by Nora Flite
Chuckling, I let my shoulders slide down. “Does that mean your offer isn't really on the table?”
Bending low, Drezden traced his fingers along the nape of my neck. Knowing everyone could see, that Drezden didn't give a shit, set my senses on hyper-aware. “I'll do anything you ask me to, Lola. Want me to drag him here kicking and screaming? Just say the words.”
A tremble shook me to my knees. How do words work? He was too talented at stealing my control. “No,” I rasped. “Giving him some time is fine.”
He kissed me once, teasing with his teeth. “You know,” he whispered, dragging a thumb-pad over my jugular, “They might need to put makeup on your neck tonight. You're covered in my hickies.”
I clasped a palm over my throat. “Shit, that's right.” I forgot about the bruises!
Straightening, his hands let me go... but his stare kept me ensnared. Tucking his fingers into his pockets, Drezden didn't hide the smoldering hunger in his angular face. “If they try, don't let them.”
“What?”
“Don't let them hide my marks.” Wild fire flickered in his green eyes. “I want the world to see what I did to you.”
One beat, four beats, a million beats; my heart couldn't take it. Unable to articulate my thoughts, I gave him a tiny nod. His instant, sly grin made my mouth feel fuzzy.
“Fuck,” he growled, “I want to get alone with you.”
“No. No no no.” Brenda strolled forward, a clipboard in her hand. She wielded it like a giant hammer, smacking Drez on the top of his head—lightly, but he still winced. “No one runs off. This place is going to get packed in less than an hour. I need you all to stick around.”
Drez lifted his eyebrows at her. Grabbing my wrist, the singer pulled me towards the rear exit of the bar. I let him take me, I didn't even struggle.
“Hey!” Our manager waved her arms, shouting at us, drawing every eye in the room. “What did I just say?”
“I'm not sure,” Drez said. "I think that clipboard gave me a concussion."
"I said get back here!" she shouted. "You heard me the first time!"
Chuckling, he kept on walking. "Okay, I heard you. I still need a smoke break." He spared only a second to glance down at me, mystery leaking from his muted smile. “I always smoke before a show.”
Behind us, Brenda was still yelling. It wasn't even words; just frustrated groans. We stepped through a door and into the parking lot. It was chilly, the air waking up the parts of my brain that Drez had managed to weaken.
I asked, “Are you really going out for a smoke?” In my heart, I knew he wasn't.
I just wanted to hear the truth out loud.
Peering around, taking in the fading light above, he answered me with a voice crafted from honey. “No. Of course not.” In the growing shadows, his face was a puzzle. “It's you I want. Lola Cooper... my new addiction.”
****
My question about where we would go was cleared up before I voiced it.
The inside of the trailer was empty. I figured it must have been meant for some of the crew, all of which were now inside Belly Up. There was little to see but some fold-up chairs, a small card table, and leftover coffee and snacks on the counter.
The sharp 'click' behind me was a warning. Twisting, I saw Drezden's fingers leave the locking bolt. No one could get inside anymore.
I was trapped with Drezden Halifax.
He's going to wreck me before the show! The realization was chilling. There's no way I can play after he's through with me, he'll rip me to shreds, I'll forget the songs!
The word 'wait' was on my tongue.
The answer of 'no' poured from his eyes.
He shoved me against the trailer wall, the building vibrated from impact; I vibrated. The marrow in my bones shook with my fear, but also my anticipation. Even if I knew it was a bad idea to do this, I still wanted him.
Where the kiss started, I couldn't say. The ending was what mattered; it was what allowed me to finally breathe. “Drez,” I said weakly, searching his face for clarity. “Wait, hold on, we can't—the show will start soon!”
“They don't need us for the start.”
“But I want to see my brother play!”
“And I,” the singer murmured, “Want you.” Gripping my middle, he slid his palms down until they met the top of my jeans. His thumbs hooked in, sandwiching between the denim and my skin.
I endured a flutter of pleasure. It forced my head back, my eyes shutting. If he keeps going, I won't be able to resist him. And then I'll miss Barbed Fire. Suddenly, I understood what was happening.
It hit me hard, left me cold under Drezden's expert fingers.
He's making me choose between him... and Sean. Since my brother had played his first show at school, I'd watched every single one of his performances. When he started bringing me along to help at shows, I'd jumped in whole-hog.
That was how I'd gotten my first taste of Four and a Half Headstones. Their music had turned my life around; Drezden's lyrics had soothed my soul.
And now, the man who crafted that music? Lifting my chin, I stared into his acid-green eyes. He's right here, making me pick between him—the guy I'm falling for—or the brother who's supported me from the start.
My lips spread, preparing to say something—anything—that would free me from Drezden's spell. His fingers closed on my bottom lip, peeled it down, exposed the sensitive inside. His agile tongue slid side to side, tasting the soft flesh until I forgot what I was even doing.
He has me, I thought in the distant ocean of my mind. He has me, and he knows it. There was a hint of something wicked and cruel in how Drezden was kissing me. If it was possible to taste triumph, it was leaking from him.
“Take off your bra,” he said against my temple. Reaching behind, I fumbled until I'd done so. He didn't ask me to remove my shirt, but I reached down to do it anyway. “No, don't.” One firm palm on my elbow halted me. “Leave it on, just slide your bra out.”
Baffled by his insistence, I tugged the straps down my arms, the piece of lingerie tumbling to the floor. He coiled his grip in my thin shirt, tightening it until it strained over my breasts. My already aching nipples were outlined like perfect, tiny pieces of candy. Drez's hungry mouth descended, rubbing over the cloth, sending convulsions straight down to my calves.
It should have been impossible; he'd managed to make my skin more sensitive by not exposing it. Closing my eyes, my head tilted back against the wall. Open mouthed, panting, my tongue went dry as my pussy dripped.
Abruptly, he stepped away from me. It took me some time before I could collect myself enough to look at him, painfully aware of my rock-hard nipples, how flushed my face must be. Drez wore a hard smirk, his fingers offering something small and square to me.
A condom, I realized. "Where did you get it? I thought you were out?" Taking it, my eyes fixed on how casually he unzipped the front of his jeans. The material was tenting from his swollen cock.
“I keep them on the bus. Come here,” he said. Motioning me forward, Drez reached for my wrist. I let him guide me, my heart thumping with uncertainty. “No risks this time, not like this morning. Put it on me.”
Every hair of mine prickled. Oh, fuck. I'd never even opened a condom wrapper before. At Drez's light prompting, his hands on my shoulders, I dropped to my knees in front of him. Eye level with his hard-on, I licked my lips once; twice. I'm going to mess this up. He's going to realize I don't know what I'm doing.
I'd been avoiding the fact that I hadn't yet told Drezden I was a virgin—that he'd been my first. Now, kneeling with a condom in hand, his eager face above, I faced a hard reality. I was never going to tell him, was I? The guilt wormed into my blood. I was going to just let it go and hope it never came up.
An impatient hand came down, stroking the top of my scalp. Closing my eyes, I squeezed the foil packet. “Drez?”
“Hm?” He was watching me, and from my angle, he looked like a beautiful angel. An angel who'd fallen so far from
heaven he was swimming in liquid black sin.
“I—there's something I need to tell you.” My throat closed on my words, trying to keep them at bay. No, I can't avoid this. If anything is going to happen between Drez and me—anything meaningful—I have to tell him.
The hand on my head trailed down, sliding along the back of my ear. “I'm listening, Lola.”
Unable to meet his curious gaze, I focused on the condom in my hand. It was strangely heavy, I wanted to drop it and forget it. “I've never... well. I've never opened a condom before.”
Laughing, but not unkindly, Drez played with my hair. “Just tear it open.”
“No—I mean, I've never held one.” Heat built behind my eye sockets. Everything wobbled, congesting as I fought back humiliated tears. “Never touched one. Never had to even think about putting one on—on anyone.” I swallowed, tasting sour regret. “Ever. Until... you.”
Drezden went still, fingers locking in place on my head. His silence was torture, and if I wasn't such a coward, I would have looked up to see what he was doing. I was freed of the choice; he grabbed my chin while he simultaneously crouched in front of me. In his perfect green-mirror eyes, I saw my own pale sadness. “Lola,” he said flatly, “Are you trying to tell me I was the first guy you ever slept with?”
I swallowed loudly. “That's exactly what I mean. I'm so sorry, I should have said something before.”
“Why didn't you?”
Reaching up, I wiped at the corners of my eyes. “Fuck, I don't know. I was just nervous, and it happened so fast, and then I just... I just—” A hiccup interrupted me.
Pulling me close, Drezden crushed me against his chest, nose going into my hair. “Idiot. Why would I care if you were a virgin or not?”
Trying to control myself, I didn't hug him back. The hiccups jolted me, preventing me from fully calming down. “I don't know, Drez! I was just... just so fucking terrified that you'd want to stop because I didn't know how to do anything. You've been with more people than me, you're experienced, if I said you were my first maybe the pressure would have been too much and..."
Gruffly, he held me by my shoulders at a distance. The shock in his face scared off my hiccups. “How would you know how many people I've slept with?”
“I don't! You just—this morning—the whole running out of condoms thing.” I couldn't handle his staring anymore; I looked away. "If you ran out, it's because you use the damn things, right?"
“Shit. Lola,” he sighed, thumbing away a leftover tear from my cheek. “You're acting like I finished a whole box in the week before we met or something. It was one condom, because who doesn't want to be safe? You never know who you'll meet.”
He said that last part seriously. Lifting my eyes, I caught his meaning. He's talking about me. If he hadn't had that condom on him, would we have gone as far after our first show? Had he kept it in his wallet because he'd hoped... or planned... to sleep with me?
My laughter broke free, escaping my palm as I covered my mouth. It was ridiculous, I'd been so worked up over nothing. “I'm sorry, I really thought—”
“That I was some kind of man-whore,” he said, cutting me off. Arching one eyebrow, Drez ruffled my hair. “I don't even know if I'm insulted.”
I smiled weakly. It doesn't matter what he's done before, what matters is what he's doing now. WHO he's doing it with. And that was me. “Sorry if I ruined the mood.”
Plucking the condom from my fingers, he slid it into his pocket and zipped his pants. “You didn't.” His lips pressed on my forehead; it was the most tender kiss he'd given me. Stunned, I stayed on my knees, my mouth hanging open. Squinting, Drezden adjusted himself in his pants with a grunt. “If you stay down there like that, I'll be tempted to continue.”
Grinning wide, I sat on my calves. “What's stopping you?”
Scratching at his hair, the singer lifted his phone free. “Barbed Fire is finishing up their show, Brenda will kill me if you don't at least get into a clean outfit for our set.”
Like that, my heart shrank. Oh no. Oh no oh no.
Standing in a whirl, I scrambled to find my bra. I took even longer to get it back on, finally just yanking my shirt over my shoulders to ease the process. Drez stared appreciatively, but I was in too much of a panic to care.
Yanking at the trailer door, I breathed faster—harder. In my distress, it took me a second to remember I had to unlock it.
I missed Sean's show.
Drezden had done it. He'd made me forget, and I could only blame myself.
And blaming myself...
Well.
That was the easy part.
Cold evening air assaulted me. I barely felt it, legs pumping, carrying me back into Belly Up's. The backdoor had security floating around, but they took one look at me, who I was, and didn't slow me down.
It was sort of strange. Not so long ago, guards like that had thrown me to the ground outside the Headstones' bus. They'd stomped on my morale, all because they didn't know who I was.
Now they knew.
“Sean!” My shoes pounded backstage, my attention flying around as I tried to spot my brother among the crew tearing the set down. Through the walls, the screaming tsunami of the crowd was deafening. “Sean! Sean, where—Sean!”
I spotted him a few feet away. The only hint that he'd heard me shouting his name was a quick, dismissive glance over one shoulder. Then he walked away, following the rest of his band to the rear of the building.
I wasn't going to give up, though. The fear that was swelling in me threatened that if I didn't explain myself to Sean now...
There would never be another chance.
Panting, I chased him out a side door and back into the low-lit parking lot of Belly Up. “Wait, hey, just hold up!” My voice was ragged; I was glad it wasn't my job to sing tonight.
Sean didn't stop until I grabbed his shoulder. Finally, he spun around, the other Barbed Fire members slowing to see what was going on. “What the hell do you want, Lola?” he snapped.
Pulling up short, I held a hand to my burning chest. “I need to talk to you!”
“Yeah?” Shooting a glare at the sky, he avoided my pleading eyes. “Maybe I don't have the time, maybe you'll just need to talk to me later.”
“Don't pull that shit!” Through my guilt, a tumor of frustration was bloating. “Earlier was different, you know I had no time, but I was going to talk to you!”
“Just like how you were going to answer your phone one of the fucking times I called?”
“It was fucking dead!”
Wiping his nose, my brother shrugged to his ears. “For all I knew, so were you.”
Wind fled my lungs. What could I say to that? “It—I was fine.” But he didn't know that. “Sean, please—”
“Why don't you just go hang out with your fuck-buddy, Drezden?” Pointing, I followed his finger, spotting the singer where he was leaning nearby on the outside wall of the bar. “That's all you care about. Doesn't matter what I've done for you, you don't give a shit about any of it now that you're the 'famous' one.”
It was like he'd stabbed me between my ribs. I grabbed for him, but Sean easily stepped away. The cold indifference in his eyes reminded me terribly of our father. How he would look at me with contempt, the constant reminder of his wife's infidelity. “Sean... please... it isn't like that.”
“We both know why you missed my show just now.” Turning away, his scowling profile belonged to someone I didn't know. This bitter person wasn't my brother.
He couldn't be.
Did he change... or was it me? Staring after his vanishing form, I lifted a hand. It was all I could do, all I had. Sean was right—he was fucking right. I'd been distracted by Drezden, and today, I hadn't once called my brother when I could have.
I brushed him off earlier.
Now he's showing me how it feels.
Drezden appeared beside me, a ghost in the night. When he touched my shoulder, I pushed away. “Come on,” I mumbled, “We nee
d to get ready. We've got a show tonight.”
A show I know Sean won't be watching.
- Chapter Twenty-One -
Drezden
I couldn't sit still backstage.
My eyes hadn't moved from the doorway, waiting to swallow Lola up once more. She'd been whisked off for makeup and wardrobe as soon as Brenda had found us. The scathing look she'd narrowed my way couldn't affect me.
The despair in Lola's beautiful blue centers did.
All because of her fucking brother. My boot tapped the ground over and over. That piece of shit really messes with her head. I'd watched it all go down, and when he'd stormed off, it had taken strict control not to chase after Sean and yank him back to Lola by his hair.
Honestly, it was my fault. I'd been the one who'd delayed her and made her miss Barbed Fire's show. I'd wanted to make her forget about everything—everyone—else. And I did that, I thought triumphantly. The only thing that existed for her in that trailer was me. Lola had crumbled at my feet. She'd gazed up at me, lips parted, chest rising rapidly.
Breathing in sharply, I adjusted my swelling cock in my jeans.
I was surprised when she told me she'd been a virgin. Not angry, not even suspicious; just surprised. I hadn't even suspected I'd been her first. That slice of her is mine now. Smiling to myself, I ran fingers over my forearms. It wouldn't have mattered to me if she'd been innocent or if I'd been her hundredth fuck.
But knowing I'd claimed that side of her?
It fucking thrilled me in a perverse way.
The door opened, Lola striding into view with Brenda at her heels. Her hair was hanging in wild waves, her eyes rimmed dark as tar and lips shiny like blood. She was stunning.
Her old clothes were replaced by skin-tight grey denim. Hard, angular spikes coated her ankle-high boots. In a thin purple and black tank-top, she was a walking vision of sex and power.
I took note of the most important detail; her long, elegant neck was still dappled in my bruises.