by K. A Knight
“Why would I do that?” I gasp out as he rubs harder, the pleasure bordering on pain again.
“If you don’t, you get punished, plus you want me too much to walk away. Don’t you?” he asks, pushing my panties aside to run his fingers along my lips.
“Fight me, it will only make it that much better when you give in,” he warns, smirking at me. So in control, not even his fucking hair is out of place as he pins me to the wall, my pussy already wet and begging for him, my hair wild and my lips sore.
“You forget, Blake. I’m not another of your girls, I’m not an adoring fan and I sure as shit don’t plan on letting you play me like a toy.” I move forward, biting his lip and pulling. His eyes flare as his fingers freeze. Popping it out of my mouth I smile at him. “You know why, baby?”
Dropping my hand to his pants, I cup the solid bulge there, pressing hard like he did to me, until he sucks in a breath and his hips are pushing against me. “Because you want me too much to walk away.” I throw his own words back at him, and the answering flare in his eyes makes me smirk.
He might think he wants a plaything, something he can control, but I know better. He loves the fight, the dominance of two strong people butting heads, except he doesn't want to win. He wants a partner, one who can keep up and push him as well.
“Is that right?” he asks, but he sounds pained and he rubs himself against me like he can’t help it.
Leaning forward, I lick up his neck until I can nibble on his ear lobe. “That’s right, I will fight you at every step and you will love it.”
Kissing across his cheek I hover over his lips, letting him make the decision. He groans, his control snapping as he meets me halfway, kissing me as I pull at his belt and he snaps my underwear. Unthreading it, I drop it to the floor and pop open the button of his trousers, my hand sliding inside the material and his boxers to meet bare flesh. I moan into his mouth, loving the feel of soft silk over hard steel.
Wrapping my hand around him, I pump him as we fight for control with our lips. He yanks his mouth away.
“Grip me tighter with your legs,” he demands, and with another pump of his cock, I do. Pulling my hand from his pants I grip his shoulders as he walks across the room, carrying me like I weigh nothing.
He drops me to the floor and turns me around, pushing me with a hand in the middle of my back. I don’t fight him, I let him bend me over the arm of the sofa. He kicks my legs apart, my bare pussy in the air making me shiver.
His hand wraps around my hair, pulling it tight as he yanks my head into an awkward angle, and his other hand grips my hip. He rams forward, sliding into me with no warning. Grabbing the sofa cushion I moan, wiggling back and forth to escape the pressure, but he gives me no chance, just pulls out and rams back in, our hips slapping together in the room. Groaning I push back, needing more.
I try to reach back and latch on to his hips, but he lets go of my hair and grabs them, pinning them to the bottom of my back so all I can do is ride it out, and let him do what he wants. He leans down and kisses along my shoulder, his hard thrusts never faltering.
“You’re already so close, I can feel your pussy gripping me,” he grunts, biting into my shoulder before laving it with his tongue.
The only thing I can do in this position to fight is push back, forcing him deeper until he groans and twists my hands harder.
“Stop fighting me,” he demands.
“No,” I gasp, biting my lip to stop the moans and begging sounds that want to tumble from my lips, as his cock drags over that spot inside of me with each thrust.
I want him just as wild as I am, so I clench down on purpose and he yells. Leaning over me he fucks me hard, driving in with powerful thrust after powerful thrust as I rock back into him, words and noises streaming from my mouth until I come. Screaming into the cushion I fight against him, the feeling so intense, it’s too much, but he forces me to go through it, still fucking me, working me back up to another orgasm.
“Blake,” I moan, and his name on my lips seems to undo him.
Letting go of my hip, he reaches between my legs and rubs my clit, hard and fast so that when he comes with a yell, I do too, screaming into the cushion again to try and mute it.
When the dots clear from my vision, I lick my dry lips and try to relearn how to breathe. He’s still behind me, seeming to do the same.
The door slams open and I turn my head to see Liam grinning over at us, wiggling his eyebrows. Kingston peeks in over him.
“Just checking you weren’t killing each other. Please, continue,” he says sweetly, pulling Liam back who wiggles his hips now.
“Bow chicka wah wha,” he starts singing as Kingston shuts the door. Laughing, I lay my head back against the cushion as Blake lays his cheek on my back, kissing me gently there. It’s a good job I sent the crew on lunch or everyone would have heard that, we need to be more careful... next time.
After a while, I start to get cold and he must feel my shiver. “Come on Baby Girl, let’s get you dressed and we can grab some dinner.”
I nod as he helps me stand, my legs still shaky.
“Where are my panties?” I ask, frowning as I search the floor.
I have to go commando for the rest of the day since Blake hid my panties. The sore feeling between my legs lets me know how thoroughly I was fucked. I find myself almost drifting through the show. Having to force myself back into the here and now more times than I can count.
The crowd loves the boys as usual, and the meet and greet runs over by an hour. At the end of the night my feet are killing and all I want is a hot shower, but instead I help the crew pack up, double checking everything before I shake Tim’s hand. I already sent the boys to the bus to relax and shower.
Climbing into the bus I slump into the sofa. I don’t see them anywhere, but I’m too comfy to move and try and find them. My phone pinging in my pocket makes me groan. It seems there is no rest for the tour manager. Grabbing it, I return the texts and emails before spotting all the social media notifications. My eyes are almost shutting as I thumb through them, I land on a picture message and with a frown, I open it to see a picture of me from a moment ago, looking tired as I climb into the tour bus.
Shooting to my feet I look out of the window, biting my lip.
“Angel, you need to shower?” comes a yell, and I blow out a breath.
The police advised me to ignore the messages and report any more contact, but I don’t want to worry the guys so I screenshot it, intent on showing the police tomorrow, and delete the message without replying.
“Yeah, coming!” I shout back, and with one last peek outside into the darkened parking lot, I shut the curtains and head to where I can hear my men. The weird stalker doesn’t get to ruin my night.
The next week and half pass in a blur of shows and travelling, every day is full of unpacking, rehearsals for the guys, problem solving for me, and the show in the evening followed by signing and packing everything up again. We sleep on the bus as we travel to each venue, it’s exhausting, but everyone seems happy. I spend each night wrapped in the arms of one of the guys, well, except Emmett obviously. I had worried that he would get jealous of the time I’m spending with the others, but he seems pleased that things are moving on so well with me and the guys.
Don’t get me wrong, it can get a bit awkward sometimes when I’m trying to have sex in the back of the bus with someone who’s like my brother listening in. But we’re trying to be respectful of him and his space, and so far it’s working. Living with six guys in a tour bus isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. We have truly become like a family, and I wouldn’t wish it any other way.
Leo and I have been getting closer too, although I still feel guilty and I know I will eventually have to tell Kelsey. We have been in touch a couple of times since her and Leo’s big break up. She seems to be doing okay, but I know she misses him. It weighs on me with every passing day, and the closer I get with Leo, the further I pull away from Kelsey, but she isn’t making
it easy. She texts me constantly and I genuinely like her as a friend.
My iPad makes a ding letting me know that a new email has come through, snapping me out of my daydreaming. I’ve been doing that more and more recently, lack of sleep is making me lose my focus. We have a break after tonight's show, so I’m looking forward to taking some time to rest before the next leg.
Replying to the email confirming the next hotel we’ll be staying at, I glance up and see the guys are watching me. We are back stage, waiting for the show to start, and I still can’t help but feel a burst of desire every time I see them lined up in their costumes. Smiling, I place my iPad down and walk over to them.
“You ready for the show?” I ask, as I watch them stretching to warm up. Drool worthy. Focus Gabby! I berate myself, rolling my eyes. Will I ever be able to get enough of these guys?
“Right, so all that’s left to do is… Oh shit. I left my clipboard in my dressing room. I’ll be back in a sec,” I rush out, as I hurry back down the corridor towards my room. The last couple of venues have been large enough where I get my own dressing room too, which has been really nice. I push open the door and see my clipboard waiting for me on the dressing table, right where I left it. Grabbing it, something slips off and onto the floor, making me pause. Huh, I must not have clipped it on. Bending down to pick the paper off the floor, I freeze as I see what’s written on the paper.
I warned you.
I quickly look around the room, making sure I’m alone as the sick feeling washes over me again. My breaths are coming out as pants and I feel like I’m going to pass out. There has been no sign of the stalker since I went to the police with that message I received on the bus over two weeks ago, and to be honest, I thought it was over. But it’s not.
Think Gabby, think.
I need to hand it over to the police. But if I do that now, then the show will be cancelled and the guys will go into protective mode. There would be no harm in waiting a couple of hours before calling them, right?
Stuffing the note at the bottom of my clipboard, I leave the room and go to join the guys backstage. If they notice that I seem more jittery than usual, they don't say anything, just give me a few looks before I walk on stage and introduce them.
The show goes off without a hitch and nothing untoward happens. The boys go out again to the meet and greet and do some signings. Heading back to my dressing room, I drop my stuff on the desk and rub my face. I’m starting to look tired, and with all the added stress of this weirdo leaving notes, it’s no wonder. Which reminds me, when the guys get back I need to tell them about the note, and then call the police again.
Looking up in the mirror, I freeze when the dressing room door slams shut. Spinning on my heel I tilt my head in confusion, did someone open the fire door at the end of the hall and the wind slammed it closed?
Rolling my eyes I walk towards it. “Warn a person will you!” I shout gripping the handle, but the blood drains from my face when it won’t turn. I try again, my actions getting more shaky the harder I try. Starting to panic, I twist and pull until my hand is sore. Backing away from the door I look around—why the hell would someone lock me in here? That’s when I hear it.
A whoosh, like an engine igniting, sounds not too far away, and the shouts of screaming and panic reaches me. What the hell is happening?
Racing back to the door I kick it, but it doesn't move, stepping back I take a running start at it and hit my shoulder into it, but to no avail. Grabbing the handle, I twist it, praying for a miracle. The screams are getting distant but I know something is wrong. Sweat drips into my eyes as I tug and pull at it.
“Please! Is anyone there! What’s going on?” I scream, but no one answers.
Blowing out a breath I try to calm my racing heart, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt I pace back and forth. Think, Gabby. People know you are back here, and with whatever’s happening out there, it’s probably a good thing you’re locked in here. This is clearly no wind or prank, something terrible has happened. I just feel it. Gasping, I stumble back to the door. The guys! They are out there!
A sick feeling starts in my stomach as I remember my phone, god how could I forget I had that? Racing back to the desk I shakily swipe to unlock it, before dialling the guys. It keeps ringing and ringing and the longer no one answers, the more hysterical I become, until I’m nearly hyperventilating at the thought of something happening to them.
Opening the group text I send a message, hoping one of them will see it and reply.
Boss Lady AKA Angel: Guys, what’s happening? Are you okay? I heard screams but I’m locked in my dressing room.
Staring at the screen I put my fist in my mouth when no one replies. A weird noise has me turning with a frown to the door. Crackling and popping is what it sounds like, and when smoke starts to pour in from the crack under the door I scream.
Fire.
That’s what that noise is.
Shit, think Gabby. Why, in times like these, does your mind go blank? I know we had a class from the local fireman at school about what to do in the event of a fire. Racking my brain I glance back down at my phone. Think rationally, this is just another problem with the tour. What do you do?
Blowing out a shaky breath, and ignoring the sounds of the fire racing closer and the smoke filling up the room, I get an idea. Stripping off my blazer I race to the door and stuff it in the crack, when the other end doesn't quite reach, I strip off my blouse and stuff it there as well, stopping the flow of the smoke into the room.
Stumbling back I grab my phone and dial 999.
Bouncing on my toes, tears streaming down my face as I hiccup, I wait for them to answer.
“999, what’s your emergency?”
“Fire department, please! God, I’m locked in my dressing room at the Royal Hall.” I rattle off the address to the woman on the phone. “There’s a fire raging, I don’t know if people got out, but there’s smoke pouring into the room!”
“Okay ma’am, I have dispatched the fire crew and police to your location. Stay on the phone with me. What's your name?” The woman’s voice is calm, but direct, trying to keep my attention on her and stop me from panicking.
“Gabby,” I cry shakily. I lean back against the wall to try and escape the smoke curling up my legs.
“Okay Gabby, I’m Sandra. I want you to block any crack where the smoke can enter the room. You need to take short breaths for me. Are there any windows or other doors you can escape through?”
She’s calm, so calm that it makes me swallow my panic and listen to her.
“No, there’s nothing. Just the one door in and it’s locked. I-I don’t know who locked it, but the smoke is in the room with me.”
“Okay, Gabby remember your breathing. Fire crews are minutes away. Make sure the light is on in the room so we can find you, and you can see. Can you tell me exactly how to get to you?”
“I-you…” Wiping the tears away, I try to enter manager mode. “Yes, there’s a fire door at the end of the corridor. Back of the building, third door from the right. I’m the second door down the hallway on the left. Can you tell me if all the crowd and crew got out?”
I desperately hope she knows, I hope my guys are okay, even if I’m not. They were out front, so that bodes well. The fire obviously started close to the stage, probably from a wire or an overheated lamp.
“I’m not sure at the moment Gabby, let’s get through this one step at a time. The crew is four minutes out. Keep talking to me, what do you do?”
I cover my mouth to silence a sob as I hear the fire right outside the door, the roaring is so loud now that it covers the woman’s voice I can hear coming from my phone. I go cold, I know the door will stop it for a while, but how long? I don’t even realize I have dropped my phone until I hear it smash on the floor.
Deep breathing, I remind myself, but the room starts to heat up, faster than I thought possible and even half naked I’m sweating. Oh god, I’m going to burn to death. I wish I got to see my fami
ly once more, hold my mum. Talk to my dad. Kiss my guys, tell them how I feel. How much they mean to me. So many wishes, but no time.
Sliding to the floor I curl into myself, letting the tears come as I hold onto my brother’s necklace. I wish you were here.
A noise above the roar catches my attention. Tilting my head I squint, trying to listen. There, it comes again. Jumping to my feet I listen, holding my breath.
“Gabby!” comes a desperate shout.
“Here! I’m here,” I scream, crying at the same time, but all that does is make me cough. Big hacking coughs that have me bending over.
“Gabby! I’m coming, listen to my voice Baby Girl. I need you to tell me where you are!” Blake, the relief at his voice has me staggering to the door.
“Here!” I gasp, trying to shout, but it’s like my vocal cords are stuck. Crying harder, I bang on the door and scream as the heat on the wood singes my fists instantly.
My head spins from the pain as I fall backwards, clutching them to my chest as I hear running footsteps just outside.
“Baby, get back!” he shouts.
Pulling myself along the floor, I huddle against the desk as a smash rocks the door. Again and again until the wood splinters. It’s broken in half, but still locked. I can see Blake now, his eyes search the room before they land on me, panic and desperation clear on his face. He grabs the handle and screams, obviously burning himself. I watch as he steps back and kicks, again and again until he makes a bigger hole.
“Come here Baby Girl, you’re going to have to climb through!” he shouts, looking to the side. Sweat drips down his face and he covers his mouth with his shirt before looking back at me, imploring me with his eyes to trust him. I can feel the heat rolling into the room from outside, and the fire is even louder now that the door is letting the sound in.
Scrambling to my feet I rush over. He grabs my hands and starts to yank me through the broken door, my skin and hair getting caught, making whimpers escape me as I feel cuts on my skin all over. My necklace catches on a bit of wood sticking out and before I can say anything, Blake heaves me through, the necklace ripping from my neck and falling to the ground. Lifting me off my feet and throwing me over his shoulder, he turns and races to the fire exit. Struggling in his arms, I beat my fists against him, I need to go back. I can’t leave that here, it’s all I have left of my brother.