by Amelia Mae
Their personalities start to emerge.
Shawn is definitely the chill one, the peacekeeper, and the one keeping everyone’s spirits up, as well as keeping the conversation from getting too serious.
Jack is a twisted son-of-a-bitch, who likes to stir the pot and get people riled up just because he can.
Dylan is cocky, he demands attention just by walking in the room and people are all too happy to be near him while he’s holding court.
And Ian fends off comments about his dorky past like I’m going to suddenly leave him if his true marching-band-loving, anime fan-boy colors come out.
Little does he know, as I’m curling into his lap like a kitten, my head resting on his shoulder, that I’m starting regret limiting our relationship to just friends with benefits. Ahem - exclusive friends with benefits.
I’m starting to fall pretty hard for him.
“A toast,” Dylan announces, brandishing his beer bottle, “To a new tour, a new single, a hit video, and…” he gestures to me and Ian, “New… beginnings.”
15
Ian
I love being on stage.
The lights go down, the audience goes crazy, and the unbridled energy of a full-on rock show takes over.
And this first show in Las Vegas doesn’t disappoint.
It reminds me why we keep doing this.
Two encores later, we leave the stage, sweaty, adrenaline fueled, and ready to burn off steam. Dylan and Shawn head for the bar. Jack has a girl on each arm and announces that there’s going to be an after party in his hotel room. A couple of the roadies and a few hangers-on cheer at the promise of alcohol and debauchery.
I may not partake in a whole lot of post-show indulgences anymore, but one thing hasn’t changed.
I still get off the stage and I’m horny as all hell.
I have one mission and it’s to get Cora into a bedroom and plant my face between her thighs.
But when I spot her, she’s on Dylan’s arm, sipping the drink he hands her, laughing at something that he says.
Instant boner-killer.
I know she’s doing her job. And she’s doing it well. Anyone who didn’t know about the arrangement would assume that Cora and Dylan were a happy couple.
But seeing them together like this.
In couple mode.
Fuck me.
As I approach them, I overhear her telling some groupie the bullshit story they’ve concocted about how they got together. Cora’s selling it, leaning into Dylan’s touch and the groupie is eating it up.
“That’s so sweet,” she coos.
“Hey, man,” Dylan says, acknowledging me. “We’re about to head out to Jack’s party. Need a ride?”
Cora leans her head against his shoulder.
My fists tighten.
The groupie girl, figuring that Dylan is unavailable, decides to attach herself to my arm like a barnacle. “You’re Ian Brooks, right? The drummer? I’m Jill. You’re so talented.”
I try to politely shrug her off, but she isn’t going anywhere. “Thanks, honey,” I tell her. “Actually, I’m kinda beat, I think I’m gonna head back to my room.”
“Want some company?” Jill asks, a hand on my chest. I start to move it when I see Cora glaring at Jill’s hand. She stares at it like it’s repulsive. She’s jealous too, waging a little war with her eyes.
She tightens her grip on my bandmate, like we’re in some weird standoff.
I let Jill’s hand lay where it may.
“So,” Jill starts, sensing something is off here, “Yes? Want to get out of here, Ian?”
I look back at Cora. For a second, she looks like she’s going to challenge me. Then she looks pissed.
Then hurt.
Fuck it. I cave first.
“Not tonight,” I tell Jill, “I’m gonna head out.” I look over at Cora and Dylan. “Enjoy the party.”
I turn towards the exit.
“Actually, I’m kind of tired too,” Cora says, shifting out of Dylan’s grasp. “Do you mind if I call it an early night, baby?” she asks him. Baby. I feel my face get hot hearing her call him that.
Dylan, smart guy that he is, offers up a solution. “Ian, would you take Cora back to the hotel? I have to make an appearance at this thing, but I don't want my girl getting lost.”
“No problem,” I reply.
“Rest up. Long day tomorrow,” he says and Cora a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Cora and I don’t speak as we head out of the venue.
The air between us is thick. Tense.
Heated.
I can’t tell if Cora is still angry or just too horny and frustrated to talk.
It’s the latter.
The second the we reach the mercifully deserted alley behind the building, Cora jumps me and I practically tear up in relief. I hold her flush to my chest and she kisses me hard enough to bruise my lips.
Thank fuck.
“Oh God, I’ve been waiting all night to do that,” she seethes between kisses, “It’s fucking torture watching you pound that drum kit and get all sweaty.”
“Me to,” I groan as she sucks on my neck and grazes the skin with her teeth. “God, Cora. You have no idea what you do to me. I want you so fucking bad right now.”
She reaches down to my crotch and rubs me over my jeans, feeling exactly what she does to me. I let out a groan, deep and guttural.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I command.
She obliges and I keep her pinned to the wall of the building with my chest, one hand under her ass, her breasts offered up to me by the concrete. She’s wearing a hater dress with only a small knot holding the top up and it’s taking everything I have not to undo it, let her gorgeous tits spill out and get my mouth on them.
“You ever been fucked in an alley after a rock show?” I say through gritted teeth.
“No,” she answers, breathless, “Have you?”
“No,” I reply, “Never had anyone I wanted so much I couldn’t make it back to the hotel.”
She gasps as I slide her panties aside and slip two fingers inside her, wetness coating them and dripping down my hand. She groans in my ear. I curl my fingers inside her, again and again until she’s panting. Until I feel her melt against me.
Until she’s ready to take me.
“Open my jeans,” I command, “Take my dick out.”
She reaches down and undoes my zipper, shoving her hand down my pants and wrapping her fingers around my length and stroking me.
“Fuck, baby, stop. I’m too close,” I murmur, “And I don’t want to come in your hand.”
I pull my fingers out of her and lick them clean. She looks at me with an expression that equal parts grossed-out and turned-on.
“Cora, I had my fucking face in your pussy last time,” I hiss, “I like the way you taste.”
I expect her to blush, but she doesn’t. Her eyes darken. Her gaze never leaves mine. She takes my fingers, brings them to her mouth, and sucks on them, tasting herself on my skin. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Fuck, there’s nothing hotter than when a sweet girl does something filthy.
I can’t hold back anymore.
I shift so I’m lined up with her entrance. I’m hard and throbbing, ready to rut her like an animal when I realize something.
“Fuck. I don’t have a condom,” I tell her. I try to put her down. “It’s not far to the room.”
She fights to stay in my arms.
“I’m clean,” she whispers, “And I’m on the pill.”
“I’m clean too,” I tell her. “But we can go back to the hotel if you want to be safe.”
I’d dreamed about fucking Cora without a condom, imagining what it would be like to slide inside her bare. Nothing between our bodies. Feel her, warm and wet, surrounding me. Feel her gush around my cock as she comes. But I figured it would be in a bed, in a nice room, with four walls and a door that locks.
Not in a dirty alley.
Not anywhere wh
ere someone could catch us.
But, I think I’ll explode if I have to wait another second. Thankfully, she shakes her head.
“Fuck me now. Fuck me bare. I can’t wait any longer.”
God yes.
I want to tease her more, but I don’t have the patience. I need inside of her right now. I push, burying myself balls deep in a single thrust. Cora cries out in surprise and relief. I give it to her hard as she grinds against me, her teeth sinking into my neck, and relish in the pain/pleasure.
Fuck, what that does to me.
A few quick, hard pumps into Cora’s wet heat have me on the edge. I need to get her there with me. I reach down and tease her clit with my thumb. I’m seconds from spilling, but there’s no way I’ll let myself come before she does.
Thankfully, she’s nearly there too. Her muscles flutter and contract around me as she comes, hard and suddenly, taking me with her. I press my lips to her neck to keep myself quiet.
“Fuck Ian,” she murmurs, “Oh my God.”
She breathes heavily in my ear.
My heart races.
It takes us a few minutes to calm down.
I set her to the ground and we straighten our clothes.
“You okay to walk?”
She stumbles. “Kind of.”
I put an arm around her waist to steady her as we walk back to the hotel.
That night, Cora stays in my room and sleeps in my bed. It’s only going to get more difficult to sneak around as the tour goes on. But, for the moment, I refuse to think about that and enjoy having her in my arms.
I’m jerked from sleep, Cora still tangled in the sheets next to me, by a text from Nikki.
Nikki: Tell me you love me.
Ian: You’re my sister. Of course I love you. Why this time?
Nikki: For saving your ass. And Cora’s. Someone got a photo of the two of you going at it outside the concert.
Ian: Oh God. Tell me it’s not going to be in the tabloids.
Nikki: No. The guy just wanted money. I bought him off. It’ll never see the light of day.
Ian: You’re the best.
Nikki: I know.
Ian: Seriously the best. Cora would be mortified.
Nikki: Wouldn’t you?
Ian: Meh.
Nikki: Want to know the best part?
Ian: Yeah.
Nikki: I got out in front of it before Christian found out. So you’re not going to get a lecture from him.
Ian: All hail Nikki. Queen of the motherfucking universe.
Nikki: But you’re going to get a lecture from me. That was really stupid Ian. Could’ve gotten you both in a lot of trouble.
Ian: I know.
Nikki: Plus, I had to look at a picture of my own brother mid-fuck. It was traumatizing.
Just then, Cora stirs.
“Who are you talking to?” she asks.
“Nikki,” I answer. “Someone caught us last night. Took a picture.”
Cora covers her face. “Oh God.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her, “Nikki took care of it.” I show her the conversation I’d been having with my sister.
“Good,” she says, relieved, “Please tell her thank you for me. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Yeah,” I say, “We have to be careful.”
Seconds later, Cora gets a text.
“From Dylan,” she says, “He wants to go to lunch at some trendy spot. See and be seen I guess.”
“Sounds fun.”
She shrugs.
“Can I come?” I ask. I’m mostly kidding. Mostly.
She thinks about it. “Actually, Ian,” she starts, “As fun as last night was, we came really close to getting caught.”
“Worth it,” I say and she smiles.
“I just think we need to keep a little distance between us. I mean, I’m playing Dylan’s girlfriend and I bailed on a party the very first night and got in bed with you. I need to be more convincing,” she says, resolutely, “And we need to be more careful.”
I nod, my head heavy. The last thing I really want is distance from Cora. I know she’s right, but I have to wonder if she’s really just being careful, honoring her role as Dylan’s fake girlfriend.
Or is she trying not to get too close to me for other reasons?
16
Cora
As I sneak out of Ian’s room, still in last night’s dress and makeup, Dylan spots me. I tell him I’ll shower, change and be ready in half an hour.
“Don’t,” he’d says. He undoes the first few buttons of his shirt and musses his hair. “We’ll look like we just fucked.”
I blush.
“And it looks like you enjoyed it,” he adds.
I don’t deny it.
He takes me to a small restaurant that serves drinks in mason jars and has a special menu for dogs printed in the corner of the menu for humans.
I don’t know too many women would complain about being on a brunch date with Dylan Cotter. In fact, most women would kill to be where I am right now, sitting across from this stupidly hot man, sipping a bloody Mary, waiting for my egg sandwich to arrive.
“Glad to know my boy’s not letting you down in the bedroom,” Dylan says with a wink.
“Huh?”
“You’ve got a goofy smile and your hair’s a hot wreck,” he tells me, “Tell me he made you come at least twice.”
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would,” he says, “I’ve got five weeks left before my piercing heals. I’m living vicariously through my bandmates. Was he at least generous?”
“Generous? How so?”
Dylan folds his hands in a very proper manner, clearly mocking my formality. “Did he initiate foreplay?” He laughs at himself. “Did he fucking go down on you?”
I choke on my sip of water. “You guys just… talk about stuff like that? So casually?”
“Sex is one of the best parts of life, Cora,” he explains, “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
I try to fight my discomfort. “It was great. He was… plenty generous.”
“Good man.”
“Yeah,” I say, “He really is.”
Dylan smiles. “You really like him.”
I nod, even though it wasn’t really a question.
“Good. He really needs some liking.”
“He told me what happened,” I tell Dylan, “The accident and everything.”
Dylan gets somber. “A lot changed that day. I mean, it was a wake up call for me. But Ian lost almost everything. It wiped away his will to live.”
I don’t know what to say. I hate thinking of Ian in that state.
“And then you showed up,” he adds.
I look up at him, confused. “Where are you going with this?”
“I mean… he’s all in, Cora,” Dylan warns me, “I don’t want to freak you out or anything. I know this is fast and all. But sometimes you can just tell.”
“I’m not freaked out,” I tell him.
“Do you love him?”
I take a deep breath. “I like him. I could see myself falling in love with him.” I really could. It’s kind of terrifying in a way that excites me. But it makes me feel vulnerable in a way that I don’t like.
“Glad to hear it,” he says, satisfied. I mean, it’s none of his business, but I think it’s sweet that he’s looking out for his friend. “Now lets put on a show for these camera jockeys, shall we?” He takes my hand and kisses my cheek.
Dylan is a perfect gentleman. I mean, except for the tattoos and the swearing. And the constant questions as to whether or not his bandmate is providing me with enough orgasms.
The paparazzi get their photos. Dylan signs some autographs. We do our job and keep up the lie over a very pleasant breakfast.
It’d be a pretty nice date if I weren’t sitting here wishing I were still in bed with someone else.
A few da
ys later, we’re in a new city and before the show, there are press events. I wear a black metallic dress and gorgeous studded high heels that put me eye to eye with Dylan and I stay glued to his side. He never lets go of my hand, but, thankfully refrains from too much PDA.
We feed them the story we concocted and rehearsed at-length about having this crazy chemistry on set and him asking me out for drinks immediately afterward. According to the story, I said no a few times because I thought he was just another player, but he wore me down. Dylan tells people that he didn’t even try to fuck me right away because he knew I was special.
It’s sweet. In a crude way.
Very Dylan.
We tell them that we’ve been going out for a month, so the relationship is brand spanking new, but we’re serious.
They ask me what it’s like to tame a rock and roll bad boy and I laugh and give them my answer, also rehearsed, which is that you can’t tame a rocker boy, you just have to hang along for the ride.
They seems to like it.
More importantly, they seem to buy it.
They talk to the other guys in the band, asking their thoughts about the album and the tour.
One particularly handsy rep from a gossip magazine approaches Ian, coyly touching his arm.
She’s pretty.
Like, really pretty and all my horrible instincts to be intimidated by another attractive female kick in. Dylan catches me glaring at her and raises an eyebrow. I quickly check my reflection and make sure there are no signs of resting- bitch-face.
I’m calm. Just a calm woman watching the guy she’s falling for be pawed by another woman while the guy she’s pretending to date expects her to keep up appearances.
No big deal.
Ian is polite about refusing her, but she’s insistent.
“What?” she asks him, “You got a girlfriend or something?”
“No,” he answers.
“Somebody else you’re interested in?”
He hesitates, but still answers no.
“Then what’s the harm?” she says, her hand now on his chest. “I’m not some clingy bitch looking for a relationship or something, Ian. Just a good time, I swear.”
“Answer’s still no, honey,” Ian says firmly.
