Roadie (Rock-Hard Beautiful Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  She's slipped a short white nightgown on, but as soon as the rain hits it, it turns the whole thing transparent, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that's criminal. Jesus. I slide Paxton's dick from my mouth, breathing hot against the tip as he bucks his hips toward my face with wanton need.

  “Are you guys okay?” she calls out, but there's a slight smile in her voice that says she already knows the answer to that question. I wait until she walks over to us, bare feet splashing in the water that covers the parking lot like a lake.

  “I have no idea what I'm doing, gorgeous,” I tell her, those ripe lips of hers catching the rain when she smiles at me.

  “Oh, Ransom,” she says, and then she's kissing Pax, this long, deep tonguing that draws my attention, makes my heart hammer in my chest. When she pulls away, she kneels down next to me, that purple-red hair of hers darkening to a bloodred burgundy in the rain. Without speaking, she looks me in the face with her emerald green eyes and curls her fingers around my own where they're wrapped around the base of Paxton's dick.

  She leans in, mouth parting, and kisses the head of his cock, reaching out and taking hold of my hair, pulling me forward to join her. We touch mouths, our tongues sliding out to tease his skin as we go through all the motions of kissing each other with him in between us. Even with the rain and the thunder, I can hear the deep, almost guttural sounds of pleasure escaping Pax's lips.

  It doesn't take long to push him to the edge, one of his hands fisted in my hair, the other in Lilith's.

  “He's going to finish if we don't stop …” she whispers to me, our eyes still locked as we pause for a moment. “I'd rather he finished in me,” she says, “with you.”

  My throat gets tight and I swear, I almost finish in my pants.

  Lilith and I both stand up. She takes Pax's and my hands in her small, warm ones and tugs us back to the bus and up the steps. The living room is empty, so the others must be in the Bat Cave.

  “Fucking storm,” Pax snaps, tearing off his wet shirt, kicking off his shoes, peeling off his socks. “I have half a mind to go out there and rip Mother Nature a new one.”

  “Don't change the subject,” Lilith says, peeling her wet nightie over her head and tossing the soggy fabric into a heap on the floor. Naked and pale and wet, she looks like some sort of primeval witch, some ancient feminine goddess that could shove her hand into my chest and tear out my beating heart while still looking ethereally beautiful.

  That, and I'd probably smile as I bled to death in front of her.

  I shed my wet jeans by the door and wait as Lilith drags Pax to the couch, pushing him down on the sofa and straddling his lap. Normally, he's fucking obsessed with being in charge of everything. Right now, he looks completely broken and resigned to whatever fate Lilith and I want to assign him, his head pillowed against the couch arm, legs stretched out along the length of the cushions.

  I don't have to ask what she wants to do as she straddles him, climbing up to join them both on the wet leather surface of the sofa. I take my place behind Lilith as she slides the scalding pink heat of her pussy down Paxton's shaft.

  “Miss Lily,” he whispers, his voice as ethereal as wet smoke, his hands lifting to cup her breasts. I suck in a deep breath of my own as I take Lilith by the hips and position the already slick length of my cock against her ass. When I enter her, I can hear Paxton sucking in a sharp breath, already prepared to crash through the wall of pleasure and collapse on the other side.

  “I got you,” I whisper as I start to move—and I'm not just talking to Lil.

  Slowly, carefully, I fuck them both with long, deep thrusts, feeling Pax's shaft pressing against the soft tissue of Lilith's body, teasing my own with its hardness. My wet hands stay on her hips, but my eyes … they find Paxton's grey stare and hold there.

  Shit, tomorrow … is going to be one hell of a morning after.

  I move faster, encouraged by the rocking motion of Lilith's hips, bringing Pax to orgasm relatively quickly, the sharp sounds escaping his mouth completely new and different, like maybe something really has changed in him tonight.

  I'm fucking praying for it.

  “Oh, baby,” I whisper as Lilith casts a glance over her shoulder, red hair spilling across the fine line of freckles across her shoulders, covering up the small sunburn on her neck. “Oh, god, honey.”

  My head drops back as the orgasm hits me, tearing through my body like a tornado. It rips me to pieces, leaving me this panting, awful mess.

  “That orgasm …” Lilith says, drawing my head back up, opening my eyes. “That one felt … like the sun peeking through the clouds.”

  I have no idea what she means by that, but by the time we arrange ourselves into some sort of semi-comfortable pile on the sofa, I'm already asleep and too far gone to think much about it.

  “Dude, it's time to get up.”

  A hand gently slaps the side of my face and I groan, lifting my head to find Muse staring at me through the thick lenses of his glasses, a stupid silly half-smile on his face. His silver-black mohawk is already styled up into spikes on the top of his head, a shiny black cuff wrapped around his ear, leather bracelets lining his arms.

  “It's time to get ready,” he says as he stares at my sleep dazed face. “Up and at 'em.”

  Blinking, I sit up and realize that I'm completely entangled with Lilith and Paxton, my muscles aching from sleeping in such a strange position. Pax is still on his back, Lil between his legs, her head pillowed on his stomach. I was basically draped on top of the both of them, still naked but covered in the black afghan we usually keep folded over the back of the sofa.

  “Jesus,” I say, popping a knee up and leaning my elbow on it as I cradle my head in my hand. I feel like a have a hangover which is fucking impossible since I barely drank last night. I had maybe two weird cocktails at the sushi place and that was it. Maybe it's an emotional hangover or something?

  Lilith groans and stretches, her green eyes fluttering open and coming to rest immediately on mine.

  A thousand unspoken words pass between us.

  “Anyone want some tea?” Muse asks, padding back into the kitchen and taking the whistling teapot off the stove. “Because I've got some killer fucking oolong that is just like, ugh, to die for.”

  Neither of us answers him, but that's okay. He'll probably make us all cups anyway.

  “Are you okay?” Lilith asks quietly, Paxton breathing slow and deep beneath her. I'm pretty sure he's still asleep.

  “I'm fine, sweetie,” I say as I rub a hand over my face and go to throw up my hood … only I can't because I'm naked.

  “Here.”

  Michael tosses a black zip-up hoodie and some sweats in my direction. I glance at him, but I'm having a hard time reading the expression on his face. I feel bad; there's been a lot of tension between us since Pax and I started fighting. Yet another shitty outcome from our toxic bullshit. Michael and I have never had a reason to fight with each other except for the fact that he always defends Pax. I never understood that before, but I think I might now.

  As tough as he looks, as cocky as he acts, Paxton is hurting deep inside. Maybe Michael's seen him for what he truly is all along? A man as fucked-up and sad as the rest of us.

  “Thanks,” I say, slipping into the hoodie first, leaving it unzipped but tossing the fabric up over my head. I feel safest like that, better, like I'm hiding cloaked in shadows and memory. Things might be looking up around here, but Lilith isn't an instant cure-all for our problems. I still need my security blanket.

  “What happened last night?” Cope asks, also already dressed in a red tank with a white bird silhouette on the front, his hair styled into a ridge, eyeliner around his turquoise eyes.

  “It's complicated,” I start and then catch Lilith's gaze again as she sits up and scoots closer to me. “And I think Pax and I … well, we kissed and I sucked his dick.”

  “You … fucking what?!” Michael asks, blinking down at us like he thinks I've finally l
ost my goddamn mind. “What the … shit …”

  “Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Mikey,” Pax mumbles, turning on his side, still wearing his unzipped slacks. He tucks his junk away and buttons them up, grey eyes flicking up to look at Michael. “If you're jealous, we can always work something out.”

  “Are you two, like … did you make up?” he asks, shaking his head like he can't quite believe what he just heard. I can't either, come to think about it. Me and Pax. Me and Pax … dating? Shit, I don't know. Weren't we already dating since we're both with Lilith? I mean, group sex—even if it's completely focused on our girl—does require a certain level of intimacy.

  Paxton doesn't respond to Michael, dragging himself into a sitting position and looking over at Lilith, wrapped in the black blanket, the darkness of the fabric stark against the whiteness of her skin.

  He stares at her for a second and then he looks at me.

  “We talked,” he says, his voice neutral, hard to read.

  “What'd you talk about?” Muse asks, overreaching as usual. But at least he brings us cups of tea. The first two he hands over to me and Lilith, but I refuse mine with a palm up and he gives it to Pax instead.

  “What the hell do you think we talked about?” Pax drawls, draping his tattooed body back against the couch arm, sipping carefully from the steaming black cup in his hands. “Harper, Chloe, Kortney.”

  “And somehow that ended with Ransom sucking your dick?” Michael asks, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Sorry if I don't quite understand the transition.”

  “I think we might be into each other, hon,” I say quietly, my voice hoarse from screaming in the storm last night. I accept the next cup of tea that Muse brings over and clutch it in sweatshirt covered hands, my sleeves pulled low.

  “You think?” Michael asks, a fucking bulldog as usual. Once he latches onto something, he just fucking refuses to let go. “What the hell does that mean? You two wanted to murder each other yesterday and now you're, like, boyfriends or something?”

  “Does it really matter?” Lilith asks, closing her eyes and savoring her drink in a way that makes me want to kiss the fragrant heat of tea from her lips. “I said you guys could do whatever you wanted with each other.”

  I don't think any of us misses the smile that steals across her mouth.

  “Hey, if to kiss and make up you two need to literally kiss—and suck each other off—then I am down for it. Congratulations,” Muse says, pushing his glasses up with two fingers and popping into the swivel chair across from me. He plays with the string of his tea bag, bobbing it up and down in his cup. “It's about time we worked on the male intimacy issues on this bus. So, are you guys good then?”

  He flicks his eyes up to the three of us sitting on the couch, the color caught somewhere between a foggy morning and a sunny afternoon.

  “You'll have to let Pax answer that one,” I say as I look back at him and find him staring at me again, mouth pursed, inked fingers stiff as they curl around his mug. “I've decided to let it all go. All of it. I've forgiven him, and I've apologized. As far as I'm concerned, all of that shit is water under the bridge.”

  “What do you think, dolly bird?” Pax asks, his attention moving to Lilith, naked and silent in between us.

  Michael stays standing at the edge of the living room, but Cope gets himself a cup of coffee and joins us, sitting in the second swivel chair.

  “I can't answer that for you, Paxton. It's up to you to decide—do you give your relationship with Ransom a second chance? Only you can decide to let go of the blame and hate. But I promise if you do, you'll feel a hell of a lot better.”

  “Trust me,” I tell him, my voice quivering just a little, my hands shaking slightly. “Even if you don't do it for me, let the hate go. If you let it fester inside of you, it literally eats your soul from the inside out.”

  Lilith lays a hand on the knee of my sweats and the trembling subsides, just like that.

  See, I fucking told you I wanted to marry this girl. There was a reason that I wanted her from the first instant I laid eyes on her. My darkness likes her darkness, but together, it's almost like they cancel each other out. When she touches me, all I can see is light.

  “I am doing this for you,” Paxton says, sitting up, nestling his cup in his lap and locking eyes with me. “You think I just snog any random bloke?” He drapes one arm over his knee and continues to meet my gaze, drinking his tea with a slow, practiced motion that honestly sort of scares the shit out of me. There's nothing regretful or angry in that expression of his. It's all steely determination and torrid resolution.

  Fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

  But hell if I don't miss Pax, if I haven't been missing him for four years. If he thinks his lack of sympathy during my mother's passing made me miss him less, he's dead wrong. No, losing her only showed me how fucking important it is to keep the people you love close, cherished.

  “You think I've ever sucked anyone's dick before?” I retort, and Michael sighs from beside me.

  “Just don't let this get out of control. Remember: the three of us”—he gestures to Cope, Muse, and himself—“saw the fucked-up spiral of bullshit you put yourselves through when you were just friends and had a falling-out. If you're going to do this, make sure you're goddamn serious about it.”

  “I'm serious,” Pax says, still looking at me, taking a deep breath. “Fucking mad as a box of frogs, but serious.”

  I smile slightly, the tightness of the scar on my cheek pulling with the motion. With my entire body slathered in reminders of an event I'd rather forget, how could I say no to any small scrap of happiness?

  “I'm serious,” I say, feeling Lilith's fingers curl around my own.

  When I look down, I see she's got one of Paxton's hands, too.

  I'm not sure if I've ever felt as complete as I do right then.

  I might not be able to heal the scars on my body, but maybe there's a chance for the ones decorating my heart?

  “Lilith.”

  I'm sitting at a small bistro table behind a black metal fence with the other over twenty-ones in the audience, sipping some beer and enjoying my new vantage point from the back of the audience. I've seen almost all of the shows on the Broken Hearts and Twisted Souls Tour, but always from either a balcony, the very front, or backstage.

  Right now, I truly feel like I'm part of the audience, the ambience, instead of an insider. It's kind of fun—although I wouldn't give up my connection to the band for anything.

  I turn at the sound of my name and find Octavia Warris standing nearby, her tablet and clipboard conspicuously missing from her person. Her hair is in its usual ponytail, her typical uniform of a black t-shirt and jeans still holding strong.

  “Yeah?” I ask, listening to the wild shrieks from Tipped by Tyrants' guitars. Their music is much heavier than Beauty in Lies', much angrier. Something about it calls to me though, the angry chant of the lead singer, her beautiful voice transitioning from animalistic growling to the sweet sound of angels in a heartbeat.

  “Do you mind if I sit for a moment?”

  “Not at all,” I say, grabbing the extra cup the waiter handed me when he brought over the pitcher of beer that I ordered. I guess since I was sitting at a table for two, all dressed up, he assumed I was on a date or something. I didn't bother to correct him although if I were on a date … I'd need four more cups to make it right.

  “I can only stay a second,” she says, but she doesn't have to explain. I get it. The guys are backstage, waiting for their set. As much as I wanted to hang out with them, today's venue afforded me the perfect opportunity to watch the entire performance from start to finish, out in the midst of the audience, just another rock 'n' roll fan out on the town.

  Of course, when I think of Pax and Ran getting it on in the rain, I get these crazy butterflies and a ridiculous urge to squeal and run backstage, just to make sure I don't miss anything between them. I think the only thing hotter than watchi
ng them kiss each other is seeing them work their way back to the strong friendship they had before. Obviously I wasn't around to see it personally, but it's not something you can miss, not if you spend any significant time with them in the same room.

  Octavia takes a seat and surprisingly also takes the beer that I offer her. I pour a big frothy glass of some local lager and wait while she takes a big gulp of it.

  “I know I shouldn't drink on the job,” she says, on the tail end of a long sigh, her pale brown eyes lifting up to the pink haired woman onstage as she throws her head back and lets out a scream worthy of hell's craziest demons. “But I guess at this point it doesn't matter much, does it?”

  “I'm sorry, Octavia,” I say, but I'm not sure what else to offer. At this point she hasn't made any effort to make amends for what she did to me. I don't hate her, but I also can't imagine being a champion on her behalf either. “I wish that wasn't the case.”

  “You won't be glad to be rid of me?” she asks, but not with any real anger in her voice, just a question. I keep my gaze on the show, on the big metal building with the protruding stage. Our Pittsburgh stop is an outdoor amphitheater with room for almost six thousand crazy concertgoers. The excitement perfuming the cool evening air is palpable, almost tangible enough to reach out and touch. I imagine that if I did, it would feel like vibrant heat against my palm, and it would pulse, too, like a heart in motion.

  I suck in a sharp breath, thinking of last night, of riding Paxton, of feeling Ransom slide in behind me. Tucked between them both, I could feel their pulses, the rapid hammer of their hearts. They were definitely both in motion last night, and I don't just mean physically.

  I sip my beer. It's a little bitter, but that's okay. I'm here to taste local flavor. I think this stuff is called Iron City Beer from the Pittsburgh Brewing Company. I'm not much of a beer person, but Octavia seems to really like it. She raises her brows during her second sip and then gulps down a third.