Again, the host laughed. “Well, it sounds like you might just know the answer Mackenzie... But just to repeat the question, for the chance to win a V.I.P. ticket to go and see Spyyyke in concert and meet them backstage, what is the real, given birth name of lead singer and guitarist Blake Savage?”
“Duane Stevenson,” I blurted out, this being simple trivia, and just for good measure I added, “He didn't think it sounded badass enough for a hard rock frontman, so he changed it to Blake Savage, borrowing the first name of his roommate Blake Richards from college, and the Savage part coming from his nickname when playing the bar circuit for his first band Death Skwad.”
The host laughed a third time, clearly impressed by my knowledge and amused by my enthusiasm. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, looks like we've got ourselves a winner.”
I jumped from my chair, pumping a fist in the air, feeling like my entire world had just been turned upside down.
Somehow, I didn't think I would be able to concentrate all that much on studying for the remainder of the evening...
Chapter 2
I'd spent hours getting dressed for the show, nervous and trying to consider every possibility imaginable. Many of them, I knew, ridiculous and improbable, but needing to be planned for all the same. I settled, eventually, on a very low-cut and mid-baring top, as well as a seductively short skirt, not wanting to look trashy but thinking it imperative that I make every effort imaginable to put my best foot forward for my meeting with Adam Hart.
The ticket I'd won got me a front row, center-stage seat, and as the lights went down it was like I became immersed in a dream.
The band took the stage...
I stood mere feet away, screaming my lungs out, as the band who'd essentially shaped my teenage and young adult years emerged into the spotlight, and began to jam out so viciously and passionately that I thought I might just go into shock.
This was happening... This was really, truly happening...
I gazed up into Adam's eyes, feeling certain with every beat of his drums, and every word he sang when he switched to performing his own songs, that he was speaking and playing, directly and exclusively, to me.
I could barely think straight...
I savored the music, letting it flow through my veins, yet as the concert progressed I found myself growing more and more anxious for the aftermath. For my meeting with these three greats looming closer and closer on the horizon, until at last the final song of the set list played, and then the encore, and then…..
The lights went dark again...
We were all screaming and cheering, applauding our little hearts out, and only when the crowds began to file out of the stadium was I taken aside, and escorted backstage in the direction of the band's dressing room.
This was it... At long, long, long last, this was it.
They led me up to the door... It slowly opened, and the light hit my eyes...
And the first damn thing I saw was Bobby Warren, grinning stupidly at me, extending a hand.
“Hi, I'm Bobby,” he said, with too much enthusiasm.
My face fell slightly. Nobody cared about Bobby. “Hi Bobby,” I said, trying to remain polite, and my eyes quickly scanned the room as I shook his hand. And there he was... My angel.
“Aw,” said Bobby, hanging his head as I brushed past him, and then he went to another corner of the room to mope, before shortly disappearing on his own to drink for the evening.
He didn't seem real as I approached him, creeping up to where he sat playing his guitar, rehearsing or writing a song, something magical along those lines... I had to pinch myself, for fear that I might be dreaming and that I could wake up at any moment.
But then he looked up, and for the first time I peered into those eyes of his. And I knew there was no way in hell this could be anything but real.
“God,” he said, sitting upright, placing his guitar on the floor beside him. “They didn't even tell me...”
I started- he hadn't known I was coming? Was I disturbing him?
“Didn't tell you what?” I asked, afraid.
“That our guest was going to be so beautiful,” he said, and I think my heart might have stopped for a moment or two. At any rate, I know I came awfully damn close to passing out.
“Why... Why, thank you,” I said, queasy as hell.
“I'm Adam,” he said, extending his hand for me to take, and I actually laughed as I reached slowly out to him.
“Oh, I know who you are, believe me. “I'm Mackenzie. Mackenzie Miller.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mackenzie...” Then he took his hand in mine. I nearly died as that warm palm of his closed in around me, squeezing my fingers tightly, causing my pulse to skyrocket.
For the next several hours, I was on cloud nine...
It may be good advice, in a lot of cases, to avoid meeting your heroes in person, but the way things began between Adam and I, it seemed to me that he was every bit the perfect man that I'd always been certain he must be based upon his music. He was smart, funny, and sweet as hell. Despite being as successful as God and on top of the world, he was very modest and down-to-earth, emotionally in tune and fantastically smooth.
We sat in the dressing room for hours, with Bobby having gone, and Blake, apparently, indisposed with important matters and unable to attend the meet and greet- judging from my future interactions with Spyyyke's lead singer, he was likely already entertaining some female companionship for the evening, back at his hotel room. The man's hedonism seemed to know no end...
But that was fine with me, honestly. I could have sat and just stared at Adam in that room for hours on end, getting swept up by him, lost in his gaze. And I was genuinely astounded at how smoothly the two of us found ourselves falling into conversation, talking like we'd known each other for ages and he seemed to be genuinely, deeply interested in me, which was something I sincerely wanted, but wouldn't have even imagined as a possibility until now, when it was actually happening.
The heart-felt romantic that I'd come to expect based on his songwriting was every bit as real and as genuine as I was...
Of all the things that had happened up to that point in the evening, however, all the clues I may have had that our interactions might take the course they eventually did, nothing could have prepared me for the moment when Adam slowly leaned over to me, and planted a warm, sensual kiss on my lips.
My eyelids fluttered shut, and I breathed him in, struggling not to fall out of my chair.
He tasted wonderful...
There had been so much anticipation, so much buildup to this moment, and now here it was bursting before me, filling me up to the brim with ecstasy, thrilling me to the very core of my being.
I simply couldn't believe it was happening.
The moments rolled by, and slowly we pulled apart from one another, panting, wide-eyed. He smiled at me. I smiled back. My cheeks went scarlet. He slowly reached over, and placed a hand on my own.
“Mackenzie, I... I know we just met... But I'm not sure I've ever felt for a girl the way that I feel for you, and from only this short time we've spent together... I don't mean to seem base or... Or crude, frankly, about this, but... Well, I need you... Is there any chance that you might be interested in accompanying me up to my room for the evening?”
Holy hell...
I tried to mouth my ascent, but I was so choked up, so overwhelmed by his request, that all I could do was nod, dumbly, through my tears.
Yes.
And just as easily, as simply as that, I was back up in Adam Hart's room with him.
I couldn't believe the course this entire affair had taken, and I wouldn't dare trade it for anything in the world in that splendid moment...
His weight was on top of me on the bed. He was kissing me passionately, deeply, our tongues in one another's mouths. I felt him, hardening up against me, making me wetter and wetter by the second. He slid his hand up beneath my skirt, pushing it along my thighs, working the fabric of my panties in
his grip.
He brought his hands up to the hem of his shirt, and pulled the fabric up off of him, so that I was left to gaze at the glory of his body. The broad, hard pecs. The rippling rungs of his six-pack abdominals. The deeply cut V-lines of his Adonis muscles...
I swooned, unabashedly, as he closed back down on top of me.
I loved his sweaty, muscular body around me, and I craved him inside of me. His love was tender, but thorough, all-enveloping, better than anything I could ever recall having experienced. He kissed my lips repeatedly, brought his hands to the bottom of my blouse, and peeled me out of the thing like it was the skin of a fruit. He brought his mouth forward and began to suckle my bare breasts, rolling his tongue around the nipples, sinking his teeth into them, stretching them out. I moaned with untold pleasure, and then he brought his hands up, sinking his fingers into me like claws. He kneaded my breasts up like dough in his grip, as he moved his mouth from one to the other and back again. His free hand slowly, slowly, slowly began to creep down along my body, the fingers dipping beneath the fabric of my skirt and my panties.
I moaned with pleasure.
His fingers slipped into the wet pink folds of my pussy, and he slowly began to caress me, his digits glistening with my juices, squelching through me and causing my legs to close in around him, my knees pressed together as I struggled to contain the sensations.
“Oh God... Yes... Yes... Yes....”
As if that wasn't enough, he slowly began to move his head down, down, down along my body. He kissed my flesh, lapping up my abdomen, my navel, my pelvic bone. Then his hands were dipping beneath the fabric of my skirt and panties, bringing them down to around my ankles, letting them fall to the floor in a heap.
I braced myself, biting my lip, my breath held, my buttocks clenched.
He dipped his head down between my thighs as though to worship my glorious femininity, spreading his lips apart, and allowing them to dissolve against those of my pussy. I yelped, and shuddered with pleasure as I felt his glorious pink tongue slip into me, digging into me, twisting into my vagina like a spade. My knees began to quake, to collapse in around his perfect skull.
Slowly he proceeded to eat me, bobbing his head, craning his neck up and down, from side to side. My body inflated with pleasure, and I kept pulling him deeper, deeper, deeper into myself, unable, it seemed to sate myself on his incredible oral efforts.
This was a man who knew exactly what it was a woman wanted...
I screamed. I cried out, pushing my breasts harder and harder toward the ceiling. He licked and sucked and lapped me up as though my cunt was the most delectable thing he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting, as the folds melted through his lips, and as his warm, savory saliva dribbled into my body, contributing to my already considerable wetness. Then, God help me, he pressed his fingers down deep against the throbbing pink flesh of my clitoris, working it hard as he held his mouth up against me, and my entire body proceeded to seize up around him. I cried out, and nearly crushed him like a vice as the orgasm began to tear through my anatomy. Pulse after pulse of sensation, making my head light, causing me to shake, until at last I let out a tremendous gasp, releasing him from his prison, and my limbs still shaking from nerves.
He gave my pussy a last few kisses on its lips, then gently allowed his mouth to dissolve away, stretching out the folds playfully as he brought his head back out from between my thighs. He lifted his body back up over me for a moment, and planted his lips softly on mine, so that I could taste myself on him, and the eroticism of it drove me absolutely wild.
Then he brought his hands to the fly of his pants. He unbuttoned and unzipped himself, and he climbed up on top of me, mounting me as gently as he could.
He felt amazing on top of me, and even better inside me.
I cried out as he penetrated me, opening me up. He pushed apart the folds of my body, sliding that massive, veiny erection between my legs, and his engorged purple tip sinking so deep up inside me that I could hardly contain him.
And at last he touched down, laying on top of me, peering into my eyes with his hands around my wrists, pinning them to the bed. I moaned as he took his first deep thrust into me. He pushed through my body and dipped back out again, then once again hurled himself forward. In, out, in, out, his buttocks clenching and unclenching as he worked his way through me, plowing through the fertile soil of my anatomy, pushing, pumping, heaving, but at such a slow, measured pace that I felt myself burning all over from him, unable to contain my ecstasy.
He knew how to take his time, and though I wouldn't have minded a bit more roughness, I nonetheless savored the sublime intimacy we shared, his eyes continually locked on mine as he fucked me, groaning, wheezing, pumping, hitting all the right spots at precisely the right time.
I was losing it, melting like putty beneath him, the pounding of my heart intensifying with the pounding of my Hart.
And then he hurled himself, one final time, up inside me.
He held himself steadily inside me, holding, holding, holding tight, looking so deeply into me that I had to close my eyes, pushing my body up into him, at the moment it happened.
He exploded into my body. He poured me full of his hot, molten sperm, sending it shooting through the pink folds of my pussy, drenching me, spilling out of me in its thickness and abundance. I began to cum, once more, this time harder than ever. His slowness, his deliberateness had blessed me with an orgasm more intense than any I'd known before, and my entire body shook as I shivered with climax, crying out at the top of my lungs, my ears ringing as I burst from the pleasure.
And at last, at long, long last, the sensations ebbed away. I let out a tremendous gasp, and went slack beneath his body. He pulled himself out of me, and wrapped me up in his arms, holding me tightly, as the two of us continued to kiss and to caress in the afterglow.
Little did I know, basking in his company and happy as I could ever remember having been, just how easily I would find myself taking on a bit too much of a good thing...
Chapter 3
I was now, for all intents and purposes, a roadie for Spyyyke. After the night we shared together in his bed, Adam confessed to having very real and sudden feelings for me, and said that he didn't think he would be able to stop thinking about me. I was done with school for the summer, and of course the opportunity for me to go on tour with the band was far too great for me to pass up.
For the moment, I felt I was having the time of my life, and it seemed as though there was no downside to it in sight.
Eventually, of course, I had the pleasure of meeting the legendary Blake Savage as well. The man could always be found with a woman on his arm, or two or three or four, and he was every bit the sex-crazed bad boy that Adam was a gentleman. Still, though, being in his presence, I couldn't deny that there was something primal about him. The looks he gave me when Adam wasn't paying attention shocked me, though not nearly as much as the fact that I kept thinking about them once his eyes had left mine.
Adam, clearly, was the man I desired. The man I'd spent so much time longing for, and who was now finally mine, after so long dreaming about our union.
But as glorious as it may have been, on so many levels, I slowly began to grow concerned with certain aspects of Adam and I's relationship.
It wasn't anything that I would pin the blame on him for... It wasn't like he was being inconsiderate, or not doing his best to please me. But maybe that was just it- maybe, I was being given too much of exactly what I wanted, and it wasn't living up quite to my expectations.
I mean, I felt horrible even considering the notion... I wasn't about to just throw this all away, after all. It had been what I'd always wanted, and Adam was about the sweetest man I'd ever met, not to mention the most passionate lover one could ever imagine.
But he was just so damn soft... And again, that wasn't his fault. That was what had attracted me to him in the first place- the thought that the man in his songs was the same man that he was in real life, which did
, in fact, happen to be the case. But past a certain point, I found that I couldn't deal with some of his more emotional states of mind, his lack of a backbone, and I found myself wanting more, craving more of an edge to our relationship.
The fact of us being, more or less, mutually submissive, tended to throw the dynamic of our relationship off in a very big way...
That first time having sex had been great, wonderful, in fact, but I'd expected, upon entering into a relationship with him, that there would be a bit more roughness to things in the bedroom after a while. That he might have the balls to take me, hard, like I craved being taken, ravishing me, manhandling me, screwing me hard and basically leaving me out to dry.
But always, it was the same old thing, the gradual pushing, pulling, heaving, groaning, making love at a snail's pace... I was having a harder and harder time getting off from his efforts, as dedicated as they may have been. He seemed to think I was too delicate or too precious to really pound me like I needed to be pounded, and thus I was left hanging by the time we finished up, sometimes having to fake my orgasms to avoid hurting his feelings.
Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3) Page 79