What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  Clayton’s grin grew. “Is it?”

  Kelly’s eyebrows lifted, realization hitting her. She was now stuck in a very personal moment. As if to prove the point, the man named Jay put one possessive arm around Clayton’s bare chest, locking in behind him, his mouth descending to Clayton’s shoulder.

  Kelly watched in amazement as the man bared his teeth and bit into Clayton’s shoulder. Clayton wasn’t complaining though. In fact, when the other bloke’s hand moved down to his belt, he shut his eyes and groaned aloud. The sound was definitely one of pleasure, sexual. Clayton Warren is gay? Clayton’s hand locked over Jay’s, forcing it lower, into the zipper area. He definitely wasn’t fighting the other bloke off.

  She tried not to look but couldn’t help herself. The image of the two men locked together like that was so hot. She was riveted. Her pulse was pounding, her body humid. Her hair clung to her cheek, making her long to swipe it away.

  Jay’s hand moved to the button, then the zipper.

  Oh my god. Kelly pressed back into the shadows. She was a mere three feet away from them, and they were so into each other they had no clue.

  The sound of the zipper lowering was loud—hellish loud—and slow, each tooth snapping free. Then Clayton’s cock was out and being expertly handled by the other man. He smoothed his hand over it, drawing back the foreskin in even, practiced strokes.

  Clayton’s head dropped back, his body arched. His hips jutted forward and his mouth open, his teeth bared.

  What a sight.

  His cock was fully erect, a drop of semen gathering on its tip as Jay worked the shaft. He must have already been hard, in expectation of this after-show treat.

  Arousal soared through her, arousal and disbelief. How the hell had she got herself into this? She swore silently, ruing her urge to go autograph-hunting. She’d now got herself stuck in a live man-on-man sex show and was privy to one of the best-kept secrets in the rock world. Despite all the press coverage featuring him and numerous attractive women, pinup boy Clayton Warren had a male lover. And right now she had an eyeful of their intimate behavior.

  “Oh yeah, I need this,” Clayton grunted. His cock was rigid, the head dark with blood, stretched to its limits, fit to burst.

  She pressed back against the wall. How do I get out of here? There was a knock at the door and it opened. Hope leapt inside her.

  “Sorry, Clayton,” a voice declared, “but I think we’ve got a groupie on the loose.”

  A groupie? They had to be talking about her. Her heart sank to her boots. Jesus, could this get any worse?

  Jay moved away from Clayton, turning towards the voice.

  Over Clayton’s shoulder, she could see the attractive security bloke give a reassuring nod to Jay.

  “I’m on the case, but I thought Clayton would rather know.”

  “Sure thing, Tommy,” Clayton replied through tense lips, hauling his zipper shut.

  With no small effort, Kelly noticed. Forcing that meaty erection under-cover was inevitably going to be a tough job. He looked positively exasperated, and who could blame him?

  Sweat had now gathered in her cleavage. The combination of arousal and agitation was causing chaos inside her, threatening to unhinge her. She wanted to bolt for the door, push past the big bloke, and make a run for it. The remaining bit of sense she owned told her that would be the wrong thing to do.

  A moment later, the big bloke ducked out and Clayton stalked over to the dressing table. Jay joined him and she could hear reassuring murmurs, but Kelly’s attention was now focused on something else entirely—the door to the corridor had been left open. Could she make it?

  Clayton and Jay were facing away, which would give her a head start. Go girl, you can do it. She counted to three, took a deep breath, and then crept out of her hole. Squeezing through the clothes, she tiptoed across the floor. Gathering speed as she got to the door, she grabbed the doorframe, rounded the corner—and ran straight into a wall of muscle.

  Stunned, her eyes shut and then opened, cautiously. Peeking upwards, she recognized the granite jaw of the security man in the leather jacket. Oh joy, I’ve run straight into him. One large, powerful hand clamped against her back, winding her as he locked her in against him.

  He gave a husky laugh, keeping her pinned close to him. “Not so fast, lady.”

  Looking up, she saw the stubble on his chin, his twinkling eyes and the thick, dark blonde hair that fell across his forehead. He was indeed a particularly fit looking specimen of a man, even if he did have her trapped in a vise. Under different circumstances, she might have bought him a drink.

  Coughing, she wriggled her crushed boobs free, trying to make a point. She was a bona fide ticket buyer—she couldn’t be treated this way. Could she? She stomped her foot on the floor, the only part of her body that she could actually move. “Let me go, I only wanted an autograph for a friend.”

  “That’s what they all say.” He lifted her bodily, leaving her feet dangling. “Autographs are available through the fan site.”

  “But I—”

  “Groupie hunt over,” he bellowed along the corridor.

  His voice rumbled through her chest, making her pulse race. Perplexed at the effect he had on her, she prodded him with the finger he had jammed against his pecs. “How dare you. I’m not a groupie.”

  He looked down at her with amusement, green eyes narrowed with interest. He had a wide smile, teasing.

  “Nice job, Tommy boy.” It was Clayton and he was behind her.

  She glanced back and then peered up at the big bloke beseechingly, hoping he wouldn’t reveal that she’d just shot out of Clayton’s dressing room.

  “Give her hell, Tommy,” Jay’s voice announced. “She’s all yours, call it a perk of the job.”

  Kelly’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t mean that, surely.

  Without warning, the big man laughed, lifted her, and threw her over his shoulder.

  Shocked, she clutched at the back of his jacket for balance, her world spinning. He had her in a fireman’s lift and there was nothing she could do about it. Voices and laughter from farther down the corridor assured her that others were watching the whole embarrassing scene. Her boobs were spilling out of her top, her bottom sticking in the air for all to see. And yet…somehow the idea of being carried away by the big bloke got to her. Sexually. She heated through in a flash and then whimpered, clutching at his massive, muscled body through his clothing.

  He stroked the back of her leather-clad thighs with one warm hand.

  That felt good, really good, and the way he had her positioned, her leather hipsters were pulled tight into her pussy, driving her crazy. Focus, she told herself. You might be in an intensely physical and compromised situation, but be sensible and use your head.

  “Okay, it was wrong of me to come down here,” she admitted, waving one hand. “But I only wanted an autograph for a friend, an injured friend who couldn’t make it. I didn’t mean to do anything else, honestly.”

  “Oh, but you did. You were a naughty girl, and you’ll be punished.” He gave a rumbling laugh and then set off. His hands were locked tightly around the back of her thighs.

  She swore aloud. Her boobs were almost out of her top now and she felt as if the whole world was looking at her. The corridor shifted in her vision and two pairs of feet came into view—presumably Clayton and Jay.

  “You can’t be serious,” she pleaded, forcing her head up, looking at the two men who looked on with amusement as she was carried off like some primeval caveman’s prize. “I don’t deserve to be treated like this.” That seemed to make them laugh even more. They had to be kidding. She was about to beg to be put down when she was smacked across the bottom by one large hand.

  “Bad girl,” her captor bellowed, chuckling to himself.

  Any notion of using her head was lost in an instant. Heat leapt out from the spot he’d spanked, spreading across the top of her thighs and shooting deep, right into her core. Her heart missed a beat. She st
ruggled for breath. She shuddered and moaned, her clit tingling with heat. Liquid fire poured out of her core and her body went boneless with lust, falling limp over his shoulder. She clutched at his jacket with trembling fingers, her mind echoing with the primitive call of instinctive need: take me, use me, fill me.

  The crowd faded away, everything faded away as he carried her off down a corridor, where the light grew dim and all she was aware of was him—his massive presence and his control over her. I want him. Somewhere at the back of her mind the Mission Impossible theme started up again.

  Tommy Sampson was surprised, to say the least. Usually by this point they were thumping and kicking and bemoaning the fact they were being taken away from their beloved Clayton. It was a familiar scenario, but this woman was making panting noises and wriggling around as if she were on the brink of an orgasm.

  She was a sexy number too. When she’d run slap bang into him and he’d grabbed hold of her, he was instantly reminded of the cover of a Modesty Blaise novel that he’d kept by his bedside as a teenager. He’d liked the cover model who represented the sexy female secret agent, and had held onto the book nearby for weeks after he’d finished reading it. He hadn’t thought of it in years, but this woman had stimulated the memory. That wasn’t all she had stimulated.

  She looked good in those leather pants, and her breasts shifting against him under her skimpy top instantly made him think of sex. Right now heat was pouring off her in waves. She smelled good too, sexy, a mixture of perfume and hormones.

  “You are in big trouble, madam. Nobody gets past me during the last encore.” He gave her another spank as he walked down the corridor towards one of the hidden exits at the back of the building. He couldn’t resist it.

  She wriggled against him, making another dirty-sex noise. Yup, she was turned on, unmistakably turned on. He couldn’t help smiling. Normally his he-man act sent them off in a rush of humiliation. He’d worked for Clayton during his tours for the last three years, and he’d got the act down to a fine art by the end of the first tour. With the real bad cases, the ones who got into the dressing rooms like this one had, Clayton played into it as well, which usually worked a treat for sending them on their way.

  The corridor was dingy, the overhead light-bulb weak and flickering. He didn’t really want to put her down at all, but they had reached the security door at the back of the building. The door opened on to a narrow alleyway, which led a convoluted path back onto the main street. He just had to enter the code into the keypad, and she could be on her merry way.

  “Here you go, Madam.” He eased her down a fraction, so that she could straighten up in his grip, and then paused. He could have just put her feet down on the floor, but this was too much fun. He wanted to savor lowering her. Her body was toned under his hands and he mused that she would make a great gym partner.

  She was secure, but she clutched at him, her hands going to his shoulders as she straightened. She shook her hair back. Short and thick, it fell back into place around her head. Her face was flushed, her eyes glinting in the gloomy light. Her wide mouth was open, her lips damp. She looked like a cat about to pounce.

  He paused, staring up at her. His spine stiffened, a dull ache at its base working its way into his consciousness. Unsurprisingly, he was getting hard. He had a whole lot of woman in his arms, after all, and she was looking good. Her breasts were just under his chin, her hips against his belly. It was a recipe for arousal.

  She let out a soft laugh. “That was quite a ride.” She arched one slim eyebrow.

  “You weren’t supposed to enjoy it, my dear.” He couldn’t restrain his grin.

  She wriggled in his grasp, but clutched tighter. “I thought you might be enjoying it too.” She bit her lip, an action that made her even more sexy looking.

  “I am.” Savoring each moment, he eased her down, his hands shifting around her hips. She definitely wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples were hard inside that top of hers. When his hands reached her buttocks, he cupped them.

  She moved her hands, latching her fingers around his head, and then—to his astonishment—she opened her legs and wrapped them around his hips.

  She doesn’t want you to put her down, bozo.

  The fact hit him like a freight train, and then some other form of rationale took over: instinct. He turned, wedging her back against the closed door, jamming his hips between her open legs.

  “What’s the matter, afraid to let go?” he teased. He leaned into her hair, smelling her.

  “I like it here.” She leaned back against the door, pivoting against it and riding her pussy up and down against the growing erection inside his jeans.

  He groaned.

  “Do you have to rush off?” She had her hands in his hair and, as she moved them, she brushed the secret, sensitive spot below his left ear that sent him off the rails with lust. Blood rushed to his groin. His heart hammered in his chest, his hips rolled into hers.

  “Rushing off anywhere isn’t an option right now,” he managed to mutter, and leaned into her neck, his mouth against her skin. He could feel her breath warm on his face. He traced a path with his mouth down toward her jaw.

  Her head sank back in response.

  He kissed the skin beneath her ear. She smelt of jasmine, and desire, unmistakable. He could hear the withheld whimper in her throat, and he could sense her reactions coursing over her skin. Her hands were on his shoulder, drawing him in. She was hot, responsive. She was everything that made his blood turn to fire and his lust palpable. He breathed his way to her jaw and then she turned her mouth into his, meeting him.

  Her mouth was soft but active, an explosive combination, her lips moved against his, hungrily, then she opened her mouth, her tongue teasing his into her mouth.

  He staggered, his grip on her buttocks failing.

  She slid to the floor but clutched at him, not breaking the kiss.

  His hands moved up and to her top. He felt her breathing grow shallow as he ran his hands over the outline of her breasts under the soft fabric.

  She shivered, leaning back and looking up at him. Reaching down and stroking her hand against his dick, she gave a husky laugh. “That’s a good, solid package you’ve got there.”

  When she touched him like that, he couldn’t think straight. “You’re a bad girl.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to spank me again?”

  He groaned, and pushed her against the door. “I think you deserve it, don’t you?”

  “Maybe you’re right.” A wild streak was visible in her expression.

  “You like playing rough, do you?” Logic was gone. His dick had well and truly taken over his brain.

  “You better believe it.” She moved, stretching up to him, grazing his chin with her teeth. Her hands were measuring him up—back, shoulders, and biceps—while she kissed his neck. Her breasts, pert and high under her top, made his hands gravitate toward them.

  He reached under it, his thumbs stroking her nipples until they were hard and jutting. He wanted to fuck her right there and then, up against the wall, rough and ready.

  You vowed never to get involved with groupies, his conscience reminded him. She wanted Clayton. You’re just a convenient second choice for a woman in heat. But she was all over him, so inviting, and his body was tuning his conscience out.

  Her hands gripped his buttocks, digging into them roughly, pulling him closer.

  He ground hard against her. He had condoms in his wallet, a three-pack. He wanted to use them all, in quick succession. The sudden sound of a mobile phone ringing interrupted that chain of thought, grounding him somewhat as he tried to work out where the sound was coming from.

  She pulled her head back and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Is that a vibrator in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

  When she laughed her nipples bounced, the hard little nubs poking through the fabric of her top, drawing his attention. He ran his thumbs over them, unable to resist.

 
; “Oh I’m pleased to see you, but I think the vibrations are coming from your side.” Probably a boyfriend or husband, he realized, waiting outside. He’d seen it before, women coming backstage while their boyfriends waited outside. It didn’t make any sense to him. He eased away from her.

  She fumbled for her hip pocket.

  He had to ask. “Boyfriend?” He stepped back, giving her space.

  “No, I’m single. What about you, have you got a boyfriend?” She laughed softly. “Or is that just Clayton’s thing?”

  Damn. He was hoping there hadn’t been anything going on when she was in the dressing room. It had to happen eventually, he figured. Clayton and Jay’s affair had been going on for months and they’d got away with it so far through sheer luck. “You saw them together?”

  She pulled the phone out of her pocket. “I take it it’s a secret?”

  That sense of humor of hers was mischievous. He nodded. He was going to have to speak to her, talk her out of going to the press if it was at all possible. They weren’t ready for that kind of exposure yet and might never be. Clayton had only confided in him because they needed his understanding and vigilance, but Clayton had also confided he was afraid the truth would ruin his career.

  He reached over and punched the key code into the door, pushing it open to get some air. He needed to clear his head.

  “I better get this, it’s my housemate. I came to the gig with her and she’s probably wondering where I am.” She flicked the phone open and moved into the doorway, but kept one hand on his shoulder, maintaining the contact between them.

  She’d said there was no boyfriend. It was a relief to find he hadn’t just been mauling some other man’s woman. He glanced over her. Her Doc Marten boots made him smile. She wasn’t like the other groupies. He didn’t seem to be clearing his head after all. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted her.

  “Hi, Helen. Yes, I’m fine.” She sidled a glance over his torso as she spoke, as if weighing her thoughts and words carefully. Her hand moved inside his jacket, down and across his chest while her gaze held his.