by Lee Piper
“You ready?”
Tobias glances between Reid and me, obviously confused. “Are you guys going somewhere?”
Reid stares at me.
“Um, yeah.”
“But we’re going on stage soon.”
I grasp Tobias’s forearm, my eyes pleading. “I won’t be long.”
My best friend shoves his hands into his pockets, taking a few steps back. “Whatever.”
I hate seeing him like this. I’m not Tiffany, damn it. I won’t let him feel worthless. Wrapping my arms around Tobias’s neck, I whisper, “You mean the world to me.”
Tobias nods once. “Don’t be long. Vivienne will have you in a body bag otherwise.”
“I won’t.”
He walks back to Jasper and sits down.
Taking a deep breath, I glance over my shoulder at Reid. “So what’s the plan?”
As always, he ignores my question. In three strides, he’s out the door. Gritting my teeth, I send up a prayer for patience before following him.
Once we’re in the hallway, Reid turns to face me. He clasps my hip with one hand and delves his other into my hair. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
Looking into his eyes is like staring directly at the sun. Time stands still. Babies are born, folks die, and the world turns on its axis. Life continues its petty little cycle, only we are oblivious to it all. We’re oblivious to everything. There is nothing in existence except for him, me, this moment.
Us.
Blinking, Reid breaks our connection. When he releases his hold, I slump forward, craving more of his touch. However, he turns his back. “Let’s go.”
After numerous twists and turns, we descend a flight of stairs before stepping through a heavy wooden door, which slams shut behind us. The temperature in this room is at least ten degrees cooler. I shiver, rubbing my arms as goose bumps break out over my skin. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, Reid hits the light switch and a single globe hanging in the center of the room flickers to life.
I look around. Dozens of large metal kegs have been placed neatly in one corner. The other corner is taken up with casks of white wine and… that’s it. Seriously, apart from the globe swaying gently in front of us, all that’s left is exposed brickwork. There’s not even a window. Just a whole heap of alcohol, Reid, and me.
Dumbfounded. I’m completely effing dumbfounded. And angry.
“This is your brilliant idea?” I gesture to the beer kegs. “To get me drunk?”
Reid smirks. “In a way.”
“In a way? Fucking hell, have you thought this through at all?” I pace. It takes exactly seven steps to move from one side of the room to the other. Stopping, I place my hands on my hips. “I can’t go on stage completely smashed. I’m uncoordinated enough as it is.” Shaking my head, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m likely to put someone in ER if I tap into one of those.” Stalking to the other side of what has to be the venue’s cellar, I mumble, “This is bad. Really, really bad.”
Suddenly, I’m pushed against the wall. A gust of air escapes me as Reid pins my arms above my head.
“I’m gonna get you drunk.” His eyes darken as they take in my parted mouth. “On my fingers.”
I gasp.
“My body.”
I swallow.
“My cock.”
Cue orgasmic moan.
“By the time I’m finished with you”—his free hand grazes my neck—“you’ll have no room in your head for anything except me.” Fingers caress my exposed collarbone, and I shiver. He watches the goose bumps appear on my skin. “No freak-outs, no nervousness, no fear. Nothing.”
I’m silent.
Reid’s gaze flicks back to me. He grins. “Just me.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
He cups my face with both palms. “But I’m warning you, nothing has changed between us. We’re not together, and I haven’t forgiven you. If you read too much into this, we end it. Understand?”
I blink. It’s all I can manage.
“I need words, darlin’.”
“Y-yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I understand. No feelings.” My tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “Why are you doing this?”
Reid stares at me for the longest time. “Because I can.”
Where the hell did my childhood friend go?
“Stop. Thinking.”
My attention darts back to the man pressed against me. “Right.” I nibble my bottom lip.
Reid leans in close, his voice rough. “This goddamn mouth of yours.” He bites it before licking away the sting. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy.”
He kisses me.
It is punishing, brutal, but oh so incredible. His tongue robs my mouth, claiming territory and stealing spoils. I let him. I let him do whatever the hell he wants with me because it feels. So. Effing. Good.
His hand tightens around my wrists in warning. “These don’t move. Understand?”
I moan against his lips. My skin comes alive as his callused fingers trail down my arm, leaving a tidal wave of tingles behind.
Reid grips the collar of my fitted T-shirt. It’s my favorite, partly because it’s so damn soft from years of wear and partly because of the plunging V-neck tied loosely together with shoe-like laces. With a grunt, Reid yanks the material under my breasts. They jiggle from the abrupt movement and my nipples all but salute his heated stare. His large hands cup my girls, molding them, kneading them with an expert touch. I’m equal parts jealous and in awe of his breast-fondling mastery.
“I’m gonna fuck these tits.”
Holy Midas.
“Not tonight.” He pinches my nipples through my thin lace bra, and I gasp. “But soon.” Warmth floods my center as his hands soothe the smarting ache. “Soon, I’m gonna come all over them.”
There’s no holding back my groan. If I was the self-conscious type, I’d be alarmed at the way it echoes off the brick walls, reverberating back even louder. But as it is, no cares are given. None.
Reid’s hands trail down my ribcage and over my stomach. They splay against my hips, shifting my lower body away from the wall and grinding it against his hard cock.
Saint Michael and all the seraphs.
I’d forgotten how big he is. How thick. How he bends slightly to the left. He feels so flipping perfect, I can barely breathe. Even through the material of his jeans and my own skin-tight black pants, he’s so there.
“Reid,” I whimper.
He flicks open the button of my pants. “Yeah, darlin’?”
“Fuck me.”
Without further preamble, he tugs down the zipper and thrusts his fingers inside my soaked panties. Head back, eyes closed, I open my legs to welcome the onslaught. Reid separates my folds, coating them in my juices before circling my clit with a pressure that skirts the precipice of pleasure and pain. I cry out.
“Not yet. I’m not gonna fuck you yet. You’ve gotta earn my cock, darlin’.”
His arrogant attitude should disgust me. Really, it should. If I had half a brain, I would yank his hand from my pants, slap him across the face with it, and storm away. But my brain is AWOL. So I moan, squirm, dig my own damn grave.
Another thrust.
“Holy shit.”
“You like that?”
“Fuck yes.”
Hooking his fingers, he zeros in on my G-spot, massaging it until I can literally see stars. “Good.”
And then it starts. Pleasure-filled fronds unravel at the base of my spine, budding, growing, spreading through my limbs.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Reid’s thumb circles my swollen clit while his fingers thrust inside me. My legs tremble. “You want to clamp down on my fingers.”
“I’m almost—”
“You want to soak them with your cum.”
“Oh fuck, I’m going to—”
“Don’t you dare come.” He pulls away, and my eyes shoot open.
“What?!”
Without
so much as an apology, Reid brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. Despite my earlier protest, my eyes still roll back in my head at the sight.
His other hand slips into my pocket, grabbing my phone.
“Hey.” I move to take it back.
“Don’t move.”
Gulping, I shift back to the wall.
“Keep your hands above your head.”
I do as he says.
“What’s your passcode?”
In clipped tones, I tell him.
Reid types something into my phone while I squirm against the bricks, frustrated yet more turned on than I’ve ever been. “I’m setting an alarm.”
“Why?”
He ignores me, placing the phone on a keg a couple of feet away. Reid pins me with an impenetrable stare. “You’re going to remain right where you are. You’re not going to move so much as an inch until you hear”—he tests the alarm—“that sound.” I’m about to tell him where he can shove the stupid phone, but before I open my mouth, he prowls back to me and presses a finger directly onto my swollen clit. “You are not going to touch yourself.”
I hiss, rubbing against him as desire swamps me once more.
“Once you hear the alarm, tidy yourself up and get your ass on stage. No detours, no conversation, nothing.” Reid’s voice is a deep growl. “So help me, darlin’, if you even think about touching this pussy…” He taps my clit.
I gasp. “What will happen?”
He stares at me for a long moment. “You’ll be on your own.”
Damn him.
Damn his kissable lips, fuckable fingers, and ridiculously hard cock. Damn my phobia, my wanting to sing, and my body’s traitorous lust. But most of all, damn this moment. It’s more than I deserve, yet not nearly satisfying enough. The need to scream is real.
So. Flipping. Real.
Taking a deep breath, I attempt to calm my shit. When it doesn’t work, I take another. And another. Finally, I’m composed enough to bite out, “Fine.”
Reid kisses me. Hard. Breaking away minutes later, he murmurs against my swollen lips, “The door will lock behind me. No one can get inside this room once I leave.”
I nod.
“Do you trust me?”
Now there’s an interesting question. If it were coming from the boy who taught me how to skate, how to fish, how to pin my brother to the ground and twist one arm behind his back, the answer would be an unequivocal yes. But this man? This man is a stranger to me.
“No.”
Reid winks. He goddamn winks at me. It takes everything I have not to bitch-slap him. “Good answer.”
With a final lick of his finger, Reid leaves. The door slams shut behind him.
Stupidly, I wait.
Clasping the mic in two hands, I throw my head back as the final note reverberates through the venue. My voice is strong, resonant, so fucking on point, I’m of half a mind to keep singing for the sheer joy of it. Sadly, we can’t, since we only get one chance to perform each week.
Dirty guitar riffs bleed into silence. And then, pandemonium. The crowd goes bat-shit crazy. They yell, scream, stomp their feet, and chant our name.
“Thank you,” I call, my hand raised in devil horns.
The boys and I give one last wave before walking off stage. My steps are shaky, but I’m hoping everyone is too buzzed to notice.
The moment we enter the greenroom, Jasper pulls me in for a sweaty hug. “Sis, that was awesome!”
“Can’t breathe,” I gasp.
The jerk squeezes tighter before letting me go. I manage to take a deep breath before Tobias envelops me in a tangle of arms and legs.
“You owned that stage.” He pulls back, grinning. Long fingers ruffle my perspiration-soaked hair. “You were on fire.”
“Yeah.” Jasper nods. “You sang like you wanted to throat-punch someone. It was epic.”
I grimace because he’s right. I sang like a woman possessed. Before our song, the longer I remained in the cellar, the more frustrated I became. I needed to come so freaking badly. Even the slight breeze from the door slamming behind Reid was a wanton caress. It sucked. Arousal slowly turned into irritation, and irritation morphed into anger. Soon enough, rather than trying to get myself off, I was thinking up revenge tactics that involved slashing the skins on Reid’s drum kit moments before his next performance.
As soon as my phone alarm sounded, I adjusted my clothing, shoved the stupid contraption in my back pocket, and stormed on stage, seeking vengeance the only way I knew how.
By singing.
Fuck the crowd. Fuck my idiocy. But most of all, fuck Reid Tate.
“Ms. Stirling.”
Spinning around, I come face to face with Vivienne. I think she’s smiling, but I honestly can’t be sure. Some alarming movement is going on below her cosmetically enhanced cheekbones, and it almost looks like a grin. I supress a shudder.
“You performed better than I expected. Well done.”
I grit my teeth. “Thank you.”
With a jewel-adorned flick of her wrist, Vivienne gestures to the man beside her. How I missed that huge beard is beyond me. “I want you to meet someone. This is—”
Tobias gasps. I raise an eyebrow at my best friend; however, he’s too fixated on the man in question to notice.
Turning back to the man before me, I hold out my hand. “You must be Mr. Reading.”
Nodding, he shakes it. Bradley Reading isn’t as tall as I imagined, though his beard more than makes up for it. He must wax his moustache, because there’s no way the curl at the end of each strand is natural.
I shake my head. “Don’t let our drummer’s overly dramatic inhalation fool you, the rest of us are perfectly sane.” My gaze flicks to my brother. He’s staring at the music scout, his mouth wide open. “Well, some of us are.”
Jasper blinks. I’m pretty sure drool is dribbling down his chin. Oh, Lord. This is worse than the Hindenburg disaster.
“How’s it going?”
I’m hoping Bradley’s question is rhetorical because Tobias is still zombified and Jasper is salivating all over himself. We must be doing a kick-ass job of impersonating escaped mental patients.
Reading blinks then clears his throat. “You put on a good show tonight. Your sound is tight, and I’m digging the unique riffs you’ve got going on.”
Jasper wipes his mouth. He opens and closes it a few times, but nothing comes out.
Bradley continues, “The drumming is spot-on and those off-beats are mad.”
Tobias does a strange hop-skip number. For a guy with killer rhythm, his celebratory movement is awkward as hell.
Yep, mad is an appropriate description.
“Vivienne has been showing me the feedback on social media. Your future in this competition is looking very positive.”
Since the boys’ faculties are still MIA, I step up. Again. “Thanks, that means a lot.”
Reading nods before turning to Vivienne. “I need to make some phone calls.”
“Of course.” With a dismissive wave in our direction, she shepherds him out of the greenroom.
As soon as they’re gone, I face my bandmates. “What the fuck is with you two?”
They are still too dumbfounded to respond.
“It’s lucky we played like a boss because your PR skills are shit.”
Silence.
Grumbling under my breath, I move around the room, collecting my equipment. Just as I’m about to leave, I throw over one shoulder, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be leading a nationwide search party for your balls.”
When I wake the next morning, I’m exhausted. My body is heavy, my heart is confused, and I’m irritable as hell. Thankfully, I have the day off work. Since we performed last night, the boys and I don’t need to be at Rising Star. Well, not unless we want to work on a new song. Since I haven’t written the lyrics yet, going in is pointless. Stretching my arms above my head, I exhale.
However, restlessness soon kicks in, so I phone Will
ow. After checking the weather, we agree to spend the day at the beach.
Twenty minutes later, she sits next to me on the sand, her smile genuine. “I loved your song last night.”
“Thanks.” Closing my eyes, I let the sun warm my face. “Fuck, I love it here. I love the beach almost as much as music, and that’s saying something.”
“I know what you mean.”
Blinking, I look down and sift warm sand through my fingers. “Is it weird, both of us being in the same competition?”
She stares at me. “Not unless you want it to be.”
“I really don’t.”
“Good. Me neither.” The corner of her lips twitch. “But my band is going to win. Just sayin’.”
I snort, nudging her shoulder. “Never gonna happen.”
She throws her head back, laughing.
We’re quiet for a while, taking in the picturesque surroundings. The small cove is empty except for us. There are no pasty tourists, no screaming kids, no gray-eyed douche-canoes. I shake my head. The water is a sparkling turquoise and the sand a blinding white. Fluffy clouds meander across an otherwise clear sky, and a light breeze drifts off the Pacific. Perfect.
Willow turns to me. “Are you working today?”
“Nope. Day off.” Stretching my arms above my head, I inhale. “Thank fuck.”
“Why do you stay there if you hate it so much?”
On my exhale, my arms drift back to my lap. “The money is good and the hours are regular.” Shrugging one shoulder, I grin. “It’s not like I’m going to stay there forever. And once my band wins that recording contract, I’ll never have to look at another sprinkle again.”
Now it’s Willow’s turn to snort.
I turn to her. “When are you guys competing?”
“Not until later in the week.”
“Are you nervous?”
She considers my question. “Not really. When I’m on stage, I get this sense of freedom. It’s like I’m meant to be there, you know?”
Not anymore.
Willow clears her throat. “A certain drummer we both know had a stellar rehearsal last night.” She raises her eyebrows, her eyes wide. “Coincidence?”
