by Harper Sloan
It hits me in the middle of the chorus, and if I wasn’t such a seasoned vet to holding my cool on stage, I would have stumbled terribly. Outside, you would never know that I’m on the cusp of a life-altering discovery. But inside, I’m a mess of feelings. I know, in this second, that the something I had been searching blindly for has finally been found.
I had been so lost that I couldn’t even see that I could find most of those answers inside myself. Chance taught me, in such a small amount of time, to see the good in people. When he gave me the gift of his affection, he made sure to leave no room for arguments and that I understood why he wanted me to have his. He has helped me to stop thinking there was no hope. I no longer see people and jump to the conclusion that they are automatically going to use me.
Standing here, I no longer see the rabidly hungry fans as I once would. I see people who feel the music we’re creating for them. Music that I thought had been dying in its power to make others disconnect from their worries and just … be. Memories are being made with each heart-pounding second that they stomp their feet and belt out the words with me. They crave the feelings that we as artists pray they’ll sense within our music. And it’s because of all that, in the sixteen acres of the sold-out T-Mobile Arena, twenty thousand people unify, becoming one and proving that as long as you have the dominance of music, you are never alone.
My eyes grow wet when I realize just how far I’ve come since we left New York. Nothing was different, in hindsight, except the contentment that I now feel within myself—allowing me to see the beauty in my life without the jade-covered lens of my fears.
This right here is what makes every one of the seconds my jaded little heart felt a disconnect in my life worth it.
The crowd before me, my guys at my back, the music that makes us all one, and most importantly—the man at my side. Because without him, I’m not sure I would have ever been able to find this again.
I recognize the change inside Wren the moment that it happens. I have no idea what brought it on, but one second, she was just performing, and in the next, she was living that performance like it was an extension of her. I felt something shift inside me at that moment, something I hoped I never lost. It was almost as if she was seeing the world around her with new eyes. It was a change that I don’t think anyone else would have even noticed, but because of our connection, it’s a change that I feel snap within me as well.
Even the way in which she’s holding that tight, sinful body on stage is oozing with a newfound air of confidence. She’s never had trouble with working the stage in my opinion. Their fans love her because she’s a master at owning the stage during their shows, but at this moment, she is no longer playing an act created to drive them nuts with pleasure; she’s figuratively jumping right off the stage and joining the insanity right along with them.
Every male instinct wants to steal her away and never let her outside again until every single person alive knows she’s off-limits. I want her body, the petite beauty that is on display in next to nothing, under my own so I can remind her who she belongs to. I think a little part of me worried that I wouldn’t be able to handle this part of her world. That the struggle to share her would become a challenge that even my feelings for her couldn’t soothe.
But seeing this side of her is what solidifies my knowledge that I can not only handle her world, but I’m also honored to be at her side while I live in it. Witnessing the wonderment of her coming into her full potential and finding herself again, while in front of thousands, makes it easy to push all those natural-born instincts aside and support her with unwavering devotion. This is who she is, who she was born to be, and it would be an injustice to deny the world the beautiful insanity she and the guys create.
Fuck me.
I wasn’t kidding earlier when I put that asshole Dix in his place—anything that comes out of the love I feel for this woman is something I will protect with my last breath. It didn’t even matter to my rational brain that I was about to kill a man over a media-made pregnancy lie and the rumored engagement and marriage seed I planted while I was playing the fake boyfriend. It might have started out as a lie—our relationship—but I will never allow someone to take what we have and try to make it wrong.
Coming out of my thoughts, I hear the shift in the music that begins Jamison’s solo time to go nuts. Wren gives the crowd her back, arms stretched out beside her body, and she undulates to the rhythm he is masterfully creating. Her skirt, already doing a shitty job of actually covering her sweetness, pops up wickedly each time she shifts her hips. I can just see the side loop and end piece of one of her tattooed bows on the back of her thigh, inked so lifelike with a delicate lace pattern that my fingers twitch to reach out and touch them.
I feel a need for her, which I haven’t felt before as I watch her, and that’s saying a whole hell of a lot since I already crave her to the point of insanity. I’ve memorized their set list, so I know “Drunk Before Dawn” is the song before they come off, faking the end of their show before going back out to give them the final rush. I know from the shows in New York that they have a habit of deviating from the plan—adding in some surprise songs on top of the three they always end their shows with. With how they’re feeling right now, I have a feeling it will be one of those nights, even though I’m hoping it isn’t for my own selfish reasons.
The song ends, and right on cue, the lights go completely dark on the stage, leaving them just enough illumination to come off the stage safely. Wren’s body hits mine a second later, making me step back in order to support her, and her legs wrap around my waist. I place my hands on her naked thighs and hold her close—pressing my cock against the heat of her.
“Hi,” she breathes through her smile.
“Hi, back.” I feel my own happiness growing, taking over the mask that I held in place for the last two-and-a-half hours while I watched her out there.
The bright red lipstick, dark eye makeup, and shine across her skin from her exertion only add to the intensive drive growing inside me to claim her as mine for all to see.
“I like knowing you’re watching me,” she says honestly, her eyes bright even in the darkness.
“I can tell, baby.”
Her face gets soft, but before she can speak, I hear Jamison bang out a steady rhythm. The thumps slow and even but nonetheless powerful.
The signal.
Just like clockwork.
I tag Wes and Luke moving back onto the stage without looking away from Wren. I know she has forty-six seconds from that moment to get back out there, mic in hand, ready to sing a voice of raspy sex.
“You wearing that magic lipstick that doesn’t come off for fuck all?” I ask, Wes’ bass mixing with Jamison as the tempo picking up speed.
“Yeah.” She nods, squirming in my hold.
“Then give me a deep one. Make it hard and rough, so when you get back out there, everyone knows exactly what you just did with that wicked mouth. I want you puffy and swollen in more places than one for me.”
She presses closer, and I have no doubt that if I pushed those panties to the side, I would indeed find her puffy, swollen, and soaking fucking wet with her need. Her kiss is just as I demanded, our tongues picking up the same cadence of Luke’s guitar as he enters into the tune crafted by the three men. Knowing her time is up, she breaks away with a heaving chest, and I drop her gently to her feet. She looks like she wants to say something, but with no time left, she spins and is singing the lyrics before she’s even left the shadows.
I don’t even bother hiding the thickness growing behind my jean zipper. There’s no use, not when she’s standing out there in front of thousands looking just fucked from a kiss alone.
Soon.
The silent promise doesn’t do much to douse my desire. I try to get a hold of my body, but it’s a losing battle. I hope she’s feeling it as badly as I am because there will be nothing slow and soft when I finally get her to myself. It’s going to be raw, hard, and animalistic.
It’s also going to love her so fucking good that she will know mind, body, and fucking soul who she belongs to.
“You look like you’re about to go apeshit,” Dyllan contemplates out loud as she saddles up to my side when they start playing the fifth song of their encore. I knew she was there. I felt her move an hour ago, coming out from her spot further down on the side closer to Jamison.
I don’t speak. I’m not even sure if I could. Not to be rude—especially not to Wren’s best friend—but it’s taking everything I have in me to just be able to stay alert to my surroundings while the vixen on stage makes me insane with desire.
“You’re good for her, you know,” she continues, not even fazed by my silence. “And I hope you know how lucky you are to have earned her heart.”
I turn, my gaze leaving Wren for the first time in over three hours. “I know exactly how lucky I am to have been given that gift.”
“Don’t hurt her,” she unnecessarily warns.
I harden my expression, showing her without words how much her words piss me off, but I don’t speak my frustration because I know she’s coming from a good place.
“It’s my job to warn you, so … consider it a warning that I’ll do all sorts of painful things to you if you make her feel pain from even a paper cut.”
“If the day ever comes that I allow that to happen, you have my permission to do just that. I’ll even provide you with the tools for the job.”
Her eyes widen. “Well … okay then.”
I nod, hold her gaze for a second, and then look back at the woman I would rather die for than hurt.
“You’ve been amazing, Las Vegas! Thank you for coming out. Have a kickass night and go make Sin City your bitch! We love you all!”
With a wave, not even waiting for the three musketeers’ normal after-show antics, she rushes off the stage. Dix is standing in the same spot he had been scowling from all night, but he steps to the side when the crew starts moving around. Wren hands her mic off to one of the male technicians, Curtis, before stepping over to the woman named Kellie, who helps her remove her earpieces. Both of them are efficient and quick, something I’m thankful for a second later when she is back in my arms.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it all the way down the corridor to your dressing room,” I say against the salty skin of her neck.
“Me either. At this point, I wouldn’t care if you took me in the middle of everyone backstage.”
“That won’t happen,” I grunt, biting at the smooth skin. “They already get to see you looking like a pure fucking wet dream; I won’t give them more than that.”
“Hurry,” she pants, fingers digging into my hair with a bite.
“My cock is so hard for you.”
She whimpers, and I look over her shoulder. No one is paying us any attention, so I open the first door I find—a storage closet—and push her inside.
The second the door closes, she shoves out of my hold and drops to her knees. If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget the vision that Wrenlee Davenport makes when she looks up at me, body flush with desire, and vibrating with the rush of performing. Her red hair, damp from her exertion, shines under the single bulb burning above her, making her look like the naughtiest angel.
“Fuck, you undo me.” I rub my thumb against her bottom lip’s soft flesh as I speak, trying to convey just how far gone I am for her.
“Let me love you,” she whispers, and whatever control I thought I held at that moment vanishes the second her tiny, black tipped fingers slowly start to unfasten my pants. She slips her hand inside and, with a slowness that makes my every nerve ending aware of her movements, pulls my cock out. “Every second I was out there and felt your eyes on me, I wanted this cock even more.”
With her eyes still connected to mine, she looks up my body while one hand wraps as far around my shaft as she can. She brings her other hand up to cup my balls at the same time she opens her mouth as wide as she can to wrap those red stained lips around me.
“God-fucking-damn,” I hiss through my teeth.
If I make it through her sucking my cock like it’s a treat she can’t get enough of, it will be a shock.
I feel like I might die from the pleasure alone.
That’s the last thought I’m capable of because Wren stops holding back. She owns every part of me at this moment. My mind succumbs to her, willing to do anything she wants. My body owned by hers. And my heart beating so hard in my chest, I feel like it’s trying to reach out and never let her go.
Yeah, I’m one lucky son of a bitch.
My body is about to explode. Each slow drag of my tongue on his velvety hot flesh makes him jerk and twitch. His tight black shirt hides the full magnitude of his muscles, but he’s holding it up so I can see each ripple that dances up from where I’m working him.
I’m doing this to him. Me. With just my mouth and hands. If it feels even half as good as when his mouth and hands are feasting on me, I know he’s going out of his mind. I don’t take my eyes off his face, needing to see his expression. I know he’s so used to keeping himself closed off from others, even with something as simple as his appearance, that the rush of him learning to let go is intoxicating.
His eyes flash, and I have a feeling he’s close. But unlike the other times I’ve tried to get him to finish in my mouth, he lets me continue. I hum around his thickness, making sure he understands that I’m happy he’s giving me this. He jolts in my hold, his cock jutting into the back of my throat. I gag and my eyes water, but I just pick up speed. My tongue swirls around the tip before I swallow as much of him as I can, caressing his balls at the same time the hand around him flexes. He’s so wide around that it strains my jaw even to take him in my mouth, my fingers not even close to touching him.
“I’m going to come,” he says, voice low and gritty.
If I didn’t have a mouth full of cock, I would tell him he doesn’t need to warn me since I can feel the evidence of his impending release in my hands. His balls draw up, and his shaft hardens even more before getting almost impossible to keep in my mouth. I hollow out my cheeks and suck, holding just the tip of him in my mouth while I work him with my hands, eyes still on his.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses, clenching his jaw seconds before I lose his gaze, and his head falls back on the door with a heavy thud. He swells, his hips shake, and then his come starts to spurt from his cock in thick streams that I swallow instantly. I don’t let go until I’m sure every drop has left his body, not wanting to give any of it up.
Leaning back, I rest my ass on the heels of my boots, watching his chest heave with his heavy breaths. My hands continue to caress his spent, but still hard, shaft.
“Stand up,” he demands with such force that his words literally vibrate in the air around us.
I do what he wants, naturally, and wait with anticipation for his next move. The second my feet are solidly back on the ground, he lunges, twisting us so that I’m now facing the door with him behind me.
“Hands on the door, Wren. No matter what I do to this body, you do not let go. Do you understand me?”
I nod, the lingering essence of him on my tongue driving my already fevered need higher with his words.
“Give me your words, Wren. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand, Chance,” I slur, gasping loudly when he pulls my panties to the side and shoves two fingers deep into my soaked core.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you so hard that you feel me in the back of your throat again.”
“Oh, God. Yes. Yes, I want that.”
“Words.”
My eyes roll in the back of my head when he hits a spot inside me that I’ve only recently discovered really exists, a new rush of wetness coating his hand.
“Fuck me, Chance. Fuck me so I feel it everywhere,” I strain out over the rush of need overtaking me.
“Tell me you want to feel my come deep inside you, coating your pussy like it just coated your mouth.”
&nb
sp; “I want your come. I need it. Inside me, give me it.” I dig my weight into the door, flexing my fingers against the solid surface. He hooks his fingers deep inside me, and I sway, almost losing the hold I have.
“Beg me to fuck you.”
My head lolls between my outstretched hands. I see his hand, pumping his fingers into my pussy, and his clothing around his ankles. In any other situation, I would think that was funny, but right now, that just reminds me that his beautiful cock is naked and waiting for me.
So I open my mouth and beg. The incoherent words leaving my mouth come out in a pitiful whine of need. I have no idea what I’m saying, but it must make sense to Chance’s ears because in the next second, my feet are off the ground and the only thing keeping me from face planting is the hold I have on the door and Chance’s hands on my hips.
He lifts me, effortlessly, my legs hanging uselessly in the air between us.
“Hold on, Wren. Do not let go.”
That’s the only warning I get before he lifts me just a little more and spears his full length deep into my needy body. Deeper than he’s ever been before, his thickness stretches me to the brink, filling me up like he was made just for me. I clamp down on his flesh instantly, so beyond turned on that my orgasm hits the instant his balls swung up and slapped my wet pussy. He groans, my body rippling around his hardness, holding him captive in the tight sheath. He doesn’t move until the last flutters of my release dance around his length.
Then he drags his cock out slowly, painfully so in the most delicious way, before holding himself at my entrance with just his tip. He stays like that for what feels like a lifetime but could have only been seconds, for all I know, before slamming back in. He doesn’t ease up after that, pounding inside me in a toe-curling speed. A scream of pleasure burns up my throat, but I hold it in. He lets me know instantly that he isn’t happy about it too because his next thrust is almost brutal in power, ripping the scream from me.