“They can’t know—okay? About this.”
“I know.”
“Fuck it,” I say, giving up on my jeans. My room is across the hall. I’ll make a run for it if the coast is clear. “I’ll see you—talk to you later.” I back up toward the door. “Thank you for having me?”
He laughs and saunters over to me, buck naked and at half-mast.
Dammit.
I really wanted to do it again.
He cups my face and kisses me. “Thank you. See you for lunch?”
I nod and open the door, looking up and down the hall.
Nico stands behind me and pats me on the bum, watches me make my mad dash across the hall and fumble with the key card.
“You just can’t stop running away from me, can you?” he says. He’s grinning, but it’s a real question.
“I really do want to do that again,” I stage whisper as I open the door to my room. “A lot.”
He nods and lets his door close. “Good.”
18
Nico
“Oh, holy jalapeno! That is a surprising taste explosion of sassy, crunchy, slimy deliciousness in my mouth. Mmm mmm!”
Lou insisted we drive out to a southern fried chicken restaurant that she learned about on the Food Network and now Kat’s filming her as she samples the food, because apparently Lou thinks she should star in a show about Lou eating and talking about food.
“Somebody else try this—I have never had fried green tomatoes before in my life, but they are just sensational. Kat, try it.”
“I’ve barely touched my own food. I need to put the camera away.”
“Oh wait—I still have to try the hoecakes!”
Kat rolls her eyes. “Hurry up.”
“Nico, you must have some.”
“It looks great but I’m already full and I want to save a little room for dessert.” I just annihilated my chicken and waffles and I think I’ll have to do my show lying down tonight. They really know how to eat in Texas. The biscuits and gravy were so good I almost stopped thinking about Kat coming on my face for a minute, but now I’m looking across the table at her and remembering how she spilled out of that bra while she was straddling me and I’m getting a mother clucking boner under my giant cloth napkin.
Ricky stuffs an entire tomato slice in his mouth, hems and haws. “It’s good, but it is not outstanding.”
“Agree to disagree,” Louise replies.
“All due respect, Lulu, my meemaw’s fried green tomatoes are a ten. These are a solid eight. Which is high praise from a southern boy. But I’m glad you like ‘em.” He grins. I’m not sure when Ricky started calling her Lulu, but I don’t think her face has gone all pink because of the hot peppers.
“Well, for a Southern California-Jersey Girl tourist, these are off the charts.”
“Tate, try a little bite.”
“Noooo thank ya.”
Kat finally puts away her video camera. “Okay, that’s a wrap. I’m calling lunch for the crew.” She goes to town on a drumstick, moaning and groaning and hot dang I’m going to have to do my show from right here in this chair at this table because if I stand up, I will frighten the children and Lou will smoke me like the bacon that she declared was “mouthwateringly hog-tastic.”
Kat and I haven’t been alone together since the other three returned from the aquarium, so we haven’t had a chance to talk about what happened this morning and when we’re going to do what we did again and again and again.
I think we’re both doing a pretty good job of hiding the fact that we’ve seen each other naked.
“How do you like the food, Tate?” she leans to the side, nudging her son with her elbow, sucking on her fingers.
“I liked the chicken and the buns.”
“The biscuits?”
“Yeah. Biscuits.”
Wait—what’s happening? Something is touching the inside of my thigh, under the table.
“Did you try the coleslaw?” Kat is completely focused on her son’s plate, but…
Winner winner chicken dinner! Her bare foot is touching my rock hard crotch. Her eyes widen and she glances over at me, oh so briefly.
Tate wrinkles his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t want it. It’s slimy.”
I also make a face at Kat and subtly shake my head at her—not unless you want gravy all over those pretty toes when you’re sitting next to your son, darlin’. She slides her foot away, looking a little sheepish, but gosh darnit this girl sure does butter my biscuit.
“Buddy, you need to eat some vegetables.”
“I’ve got an idea,” I exclaim, sounding like a guy who totally doesn’t have a cock-a-doodle dandy in his jeans. “Why don’t we play the Straight Face eating game?”
“What’s that game?”
“That’s where we all tell jokes to try to make you laugh, and if you laugh you have to take a bite of coleslaw.”
Lou claps while swallowing her hoecake. “Yes!”
Tate laughs. “Wait—that laugh didn’t count, right?!”
“I don’t know—ask your mom.”
Kat is busy trying to get her sandal back on. “Huh? Oh. No, that didn’t count. But get ready to eat the whole bowl, little man, cuz we’re hilarious.”
“I’ll go first,” Lou says, wiping her mouth and waving a hand. “How do you make a hot dog stand?”
“Take away its chair,” Tate frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“What happens if we don’t make Tate laugh?” Kat asks, looking up at me, timidly.
“You must live with the shame. Ricky?”
“What did Mick Jagger say to his salad?” Ricky grins.
“Who’s Mick Jagger?”
He looks at Louise and says, “I’ll never be your beets of burden.”
Kat covers her mouth with her napkin and guffaws, mostly because of the confused look on her mother’s face.
“I don’t get it,” Tate shrugs.
I pat Ricky on the shoulder. “Nice one, though.” I fix Tate with a serious stare, and he’s already trying hard not to smile. “What do you call a teacher who never farts in public?”
Tate’s eyes light up at the word “fart.”
“A private tooter.”
He busts a gut laughing at that one and takes a bite of coleslaw.
“Fart joke,” Kat nods, appreciatively. “Well played.”
“I’ve got a million of ‘em,” I say.
That makes Tate fall apart again. “A million farts!” He points at me. “He has a million farts!”
“You take another bite of coleslaw for that.”
“Aww, no fair!” He groans but takes another bite because he’s a good kid.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” Kat asks, looking directly at me.
“Because the bathroom was across the street?” Tate guesses.
“Because the chicken next to her farted,” Kat and I both say at the same time.
Tate snort laughs, and now we know that all we have to do is say the word ‘fart’ and he’ll have a belly full of slimy shredded cabbage in no time.
“Did you hear the one about the sad blind skunk?” Ricky says. “He fell in love with a fart.”
Louise just shakes her head and takes a sip of her mimosa.
“Why should you never fart in an elevator?” I offer. “Because it’s wrong on so many levels.”
Tate only has about three mouthfuls left in the bowl and I keep getting an eyeful of slaw every time he laughs.
“Hey!” Kat taps him on the shoulder. “Lou and I were at a movie once and she leaned over and said to me, ‘I just let out a really long, silent fart! What should I do?’ And I said to her, ‘I think it’s time you got some hearing aids.’”
Ricky nearly dies laughing at that, but Tate doesn’t get it yet.
“Because it was actually a really loud fart, but she couldn’t hear it,” Kat explains.
That sends Tate over the edge.
“Why should we all stop tellin
g fart jokes while we’re eating?” Lou says, glowering in distaste. “Because they totally stink.”
It takes us all a second to realize she just told a joke, but I have a whole new appreciation for Kat’s mom, and one look at Ricky has me wondering if I’m the only one who’s trying to hide something under his napkin.
I like these people.
I feel all warm and gooey inside and it’s not just the high-end comfort food that’s making me feel that way.
* * *
My Dallas show was a total success. The audience was super enthusiastic, the merch girl has informed me that she’s sold out of everything my tour manager sent her, and I played “Trouble” for the first time. People loved it, and I am dying to get Kat backstage so we can talk about it.
She’s wearing a red sundress with a little cardigan over it, and I want those long bare legs propped up on my shoulders again.
She’s getting candid shots of me interacting with people by the stage, from about twenty feet away, as usual. I am somehow able to give the fans my full attention while being completely aware of where my photographer is at all times. We’re going to spend the night in Dallas again, so Tate and Lou are sleeping at the hotel and I already told Ricky to load up the bus. Kat and I will take an Uber back.
The crowd around me is thinning, and all I can think about is giving Kat a private encore, when a familiar-looking woman approaches me, head tilted and smirking.
Oh shit, I remember you.
“Hey there, Nico Todd,” she coos. “Welcome back to Dallas.” She leans in to kiss my cheek.
“Hey, you,” I say, shaking her hand and looking over at Kat, who’s still got her camera pointed at me. “Long time no see…Maya.”
“Very good,” she says, congratulating me for remembering her name. “And here I thought I must not have been very memorable since you didn’t text me back.”
“I’ve been so busy—sorry about that. How’ve you been?”
She does PR for one of the local radio stations and she spent the night in my hotel room last year when I came through as an opening act. She was cool, and very…forthright. And I need her to go away immediately.
“I’d be happy to give you the rundown, if you really want to know. You free for a drink later?” she asks, as if there’s no one else around.
I glance over at Kat again. “I’m not free, actually, I have plans with someone. But thanks for coming to the show—it’s great to see you.”
She follows my gaze and narrows her eyes at Kat. “Well, it was my pleasure I’m sure. I got a comp from the station, of course, but you know I’m a big fan of your work.” She places a business card in my hand. “In case you change your mind, I’ll be up late. And I can make the drive out to Austin too, if you’d like.” She touches my arm and then walks away.
I should be relieved, except that she’s heading straight for Kat.
“Can you sign this for my sister?” a guy says to me, handing me a Charmer record and a gold Sharpie marker.
“What’s her name?” I ask, watching Maya.
The guy clears his throat. “Dave.”
I look at him, briefly. He’s a big guy and I’m not going to argue with him, but… “Your sister’s name is Dave?”
“My brother, I mean. My gay brother Dave is a big fan of you. He couldn’t make it, so…” He takes a picture of me with his camera while I’m autographing the record cover. “That was a great show.”
“Thanks, man. Thanks for coming. Tell Dave I say ‘hi.’”
He smiles. “Cool. He’s a really big fan. He thinks this is your best album yet.”
“Cool.” I look over at Maya, and—shit. She’s talking to Kat. Kat’s holding up her camera so Maya can look at the display screen. Kat is frowning at me.
Fuck.
I sign autographs and take selfies with the last few girls who are waiting around, and then excuse myself to go talk to Kat. Maya has disappeared, and Kat is heading for the exit.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the hotel.”
“Come backstage with me.”
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d want me to,” she says, innocently. “I figured you’d be busy.”
“I’m going to get busy with you in a minute.”
“We’ll see about that,” she huffs.
So, she’s feeling spicy. This should be interesting. I touch the small of her back and she fidgets, stepping away from me, glaring at me.
I stretch my arms overhead, crack my neck.
This should be very interesting.
We are silent as we head to my dressing room. She waits, arms crossed, for me to open the door. I stand in front of the open door and gesture for her to enter. She brushes past me, taunting me with her perfume and her pouty red lips, looking around. I lock the door.
“Where’s all your stuff?”
“I told Ricky to take it back to the hotel. You and I will get a car back later.”
“Oh really?”
“What did Maya say to you?”
“Oh—Maya? She was very friendly, indeed, in a strange passive-aggressive sort of way.”
“What did she say?”
Kat drops her cameras to the sofa and paces around. “She gave me her business card. Said she does PR for the local radio station that sponsored your show, asked if she could see some of my shots of you. And then said that if I’m interested in a threesome, I should call her tonight.”
Whoa. “I am…really sorry about that.” I have to stifle a laugh, because—shit.
“Yeah, it’s pretty funny, huh?”
“I certainly wouldn’t take it seriously.”
“I mean, it’s not the first time I’ve been propositioned like that, but it has been a while.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And did you participate in a threesome or not?”
“Is that all you have to say right now?”
“That is literally all I can think about right now, yes.”
She cracks a smile. “No. I did not participate. Nor did I watch.”
“Kat, I told her I have plans tonight and didn’t want to go for a drink with her. I hardly know her—”
“So that’s the kind of thing you usually get up to?”
“If you’re referring to threesomes—not usually, no.”
She shakes her head at me. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re here because I asked you to be here.” I walk over to the make-up bench and lean against it, watching her. “Because I want you here. Just you.”
She finally stops pacing and looks at me, her blue eyes icy hot. “I liked that new song,” she says, almost challenging me. “‘Trouble?’”
“Good. I like it too.”
“When did you write it?”
“After Phoenix.”
She crosses her arms again, but her body relaxes. “You think I’m trouble?”
“I think I’m in trouble because you’re all I think about.”
She makes a tiny sad sound at the back of her throat and then walks over to me and wraps her arms around me, resting her forehead against my chest. “I’m in so much trouble too,” she whispers. “Is the door locked?”
“Oh yeah.” I cup the nape of her neck and kiss her, hard.
She tugs my bottom lip with her teeth, unzips my jeans and reaches inside, and we have another winner winner chicken dinner.
That hand. Those confident and reverent hands. She really knows what to do with them.
“Kat. You have no idea what you do to me.”
She yanks my shirt out from the top of my pants and tries to unbutton it, finally just ripping it apart with a gasp. She lowers her head to lick and nip at my chest, and then continues to slide down to her knees in front of me, pulling my jeans and boxer briefs down with her. She is feverish, and I will have to go through my entire mental rhyming dictionary to keep it together.
Shivers shoot down my spine when she drags her finger
s up and down my inner thigh, kissing her way around my pelvis, driving me insane. “Is this why you want me here?” she asks, her voice girlish and innocent, as she cups my balls and wraps one hand around the base of my cock.
“It’s one of the many reasons I want you.”
She licks the underside of my shaft, base to tip, swirls around the head and then sucks it into her hot mouth. She continues to twist her hand, sliding up and down while teasing the tip. She is confident, reverent, and so fucking enthusiastic.
“Do you think about me doing this to you?” she exhales.
“Oh, yes.”
“Me too.”
I’m holding on to the edge of the counter, but I might rip it out of the wall.
What a rush. Having her do this to me when I feel the way I feel about her. It’s more than I’m used to.
“Kat...”
She takes a firm grip of my hips, and I force my eyes open so I can watch her taking me deeper into her mouth and throat.
I fist her hair as gently as possible, but the noise she makes tells me that she wants me to get a little rough. I tug as she lets my cock slide out of her mouth, slowly, slowly. Fucking heaven.
“Kat…”
Reading my mind, she carefully stands, letting her panties drop to the floor and stepping out of them. I get my bearings, squeeze her waist, turn and lift her so she’s sitting on the counter.
“Come inside me. I’m on the pill,” she breathes into my ear, hiking her dress up to her hips, spreading her legs, and making all my dreams come true.
“It’s gonna be fast and furious,” I warn her.
She holds on to my shoulders and says, “That’s okay. I’m almost there just from having you in my mouth.”
Christ.
So. Much. Trouble.
So wet and ready for me. I am practically delirious, thrusting into her with all that I have, everything I am. Her head is thrown back, gorgeous and ecstatic, and I would give her my life right now. It will never be enough with this woman.
I’m a goner.
I am gone.
I come in a blinding, furious flash, but I’m still completely aware that she’s holding me so tight and whispering my name in a way that’s so tender I almost want to weep.
Charmer Page 16
