Saving Her Harem

by Alexis Adaire

  “Just another hour or two, then the tour is officially over. Griff says after the party, we’re heading straight for the airport. He doesn’t want us roaming around the city that never sleeps.”

  Nick is smiling as if returning to England is the happiest thing he can think of. Meanwhile, I’m dying inside.

  I turn away from him and quickly wipe the tear that’s trickling down my cheek.

  “Well, I’d better get back to the party.” He hesitates, then adds, “Is everything okay?”

  When I turn back, another tear betrays me.

  “Kelsey, love, what’s up?”

  “I’m just so sad. I love you guys so much, and have loved spending these last few months with the five of you. I know you have to go, but I’m going to miss you all so much.”

  I throw my arms around Nick and bury my face in his shoulder. He pulls away from me and gives me a strange look.

  “Wait here,” he says. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

  He leaves, and I stand there, not believing any of this is happening. My world has gone from a beautiful experience no other woman can claim, to a world of dread and heartbreak. The tears begin to flow now and there’s no stopping them.

  I sob, determined to get it all out of my system so I can at least be ready to say goodbye in a while without making a scene. Within seconds I’m a tearful, snotty mess.

  Of course, that’s when the door swings open and I see Harem staring at me.

  All five of them.

  “What’s this nonsense we hear?” Jason asks loudly.

  “You think we’re leaving without you?” Ian demands.

  I look at them, crying and confused.

  “Seriously, woman, you must be fucking daft,” Zilla says. “You’re coming with us, Kelsey. To England. You’ll stay at Wolfshire with us.”

  “But I’m no longer your tour wife,” I mumble.

  “Fuck that shite,” Nick says. “Now you’re our post-tour wife.”

  My heart jumps at the suggestion. “You mean…”

  “Of course,” Jason says. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  The relief is overwhelming and I start to laugh through my tears.

  I suddenly find myself in the center of a spontaneous group hug, so fierce and heartfelt that I feel stupid for ever doubting their love was anything but genuine.

  Jason looks me in the eye. He doesn’t realize it, but I’ve learned to read the pent-up sexual desire behind those mercury orbs of his, and I get a little thrill when I see it there after every show, like clockwork. “I hope you didn’t fully unpack, because you’re getting on that jet with us in a few hours. And I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m dying to get you naked and work off some of this concert energy.”

  Nick, Ian and Zilla have that same post-show needy look as Jason. Brandon does, too, but his is buried under one of the warmest smiles I’ve ever seen.

  “But what about Becca Cassidy?” I ask Jason.

  He laughs. “She’s was trying to tell me I need to use some new shampoo that has bee pollen and butterfly urine, or some shite like that. If she were to walk out here right now, I’d jump over that railing.”

  I grin at him, at all of them. “So we’re staying together?”

  “Was there ever any doubt?” Jason asks. “You’re our girl, Kelsey.”

  They take me by the hand and lead me back to the party. As we walk down the hallway, with Ian and Nick on either side of me holding my hands, Jason sneaks up behind me.

  “In case you were wondering, I was quite serious about getting you naked on the jet.”

  Nick’s head turns back. “I want in on that, too.”

  “Hey, me too,” says Ian.

  I laugh when I see the looks on Zilla’s and Brandon’s faces.

  Looks like it’ll be a busy flight to London.

  4

  Harem’s private jet breaks through the low-lying clouds in its descent and I can see the London skyline through my window. Everyone is beginning to stir again after crashing when the adrenaline wore off while we all celebrated the tour’s end in one of the plane’s bedrooms.

  I’m in comfy yoga pants and a T-shirt, having just been awakened by a bright sunbeam streaming in through the window to my right.

  Jason slides into the seat next to me and kisses me on the cheek as the plane drops lower.

  “Before we land, I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Harem over the last few months. We all know we pushed your limits at times.”

  I love Jason’s occasional moments of humility, because his job as the band’s frontman requires him to be exactly the opposite: brash and cocky.

  “Jason, you guys have always been respectful,” I say. “And I never did a single thing I didn’t want to do.”

  “And that’s one of the reasons we love you, Kelsey.”

  He looks out the window with me. I can feel his contentment at almost being home again.

  “Thanks for inviting me to come with you to Wolfshire.”

  He turns to me. “One way or another, you would have been with us. If you had insisted on staying in New York, that’s where we would have recorded this album.”

  As impossible as it seems, I’m looking into Jason’s eyes and in return I see love, even devotion. I don’t think anyone would believe it if they read in a tabloid that Jason Stone has fallen in love with one woman. The entire band doing so would sound ludicrous.

  “Doesn’t this all strike you as weird?” I ask. “The five of you being in love with the same woman? And her returning that love even more? What are the odds that this could have happened between all of us?”

  “About the same odds as five working-class kids from Manchester becoming rich and famous, I’d guess.”

  He’s got a point.

  “None of us saw this coming. We’ve shared women before, but never fallen in love with the same one at the same time, especially not all five of us. This is new territory for us, too, and we’re all trying to figure out where it’ll lead.”

  As tired as I am, at this moment I’m tempted to drag Jason right back into the jet’s bedroom.

  “There it is,” he says, pointing out the window. “That’s Shottesworth.”

  I look out to see Shottesworth Private Airfield. It’s only thirty miles from London, and the band flies in and out of here when they’re hanging out at Wolfshire in order to avoid the press and crowds at Heathrow.

  Jason can sense I’m anxious, as I always am when on a plane making a landing. He takes my hand in his and squeezes just as the plane gently touches down.

  “Finally!” Nick shouts.

  Zilla adds, “Yeah, now we have a full day of vacation before we start recording.”

  Everyone laughs. The relief of the tour’s end is palpable as we deplane and say goodbye to Griff, who’s flying on to London to take care of business. Once he’s gone, the band and I climb into a waiting stretch limousine and I squish in between Brandon and Ian.

  Wolfshire Court is located near the town of Thornridge, Croyden, about a twenty-minute drive from the airfield. Having been to London a few times on business, the driving-on-the-left thing doesn’t faze me, but the stunning countryside sure does.

  Ian sees me staring out the tinted window and opens the sunroof, then joins me in sticking our heads out to watch the sites flash by. He points out old estates and manor homes and gives me a little history of the area. There are some achingly beautiful homes, but one particular manor in front of us catches my eye, a huge gray stone mansion sitting on sprawling landscaped grounds.

  “Like it? That’s Wolfshire,” Ian says.

  I try to take it all in as the limo pulls into the long drive, stopping at an electronic gate before proceeding in. The stately manor, half-covered in vines, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “The main house and the lower lodge are both listed on the National Heritage List, and the gardens are on the Register of Historic Parks and Gardens.”

  “Who b
uilt it originally?”

  “Henry Howard, the 7th Duke of Norfolk. It was built between 1685 and 1690.”

  “It’s fabulous,” I say, still mesmerized as the limo slows to a stop in front of the huge mansion.

  “Wait till you see the inside,” Zilla’s deep voice says as he exits the car. “You’ll never want to leave.”

  As the truck carrying our luggage and the guys’ musical gear pulls up, Nick takes me by the hand and we all walk to the large, faded old-wood front door. Brandon and I share a quick “can you believe this?” look.

  A moment later, I’m standing in Wolfshire’s great room, my eyes and mouth wide open and my breath shallow. I feel like I’ve been picked up and dropped back down a century earlier in time. The walls are all beautiful dark wood, with exposed beams breaking up the intricately designed ceiling panels. All the wood surfaces have amazing detailed carvings, perfectly lit by the sunlight streaming in through leaded glass windows. Hardwood floors in a chevron design add to the dazzling array of design elements.

  As I marvel at the wide stairway to the right of the front door, its gleaming polished wood gracefully curving upwards, my attention is grabbed by a large splash of light on the wall midway up. I follow the source to a huge stained-glass window on the opposite wall of the huge room. It’s one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen, a coat of arms with a giant white-and-silver wolf in the middle of it, surrounded by red roses.

  I suddenly find myself feeling light-headed, almost dizzy.

  “Just breathe,” Ian says. “This happens to everyone at first.”

  I nod and take a deep breath. Ian slips his hand into mine. “Come on, love, I’ll give you the tour. We don’t have to look at all thirteen bedrooms, but you should see the highlights.”

  Brandon tags along and Ian takes us from one stunning room to another. One would expect a rock star to have made ridiculous changes to such a place, adding pool tables, massive TV screens, stripper poles, and the like, but Ian recounts the lengths and expense he’s taken to preserve the manor in all its historical glory.

  It’s almost overwhelming as we go from room to room. Compared to my small New York apartment, this place is massive. I begin to wonder what I’ll do to pass the time here, especially with the guys spending hours every day recording. I can’t just walk out and go shopping or hang out at a cafe because we’re out in the countryside.

  I alternate holding onto Ian’s arm, then Brandon’s, while we walk. I’m still taking deep breaths, and I feel my chest growing warm. That’s when it dawns on me that what I’m feeling is sexual excitement. Touring this beautiful manor with two such sexy men whom I love so much is actually making me horny.

  Apart from the splendor of the great room, the most astounding room of all is the main bedroom, which is situated by itself on the fourth and top floor. It’s a huge room, with floor-to-ceiling leaded glass windows on all four walls, giving an astounding view of the landscaped property. I can see the rose maze with a small stone swimming pool in the center. Not too far from that is a large pond that Ian says is stocked with giant koi. Every direction I look in has something lovely for me to wrap my brain around.

  Ian tells me that the top floor of such manors was usually reserved for staff quarters, but a fire severely damaged this one a few decades after it was originally built. Afterward, the good Duke decided to move the staff down one floor and build a private solarium here instead. He eventually had the room converted into his own bedroom because he was so taken by its views of the nearby countryside. The ceiling is also glass, though it’s currently covered by a rich tapestry that Ian says can be pulled aside for a dazzling view of the sky as well.

  In the very middle of the main bedroom is a massive four-poster bed, easily the size of two king beds. The thick posts are carved with details, as is the canopy they disappear into. The headboard and footboard are likewise detailed. Descending from the canopy on all sides are intricately designed hangings, deep royal gold with white wolves and red roses woven into them.

  “Breathe,” Ian says with a laugh. “It’s quite lovely, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like this room,” Brandon says.

  “The bed is way too big to move it in or out, so they had to build it right here in the room. The wood was brought up, then the carpenters and woodcarvers did their thing. It’s called the King’s Bed, because supposedly King George IV spent a few weekends at Wolfshire and this was where he slept.”

  Staring at the bed as Ian reveals its secrets, I think about the history of this place, of everything that must have occurred under that canopy over its lifespan of three or four centuries.

  And I have a sudden burning desire to get my men into that bed as soon as possible.

  All of them.

  5

  I’m still in a horny trance when we descend back down to the great room. Griff has just arrived. Apparently, he never made it back to London and he looks troubled.

  “Ian, I need a word outside with you and Jason.”

  The three of them step through the front door. I look at Nick and Zilla, hoping to glean some idea of what’s going on.

  “Probably just ironing out the issues regarding the truck,” Nick says. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “What truck?” I ask, clueless.

  Zilla smiles at my naivety. "Although the sound in parts of the house is amazing, Wolfshire isn’t a recording studio. We have no equipment here, other than that stuff.” He gestures to a pile of Anvil cases containing guitars, amps and drums—a pile that wasn’t here when I first saw the room. The roadies must have unloaded it from the band’s jet and brought it over. “There’s an outfit in London called Hendrich Recorders, and they have a mobile studio truck. It has a full-featured control room with a 128-track mixing board and every audio effect you could think of. Griff has rented it for the next month. That truck will turn Wolfshire into a world-class studio.”

  Nick and Zilla give me an impromptu demonstration of the acoustic properties of the great room, clapping, whistling, singing, stomping their feet then pausing so I can hear the natural reverb of the wood surfaces. They’re right, it’s a beautiful sound.

  Jason and Ian return without Griff, but now I can see he’s transferred his troubled expression to them.

  “Where’s Griff? Is something wrong?” I ask.

  I catch a look between Ian and the other guys, so quick I’m not really sure it has any significance.

  “He’s gone back to his house in London. He’ll be back in a few days. Nothing’s wrong, we’re just trying to figure out where to park the bloody truck. It’s huge, and will have dozens of cables running from it to this room. I’m afraid it’ll have to go directly out this front door, meaning Wolfshire will look like utter shite for a month.”

  “You won’t be able to shut the door?” I ask.

  “Not all the way,” Ian says. “But I have round-the-clock security patrolling, so there’s no need to worry. It just won’t look pretty.”

  Jason changes the subject. “Who’s up for an early dinner?”

  Although it’s only 3:00 p.m., everyone is indeed hungry, as our bodies are not yet on London time.

  We walk to the huge kitchen, which has an old feel despite the newer appliances. The worn white brick walls are a change from the wood throughout the rest of the house. There’s a huge hearth that takes up an entire wall, and in front of it sits a dining table with seating for ten—and this isn’t even the formal dining room. That room easily seats twice as many.

  A pretty chef is busying herself at a counter. The smell of fresh-baked bread permeates the room and makes my stomach rumble. She looks at me and smiles.

  “Ella, this is Kelsey,” Ian says.

  “It’s a pleasure, Kelsey,” she says as I extend my hand, then laughs when she shows me her hands are covered with flour. Apart from a groundskeeper I saw outside, she’s the first staff I’ve seen, though Ian says he has a half dozen full-time workers here. Ella quickly loo
ks me over, as women do, and I wonder what she’ll think when it becomes apparent I’m sleeping with the entire band. Or maybe she already knows.

  “And this is Brandon,” Ian says. The look in her eyes as she takes in Brandon’s boyish good looks gives me a little pang of jealousy. “Ella, we’re famished. Can we have some of your amazing Tonnarelli Cacio e Pepe? For six?”

  “Of course,” Ella replies. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  “You’re going to love this,” Ian tells me. “Ella is a wizard.”

  “I’m already looking forward to it. Can we eat in here? In front of the fireplace?” I ask. Though it’s too warm outside to need a fire, I love this beautiful old fireplace.

  Ian takes me by the hand. “Of course. C’mon, let’s get some wine.”

  I follow him down a stairwell off the far side of the kitchen and am soon in an old wine cellar. There are hundreds of bottles lining two walls. I knew Ian was into his wines, but I had no idea. He explains that the room needs no temperature control because it’s deep enough so that the stone walls keep it insulated from the extremes of whatever the outside weather is.

  As I’m looking over the bottles, he steps behind me and slips his arms around my waist, pulling me tightly against his body. His breath is warm against my ear.

  “Did you like the bed?” he whispers.

  “Mmm… how could I not? I got excited just looking at it. I can’t wait to get you guys into it later.”

  “That sounds perfect. How many of us would you like tonight? And whatever you do, you have to include me.”

  I like the sexiness of his voice when he’s this quiet. I can feel his cock getting hard against my ass as his arm brushes the underside of my breasts.

  “Oh, you’ll definitely be included,” I moan.

  Ian turns me so that I’m facing him and locks me up in a torrid kiss, his tongue sliding past my lips. I’m already so turned on that I practically attack him in response. We play for a minute, then I put my hands on his chest and push him back. When I do, I look up into his eyes with my filthiest expression.