maybe from something else, but he puts me first, always. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine, better than fine. I’m good. I ate a sandwich and had a soda. I think Rochelle was right—too much stress, not enough eating, dehydrated, and then traveling.” I force my tongue to slow down, so I don’t worry him more. “I think life just caught up with me. I feel fine now.”
“Good,” he says as if he doesn’t quite believe me. Pushing some strands of hair away from my face, he grins. “So maybe later we can finish what we started.”
I play with his shirt, lightly twisting it with my fingers. When I look up, I say, “I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.” I’m not sure that I want to bring her up, but I do want to verify. “Why didn’t you lock the door earlier? It was really embarrassing to be walked in on and who knows how long she was standing there or would have if I hadn’t notice her.”
“I did lock it. I have no idea how she got in. Maybe the lock is broken.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” My suspicions tell me otherwise, but I’m not looking to start a war after the issues we’ve dealt with lately.
After glancing at his watch, he says, “We need to go out for the encore. Why don’t you head back to the hotel and get some rest.”
“I want to stay and watch.”
Strong fingers weave into the back of my hair and he pulls me close until his lips are on my forehead. “Okay, but be careful.”
“I will.”
His body leaves mine and the band follows him out the door, walking around me. The rest of the concert is spot on. The band has really gelled over the first half of the tour and it’s showing on the second leg.
An hour and a half later we’re sitting at the hotel bar on some couches in a dimly lit corner. Three sips into my wine, I feel ill. My head feels heated and I get a rushing sensation. I hurry to the bathroom and vomit into the toilet. With my arms out, holding onto the stall walls, I try to take a deep breath to clear my head and focus on feeling better, but my stomach churns again, sending me down. When I have nothing left, I wipe my mouth and walk out of the stall to find Rochelle walking in. “Hey, are you all right?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I say, “I was just sick. I think I’ve caught a bug.”
Her eyes go wide. “Holli, I think you’ve caught a baby.”
As I wash my hands, I send her a hard stare in the mirror. “I’m not pregnant. I’ve been on the pill forever and it’s never failed.” Leaning down, I splash some water in my mouth and rinse.
“Take a pregnancy test to be on the safe side.”
“Not now,” I snap. “Not here and keep your voice down. I just need to focus on Dalton and our marriage.”
She leans against the wall and eyes me. “What’s going on? Do you need to talk about it?”
“No.” I calm myself, but I’m firm, “We’re fine. We just finished getting over those tabloid pics of me and Sebastian, but we’re fine now and I just want us to be normal again. I need us to be how we were before I return.”
“I understand. Just promise me you’ll take one as soon as you get back.”
“I promise.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.” But right now she holds the door open for me and a piece of gum instead. “Let’s go.”
When I reach the VIP corner, Dalton stands and says his goodbyes. He turns to me and says, “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Rochelle sits down next to Dex and I sing song, “Have a good night.”
A look of worry covers her expression, but she says, “Have a good night guys.”
“Night, Trace. Night, everybody.”
I take Dalton’s hand and we walk through the lobby to the elevators. The doors open and we step inside. Just before the doors close again, Ashley hops in. “Caught it just in time,” she says, laughing as if she has no concerns in the world. Maybe she doesn’t… Maybe this is all a game to her.
Neither of us responds. When she pushes the button to her floor, the anger I feel toward her is hard to restrain. My hand tightens just as his does on mine. She leans her back against the mirrored wall and with her eyes on Dalton, she asks, “So you’re done for the night? I was hoping to get a group to go out.”
“Holliday’s here,” is his only response. “She’s not feeling well.”
She looks at me as if just noticing me standing here for the first time.”Oh, yeah…” Her tone dips as if I’ve ruined the fun.
“Excuse me?” I reply.
Her eyebrows shoot up, innocence trying to overtake the conniving that’s imprinted in the lines of her face. “Huh?”
“What did you mean by ‘Oh yeah?’ ”
She shrugs and turns away from me. “Nothing.”
“You meant something.”
“Fine. I just meant he’s not as fun when you’re around. He always seems like he’s in a bad mood. You could always let her sleep it off and come out with us, Johnny?”
Just when I’m about to start firing away at her, he says, “My wife is everything to me. You should show her the respect she deserves or you can find another tour to work on.”
The elevator doors open on her floor, but she stays, staring at him. The shock on her face disappears and she laughs, waving her hands in the air. “I get it. I can play along, no problem.” Backing out, she smiles at him and says, “Goodnight, Johnny.”
I’m left shell-shocked by her onslaught. The brass doors close stopping me from lunging at her. “I want her gone, Dalton.”
Five floors up, the doors open for us. I state again, “I want her gone!” and walk down the hall ahead of him.
“Don’t worry about her. I rarely see her.”
Turning around in the middle of the hall, I ask, “Don’t you see what she’s doing? Can’t you tell she wants you? She’s flat-out rude to me and flirting with you.”
“Yeah, just like Sebastian.”
“I didn’t punch her though?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I thought you might.”
“She’s lucky I didn’t.”
“Look, I didn’t let it slide. I handled both situations.” When he walks past me, while rubbing his temples, he lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m tired, Holliday. Can we just go to bed?”
And there it is…
I’m suddenly the one who is the problem. Not her with her indiscreet flirting. Not her with her obvious disrespect to me as his wife and as a person. Not her with her too tight T-shirts. Not her…
Me.
The door is unlocked and I walk inside. Then
I realize my suitcase is still in Rochelle’s room. I’m standing in the middle of the room caught up in a major dilemma—do I stay or do I go?
I head back to the door.
Dalton had just sat down on the bed when he looks up and asks, “Where are you going?”
Dropping my head down, I squeeze my eyes tight, hoping to find the strength to do what I need to do. When I turn around, I don’t see concern on his face, just an innocent curiosity. He’s about to be blindsided with a harsh truth and it’s gonna be heartbreaking to not only do it, but to watch it play out. I can’t hold him back, the weight of the guilt bogs me down and I say, “I’m leaving.”
He stands. “Why?”
Whispering, I say, “Because I need to.”
“Why?” He starts to come closer, but I back up with each step he takes until he stops. “Holliday?”
With my hand on the door and tears in my eyes, I drop my head down, my vision becoming blurry. “I’ll see you in LA.”
I open the door, but it’s slammed shut before I have a chance to escape. “You’re not leaving. Is this about that girl?”
“This is about us.”
“What’s wrong with us?”
“Lately?” I ask. I can’t look him in the eyes when I finish. “Almost everything.” My stomach turns and I think I’m going to be sick again, this time for entirely different reasons.
He hovers over me, his hands planted on the door above my shoulders. The intensity of his eyes is felt through the thick skin I thought I had. When I dare look up, he asks again, “What is this about? Talk to me.”
I’m weak when I need to be strong. I should be strong for him, for me, for us. But I can’t when I love him so much. “You could have everything, Dalton.”
“You are everything to me.”
Remembering how he defended me to not only Sebastian but also to Ashley mixed in with his sweet words now, the tears overlap my bottom lids and slide down my cheeks. The emotions of the day are getting the better of me. Instead of denying myself the one thing I want most in the world, I give in and wrap my arms around him. Leaning my head on his chest, my sobs break through and I cry. And he lets me, but comforts me by warming me with his arms around my body, his head leaning against the top of mine. “I’m not letting you leave, not tonight, not ever.”