by Kole, Lana
“Ugh!” Lyric groaned and covered her face with her hands, dragging them down and wishing her problems would rub off as easily as her eyeliner. “Who knows what he’s going to write in that interview.”
“He’s not going to write anything,” Emerson argued, brows furrowed with frustration on her behalf. “You were mic’d up. He recorded you.”
Lyric shook her head, trying to knock loose the hundred terrible scenarios swirling through her brain. “Exactly. They could manipulate the audio and make it sound like I’m saying anything they want.”
Even if they disputed it, it wouldn’t be the first time the media had done their best to make an artist look bad—and succeeded—to an extent. The truth always came out, but usually not quick enough to catch the attention of the same people who would rather see the drama than the truth.
Two warm palms landed on her shoulders, gave her a small shake, and startled her eyes open. She stared up at Nohen, his pretty honey eyes dripping with intensity.
“Everything will be fine. They’re not going to publish anything to make you look bad.”
“Exactly,” Henry agreed. “Plus, your label is a major brand. To bully you on your very first tour after such a hard week would be a bad look for the magazine, and they’re likely aware. The future content they’d lose wouldn’t be worth the ten minutes of fame a viral story could bring by twisting the interview around.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “That does make me feel better.”
She smiled sheepishly, running a hand over her neck.
“Everything will work out okay, okay?” Nohen murmured softly.
She nodded and inched toward the back. “Well… I’m just going to pretend like that never happened and take a shower.”
“Want company?” Henry asked it so casually, so openly, Lyric came to a complete halt in the middle of the bus. He wasn’t even glancing her way, still poking his finger at the screen of his tablet.
“What if I said yes?” she asked, a hint of a dare in her voice.
Henry had broken his own rule, sure. But that was completely different than flaunting it in front of the whole bus.
“Then I’d expect you to go get a head start. I’ll join in a moment.”
Lyric narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his tone, but her body was. Heat flared south, and she tried to ignore the flush on her cheeks as she retreated to her nest to collect a fresh change of clothes.
Of course she was going to wait in the fucking shower.
“Don’t make me wait long,” she sang teasingly as she pulled the shower door open. Henry’s gaze flashed up to meet hers for a split second before he glanced back down, the glare in his glasses eclipsing his expression.
But what she saw in that split second was enough to make her knees weak.
“This wasn’t quite what I thought you meant, Henry,” Lyric mumbled with a pout. Her words were almost lost in the rush of water.
“Sorry if I’m disappointing you,” he murmured back, a chuckle vibrating his tone.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she responded. Lyric tilted her head back as Henry ran the detachable showerhead down her locks, rinsing the shampoo he’d painstakingly massaged into her scalp. Her eyes were closed, and she was tucked into his chest as he smoothed his hand over her hair. The warm water cascaded through her hair and over her body, but its warmth was nothing compared to Henry. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and every time their skin slid together like silk, desire speared her. The barbells piercing his nipples glinted under the light, and Lyric tried to resist the temptation to play with them.
With a soft clank, he hung the showerhead back in place and grabbed the bottle of conditioner. Lyric pressed her forehead to his pec and sighed as he began working the cream through her hair.
“Today was stressful, and I’m sorry.”
Lyric rolled her head back and forth in a drowsy head shake. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t know the host was going to be an asshole. I should be used to it by now, but he just—”
“Don’t excuse it or your reaction. He was being disrespectful and deserved every word you threw in his face.”
Her chest ached with the loveliest sting, one she couldn’t recognize at first because she hadn’t felt it very often. It made her eyes burn, and she willed tears away as Henry ran his fingers through her hair, mixing the conditioner into every strand. “Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.”
Lyric would have argued with him all night, but she didn’t. Turning away from the interviewer, she’d half expected a lecture from Henry on interviews, about how to handle such questions and to nod and smile even if they made you uncomfortable or pissed you off. But no, that was just something her mom would have told her so long ago.
Thankfully, Lyric didn’t have to listen to that nonsense anymore. She had Henry, and he’d never tell her to remain uncomfortable just to accommodate other people. That was the kind of manager—person—he was, looking out for her. Taking care of her.
Like with the way he constantly told her to drink water, the way he hired Javier for the tour, and the way he was running his fingers through her hair so softly.
“Not cold, right?” he asked. His pec flexed against her forehead as he reached around her to grab the showerhead again.
“Not at all,” Lyric answered, nuzzling into him.
Hot water streamed through her hair, down her back, and over the rest of her body. She sighed, pure bliss taking over at Henry’s soft touch. His scent was surrounding her, tobacco and… something she couldn’t place, but it made her want to press her nose to his chest and inhale.
When he hung the showerhead up for the last time and moved them both under the streaming water, Lyric finally lifted her head and blinked up at him.
His hazel orbs were softer than she’d ever seen them, the tender emotion inside making her chest ache again with that familiar feeling she couldn’t quite place.
“Thank you,” Lyric said softly.
Henry slid her hair over her shoulder, let his gaze trail down her body like a caress, and Lyric swallowed. “Feel better?” he inquired once his pretty eyes met hers again.
“Depends,” Lyric teased, tapping her finger against his clavicle and sliding it south. “Did you only bring me in here to wash my hair?”
“Depends.” He mirrored her, except it was his lips he pressed to her collarbone, not just his fingertip. “Does it make you uncomfortable that the others are just outside?”
Lyric shook her head, her heart beating faster at the promise in his gaze. “They all know anyway.”
His hands framed her hips, and he backed her against the wall. The tiles were cold at first, but the warm mist from the spray and the heat from Henry’s body were enough that she didn’t care.
“I’ll take care of you,” Henry murmured into her skin, tightening his fingers around her hips and tilting her up for him.
It left her slightly off balance, her shoulders taking the brunt of her own weight for a split second before Henry dropped to his knees. He tucked Lyric’s knee over his shoulder and mouthed at the inside of her thigh. She relaxed her weight down onto one foot, her shoulders still pressing hard into the tile, but as Henry kissed up her thigh and finally parted his lips around her clit, she didn’t care.
Trapping a moan behind her lips, Lyric canted her hips into his touch. Heat raced over her skin, the steam from the shower and the warmth in Henry’s attention almost too much.
No matter what he promised, he was already taking care of her. Lyric was purely blissed out from the magic he’d worked on her scalp, and the gentle touches he’d traced over her entire body still tingled even now.
Lyric could try to blame the stress of the interview for her lack of decency—breaking Henry’s rule on the bus, in the shower—but the truth of the matter was she didn’t care. Not with the way Henry’s tongue flicked over her, sending shivers and pleasure skittering across her senses like sparks. His fingers bit
into her hips, slid over her thighs, and held her steady as he made her legs weak one taste at a time.
His pace was achingly slow, and Lyric threaded her fingers through his wet locks, trying to pull him closer, hinting for more. Stubbornly, he refused to speed up, refused to do anything other than leisurely swipe his tongue across her like he was savoring a dessert.
Lyric enjoyed being savored, but after he’d washed her entire body, every touch just shy of where she wanted it, she didn’t have the patience. She wanted to explore him, wanted to feel him all around her, inside her.
“Henry,” Lyric whined.
He drifted his lips away, and the warm wave of pleasure ebbed. With a tilt of his head, he nipped the inside of the thigh over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he promised, his words drifting over her skin.
Lyric didn’t have a single doubt about that.
At least not until Henry slid her leg off his shoulder and stood up after shutting the water off. Where was he going? Could he clearly not see that stopping was the last thing she wanted to do?
“Henry, what—” Lyric began to ask before she was scooped up. “Henry!” she hissed.
The others were just outside, where the hell was he—
“It’s fine, I shut the door earlier,” he explained.
Lyric wrapped her hands around his neck, and her legs around his waist. She slid against Henry’s warm skin, and his grip must have been slippery too, but it felt so good for Henry’s fingers to bite into her upper thigh and waist.
Still, he managed to get the door open without her help, and Lyric bit her bottom lip as the cool air of the bus hit her. Henry headed straight for her nest, and the muted voices on the other side of the door rose in volume.
“What did you do?” she asked, hiding her smile in his shoulder.
“Nothing, I just told them the rest of the bus was off limits until I said so.” He swiped her key over the wall magnet, and the door unlocked with a click.
“And they didn’t argue?”
His answer was to lower her to the bed, fix her with his hazel stare, and arch a brow. “Right,” she said, choking back a giggle. “Of course they wouldn’t argue.”
He walked back to the door, and Lyric watched the muscles in his back flex and move like waves in the ocean as he engaged the lock.
Her gaze dripped down his figure, studying his peach of an ass with a smirk. He turned, tugging her gaze back to his face, a question stamped on his features. “Like what you see?”
“Very much,” Lyric replied with an eager nod.
Now if only he’d get close so she could explore all of him…
He granted her wish, propping his palms on either side of her head and hovering over her. His heat surrounded her, and she arched up into him like a flower seeking the sun.
“Where were we?” he asked, tickling his nose down her neck, over her collarbone.
“Breaking rules,” Lyric teased.
Henry lifted his head, narrowed his eyes at her, and… shrugged.
“What, you have a rule breaking kink or something?” she teased, half laughing.
Henry paused, collected her wrists in his hold, and placed them above her head before leaning back to meet her eyes. “And if I do?”
Lyric’s breath escaped her at the scorching heat in his touch, his gaze. “Tell me what rules to break—”
He cut off her words by lowering his head, his lips plucking at hers with a single—no, two, three—short kisses before she parted her lips beneath his. He slid his tongue inside her mouth, and they dueled before he explored every inch of her he could.
Breath was a casualty, one she didn’t miss until he pulled away and continued downward.
Lyric had half a mind to pull him back up, to taste his lips even more, but he was already parting her thighs. Already drifting a single fingertip along her lips, dipping inside to spread her wetness.
Even now, he seemed so in control, methodical in the way he sought her pleasure. Lyric wanted to see Henry without all that control, wanted to wrest it from him and hold it hostage, make him weak with want for once.
Instead, it was Lyric who quivered under his touch. But not for long.
Lyric sat up, wrapped her fingers around Henry’s wrist, and pulled him away from her.
“Do you want to stop?” he questioned, his brow furrowed in worry.
This alpha wanted nothing but to take care of her, but for once, she wanted to take care of him.
“Not at all,” she answered, and pushed on his opposite shoulder until he was lying on the bed. She straddled his waist, his hard length pressed between them, hot and promising against her core.
Lyric slid herself against him, unable to resist the tease, the promise. His jaw clenched, and his fingers framed her hips in a threat.
With a knowing grin, Lyric lowered her head and pressed her lips to his skin. She sipped the water droplets from him, though they were few and far between as she made her way south.
His nipples called her name, and she slid to the side, peering up at him as she wrapped her lips around his right nipple and the barbell piercing it. The metal was cold on her tongue, but it heated quickly as she laved it.
Henry hummed in his throat, encouraging her, and she flicked her tongue over the metal. Goosebumps rippled over his skin at the tease, so she did it again and again, until she was satisfied with the hard nub.
When she let him go with a soft pop and a proud smirk, she met his gaze and found an expression that said, “You better take that talent south, now.”
Luckily for him, that was exactly what Lyric planned to do.
Lyric trailed her lips downward, over the hills and valleys of his abs. The V of his hips was too enticing to ignore, and she sucked and nipped at his skin until he emitted a grunt.
An odd sense of pride filling her chest, she continued, the hot heat of his cock brushing against her chin and cheeks as she kissed all around him.
His hands flexed over her head, and she could sense his desire to thread his fingers in her hair and lead her where she wanted him. But he didn’t, which meant he still had total control of himself.
Lyric would have to fix that.
Wrapping her fingers around his girth, Lyric stood him up and ghosted her lips across the head, barely tasting the droplet of precum that dotted the tip.
His hips jumped, just barely, and one of his hands slid to the sheets to grip the fabric, while he brushed her hair to one shoulder with the other and held it out of her way.
Lyric licked at the tip like an ice cream cone before sliding her lips down his length. He gasped, his chest rising and falling along with her as she bobbed her head slightly. Just enough to get him wet, and then she slid her hand up his length to follow her lips.
She began a rhythm that had no tempo, because she designed it to drive him crazy. Just when he thought he could predict her, tighten his grip in her hair and pull her on and off his cock, she would pause. Stroke him with her hand and play with his balls.
Then she’d swallow him again, widen her throat, and take him as deep as she could. It was addicting, him, his reactions.
The weight of him on her tongue, the taste of him as she swallowed. His groans echoed between them, bounced around the room, and urged her on. She wanted him panting, desperate. Wanting the only thought on his mind to be more.
“Lyric,” he groaned, the sound tortured.
Just like she wanted him to sound.
He pulsed against her palm, a physical reaction he couldn’t hide, and Lyric smiled to herself.
“What’s so funny?” he rasped.
“Nothing,” she answered. “It’s just nice to see you lose a little of your control.”
His gaze darkened, and he tightened the fist in her hair, tugging gently, to the point that she had to follow his hold, shimmying up his body until she straddled his hips. His hard length slid between her thighs, and she couldn’t help but roll her hips over him. It was a tease for the both o
f them, feeling him so hot and close to where she needed him.
Henry tugged her downward, taking her lips and invading her mouth. He pulled away only when she was breathless, and smirked. “You want to see me lose control, hm?”
His gaze, even darker than before, studied her features, and she met him with a slowly dwindling confidence. But her arousal trumped all of it, and she pushed herself up, bracing against his chest as she shifted her hips up to make room for him. His cock brushed against her lips, and she lowered a hand, wrapping it around his length and centering it at her core.
The blunt head pressed against her, and she held his gaze as she lowered herself onto him. His gaze was heated, and his lids shuttered as she rocked on him, taking him in inch by inch. Ever since he’d given her the tattoo, she’d wanted him inside her, and now he finally was. And it was worth every minute, worth waiting for more than half an hour, because Lyric never wanted to stop.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she sank down, her ass bumping his hips. He filled her completely, totally, and his fingers tightened around her waist, holding her to him as she adjusted to his size.
Her breath was short, her heart pounding, desire thick in her veins and making it hard to think, to move, to—
A gasp parted her lips as Henry reached up to tweak and tease her nipples. It sent shivers along her skin, and the spike of pleasure made her jolt atop him. She groaned and lifted herself up, feeling him drag inside her as he partially slipped free. Then she lowered herself with a snap, her patience evaporating as the pleasure rose.
She began to bounce in earnest, chasing the friction of him against her, inside her. He stroked his fingers over her tattoo, reminding her that he’d technically already marked her.
But she wanted a different mark.
Henry froze, gripped her hips tight, and kept her from moving. He paused, her hips resting against him, his cock deep inside her. She gasped at the fullness.