by Frank, Ella
“I’m sorry, is your name Halo?” Killian’s eyes swirled with mischief as he looked back at me. “If he’s holding you hostage and making you do something against your will, blink twice.”
I shook my head, chuckling. “I’m feeling pretty lucid, thanks for asking.”
Jagger leaned over toward Slade and said, “In case you don’t know, lucid means—”
“I know what it means.” Slade shoved Jagger back over to his side of the couch, but the look on Slade’s face told me that maybe he didn’t.
“Clear mind,” I said for his benefit, and Slade nodded. Then I said to Killian, “Ready to tackle whatever’s on the table when you are.”
“You sure about that?” Killian reached for the clipboard on the table beside him and clicked his pen. “’Cause I gotta say, it’s a laundry list.”
“You called us here for laundry?” Slade said, his forehead wrinkling.
Killian shot him a look and then checked his clipboard. “First up, congrats to the happy couple. We’re all hoping this is some ‘till death do you part’ shit in the making, otherwise it’s gonna be awkward as fuck later.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “No matter what. I know you’re all a little freaked out about how this affects the band, but just know that whatever happens with our personal lives, we won’t let it interfere with what we’ve got here with Fallen Angel.”
“Not you we’re worried about, my man,” Jagger said, all eyes falling to Viper.
Viper gave a lazy shrug. “I’m moody. Temperamental. An asshole on a good day, and you’ve put up with me so far. Not sure what you’re worried about now.”
Killian rolled his eyes and checked something off his clipboard. “Moving on. We know we’re cool with what’s happening with you two, but MGA? They fuckin’ freaked, man. I tried to do some damage control, but they weren’t happy about the scene you made or you guys peacin’ out early.”
“What do you want us to do about it?” Viper asked.
“I think the only thing we can do now is make sure the album release numbers are strong. The singles have kicked ass, so all signs point to the album doing the same, but…” Killian looked at where Slade and Jagger sat with worry written all over their faces. For a moment, I almost felt guilty, because what one of us did affected everyone, didn’t it? But I’d been truthful about what I said. Even if this thing with Viper went south—which it wouldn’t—we’d all worked too damn hard and come together too well to mess things up with the band.
There wasn’t an ounce of guilt on Viper’s face, though, as he dropped his arm from my shoulder and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “But what? You think a picture of me and Halo online is gonna change the minds of thousands of fans?”
“It might. Look, none of us want to think that could happen, but we can’t be naive about this. It was quite a statement you two made, and some people aren’t gonna like that.” Before Viper could protest, Killian put his hands up. “We’re all with you on this, okay? So don’t lash out at me. You knew this would happen, and now it has. We deal with whatever comes our way together, yeah?”
Viper gave a nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. So as far as MGA goes, we just prove them wrong and sell a shit-ton of albums.”
“Easy as that?” I said.
“Might’ve helped if you two were available to give out complimentary blowjobs for sales, but…”
Viper threw one of the decorative pillows toward Killian’s head so fast that it was like he’d pulled the string of a bow and let an arrow fly free. Killian jerked to the side, the pillow barely clipping his shoulder before crashing into the table lamp, sending it flying to the floor and smashing into a hundred pieces.
We all froze as Killian looked down at the broken shards beside him, and then he shrugged. “Moving on. Something else happened last night, something I’m seriously upset about missing—Viper fired Brian.”
My surprise matched Slade’s and Jagger’s, our mouths all hanging open. Not that I could say I was disappointed, but Viper hadn’t mentioned it, and the last time I saw Brian, he was still trying to call the shots.
“About damn time,” Jagger said. “We shoulda done that a while ago.”
“You’re welcome.” Viper threw his arm over the back of the couch again and crossed an ankle over his knee, looking entirely too smug.
“You fired Brian? When?” I said.
“Right after he told me you should be fucking a supermodel.” Viper’s eyes narrowed to slits as he seemed to recall whatever showdown had happened between the two of them.
“That’s it?” I said. “That’s why you fired him?”
“No. The little bitch kept running his mouth, but I would’ve fired him for a lot less, trust me.”
“No one’s complaining about Brian being gone,” Killian said. “But what that means now is that we need to find a new manager before the tour starts.”
I frowned. “Is that a requirement? Having a manager? And I’m honestly asking. I don’t know how this works or what Brian did exactly.”
None of the guys seemed willing to volunteer that info, and my guess was it was because they didn’t want a replacement when Brian had been such a nightmare. Finally, Killian spoke up.
“Unfortunately, we do. They handle all the business shit we know nothin’ about, which means our deals, endorsements, negotiating contracts. They make our travel arrangements, maintain our schedules.”
“Can we hire someone who doesn’t talk shit about us this time? ’Cause that’d be great,” Jagger said.
“Should be easy enough. Find someone sane, smart, and with the balls to deal with the five of us motherfuckers. No problem.”
“Where do we even start looking?” Slade asked.
“Probably in the Help Wanted section,” Viper muttered. “Where we should’ve looked instead of hiring Brian in the first place. You know, I bet that asshole didn’t even try to negotiate with MGA for us. He probably took what they offered and ran.”
“Probably,” Killian agreed, and then he caught sight of Slade’s creased forehead. “Don’t worry, we’re not looking at the Help Wanted ads. I’ll put out some feelers and see what I can find.”
Poor Killian. Always the one doing the tough shit no one else volunteered for. He was definitely the unofficial leader of the group, the one who tried to keep the peace, the one who kept on top of everything so the rest of us knew what the hell was going on. Viper may have veto power, but he wasn’t out looking for a new manager, was he?
“Thanks for heading that up,” I told Killian, as I settled back against Viper’s arm and edged my hand toward his thigh, my pinkie barely grazing the fabric of his jeans. When he caught the movement, he moved my hand to rest on his thigh as he continued responding to something Jagger had asked. No one else paid any attention to what he’d done, because the move had been so casual, so normal, that the only person affected was me.
Just sitting here with my boyfriend during a band meeting, no big deal.
Shit, how had this become my new normal? But it was. And I fucking loved it.
Ten
Halo
“SPECIAL DELIVERY,” I said as I rounded the granite island in Viper’s kitchen and slid the flat envelope his way. It was marked “confidential” in big red letters, and he looked up from where he was buttering toast to glance at it.
“Why don’t you open it?”
“Because it says ‘confidential.’”
Viper stopped what he was doing and raised a brow. “So?”
“So…you’re allowed to have your privacy.”
“Angel?”
“Hmm?”
“Open the fuckin’ thing.”
So damn bossy, but I had to admit, it was one of the things I liked about him. I snatched up the envelope and carefully ripped it open, because it felt like a stack of papers. A document or something, maybe.
I turned the envelope upside down, and as the contents slid out, my eyes grew wide.
/>
Holy shit. Holy shit.
“Angel? What is it?”
I worked my jaw but couldn’t seem to get the words out, because—
“Is that the Rolling Stone issue?”
My eyes shot up to his, and he must’ve seen the shock and panic in them, because he frowned and reached for the advanced copy of the magazine.
“Fuuuck me,” he said, staring down at the image on the front cover. “Damn, you look sexy as hell.”
With a moan, I slumped over the island, my head on my arms, and Viper chuckled.
“You don’t like it?”
I lifted my head. “My parents are going to see that.”
“I’m sure they’ve seen worse. They can put it out on their coffee table.”
“Half of America’s gonna see it. This is basically my introduction to the world, and it’s like, hey, wanna see my ass? Great first impression. Really.”
Viper turned the magazine sideways to get a better view. “Shit, I wish this had been my first impression. People are gonna cream their fuckin’ pants. I think I’ll frame this.”
As he lowered the magazine, I got another glimpse of the image. Instead of using one of the group shots—clothed, I might add—they’d gone with the naked, oiled-up shots of me and Viper in a very compromising position. Viper stood there like a sex god with his guitar hanging strategically over his body, while half my bare ass was on display, my body turned toward his and my arm reaching across him to grip the neck of his guitar.
Fuckin’ hell. If people didn’t already know we were together, there would be no doubt after seeing this shot.
“Hey,” Viper said, coming around the island to stand behind me, his chin on my shoulder. “Look at this. Look at us. Forget what anyone else thinks. This? It’s gonna fly off the fuckin’ stands.”
“No one’s gonna take us seriously.”
Viper snorted. “First lesson in rock ’n’ roll, Angel. Sex sells. This is gonna make people curious. It’s gonna make them check us out. They’re gonna talk about us. Word will spread. And you know what that means?”
“I’m gonna have to hide under my bed for the rest of my life?”
“It means album sales. It means sold-out fuckin’ tours. It means people coming to see you so they can scream out our lyrics and throw their goddamn bras on the stage. That’s what it means.”
I stared down at the image of us and tried to see it the way Viper saw it—as a good thing. “You really think this’ll help?”
“Mark my words.” He trailed his lips down the side of my neck, and I shivered.
“But what about the guys? Won’t they be pissed it’s just us on the cover?”
I could feel him shrug and continue kissing along my shoulder. “Wasn’t our call. Wasn’t theirs either. They’ll get over it.”
I reached back to hold the back of Viper’s head while I flipped through the magazine to the feature on Fallen Angel. That was where they’d posted the group shots, and I had to admit, those looked good. I stood in the middle, all in white, while the others wore head-to-toe black, and the effect was visually stunning. And the interview wasn’t too bad, either.
“Imelda did a good job on the interview,” I said. “I half expected her to write, ‘Halo is the woefully unprepared newbie. Let’s hope he can hack it.’”
Viper chuckled and reached past me to shut the magazine. The image of us stared back at me, all that glistening skin on display. The photographer had been right about not shooting porn—my cock was thankfully hidden behind Viper’s body, but damn. I was just so…naked.
Then again, so was Viper. I concentrated on him instead, taking in the sexy pout, the strong lines of his body. Fuck, he was beautiful. He was wrong that it would be me everyone was looking at. There was no way anyone could take their eyes off him once they caught a glimpse. The look in his eyes was so full of sex and desire that it was like a tractor beam pulling you in.
When I told him as much, Viper laughed. “That’s because your hard dick was rubbing up against me. The photographer better be glad I didn’t bend you the fuck over right then and there.”
“Mmm. That would’ve been a much more indecent photo.” As Viper’s fingers flirted with the waistband of my jeans, my head fell back to rest on his shoulder. “You know, this is actually the only picture we have of us.”
“Good, ’cause I’m a fuckin’ fan.”
I grinned, and Viper’s hand moved down over my zipper, and then he began to massage my cock through my jeans.
“I thought you were hungry for breakfast,” I said.
The pressure of his hand increased as he practically growled, “I am.”
Hell, I wasn’t about to say no to that, and as his mouth crashed down on mine, I thrust my hips forward into his touch.
Eleven
Viper
I HAD TO hand it to Rolling Stone: they had a bunch of smart motherfuckers working for them, because the photograph staring up at me from my kitchen counter was spectacular.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen such a controversial image splashed across the front of a magazine. But as my eyes roamed over the smooth, tanned skin of Halo’s back and ass, my reaction told me that what I was looking at was something that was going to make one hell of an impact.
It wasn’t just the nakedness, either—though that was definitely causing the hard-on in my jeans—it was the look Jacques had captured in our eyes. He had told us he wanted to give everyone something to talk about. “I want sex. I want fire,” he’d said, and hell if he hadn’t gotten it.
I looked like I wanted to fuck, and the angel? He looked like he’d just been fucked—and wanted to be again.
The image was suggestive, provocative, and so damn sexy that I had no doubt it would be the talk of every entertainment news feed the second it hit stands, because there was no way any warm-blooded person could look at that image and not feel something. It was a fucking masterpiece, just like the man in my arms.
I nuzzled my nose into the curls by Halo’s cheek. I loved the smell of my soap lingering on his skin from his earlier shower, and as I flicked open the button of his jeans and slowly drew the zipper down, a low moan left his throat.
“Fuck. I love that sound,” I said by Halo’s ear, as he leaned his naked back against my bare chest. “It’s so needy. So eager.” Halo did it again. “And so sexy.”
I slipped my fingers down into his jeans where I knew he wore nothing underneath and flirted with the crop of curls inside the denim. Halo sighed and angled his face so he was looking back at me, and the scorching expression swirling in his eyes matched the one in that sexy-as-fuck cover photo.
“Whatcha want, Angel?”
Halo slid a hand down inside his jeans until it was covering mine, and with our eyes locked, he directed our hands over his stiff dick, and then curled our fingers around his throbbing length.
“This,” Halo said as he punched his hips forward, and this time I was the one groaning, because Christ, he felt amazing.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I whispered over his lips, my eyes greedily soaking in every flicker of emotion that crossed his face, and when I stroked our fists up to the head of his dick, Halo’s lips parted on a moan.
I lowered my head and flicked my tongue along his top lip, but when he moved to kiss me, I raised my head so I was just out of reach. Halo grunted in protest, and a smirk hit my lips as I guided our fists back down to the root of his cock, then I dragged the tip of my tongue along his lower lip, making him turn his head, trying to reach me again. But when I moved away, he whimpered.
“Viper…” Halo said, his pretty eyes pleading with me, begging me to kiss that delicious mouth of his. But I was enjoying the tease too much to stop now, and when I released my hold on him and drew his hand free of his pants to plant it on the island counter by the magazine, I shifted Halo into the position I wanted him. Legs slightly spread, hands braced on the counter, and me, close as I could get.
When Halo didn’t prot
est or tell me to stop, I reached up, pushed his hair aside, and then crowded in behind him to kiss the skin on the side of his neck beneath his ear. A tremble racked the angel’s body, and he shoved back into me, his tight ass rubbing up against my stiff prick.
“Hmm, I think it’s time we gave you a different perspective on this photo,” I said by his ear, as I slipped my fingers into the waist of his loose jeans and tugged them down under his ass. “Surely there’s something I can do to make you see it the way I do—as the hottest fucking cover that’s ever been.”
The muscles in Halo’s arms bunched, and I couldn’t stop myself from lowering my head and scraping my teeth over his shoulder blade. I peered over his shoulder to again take in the sight of us naked, oiled up, and close—but not half as close as we were about to be.
“Look at your eyes,” I said, as I wound an arm around Halo’s waist and took hold of his freed cock. “They’re so dark and heavy-lidded. You look like you do after you come.”
I wrapped my fingers around Halo, and as I began to slowly work him up and down, he cursed, and I kissed his shoulder.
“And look at that mouth… Damn, it looks sweet. So fucking sweet. But it’s not, is it, Angel? Not when it’s busy sucking me. Not when it’s cursing because I’m fucking you so good.”
“Jesus, fuck, Viper,” Halo said as his hips thrust forward, his pre-cum providing a nice, slick slide in and out of my fist.
I reached down with my free hand and quickly undid my jeans to free my own aching length. Once the pants were out of my way and my cock was cradled between the phenomenal ass cheeks that were front and center in that photograph, I planted a hand on top of the counter by Halo’s.
“And this body,” I said, and trailed my fingers down the length of Halo’s naked skin on the cover, as I rocked my hips forward in time with the rhythmic strokes I was giving his cock. “This body is going to make every person who sees this cover wish they were me.”
Halo’s moan was tortured when it came, and as he white-knuckled the counter, his head fell forward, and I drew the magazine closer to him.