Lyric & the Heartbeats

by Kole, Lana

  She was playing with fire, and while she knew it would burn… she didn’t care.

  Her skin was tight, cheeks flushed, embarrassment threatening to overwhelm her at just the thought of giving in.

  But it’ll be so good…

  Lyric ground her teeth together as she left the stage, watching her step too intently. When she tore her monitors out, the rush of backstage hit her all at once, throwing her off kilter. She handed the plugs to an assistant and nodded at Henry.

  She barely heard him when he told her what a great show it was. Almost missed it when he told her what time bus call was.

  Lyric interrupted him, telling him she’d need a little more time on the bus, and then she heard Emerson’s voice thank the assistant when she took his monitors.

  She swayed in his direction, nodded at Henry, and slipped away to the stage exit where Emerson was lingering.

  His hand was warm in hers when she grabbed it, and a pinch of satisfaction tightened in her chest when he instinctively squeezed back.

  Lyric felt Henry’s gaze on her as she practically dragged Emerson away. Knew his eyes were probably filled with disapproval, but she didn’t care.

  Right then, with days of built-up frustration and self-denial contained tightly within, she wanted nothing more than to let go.

  She glanced back, and the heat in his gaze burned brighter.

  Lyric had never felt more like prey leading the predator to her den.

  Emerson let his fingers fall from the strings as Nohen squealed out the last riff on his guitar, signaling the end of the show.

  His chest rose and fell with each breath, sweat coating his skin, dampening his shirt. Pure, electric, addicting energy coursed through him, and he couldn’t help the direction his gaze went.

  He first sought out Lyric, who was shouting her thank you to the crowd amongst the screams. Her slim legs and that tiny top they called a shirt just begging for his touch. He could still feel the rough lace of the bralette under his palms, and the electricity in his body rolled down his spine to settle in his lower back, his dick twitching at the memory.

  Tearing his gaze away was a physical challenge, and it danced over Nohen before landing on Odd.

  His dark gaze, illuminated by the glowing keys on all his equipment, was directed at his own. They clashed, and the overstimulation from performing made gooseflesh ripple across his skin, his hair standing on end as if his body knew by now what the routine was. Pine after Lyric, fight his instincts to drag her to the nearest corner, and finally let Odd fuck or suck all the pent-up frustration out of him.

  Each night it grew just a little harder to ignore her, to turn his back on her scent, potent from the fresh exertion of performing. To ignore the energy that practically called out to him, to avert his gaze as hers raked over his body, head to toe, daring him to chase her down after she retreated to the bus.

  But he recognized resolve when he saw it, and Lyric had been full of it when they’d walked off stage the second night. And the third night. Even the fourth night. He wouldn’t make it harder on her.

  Emerson tipped his chin down at Odd, his skin prickling with awareness as if his body knew what was coming.

  Mainly him. And Odd. Preferably together.

  He flicked his guitar pick into the crowd, mimicking Nohen and waving. Desi tossed her sticks into the crowd, and Lyric balled up the set list before throwing it to the greedy hands stretched to the rafters.

  Then they walked toward the stage exit, Lyric first, as usual, so she could turn in her monitors and escape to the bus. Everyone else usually returned to the green room for down time, whereas he and Odd preferred to let out their frustrations somewhere else.

  But when he stepped down from the stairs into the darkness of the backstage, a slim, soft hand grabbed his and pulled him away. His heart jumped in his chest and he shot Adra a surprised look, who was grinning ear to ear and waved him off.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, and Lyric shushed him.

  Her hand was gripped so tightly around his he almost feared for his circulation, but his body caught up with Lyric’s intentions long before his mind did. His feet quickened their pace and he gripped her hand back just as tightly.

  Their racing steps trailed through the venue and past the four supply closets he and Odd had scoped out when they’d arrived.

  But it wasn’t until Lyric drug him to the bus area that he realized where they were headed.

  Aw, fuck.

  Emerson tucked his excitement back into his pants and swallowed. Hard. “What’s going on?”

  Lyric wouldn’t be dragging him onto the bus to work out their… tension, right? That was one of Henry’s rules.

  She didn’t answer, pulling her key fob from her pants pocket and holding it up to the door. After it beeped, she pulled the door open and took the steps, refusing to release his hand even after they were inside. He barely had time to make sure the lock engaged automatically before she tugged him forward.

  The shower door loomed closer.

  “Uh… Lyric?” he choked out.

  “Shut up. The shower doesn’t count.”

  The excitement he hadn’t been doing a very good job of tamping down rose to life again. But even with his cock thickening in his pants, he had half a mind.

  “Lyric… hold on,” he said softly, tugging on her hand to face him.

  Her cheeks were flushed, and not just from dancing around on stage. Her ocean eyes were dilated and they raked over his chest as if he was already bare.

  “No. Don’t make me overthink this,” she replied. He would have even used the word pleaded, but… this was Lyric he was talking about. “I overthink enough as it is. I feel like I’m… buzzing in place.”

  She squeezed his hand, and he studied her a little closer. She did seem abnormally tense, her shoulders tight, and while on stage she performed fluidly, he had noticed she’d been spending a lot of time in her nest.

  “You okay?” he asked, concern dousing his arousal.

  “Yes, yes I’m fine. Just, come here,” she bit out, and dragged him forward. Through the small doorway and into the even smaller bathroom. Lyric stepped down into the shower, making room for both of them.

  Emerson turned his back to latch the door behind them and made sure it locked. Maybe five seconds passed, but when he turned around, Lyric had already stripped off her shirt and was shimmying her pants down her hips.

  “You’re not naked yet?” she asked with a grin, balling up her clothes and tossing them through the shower opening.

  Emerson unhooked a few buttons at his throat before lifting it over his head in a single swipe of bunched fabric at the back of his neck.

  “I can be,” he retorted, his voice slipping lower than normal.

  By the time he’d stripped off his pants without killing himself in the tiny enclosure, he stepped down into the shower just as Lyric turned the water on.

  Hot water rained down on them gently from the showerhead and he hissed.

  “God damn, why do you like it so hot?”

  Lyric grinned, brushing her wet hair back from her face, and his gaze fell to her breasts.

  He covered them with his hands before he was even aware he’d moved. He was enamored with the way her pretty pink nipples peeked out between his fingers.

  “It reminds me of where I came from.”

  It took a second longer for him to register her words, and he glanced up at her quizzically.

  “Where?”

  “Hell,” she answered, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  A chuckle escaped his throat as he followed her lead, gripped her by the back of the thighs, and lifted.

  Her smooth, warm skin glided against his, slick with water. But he’d bet she was slick elsewhere.

  His theory tested positive when he pushed her against the shower wall. It gave her leverage to grind against him, and his lungs stopped working for a split second as her pussy slid wetly against his cock sandwiched between their bodies
.

  Lyric was exploring him, her palms and fingers drifting over his shoulders, arms, and chest as her hips shifted in minuscule movements.

  “Oh god,” she hissed, nails cutting into his arm as she circled her hips against him. Her heels dug into the swell of his ass and tried to pull him closer, but the only closer he could get was to be inside her. “Inside me,” she panted.

  “Can I taste you?” he inquired. Ever since their night outside the venue, the small treat he’d sucked off his fingers hadn’t been enough. He wanted the whole damned dessert.

  She froze and leaned back, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

  “Yeah, that. Let’s do that,” she agreed, tapping his shoulder, but Emerson was already moving. He pulled a one-eighty and swung the clear shower door open again, sitting her down on the step and pulling her ass to the edge.

  She squealed and gripped either side of the entrance. “Don’t make me fall!”

  Rolling his eyes, he nipped once at her collarbone, then shifted to move south. He glanced up, saw her bottom lip nibbled between her teeth, and reversed directions.

  He sucked that bottom lip between his teeth before taking her mouth, tasting the desperate need she’d been ignoring for too long. Her fingers threaded through his hair as their tongues dueled.

  Emerson was a single-minded man, and he could’ve spent forever learning every shape and curve of her lips, but the grip on his hair tightened before she pulled him away and shoved him lower.

  With a chuckle that he let drift over her skin, he followed her direction and trailed lower, peppering wet kisses all over her chest and stomach, sipping the water from her skin.

  He cupped his hands under her ass and tilted her like a bowl.

  “Oh!” she breathed, tilting her head back. The long stretch of her throat was bared, her wet hair strewn across the expanse and melted to the curve. Her breathy moans rose up as he licked and sucked. First, just gentle little teasing kisses.

  Then he lowered his head and sampled her sweet flavor like he was starving. As soon as he dipped his tongue into her core and tasted her, he got serious. Lapping at her essence and drinking her down.

  Each little sound she whimpered and every hitch of her hips against his touch went straight to his dick.

  Balanced as she was on the edge of the second stair, she didn’t have much leverage, so he was in total control. But her cries urged him for more, and knowing they didn’t have much time, he wanted to savor every drop, every second.

  He wrapped his lips around her clit, throbbing against his tongue, and sucked, pulling her orgasm out of her faster than she was ready.

  “Em—fuck,” she moaned, the word dissolving into a breathy, wordless sound as he brought her down. He liked the shortened version of his name and wanted to pull it from her again.

  He lifted her from the step, smoothing his hands over her lower back and ass as he stood and walked them back to the wall, under the spray.

  Steam filled the room, and she brushed her hair from her face before doing the same to him, her thumbs soft against his cheeks. It made his heart squeeze, the feeling so foreign he wanted to stop and dissect it.

  But then Lyric shifted against him, dragged a hand down his chest, and gripped his cock. Everything else was forgotten but her, and he choked down a groan as she stroked him.

  He lifted her up, and she notched his cock between her lips.

  “Lyric—” He said her name like a curse, grinding his teeth as she sucked him inside.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, nails turned to claws in his shoulders. “Faster.”

  Emerson listened like the good alpha he was and loosened his hold, letting her slide down his cock. He waited until he was surrounded by her heat, until she was rocking into him before he spoke.

  He withdrew, her pussy tightening around him like she was trying to keep him from leaving.

  As he thrust deep again, pushing a cry from Lyric’s throat, he spoke. “I thought this wasn’t going to happen again?”

  She glared at him through the bliss, her lips tightening from a sweet ‘O’ to a snarl.

  “It wasn’t supposed to,” she said, smacking a hand against his chest.

  “So what—changed?” he pressed, retreating and plunging back inside her with the words.

  Fuck.

  She felt so goddamned right. Not only being inside her but being with her. He just wanted to know she felt the same way.

  Unable to resist, he thrust his hips in a quick rhythm, heat arcing up and down his spine before settling in his lower back, his balls drawing up tight and the beginnings of a knot swelling at his base.

  When her eyes drifted shut, her lips falling back into that sexy o-shape, he sharpened his thrusts, slamming inside her and stopping.

  He nipped at her bottom lip, leaning his head back just far enough so he could see her eyes clearly.

  “What changed?” he demanded again.

  Lyric contracted around him, and his hips kicked forward, pressing her into the wall, though it would do no good.

  He was as far inside her as he could go.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she admitted, nails biting into the back of his neck as if punishing him for her confession. “Not only because we work together, but because you’re an alpha.”

  Her gaze flicked over his, as if searching for a reaction. The only thing he gave her was understanding. He didn’t know why alphas worried her so much, but he understood anyway.

  “But I can’t help it,” she whispered, the sound almost lost in the noise of the water pressure, light as it was. “I just want.” A pause. “You,” she tacked on. “Is that so bad? To want something?”

  To want something, or to want an alpha?

  Or both?

  Emerson didn’t seek clarification. Her jaw was tight, dimples flexing as she stared up at him, as if waiting for him to… What? Deny her?

  As if.

  He flexed his hips in a miniscule retreat and another thrust, and the tic in her jaw relaxed.

  “No,” he said, leaning close to kiss the corner of her jaw. “That’s not bad at all.”

  “Prove it,” she dared.

  He proved it, sliding in and out of her wet, scorching heat until she cried his name and shattered around him. She squeezed around him as if seeking his own release, but instead of dropping her hand down and working his knot until he came inside her, she wiggled out of his grasp. Once her feet were planted on the tile, she wrapped one hand around his knot and jerked him off with the other until he painted her stomach and thighs with his release.

  He shouted her name when he came.

  “Holy hell,” he breathed as the water washed away their sins.

  Lyric hummed in agreement, a lazy smile on her face as she passed him the unscented body wash. Everyone might already know what they’d been up to, but there was no reason to rub it in their faces.

  Emerson was only a little bummed that he couldn’t wear her scent proudly. But he didn’t want to poke at a touchy subject. It wasn’t like Odd wouldn’t know what they were doing, and by default, the others.

  After they were dried off and dressed, Emerson left Lyric as she pulled a shirt over her head to grab two bottles of water, intending to relax in the common area until they were ready to leave.

  As he reached into the fridge, he heard a rustle, a bang, and a muffled curse before Lyric’s door flew open. He peeked over the top of the fridge door. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit before that firm control she kept over herself slid back into place. The door closed softly behind her and her footsteps whispered over the flooring as she trailed down the hallway.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  He turned with a bottle of water in each hand and held one out. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “Unless you want me to, to do your decompressing or whatever after each show alone?”

  Lyric tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ear, lips twitching. “You can conside
r me decompressed.”

  “So I can stay?” he inquired, just to make sure.

  She stepped forward, wrapping her hand around the bottle of water, overlapping his fingers with hers, and paused. “Please.”

  A tickle at the back of his neck made him study her a little closer as he nodded. She relaxed and removed the water from his hand, uncapping it and sipping as she glided around him to collapse onto the couch.

  “I liked what you called me,” he admitted.

  Her brows furrowed, and he watched her cheeks flush as she recalled what they’d been doing. “What did I call you?”

  “You shortened my name to Em. I like that.”

  “I heard the others do it,” Lyric murmured softly. She fought the smile on her face, but in the end it won. “Em. When will the others be back?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Emerson glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Any minute now. They usually stay in the greenroom until Henry kicks us out.”

  Lyric picked at the label on the bottle for a moment. As Emerson sat on the couch beside her, she glanced up at him.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why does everyone hang out in the greenrooms until we’re ready to leave? Don’t you guys want to shower, or change or… something?”

  Emerson cocked his head. This was a test somehow. He just didn’t know what kind.

  “We figured you liked having the nest to yourself, the bus quiet for a bit before we all invaded it…”

  “Oh,” she said softly, and took another sip. “Is that the only reason?”

  Okay, now Emerson knew it was a test. One he would fail, because he didn’t want to lie to her.

  “Well, for me and Odd… you know,” he began, cheeks flushing. “But otherwise, the whole bus is filled with you. That’s why we spend time in the venues.”

  Lyric snapped her head back to stare up at him, a hint of hurt in her eyes before she hid it.

  “It’s not your scent that’s difficult,” he continued. “You smell…” He leaned over to drift his nose up her neck, making her breath catch. “Delicious. But we can’t have you, and even dulled you affect us in ways we weren’t prepared for.”