“Give me something that vibrates, Derek,” he says, his British accent thick and intoxicating to my GenAm ears, the dulcet tones making me quiver with desire. As if I wasn't feeling enough of that, like there's a natural disaster happening inside my body, too many storms colliding into one.
Muse pulls away from me and sits up, digging around in the drawers and coming up with a curved blue silicone cock with a grey and yellow knob on the end. He twists it experimentally and its ridged length starts to vibrate.
“Will this do?”
He hands it over to Pax as Copeland cups my ass with his longer fingers, kneads the flesh and scoots close to me, pressing his erection tight against the excruciating rawness of my body.
Paxton Charles Blackwell, the English prick with the beautiful storm grey eyes, he takes the cock and slips it between his lips, still vibrating. When he pulls it out, he looks at Ransom and then scoots forward a few inches, putting their bodies ridiculously close together.
The sight of them side by side like that makes my breath catch sharply, almost painfully.
The two men lock eyes as Pax teases my clit with the slick vibrating toy, making me buck against Ransom, making him grit his teeth as my body pleasures his in its ecstasy.
“What are you doing, Pax?” Ran asks, but I'm pretty sure he's asking about more than just this moment.
Paxton ignores him, Cope going still behind me, Michael freezing with his fingers wrapped around his shaft, Muse staring at the two of them with a curious expression.
Pax touches the tightness of my opening with the toy, still looking at Ransom, and then slowly, slowly, slowly, he eases it into me.
I gasp as my body stretches to accommodate so much … almost too much.
“You okay, baby doll?” Ransom asks, breaking Pax's intense stare to look down at me. His body shakes and trembles as the vibrations course through me, rocket into him. “You …”
He can't even get the words out, and neither can I. I melt into the heavy feeling of fullness, that stretched tight and filled up in all the right ways sensation. It makes me surrender completely, go liquid on that bed amongst all those boys.
Paxton fucks Ransom and me both with the vibrator, taking that control that Ran wanted so badly and wrestling it back.
My second orgasm that night is like the sound of the thunder outside the bus, an all-consuming, earthshaking noise that manifests physically, rocking the windows, breaking the silence of the early morning with a wild growl.
Sweat pours down my body, but I've become this insatiable thing, this vessel of emotions and wants and needs. My grief is a far away ship, sailing in the distance, silhouetted against a pregnant moon, but irrelevant at this point and time.
I can't think about anything but my boys.
Mine.
All five of them.
Paxton switches off the vibe and withdraws it, pushing Ransom aside.
They trade places, Pax freeing his shaft from his slacks, looking down at me with that whiplike smirk cutting into his face. He slips his body into mine, still staring at me. He doesn't break that gaze until Ransom makes him do it, turning Pax's face with fingers under the chin.
They stare at each other and then … they kiss again. Their mouths move with long, slow movements, tongues tangling, Pax's hands tightening on my hips as he drives into me, my leg still wrapped in red silk rope and hooked to the low ceiling of the Bat Cave.
“Oh, Cutie,” Muse says, drawing my attention back to him, kissing me again before he moves to my breasts, sucking and licking the nipples with all the slow sensuality that's missing from the wild thrusting between my thighs.
Michael is cursing, watching with barely restrained need while behind me, I can feel Cope pushing his pants down, freeing his own shaft.
Suddenly, I wish my hands weren't bound, that I could touch and stroke and kiss them all.
Instead, I let my eyes linger on Ransom and Paxton, on Pax's cruel fingers taking hold of Ran's shaft, stroking and working him with easy confidence, making him hard again, as if he hadn't already come inside of me.
I keep watching them as I listen to Cope's heavy breathing behind me, Michael's rapid panting to my left, Muse's lips suckling my nipples.
They don't look like they're just kissing for me this time. They almost look like … lovers?
I cry out as Pax drives into me with force, our bodies colliding as he pulls away from Ransom's lips. He stays buried deep inside of me and then … slides out, leaving me gasping and trembling.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ran asks, fisting a hand in his own hair and closing his eyes for a moment. “Paxton …”
Pax gets up and buttons his slacks, running away just like he did that first night—exactly the same way.
“Fuck this,” Ran says, reaching up and rapidly untying my leg from the hook in the ceiling. He moves up between me and Muse, tearing the bindings from my arms and freeing me. He pauses briefly to lay a hot kiss against my mouth, one that tastes like bourbon and cigarettes. Like Paxton Blackwell. “Are you okay if … ?”
“Go,” I say, waving him away and watching as he shrugs his jeans on and disappears down the hall, making sure to close the Bat Cave door behind him.
I sit up, finally getting a chance to look down at Cope, shirtless and confused as hell behind me.
“What the … fuck are they doing?” he whispers, but I don't have an answer to that.
What I do have are three men with thick, aching shafts and a body that refuses to quit, even after two orgasms.
“Give them a minute,” I say, my leg still encased in a red web of rope, my nipples hard, almost painful, slick from Muse's tongue. “Just … give them some time.”
I sit up and straddle Derek, loving the easygoing smile he gives me. I'm getting everything I want right now, that look tells me. Everything. I start to wonder then if his past really matters, if I even need to know it. Clearly, it's not something he wants to talk about. And right now, he looks so … peaceful. Well, horny and peaceful.
“God, you're like a silver screen goddess,” he tells me as I straddle his shaft and slip down it with my silken cunt. The moan that escapes his mouth is swallowed by my own as Cope finds his way over to us, kissing along the back of my neck again.
“Fuck me like I'm your girlfriend,” I whisper and he makes this … this sound that's half pain, half ecstasy.
“Lilith,” Cope says, the siren song of his voice calling to my heart, soothing it. I feel that urge again, that breaking up of all my thoughts into words that seem to belong to him, to his comforting touch, gentle hands. He uses one of those gentle hands to tease my ass, slipping a few fingers inside to make sure I'm ready.
Michael … he needs some direction.
I hold my hand out to him and he stares at it a long moment before reaching out to take it.
He's so fucking sexy right now, nude and beautiful and slicked with sweat. I kiss him at the same moment Cope switches his fingers out for his cock, filling me up and sharing my body with Derek. I let him guide our movements since he's so good at it, good at taking control without being aggressive or dominant or dickish (like Pax).
My palms tease Michael's hard nipples, warm him up before I drop one down and take control of his shaft. I stroke him with my fist, slipping my palm over the liquid pre-cum slicking up the end of his cock. He thrusts into my grip, those same ragged bestial moans falling from his lips. I work him into such a frenzy that he ends up grabbing my hair and pushing my face down to his shaft.
I'm more than happy to take him between my tender lips, suck and kiss and caress him while my body rides wave after wave of pleasure.
Muse's confident touch, Copeland's loving warmth, Michael's violent need.
I let it all sweep around me until my body breaks into pieces again.
My third orgasm that night tastes as fresh as the rain pounding the metal walls of the bus, wild and clean, washing over me, drenching me with a deep-seated feeling of satisfaction.
/> And love.
Lots and lots of hot sweaty bodies, hands, cocks … and emotion.
The six of us … we had that shit in spades.
“What the fuck, Paxton?” I ask, letting the storm slam the bus door closed behind me.
He tries to leave me behind, heading for one of the staff trailers, but I stop him with a firm grip on his arm, making him turn and face me.
Rain lashes my hot, sweaty skin, tearing across my bare chest, soaking my hair and dragging errant strands into my face. I really miss my hoodie right fucking now.
Pax turns to look at me, wrenching his arm from my grip, his eyes narrowed, his blonde hair dark with rainwater.
“Leave me the hell alone, Ransom,” he snarls, letting cold, cruel anger lace his words, mouth tight, jaw clenched.
“Why should I? I've been leaving you alone for four years and it hasn't done shit, sweetheart. No, sorry, man, but I'm fucking finished with that crap. Let's do this, here and now. If you need to break my wrist again, so be it.”
I stare at him, standing in the middle of a rainstorm, lightning cracking the sky in half, lighting up the night. All around us, the parking lot is empty but for the sounds and sights of the storm, the faint whir of generators. It's too loud out here for me to whisper, so I end up screaming and it feels kind of … I don't know, liberating or something.
In a few hours, the rumbling engines of the buses, the staff RVs, and the trucks towing trailers will roar to life and we'll be off to Pittsburgh for our next show. But for now, it's just me and Pax, like it was when we were kids, trolling the Seattle underground, trying to be cool together, to find our way in the world.
“There must be something you want to say to me, after all that,” I shout, my voice too loud, still hard to hear with the wind whipping through the parking lot. I'm standing barefoot in a half inch of cold water, shaking, staring at the carved lines of Pax's face, the tattoos on his neck, chest, hands. His white button-up is plastered to his skin, completely see-through. But at least he still has his shoes on. “I mean, where the hell are you even going right now? Why did you leave like that if there's nothing going on?”
He shoves me hard in the chest with both palms and I stumble back, sweeping wet hair off my forehead, my breath coming in rapid-fire pants. I'm … Jesus, I'm all twisted up inside. That, and my body is stretched taut, my cock a diamond rod inside my jeans, my nipples hard enough to cut. Because of Lilith, obviously, and … Pax? Am I into Paxton or something?
God, I don't know. I'm so confused right now. But I can't do anything about it, can't figure this out unless Pax talks to me.
“Go ahead, honey. Hit me again if that's what it takes.”
“What is your bloody problem?” he screams, some of that polished perfection of his cracking like the night sky. “Are you a glutton for punishment or something? Can't I have a damn minute to myself?”
“Not after what just happened in there … at the museum. Pax, you kissed me and it wasn't for Lilith. Are you … dude, are you into me?”
“You think I'm gay for you?” he asks with a mean laugh, sliding a smoke from his pocket and then staring at the wet soggy length of it between his fingers. He tosses it to the ground with a snarl. “Please. Get over yourself, Riggs.”
“No, I know you're not gay—not that it would matter to me if you were. But I've seen you with Lilith. Shit, I've seen you with a hundred different girls, honey. That's not what I'm saying.”
Paxton shoves his tattooed hands in his pockets and drops his head for a moment, closing his grey eyes against the storm. He looks about this fucking close to having a complete breakdown. But hell if he's not overdue for one. Paxton spends all his time making sure his suits are pressed and perfect, his hair slicked back, his expressions like ice sculptures, just caricatures of real human emotions.
But that's not all he is. I've known him for too long to believe that he's just some cruel, heartless asshole. Sorry, but I'm not buying what he's selling.
“Then what are you saying, Ransom? Tell me.” He lifts his head and looks up at me, beads of moisture catching on his lower lip. I stare at his mouth, still breathing hard, and then lift my eyes to his gaze. If it wasn't pouring rain out, I might think he was crying. Shit, maybe he is?
“I miss her, too,” I tell him, the trembling in my body from more than just the cold. “Chloe.”
“I don't miss Chloe,” Paxton snarls, lifting his chin in cold defiance of my statement. “Fuck that bitch. She deserved what she got for what she did to Harper.”
“Just because she made a mistake in the end, that doesn't change the person she was or the way you felt about her. I miss her every goddamn day. Every day. You know that if I'd had any idea of what would happen that night, I'd have packed up and left for good, never spoken to her again. I didn't go over there to fight with you.”
“Don't you think I know that?!” Pax screams back at me. “There, I said it. I said it. It was an accident. That doesn't make Harper any less dead, now does it?”
“It doesn't make you miss Chloe any less either,” I whisper and Paxton just … drops to his knees. He falls to the pavement in front of me and sits there, breathing hard, staring at nothing. I follow him down, squatting in front of him, watching the expression on his face shift from anger to pain to regret.
“Bleeding hell,” he says, closing his eyes and running his palm over his face. “Fucking bollocking cocksucking bloody hell. This is all that girl's fault, that weeping, blushing redhead …”
“Maybe,” I say, my voice back to the low, soft tones I adopted after my mother's death. “But, sweetie, you need to stop hiding from your emotions. You need to stop fucking blaming me for everything that's gone wrong in the last four years.”
“Your mother …” Paxton starts, still not looking at me. He knew my mom well, spent a lot of time at my house over the years. And then Chloe and Harper, Kortney, all that stuff happened, and he didn't see her even once the last three years of her life. I imagine he regrets that now. I know I do. “I should've been there. You needed me, and I left you to rot. How does a person get over something like that?”
He looks up at me, the rain dragging his blonde hair into his face. In his suits with his cigarettes and his cocky swagger, he always comes across as older, put together, sophisticated. Right now, Paxton Blackwell looks like a lost and damaged kid.
“Why don't you let me worry about that part?” I ask, curling my fingers around my knees, waiting patiently. I've got heaps of that shit, patience. “Stop wondering what I might do or how I might handle things and just … god, just forgive me, Pax, so we can move on.”
“There's nothing to forgive you for,” he says, sliding his hands down his face and dropping them into his wet lap. “Nothing. I'm the one that needs to be fucking forgiven, Ran.”
“Then I forgive you,” I say and Pax scowls at me.
“Can't you for one goddamn second just get angry with me?” he snaps, but I don't react. What's the point in that? It gets me nowhere with him and at this point, I'm done fighting. There are so many awful people in this world, so many awful things, why on earth would I waste my energy on somebody that I actually give two shits about? I just won't do it anymore.
“No, I won't.”
“Fuck you, Ransom.”
“Is that what you want to do?” I ask. “Because you were just stroking my cock.”
Paxton shoves to his feet and I rise up with him. But now, he won't even look at me.
After a few seconds of standing comatose in the rain, he turns like he's going to walk away again and I grab him, spin him back to me … and kiss him.
And ah, it's a little weird. It is, I won't lie. Like I told Lilith, I don't think I'm gay or even really bisexual, but … I don't know. Fuck it. Does it matter what label I slap on this? Will it change anything?
Paxton stiffens up, but I don't let him pull away, fisting my hands in his soggy button-up, kissing him long and hard and deep until he finally fucking lets go. His
hands come up, tattooed fingers curling around my forearms. My tongue slides into his mouth, slicking against his when he tries to fight back, take over. But like I said, I want to be in control of this tonight. I need to, to make sense of everything.
I turn us both slowly until his back is to the wall of our bus, and then I slam Paxton into it, pressing my body against his. I can feel his cock, just as stiff and desperate as my own. Still kissing me, I open his slacks and take his shaft into my hand. It's warm, wet from the rain, and for a second there I almost panic because I don't know what to do with this shit … But I'm a guy, too, so I do what I'd do to myself, gripping him with firm fingers, sliding my fist slowly along his length.
Our kissing amps up, mouths fighting for control, waves of fire sweeping over me, making me forget for a little while that this is all new to me, that Pax and I have been sworn enemies for years, that I'm standing outside in a thunderstorm. I'm just a man kissing somebody that I've loved for a long time. I don't know that the love I felt for him was ever like this before, but … with Lilith and this arrangement of ours, maybe this is something that could actually work?
Paxton undoes the button and zipper on my jeans, takes my cock into his hand like he did on the bus. He strokes me with fiendish fingers, his touch burning straight through me, lines of fire shooting from my dick and straight up through my chest.
I gasp and pull away for a second, still panting, still trembling.
“Fuck,” I say, but Paxton just leans his head back against the metal wall of the bus and closes his eyes. I push his hand away and slick my own fingers through my hair. I'm going fucking crazy here, I think, but before I can stop myself, I do what I'd do if it were Lilith wet and shaking out here with me.
Kneeling down, I curl my fingers back around Paxton's shaft and slip him into my mouth the way I did that dildo I used on Lilith, my tongue swirling around the head of his cock like she did for me that same morning. I've barely had a chance to get used to the idea of Paxton's fingers in my hair, the hot hard thickness of his shaft between my lips, when the door to the bus opens and Lilith appears.
Roadie (Rock-Hard Beautiful Book 2) Page 13