by Shey Stahl
She looks out the window, her hair falling into her eyes. “Oh.”
I shift slightly toward her, draping my arm around her shoulder. “What time do you go on tonight?”
“Last.”
“Rough.”
I’m assuming she takes the meaning literally, or at the very least, a reminder as it’s meant to be. Her face tints pink, her fingertips finding the curls over her shoulder, nervously twirling them. “Not as rough as you were. . . .”
My lips brush against her neck. “You asked for it.”
“I know I did.”
With my hand on her thigh, I flatten my tongue and run a line up the side of her neck to the shell of her ear. When my hand reaches her pussy, I put pressure on my thumb against her clit, but I don’t move it. “Do you think of me every time you move?”
Red jumps at my touch, her black leggings allowing me to find the exact spot I’m looking for. “Yes,” she breathes, her breath pushed out in a gasp. Her back arches, her hips rising to my touch.
Squeezing her shoulder with my other hand, I draw her closer to my chest and angle my head to kiss her. She complies, her mouth greedily latching on to mine. While I intend on slipping my hand inside her leggings to find her wet pussy waiting for me, Red has other ideas.
She pushes my hand away in a rush and then moves to straddle me, all without breaking our kiss. Framing her face, I deepen the kiss, hungrily seeking out her tongue. With the thin material of her leggings, the moment she grinds into my erection, my entire body is on fire with need. Reaching between us, I push my hand inside the front of my jeans to adjust my cock, and then grip Red’s hips, dragging her back and forth over my erection.
She gasps and moans, breaking our kiss as she tosses her head back, tightening her hands on my shoulders. With the space between us, I hastily unzip the hoodie she’s wearing to find she’s only wearing a bra underneath it. I don’t take the time to remove it. Instead, I push it down enough that I can get one of her tits out enough to suck on her nipple. I catch the sensitive pebbled nub between my teeth, sucking and applying just enough pressure to make her squeal, but not enough to wince.
Her hips move faster with intention, and I know she’s close to coming when her thighs tighten around my hips and closes the space between our chests. I capture her lips again, needing to taste her. I let her come like this, even though I’m dying for her to come in my mouth again. She’s just about there when I think I might come too. My breathing intensifies and it takes every ounce of self-control I have.
Taking a handful of her hair, my kisses become heated as I hunch forward into her, holding her to my body as though I can’t possibly live without her. The worst part? It might just be the truth.
Red falls apart a moment later, her cries of pleasure filling the dark bus. Anyone could walk in here at any second, and neither of us would care. We’re too caught up, too involved, too much of everything to comprehend reality.
The very second she’s done I push her off me. Kicking off her shoes, she stands, hunger still swimming in her eyes as she lowers her leggings to her ankles and steps out of them. Her motions are quick and eager, like she can’t possibly waste any time. I’m right there with her, my jeans now around my ankles, my cock out and waiting.
It’s when she’s on my lap again, she hesitates. “Do you have a condom?”
I nod to the counter on the other side of us. “There’s some in the top drawer.”
“Nice. Condoms next to the forks.”
I laugh and reach for her hand the moment she digs one out. I’m impatient with need, drowning in her beauty. My breath comes out in gasps as she rips the package open with her teeth and then slides the condom on.
The moment her lips touch mine, the world stops around me and all I see is her. Her tongue slips into my mouth and I kiss her with everything I have. I grab her by the hips and she straddles me again, easing down on my cock. I groan, “Jesus Christ, fuck. . . .” I don’t even know what I’m saying, or doing, just that it feels fucking amazing.
She rides me, a fast pace with her tits pressed against my chest and her mouth on mine. “I missed you,” she gasps into my mouth.
I shake my head. “I need you.” I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, my hips rising to meet hers. I want to come. No, I fucking need to. It’s too intense.
At one point, the door opens and in walks Cruz, but he says nothing, only smiles. Red’s too caught up in the moment to stop. The motherfucker stands there for a moment watching, until I flip him off and throw the bottle of whiskey that’s on the seat next to me at him.
Laughing, he dodges it and rushes out the door.
Red twists her head. “What was that?” she pants, gasping and arching into me.
I can barely get the words out between breaths. “Nothing.”
Her hands cling to my shoulders, the tips of her fingers digging into my skin. “Say my name when you come.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. I lift my head, my lips hovering over hers. “I’m coming. . . princess.”
My balls tighten, the beginning of my orgasm surfacing. Pleasure shoots through the backs of my thighs, up my balls to the base of my cock. I grunt, curse, gasp, toss my head back against the couch and drive up into her harder. And then I’m coming inside her. Watching her pant into my shoulder, her hair in my face. It’s so hot, so goddamn infuriating at the same time because I can’t stay away from her.
After stuffing myself back in my pants, Red slips into the bathroom. When she’s finished, she steps out and lingers by the door, staring down at me and the flask in my hand. “How long have you been drinking this morning? You look like shit.”
I shrug and set the flask aside. “I don’t think I’ve stopped since I started.”
“And that was?”
“Probably around the time my grandpa died and left me that Gibson over there.” I gesture to the guitar leaning against the dinette to our left.
She ties up her hair in a knot on top of her head, her eyes narrow in on the guitar. “What time do you go on tonight?”
“Third.”
She nods, chewing on her bottom lip. I hold my palm out to her. She takes it and lets me draw her closer. While she remains standing, I wrap my arms around her waist, my chin resting on her stomach. She looks down at me, her hands in my hair. “Rev, what are we doing?”
I shrug, wondering the same thing but refusing to say it. Emotion wells up inside my chest, begs me to tell her what it is we’re doing, but refusing to admit that when this tour’s over, this might not be something that survives. In many ways, I’m incapable of being what she needs, and she knows it. I don’t want to think about anything beyond this moment with her and being inside her again.
She fists her hands in my hair, tugging softly until my eyes meet hers. I hate the way she looks at me, like she’s fallen and knows I just did.
Fuck you, love. You’re a monster. I swore we’d never be friends again.
ROSES OF REVENGE
TAYLAN
I want to kill him. I’m dead serious. Of all the nights for us to sing the never-before heard “Roses of Revenge” it’s tonight at Madison Square Garden in front of a sold-out crowd.
“I’m so nervous!”
Bella hands me my tea and wraps a damp cloth around the back of my neck. “Stop it. You’re fine.”
“No, I’m not.” I grab my stomach, reaching for whatever it is beside me. It happens to be an equipment box. “I think I’m going to throw up. What if—”
“No. There’s no what if.” She removes the cloth, running her hands over my back and moves in front of me. “There’s only you can, you will, and it will be amazing. Now get your redheaded ass out there and show them what this rock ‘n’ roll ginger is made of.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Bella’s pep talk sinks in. Over her shoulder, I see him, center stage, watching me. Revel motions me forward, his lips pressed to the microphone. “Tell me, New York. . . you wild motherfuckers wanna hear a new song?
It won’t disappoint.”
Naturally, the crowd roars in response. Everything inside me flutters and warms toward him, for him, as I take a step forward.
With his eyes heavy on mine as he begins the opening riff, my confidence surfaces. I strut toward him, a microphone in my hand as he sings the first line, “If I’m being honest.”
I smile at him, winking as I sing, “I saw it for what it was.”
“Lie to me if you want.” His eyes lock on mine, our bodies inches apart, the heavy drum beat and blues guitar a background to our duet.
The stage lights move to me, my hair a curtain over my shoulder, shielding my face from the crowd. “The truth comes out eventually.”
With his Fender swung behind his back, Revel leans in closer, the warmth of his forearm touching mine and then it happens, he takes my hand on stage. Holy crap. He’s holding my hand. My eyes dart to the lip of the stage, lower to the audience for a reaction. Everyone’s eyes are on us. In front of thousands of people as his voice carries through me. “Take this rose of revenge, what’ll ya make of it? It’s the axe that forgets, the tree remembers. Honey, I’m on my knees.”
My cheeks heat, my stomach jolting at the emotion in his eyes. “Go ahead, test my loyalty and you’ll see.”
He winks at me, drawing me closer. His chest expands with the next line, “It’s a lock you never had the key for.”
“You wanna start a war?” I tease, my hand on my hip like we’re playing out the song we’re singing. On the outside, I’m acting. On the inside, my heart is racing. I’m sweating and my armpits itch with nerves.
Letting go of my hand, Revel surprises me, and everyone else when he touches his palm to my face, kisses me. On. The. Lips. And then sings, “Know what you’re fighting for.”
I don’t move at first. I don’t even think I’m breathing. Am I? Do I look okay? Am I dead? My brain overloads me with thoughts, and all my heart can do is thump wildly to the kick of the bass and the flow of the blues guitar Revel adds to the riff before the chorus.
He smirks, winking at me. Had he been planning that all along? My eyes sweep to Bella’s on the side stage and then his bandmates who are all smiling too.
Well-played, Revel. Well-fucking-played. Look at the smirk that follows. He knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he? My heart beats so loudly I can’t hear anything aside from the roar of the crowd, the screams from the women hating me, and Revel pushing into the chorus. “I give you these roses of regret. I don’t know any other way. All I want is to forget. Deception digs deep. Shhh, you were never mine to keep.”
Forcing myself to take a breath, I stare at him. My throat feels tight, tears stinging my eyes, but they don’t slip past my lashes. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he’s looking at me right now. Never had someone show so much confidence in me.
The rest of the song goes by in a blur, and I’m caught up on the kiss. There have been rumors surrounding us since the first night of the tour, and with one kiss, he laid them all to rest without saying a word.
I don’t remember finishing the song. And I don’t remember the audience’s reaction to it. What I do remember is the warmth of his body, the way that kiss made me feel like I was a million-feet tall because he showed the world the princess of the pop had a place beside him on stage. Not behind him, not in front of him, right next to the vulnerable, definitely drunk, and slightly crazy Revel Slade.
We all lose ourselves in love in different ways. Some fall with a look, a gesture, time spent together. We fall at different times, and I think in front of thousands on a stage at Madison Square Garden, that’s when my heart fully chooses to let him in.
“What the heck was that?” I gasp, gripping his forearms as we stumble off stage, both of us high on adrenaline.
He sheds his soaked shirt, and my cheeks heat again as he smirks playfully at me. He reaches for a towel Cliff hands him, smiling at the guys patting him on the back, and me. His hair falls into his eyes, sweat sliding down his temples and cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he teases.
“Yes you do!” I squeal when he wraps his arms around me and lifts me up off the floor. Shivers attack me from my spine to my toes and his warm breath tickles my neck. I look down at him, his face flushed, the blue in his eyes highlighted by the lights from the stage next to us. My breath is shaky as I exhale. “You know everyone is going to be talking about that.”
His eyes hold mine, heavy weights taking me under. I watch his face, search his sincerity, looking for the swagger I saw on stage. It’s not there any longer. He’s vulnerable and looking for approval. Deep down, underneath the cockiness, he cares. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat with his swallow. “Let ’em talk, Red,” he states, his words holding certainty.
When he brushes his nose to my chin, I dip my head lower. “Are you sure about that?”
His lips hover over mine. “I give you these roses of regret. I don’t know no other way,” he whispers.
When he kisses me, I kiss him back, with meaning.
The kiss doesn’t last long before he’s pressing me against equipment and getting a little out of hand. His hands are everywhere, on my breasts, my butt, all in front of the stage crew, other bands and. . . my dad.
“Revel,” I gasp against his mouth, pushing back on his bare shoulders when he’s biting my neck, my hands slipping off from the sweat. He doesn’t hear me at first. He’s too obsessed with trying to get me naked in public.
Dad clears his throat. “Put my daughter down.”
That catches Revel’s attention. Not me, not the hundreds of people around us. No, it’s my dad and his words, “Put my daughter down.”
Revel presses his forehead against mine, his eyes on my dad. He smells like whiskey and Camel Lights. “Not until I get her off,” he says, winking at my dad.
There’s a fraction of me that doesn’t like him talking like that in front of my dad, but then there’s a better part of me that enjoyed it. I hold my breath, waiting for my dad’s reaction.
Dad narrows his eyes, a murderous expression set on Revel. His jaw clenches and he tucks his cell phone into his jacket. Over his shoulder, I notice Bella and Liz staring at us, waiting to see what’s going to happen.
Without another word, my dad turns to leave. I’ve never seen my dad back down to anyone, until Revel.
My eyes slide back to Revel, still confused about what that was between him and my dad, let alone how I feel about it. “Now what?”
Revel keeps his eyes on mine, burning with lust. I tighten my thighs around his waist, wishing he’d put me down because it’s awkward, but then praying he doesn’t.
“Princess,” he groans as he backs me up against speakers, his erection pushing between my thighs, teasing it, his eyes never breaking from mine. “How do you feel about public indecency.”
I give him a shy smile. “Never thought about it.”
“Would you stop me?” he asks gruffly as he grabs my hips and takes me around the corner of the stage, then down a riser and underneath the main stage as Breckin performs. He doesn’t set me down until I’m propped on a black equipment box.
The way he looks at me, the intensity in his eyes, my confidence soars like it did on stage with him. “No.” Darkness surrounds us, smoke filtering through from the stage above, and the thump in my chest from the music competes with the blood rushing in my ears. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside. He’s shirtless already, but working on his jeans and my pants at the same time, his actions hasty, needy and uncontrolled. He stumbles, widening his stance to slide me to the edge of the box and against his erection.
I’m conscious of the problems with the scenario—aware of the fact that stage managers, roadies, assistants, basically everyone is just on the other side of the shadows we’re in. Anyone can walk around the corner at any minute. But I care about none of that as much as the way he’s responding to me and the way my body is reacting to his every touch.
I give up and tilt my
mouth to his, inviting the kiss, my fingers working their way to his temple so I can run my fingers through his hair. A stifled moan works its way from his throat, his grip on my hips tightening as he presses his mouth more firmly against mine. My hands sweep back down along his jaw. He hasn’t shaved in a while, and his stubble scratches my lips, but it’s exactly what I want.
I grip his neck, my hands fisting in his hair. He moans quietly again, a noise that’s barely heard over the loud music surrounding us. We’re having trouble keeping still, our bodies tilting and swaying gently to the side and against one another as the kissing intensifies. My heart hammers against my breastbone, breathing escaping me entirely. I can’t help myself, my hips move, making more direct, persistent contact with his.
Revel groans in my ear, a noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan as his body answers mine. “I can’t wait any longer…,” he says, moving his hips, and I clench my eyes shut at the heightening of every sensation I’m already feeling.
I grab onto his shoulders as he slides my leather pants off, which is rather difficult considering I’d just been sweating my butt off on stage but it’s strangely comforting that he’s just as sweaty. When he has me naked and his jeans around his ankles, he keeps his eyes on mine as he reaches for his cock and runs the tip over my clit. “I don’t have a condom,” he admits, waiting for my answer.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, so ready for him. “I’m on the pill.” I swallow hard, and a begging noise escapes my lips. I should care that he’s been with so many different women, but it’s not enough to stop me from allowing it.
He likes that I’m trusting him with this. I can tell by the way his muscles tense. My heart pounds, my skin is hot and sticky, my nipples hardening as the heat of him brushes against them.
Exhaling slowly, he keeps a grip on my hip as he pushes himself inside me. He says nothing.
I take in a deep breath and try to focus on every sensation, from head to toe, letting it all sink in. I still can’t believe this is happening while my ex-boyfriend is playing above us and we’re in public. Me. Having sex with Revel Slade beneath the stage at Madison Square Garden.
