“And funny.” The two words are a disgruntled statement, not a question.
“Yes. Cute and funny. You laughed at me checking you out a minute ago.”
He looks at the wall and tilts his head to the side, considering my statement. “True. Fine. You make a good point. I guess we’re even.” With a kiss, he releases my hands.
“No, I don’t think we are,” I say, my fingers immediately finding the ticklish spots under his arms.
He flinches, his arms clapping to his sides and trapping my hands. But I can still wiggle my fingers enough that he squirms and yells, “Aaaaah! Fine! Fine! You win! I’m sorry!”
I push on his hip with my leg, and he lets me flip him over, my hands still trapped under his arms. I roll on top of him and give him a kiss. He finally moves his arms, wrapping them around me and releasing my hands at the same time. But I don’t care about being released now. I slide my hands under his shoulders, kissing him back, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke.
With a groan, he ends the kiss. “You better go see what Kendra wants,” he says. “And while you’re there, think about moving in with me for the break. You don’t have to answer me now. Just promise you’ll think about it.”
The way he asks me to promise makes me think he won’t accept my answer if I give it to him now. Maybe this is a bigger deal than I thought. Maybe I should take some time to consider the situation from all angles, though from where I’m sitting I’m having trouble coming up with a downside.
I give him one more kiss and slide to the side to climb off him, giving a longing look to where his hard cock lays on his belly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I could take care of that for you.”
He gives a throaty chuckle and reaches out to squeeze my ass. “I can wait till you get back. You should go hang with her. Kendra’s been lonelier this stint since Blaire’s gone. It’d be good for both of you to become better friends.”
My brows draw together again, once more puzzled. “But she has Ava and Sam.”
He raises one eyebrow in response. “The moms? You think she feels like she fits in with them?”
I open my mouth to answer in the affirmative, but then think back to our girls’ night and the way those two seemed to commiserate more, leaving the rest of us out of a lot of their conversations about babies and diapers and breastfeeding. Not on purpose. Not to be mean. It’s just where their lives are right now, so it dominates their minds and therefore their conversations. The rest of us without kids can’t relate, so we had our own conversations.
“I see your point,” I concede at last. Is Kendra disappointed that we haven’t hung out more? Looking back at the times she sought me out, I can see it now as an attempt to befriend me, bring me into her circle. I was just too caught up in my own feelings of being an outsider that were compounded by Mason’s initial treatment of me to recognize it for what it was. I thought if Mason just saw me as barely a step up from a groupie, probably everyone else did too, even if they were too nice to actually treat me that way.
But now I know that was Mason working through his own shit in the worst way.
“Alright. I’ll go see what Kendra wants. And when I come back, we can resume naked day.”
Mason watches me dress, pulls me in for one more brief kiss, and I head for Kendra’s room.
Kendra answers the door before I finish knocking, grabs my arm, and drags me inside. “Good! You’re here. I wasn’t sure if Mason would be able to keep his hands off you long enough for you to come. But this is important.”
“He’s not some kind of crazed sex fiend,” I say, following her into the bedroom of their suite, feeling the need to defend him. Though, to be fair, we would be having sex now if she hadn’t demanded my presence. But I’m not going to say that out loud. “Anyway, what’s so important that you summoned me without telling me why?”
With a flourish, she reveals a rack of dresses next to the bed. “I heard you’re going as Mason’s date to the awards show. That means you need a dress. A killer dress. Better than the ones the PR company would send over for you as just the PA. Since he’s the last single guy in the band, the paps are going to be all over you two. You need to look the part.”
I stop in the middle of the room and gulp. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to be his date, but with Kendra’s description … maybe I don’t. Not really.
“Uh, I thought they usually left him alone? Aren’t they more interested in Marcus and you since he’s the frontman? And Danny? I usually see more about them in the tabloids than Aaron or Mason.”
Kendra gives me a look that’s almost pitying. I guess sympathetic might be a better word. She hums thoughtfully as she turns to the dresses. “It depends on the day. Mason’s had his share of tabloid headlines, though definitely not as many since you came on scene. But when Blaire first left for Beckett Stone’s tour …” Trailing off, she shakes her head and pulls out a burgundy gown, holding it up for my inspection.
“It’s no secret that he went off the rails. There were lots of pictures of him. Most weren’t pretty.” She thrusts the dress at me. “Go try it on. I’ll wait here.”
Reflexively taking the hanger from her, I still hesitate until she shoos me toward the bathroom. She’s right, though. As much as this is catching me off guard more than it should, I do need a dress for this thing. And if she wants to help me, who am I to turn that down? I know she comes from money back East, plus she’s been with Marcus for a while now, so if anyone knows how to dress for something like this, it’s Kendra.
I quickly strip out of my clothes and step into the gown, holding it to my chest as I come back out. “Can you zip me up?”
Kendra’s face lights up like she’s thrilled I’d even ask, and she hops off the bed to help me. With both of us facing the mirror, she pulls the zipper all the way up, doing up the hook at the top of the slim strapless sheath. Rose gold embroidery trails down one side, splitting at the thigh high slit that allows me to walk.
“That one’s pretty. We’ll keep it as a possible.” Returning to the rack, she flicks through a few more, glancing between me and the dresses every so often before pulling out a pale pink chiffon gown and handing it to me. “This one next.”
We continue with this, Kendra taking me in with a critical gaze and giving nothing away as she has me try on dress after dress after dress until I lose count.
Finally we settle on a crimson dress with a deep V neck and a full skirt that looks almost vintage. “Yes,” she says, clasping her hands together. “This will go great with that red lipstick you love to wear. Subtle eye makeup, maybe a sparkly clip in your hair … You’ll be gorgeous.”
I blush at her praise, my mind still whirring with her revelations. “Good enough not to get eaten alive by the press?”
This time her look is definitely pitying. “Oh, sweetie, I’m not sure anything can save you from that. There are always people who take joy in tearing others down. But I think most of them will be more curious than awful, at least to start with, wondering about the woman who had the power to tame Cataclysm’s notorious partier.” She steps closer, adjusting one of the straps on the gown. “We’ll get together again and practice what will happen.” Her eyes are kind when they meet mine. “We’ll get you through this. The first time is always the worst. Next time, it’ll be a little easier, and eventually it’ll be old hat.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “You got this. And we’re all here to help.”
Suddenly I’m glad Mason encouraged me to come. I feel a thousand times better about this event, even as Kendra’s warnings that nothing we do will prevent negative press turn my stomach. But Mason will be with me. Kendra and Blaire will have my back. And I feel a little more like I’m part of the chosen family that Marcus insists everyone on the tour is.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mason
I’m dying on the inside while Viola gets dressed for the awards show tonight. She spent two hours in Kendra’s room earlier getting her h
air and makeup done, and when she came back … holy shit.
She’s fucking hot always, but she looked absolutely fierce. And that was before she got her dress on.
I’m already dressed in my tailored Tom Ford suit—slate gray, complete with a vest, but without a tie, leaving the top buttons of my shirt unbuttoned. My hair is slicked back away from my face, but since I can’t keep my hands out of it, I know I’ll have a few strands falling forward by the time we hit the red carpet.
The PR team will have our red carpet escorts there, and I know Kendra and the other women have talked to Viola about how that’ll go with her. Since none of them are famous, they’ll get pulled off to the side while we get our pictures taken together. But there’ll still be photographers wanting to catch us all paired off.
“Mason.” Viola’s voice floats out of the bedroom. “Can you help with my zipper?”
I’d fucking love to help with her zipper. But what I’d really love is to unzip that zipper. Unfortunately when she walked in with her hair and makeup done and I approached for a kiss, she put her hand in my face and said no. “You can’t mess up my face.” And when I pouted, she laughed.
I crack the door and poke my head in. She has her back to me, scarlet fabric draping her curves, the zipper pulled up as far as she could reach and a sliver of exposed skin peeking out between the two halves of the dress. Stepping in close, I pinch the tiny zipper and slowly pull it up, bending to kiss her where her neck meets her shoulder.
She shivers under my lips. “Mason.” I’m not sure if she meant my name to be a warning, but it sounds more like a plea.
When she turns in my arms, my breath freezes. She’s literally breathtaking. Holding one of her hands, I take a step back so I can take her in fully. “Damn, V. You look …” I shake my head slowly at a loss for words.
She bites her lip while she waits for me to finish my statement, a hint of concern in her eyes when I meet them.
“You look amazing,” I say at last. “So beautiful. Everyone’s gonna take one look at you and think I’m the luckiest man alive that I get to take you home with me.”
A pretty blush paints her skin, and I pull her in close to me again, holding her gently, careful not to wrinkle our clothes or muss her hair or makeup. Even if she hadn’t blocked my kiss ten minutes ago, I know enough to know better. I drop another kiss on her shoulder next to the wide red satin strap, the only safe place for a kiss right now. “It’s gonna be a long fucking night till I can peel you out of this dress,” I grumble.
She laughs, stepping away and looking me over. “Same, dude. You look edible in that suit, with the open collar and the scruff and the tiny hints of ink at your cuffs and collar? Mmmm.”
I can’t help my giant grin, because while I’ve caught her checking me out plenty of times, and she’s mentioned briefly that she especially enjoys the show when we’ve all stripped off our shirts, this is the most open she’s been with her commentary. “Yeah?” I slide my hands down the front of my vest. “Glad you like it.”
Stepping in close again, she runs her fingers along the open collar of my jacket. “I really, really like it. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you so dressed up.”
“Guys in suits get you hot, huh?”
She raises her eyes to mine, shaking her head. “Not just any guy. My guy. You. You in a suit gets me hot.”
A low groan rumbles out of my chest. I can’t help it. The combination of her gentle possessiveness plus outright stating that I get her hot? Damn. I was half hard from just looking at her, but that’s got me steel-beam ready. “Keep talking like that, and I might embarrass myself on the red carpet.”
Her eyes roam over me, from my face, down my chest, and when they get to the obvious tent in my pants, they widen, a smile pulling at her lips. She lets out a thoughtful hum, her eyes narrowing when they meet mine again. “Think we can … take care of that without wrinkling our clothes?” Then she palms my dick through my pants.
Fuck. Shit.
“Yeah,” I grit out, not really sure if that’s the truth but with her hand gripping me and looking like that, that’s the only answer I’m willing to give. “Bend over the bed.”
She gives me another squeeze before letting go and doing what I said. I take off my jacket and hang it up before retrieving a condom from the side table and stepping up behind her.
Carefully, I lift the bottom of her skirt and lay it over her back, caressing her ass and thighs for a moment before hooking my fingers in her thong and dragging it down. It falls around her ankles, but she doesn’t bother to step out of it and kick it aside. We both know this is going to be quick.
I undo my pants and take my cock out, quickly rolling on the condom and tossing the wrapper aside before resuming my caresses. Squeezing her ass, I pull her cheeks apart to look at the wet heaven waiting for me between her thighs. God, I want to taste her. But there isn’t time right now. Plus, the goal is to preserve both of our clothes. I’m not sure eating her out would accomplish that. And while it’s sexy to think about having the smell of her embedded in my face all night long, I think it would actually just drive me crazy, and I’d end up fucking her in a bathroom somewhere. Since one of the other goals tonight is to show her off in the best light, I don’t think fucking her at the afterparty—or during the show—is a great way to accomplish that. She’s going to get dragged through the mud to some degree anyway. No need to add fuel to that fire.
Slipping my hand between her legs, I massage her lips, parting them to drag my finger up and down a few times before plunging it inside her. She presses back against my hand with a gasp. “More.”
I add another finger, turning my hand over to rub the front wall of her pussy. Her legs start trembling almost immediately, and her inner muscles tighten around my fingers. God, she’s so fucking responsive. It’s one of my favorite things about her.
“Please, Mason,” she whimpers. “Just fuck me already.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And even though she literally just begged me to fuck her, she still clenches on my fingers as I withdraw them and moans at the loss. But when I press the head of my dick against her opening, the moan turns into a drawn out, hissed, “Yessss.”
I slide into her in one long, slow movement, knowing I can’t take forever, but wanting to stretch this out as much as I can.
“You feel so amazing,” I whisper to her, stroking her hips as I begin to move inside her. Not much at first, starting off at a leisurely pace, but she bucks against me, urging me faster, and I can’t deny her anything that she wants. At all. I doubt she even realizes how much power she has over me. I’d do anything for her.
I pick up the pace, pounding into her now, my fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady, wrapped in the sounds of our ragged breathing and our skin slapping into each other.
She wasn’t kidding about being turned on already, not that there was any doubt in my mind. But she’s coming in almost no time, her pussy squeezing me, her legs trembling against me, a soft cry coming from her lips. I push harder, moving faster, doing my best not to topple us both onto the bed as I fuck her through her orgasm and chase my own.
This woman is undoing me bit by bit, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Electricity zips down my spine, my balls draw up tight, and I follow her over the edge, only my hands on her hips keeping her from flopping onto the bed.
I hold myself deep inside her as the last of my aftershocks fade away, and when I withdraw, we’re both trembling and barely able to stay upright. “God, I want to kiss you so bad right now,” I say as she reaches down and pulls up her panties.
She raises a hand to my face, and I capture it with mine and kiss her wrist.
“Thank you,” she whispers, locked in the moment with me.
But then it’s over, and PA Viola is back in the house. “Now go deal with your condom and straighten up. We’re going to be l
ate.”
Chuckling, I head for the bathroom, tossing out a, “Yes, ma’am,” on my way.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Viola
Walking the red carpet is dizzying. A PR intern shadows us, barking orders at me and pulling me off to the side as the cameras flash and people with microphones stop the guys to answer inane questions.
The guys are in full form, smiling their dazzling smiles, looking beautiful and put together as they loiter in front of the press corps. Marcus answers a question, and they all laugh while I stand off to the side with Kendra, Ava, and Sam.
Kendra sidles up to me. “Deep breaths,” she says, taking one of her own in illustration.
I crack a grin as I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Yeah. Thanks. This is …”
She nods. “Crazy. I know. You’ll get used to it, though. Promise. And that dress is killer. All those cameramen are wondering who you are to be looking so fierce tonight. Why don’t they know your name?”
I glance around, following her pointed gaze, surprised to see several fish-eye lenses pointing our direction. She pats my arms, drawing my attention back to her. “Don’t worry about it too much. It’s part of the deal now. You’ll be fine. And everyone who really knows you knows better than to believe the things written in tabloids anyway.”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. “Right,” I croak. “I’m sure they do.”
And while I know she meant the comment to be reassuring, it really just reminds me that I don’t like being the center of attention. The fact that there are photographers paying more attention to me than the beautiful people on the red carpet has me flustered, and I try to shrink behind the other women.
Kendra won’t let me though, putting her arm around me in what appears to be a companionable side hug, but is really intended to force me back into my former position. “Nah-ah-ah,” she chides, a wide fake grin on her face. “No hiding. That’ll only make things worse. They’re like wild animals. Don’t show fear. Don’t turn your back. Otherwise, they’ll rip you to shreds.”
Anyone But You Page 21
