by Kay Maree
I can’t remember how the fight started, and it doesn’t really matter considering the results were disastrous. Punches were thrown, the crowd got involved, chairs and tables were broken, and I was left with the bill to pay for the damages.
The guy at the center of it all, the one Ashley was groping, ended up with a broken leg, fractured ribs, and two black eyes. Initially, he threatened to press assault charges on Cole and Ryker, but he was easily placated when I offered him substantial check if he would forget about them and sign a non-disclosure agreement. Which, of course, like the weasel he is, he did.
In the end, Ashley’s plan to attach herself to the hottest male vocalist on the music scene today blew up in her face. Because now, instead of having two men who adore her, were committed to taking care of her every need, and love her completely, she’s living in a run-down, one-room apartment in the seediest part of the city. The last I heard – and, yes, I keep track of her whereabouts – Ashley was working the graveyard shift, bagging groceries at a discount food store.
“Faye,” Dean shouts from his underneath the mixing board. “We’ve got a problem you’re gonna want to come take a look at.”
Of course, we do. What would one of My Addiction’s concerts be without a host of problems only I alone can solve?
“What’s going on?” I ask, crouching down beside him.
“See this cable,” he says, pointing to the thick blue one. “This is the HDMI cable for Cole’s mic setup. We run closed circuits for each of the guys, so if there is a problem during the show, only one of them is affected.”
“And…” I prompt when Dean falls silent.
“And, Cole’s has been fucked with. I’m sorry to say, but this isn’t wear and tear or accidental damage, sweetheart. Someone’s gone out of their way to destroy it without making it obvious.”
Great, just what I need. “Can you replace it? If you tell me exactly what you need, I can send someone out to get you a new one.”
Shaking his head dejectedly, Dean grunts, “These aren’t your usual, run-of-the-mill HDMI cables, sweetheart. You can’t just pop into your local Wal-Mart and pick one up for ten bucks. We’ve got to order them in special from Yamaha, and it takes a good week for them to arrive. Before I called you over, I put in a call to the guy who handles all our parts and equipment at Thunder Records. He said he’d place the order today and mark it as urgent, but that’s still a lead time of three days minimum.”
Clutching my iPad tighter to my chest, I suggest, “What about Darkness Rising? Is there any chance they use the same cables and we can borrow one of theirs in the meantime?”
Darkness Rising is a newly signed member of the Thunder Records family, and My Addiction’s current support band. As soon as the guys heard their demo, they were one hundred percent on board with having them join us on tour.
Caleb, Killian, Zander, and Jessie – the only female in the band, and their drummer no less – are fantastic to work with. They’re laidback, easy-going, and extremely dedicated which makes them my favorite kind of recording artists. There’s no drama or infighting, they don’t make ridiculous demands, and have taken to performing on stage in front of an audience of thousands like a duck takes to water. I have no doubt that in less than a year, they will be the next big thing. Coming second only to My Addiction, of course.
“Shit, I didn’t think of that,” Dean grins up at me. “See, that’s why you get paid the big bucks, sweetheart; ideas like that.”
Scoffing at the ridiculousness of that statement – because, truthfully, I will never get paid enough to deal with some of the things I do – I let him know that I’ll take care of talking to Darkness Rising’s sound technicians and get back to him if I have any luck.
It isn’t until I’m half way to Darkness Rising’s tour bus that I realize something’s wrong. Not only am I alone, which hasn’t happened in the four weeks since my brothers and Ryker showed up, but the parking lot is eerily empty. Usually, at this time of day, it’s a hive of activity; buses unloading gear and passengers, early bird fans milling around hoping to catch a glimpse of a rock star, and venue staff are busily setting up barricades and directing traffic. But today, there’s no one in sight.
A cold shiver races up my spine as I see a shadowed figure lurking off to the side of the arena. I can’t make out if it’s a man or woman, or their features from where I’m standing, but it’s obvious, that whoever it is, is watching me.
Chapter Eleven
Dante
This afternoon's rehearsal went as I expected it would; fucking terribly. All of us are distracted, lost in our own heads, and it showed.
Aside from Cole’s mic making him sound like he was beating a feral cat, he couldn’t hold a note to save himself. The guy might be one of the most naturally talented vocalists in the country, but today he was flat out tone deaf.
Tate wasn’t much better. The transition between his riffs wasn’t smooth, and during his solo, Tate missed key changes and dropped notes like a virgin drops her panties on prom night.
Dylan seemed to be the only one of us who could manage to go more than five minutes without fucking up, but even he was riding the thin line between being the ‘King of Bass’ as the tabloids had christened him and a second-rate stand-in.
I don’t have the first fucking clue what their problems are, and I don’t care. As long as they’ve pulled their shit together by the time we step out on stage, they can be miserable fucks because I refuse to let their pity parties ruin the good mood Faye put me in before I left the hotel.
Memories of her riding me are all I’ve been able to focus on for the past three hours, and with the state of my cock – rock hard and throbbing– my top priority is how fast I can get the hell out of here and back to her.
We’d showered together after eating a late, lazy breakfast in bed that consisted of pancakes for her and Faye’s pussy for me. Let’s just say, I was inspired by the sight of the maple syrup on the tray room service delivered, so I took full advantage of what was on offer. Namely, Faye’s naked body.
Sitting on one of the chairs positioned in the corner of our bedroom, Faye was walking out of the bathroom dressed in only a robe when I tugged her down onto my lap. She let out an adorable little screech, but quickly made herself comfortable, positioning her pussy over the already hardening length of my cock.
When I was sure she had her balance, I leaned back into my seat and hitched my knees up further so that Faye’s weight was now entirely centered over my crotch. She squirmed at the feel of my dick resting in the crevice of her ass, making me growl, “You’re playing with fire if you keep moving like that, baby. Because it’s taking every ounce of my self-restraint not to rip open that robe you’re wearing pull my cock out, and watch you fuck yourself with it.”
Faye moans and continues to move restlessly on top of me, but now she’s clenching her thighs together, seeking some relief from the ache I know is building in her core. Faye is totally down with me fucking her wherever, whenever, and however I want, including right here and right now. And I will. But first, I want to build the anticipation a little.
Faye, however, has other plans. Reaching behind her back, Faye’s hand travels down between my legs and cups my balls, gently rolling them in her small palm. And because I’m a nice guy, and I like to give as well as take, I decide to do some exploring of my own.
Untying her robe, I push it off her shoulders and lick my lips when her firm, full tits are exposed to my gaze. Faye shrugs the material off, letting it pool on the floor by our feet before using her free hand to lift one of her breasts up to my mouth like an offering. An offer I readily accept.
I take the tight bud of her nipple between my lips, allowing my teeth to graze it gently, then suck it deep into my mouth earning a strangled moan from Faye. Languidly, I lavish attention on one tit and then the other, taking as much of her in my mouth as I can. Fuck but I love my woman’s tits.
More than a handful, but
not so big that they look ridiculous on her small frame, Faye’s tits are topped with blush-colored nipples that taste just as good as they look. Not to mention, they’re sensitive as hell too. But there’s only so long I can dine on the appetizer when the main course is beckoning me.
My cock, the greedy little bastard he is, wants inside Faye’s pussy sooner rather than later, and I can’t blame him. Her warm, wet cunt feels amazing wrapped around me, and if I could, I’d stay buried inside her for days. The only time I’d surface would be for food and water when I’ve run out of energy and need to rehydrate myself before fucking her again.
Moving things along because I’m so close to blowing my load before I even get inside her, I run my fingers over the swell of her tits and down her toned belly. My fingertips trace the soft skin at the crease of Faye’s inner thigh and her pussy before making their way to the top of her mound.
Using my thumb, I pull the hood covering Faye’s clit back. The distended nub is the prettiest shade of pink, and it’s right there, just begging for me to play with it. A ragged whimper is torn from Faye’s throat when I pinch her clit between my thumb and forefinger. The sharp sting of pain is only momentary, though. And as it ebbs away, I pinch again, harder this time. I want her clit tender, oversensitive even, so that when I slam my thick cock inside her, Faye comes immediately
After the fourth assault on Faye’s clit, I rumble, “You need to pick one, and you need to do it fast. Do you want me to finger fuck you, or do you want my big dick inside your tight, little pussy? Two seconds, Faye, otherwise I’ll choose for you,” I warn.
Faye doesn’t answer me, at first, at least not verbally. Instead, she spreads her legs open as far as she can, considering she’s straddling my thighs, and exposes her dripping wet cunt to me before saying, “I want you to fuck me, honey. And I want you to do it hard. The harder, the better actually. I need to still feel you inside of me when I watch you play tonight.”
Fuck, yes! Her wish is my pleasure.
Over the last month, Faye has come into her own when it comes to sex. Not just the act itself, but what she likes, how hard and fast she likes it, and the amount of pain she can tolerate when my darker base urges take over.
I’m not a sadist, I don’t get turned on by causing Faye any measure of genuine pain that lasts longer than the length of her orgasm. Nor am I a Dom in the traditional sense of the word. Sure, I like control, and I love it when Faye submits herself entirely into my care, but I don’t need it to get off. In fact, sometimes it’s a nice change of pace when Faye gets it in her head to take over and use me as her fuck toy.
In all the fantasizing I did about Faye, it didn’t occur to me that we might not be compatible in bed. So to say I’m fucking elated that the things that turn us on, our insatiable sex drives, and willingness to experiment is a perfect match would be a massive fucking understatement.
It didn’t take much to coax Faye into sharing her deepest, dirtiest secrets; a bottle of Jack and threatening to withhold her orgasm until she spilled worked like a dream.
For the most part, I wasn’t shocked by any of Faye’s revelations. As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to her or me, nothing is off limits. Especially not Faye’s curiosity over me coming all over her tits as I fucked her with my fingers and plugged her ass. That I’d do any day of the week and twice on Sunday’s if she wanted me to.
So far, I’ve used vibrators, dildos, anal beads, and nipple clamps on her, all with varying degrees of success. To date, Faye hasn’t shown even the slightest hint of hesitation in trying anything, and everything I’ve suggested; a particular favorite of Faye’s being when I have her on all fours; face down, ass up tie her hands to the headboard and eat her out from behind.
Out of everything Faye shared, she saved the best for last. Apparently, she was desperate to learn how to deep throat my cock. And when I say she wanted to learn, it wasn’t out of curiosity or needing to please me. It was out-and-out hunger that drove her to suck my cock like a pro.
But like any good relationship, sexual experimentation required communication. Because we’d been friends before we were lovers, Faye and I had that aspect of togetherness down pat. I talked, Faye listened, and the same was true in reverse. We trusted each other with everything already, so to us, our bodies were merely an extension of that.
To prove she trusted me in every way – regardless of the fact I assured her I didn’t need her to prove shit – Faye let me direct her to self-induced orgasm. She lubed her ass and plugged it, just like I’d taught her, easing it in a little at a time. Once the five-inch plug was seated deep inside her ass, Faye spread open the lips of her pussy, letting me see how wet she was before finger fucking herself until she teetered on the edge of climax.
It might be considered cruel and unusual punishment, but I had her pull those fingers, slick and coated with her cream before she could come and slide them into my mouth so I could taste her. The vision of Faye pleasuring herself was too much for me to just sit back and be content with watching. But the truth is, I wanted to come with her taste in my mouth and her hand wrapped around my cock. Which, in the end, is exactly how Faye finished me off.
We wouldn’t be finishing that way this time, though. No, this time, I wanted to be buried balls deep inside her cunt when I came.
Taking hold of the waistband of my sweat pants, I manage to maneuver them over my hips just enough to free my cock. With my hand wrapped around the base, guiding the head of my shaft to her slit, Faye moans and writhes on my lap as I bump against her clit.
Slapping her ass, hard, I demand, “Stay. Fucking. Still. Don’t move a muscle unless the only thing you want to feel is my hand on your bare ass.”
With my dick nestled in between her folds, my hands clamp down on her hips, lifting her up so that I can control how much of my cock slips inside her. Fuck me, she’s wet. Soaking actually. Unable to stop myself, I slide my finger into her alongside my dick, making sure to get it nice and wet, then bring it to my mouth and suck it clean. The taste of Faye almost makes me wish I’d gotten her off with my mouth first. Sweet, musky, and mine; that’s how to best describe it.
Done with playing, my fingers digging into her hipbones, I slam my cock into her cunt so that I’m buried to the hilt in one thrust. Faye’s back arches, her eyes go wide, and her breath catches in her throat at the sudden intrusion, but she doesn’t complain. In fact, Faye rotates her hips causing my cock to slide inside of her that last quarter of an inch until the tip is touching her womb.
“Dante,” Faye whimpers, letting me know she’s close.
“You’ll wait,” I grunt, pulling out and ramming back into her ruthlessly. “You’ll fucking wait until I say you can come. Now, put your hand between your legs. Use those beautiful fingers of yours to play with your clit until I tell you to stop.”
Reaching down to where we’re connected, brushing them down the length of my dick on an outward stroke, Faye does as she’s told. Working her clit in tight, small circles her pussy walls spasm and she begins to squeeze my cock like her life depends on it.
“I’m close. Oh god, honey. I’m so fucking close.”
Crushing my mouth to hers, my lips swallow her pleas and the sounds of her impending orgasm. Our tongues tangle and I can feel the come boiling in my balls, just waiting for the final thrust that will relieve the aching fullness I’ve been suffering with.
With such vivid memories playing on the highlights reel in my head, I’m not paying attention when Dean walks into the room the Staples Center holds their meet and greets, but I sure as hell am when he asks,
“Anyone seen or heard from, Faye? She was supposed to get back to me with an answer to my problem over an hour ago.”
“Did you ask, Drake? He was on ‘Faye Watch’ tonight,” Cole mutters around a bite of his turkey and swiss sub.
“Yeah, saw him raiding the vending machine and he said he handed off to, Carter around the same time she was talking to me.”
“Fuck,” Tate growls. My sentiments exactly.
“Call, Ryker and then, Drake. Tell them they need to get all hands on deck and to start searching every square fucking inch of this place until they find her,” I order already heading for the door. “I’ll catch up with you after I go back to the bus and see if she’s there.”
The bus was a bust; Faye wasn’t there. All of her shit was exactly where she left it before we checked into the hotel the night before, so I knew she hadn’t been back since.
I just hung up with Dylan after getting an update as to where that at with the search when my cell pinged, letting me know I’d received a text. Tapping on the message icon, I brought it up and a long string of curses my mom would kick my ass for erupted at what I read.
*Unknown number* - if you want to see your girl again, meet me @ the corner of 6th and Grand @ 8.
I hit dial on Ryker’s number without giving it a seconds thought. When he answered, I bit out, “Get hold of a car and pick me up outside the bus in five. I’ll fill you in on the way, but I think I got a lock on where Faye is.”
Disconnecting, I bring up Safari and type the address into the search bar. Fucking great. The location is a public park fifteen to twenty minutes south of the city. Being the middle of summer there’s still a chance people will be out and about, so I guess I won’t be killing the asshole after all. I'll have to settle for beating the absolute shit out of him until he’s left breathing through a straw for the rest of his life.
The screech of tires means Ryker managed to hook us up with a vehicle, so grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch, I exit the bus taking the steps three at a time.
When we’ve pulled onto the interstate, Ryker barks, “Give me what you’ve got.” Relaying the contents of the text and the rendezvous point, he glares out the windscreen without saying a word.