Dirty Aces MC: Box Set #1

by Hart, Lane

  “I can’t believe that actually worked!” I tell him when I spin around and he stands up grinning ear to ear.

  “Easiest thing in the world with a killer rack like yours!” he leans in to say against my ear since the crowd noise is growing louder the closer we get to the band coming on stage.

  “Thank you!” I tell him when I take my drink from his hand. “You’re forgiven for being a dick and cutting in line when there wasn’t anyone behind me!”

  “Sorry,” he says. “I’m Dev –” he starts to say but I slap my palm over his mouth to stop him. “Don’t tell me. All I want to know is if you are single and have your own place.”

  “Ah, yeah, I am definitely single.”

  “And do you have your own place?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “No reason,” I say as I let my eyes finally drink him in and spot a few dark flashes of ink on his ribs through his thin, white tank. Not to mention his sculpted arm muscles on display are amazing along with the sharp angles of his handsome face. Then there are his blue eyes framed by his black lashes that are pretty enough to drown in. Jeez, I don’t think I could pick a hotter specimen to break my three-date rule with.

  “So you don’t want to know my name?” he asks when I remove my palm from his sensual, curved lips.

  “Nope. For once in my life, I want to spend a night with a guy and never know his name!” I tell him honestly, because right now, in this moment, getting ready to see a rock legend so close, I would let this sexy, somewhat jerk of a man, have his way with me a million times over just for getting me to the front row.

  “You want to spend the night with me, but you don’t want to know my name?” he asks.

  “Yes! Is that crazy?” I ask him, and he vehemently shakes his head no while licking his lips and staring at my breasts that are still out because why the hell not! “Have you ever slept with a woman and didn’t know her name?”

  “Ah, no, I haven’t,” he says before leaning in to press his lips right against my ear. “Not like full name but first name definitely. Women don’t like for you to say another woman’s name when you’re fucking.”

  “That’s what baby and sweetheart are for, right?” I joke.

  “Damn, baby,” he chuckles. “You are an angel sent from below!”

  “Below?” I ask in confusion.

  “Yeah,” he says before swiping his tongue around the opening of my ear and sending a jolt of desire through my entire body. “The unholy things I’m going to do to you tonight, well, you’ll never be able to get into heaven after we’re through.”

  My thighs tense, and if it were possible to come from words alone, I think I would have done so right then and there.

  Instead, I quickly pull my phone from my fanny pack and text Carla that I’ve met a ‘friend’ with whom I’ll be enjoying the rest of the concert and that I will talk to her tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Devlin

  * * *

  That thing I said earlier about being smarter and not hopping into bed with every woman I meet? Well, there’s been a slight change of plans.

  Tomorrow I’ll give that shit a try. Tonight, though? Oh fucking hell, I already know that tonight is going to be mind-blowingly good with the wild girl with purple hair who doesn’t even want to know my name. She may be short, but she’s got some killer curves, like those big ass tits I want to motorboat for days.

  Not to mention she also loves Wasteland Authority and is down to fuck, so I’m more than happy to oblige. I swear it feels like I hit the lucky-son-of-a-bitch lottery, because just minutes ago I thought for sure I was on my own tonight.

  “Whew! It’s really freaking hot out here, isn’t it?” hot girl asks as she puts her cell phone away and lifts her hair off her neck with one hand. The scent of lavender washes over me as she sips her drink that’s in her other hand. Really, it’s nothing but melting ice in a big ole cup now. Which gives me an amazing idea…

  “Turn around,” I tell her.

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m going to cool you down.”

  “How do you plan to do that?” she asks.

  “Just do it, baby.”

  Slowly, she spins around, which is sad because I lose sight of her heavy, bouncing boobs, but I think it’ll be worth it.

  Reaching over into her cup, I grab a handful of ice and then place the melting cubes directly on the skin along the side of her neck, making her shiver.

  “Better?” I ask.

  “Yes. That feels so good!” she looks over her shoulder and tells me.

  Splitting the handful of rapidly melting ice into my left and right hands, I rub them both over her neck and throat, then up to her ear.

  That’s the same moment that the lights on the stage come on and the band members of Wasteland Authority strut out to take their instruments. The whole crowd starts to scream, myself included. There’s a sudden push from behind me, everyone trying to get just a little bit closer to the rock stars on stage until the front of my body is pressed against the purple-haired girl’s backside, pinning her to the stage.

  “Sorry!” I tell her as I slap my hands, still holding the ice, against her chest to catch myself.

  “It’s fine!” she yells back. “It’s fucking Wasteland Authority on stage right in front of me, so close I can almost touch them!”

  “Fuck yeah!” I shout back as the lead singer, Rob Lawrence, grabs the mic from the stand. The drums get going, followed by the guitars and then Rob is belting out the lyrics to “Ripped Open,” the first single the band released ten years ago, the one the girl in front of me said was her favorite.

  Her arms are raised straight up in the air as she jumps up and down, which means my palms still holding small pieces of ice get to cop a feel of her tits. When she stops moving to sing the lyrics of the song, I sing along with them too while watching the band perform, all while still swirling ice around her hard nipples until there’s nothing but wetness and her amazing flesh in both of my hands.

  Grabbing a few more pieces of ice, I run them over her bare shoulders and upper back. She shivers again but doesn’t ask me to stop.

  It doesn’t get any better than this, being up close and personal with my favorite band of all time, enjoying it with a hot as fuck girl who isn’t playing games but straight up offered to spend the night with me.

  This night is turning out to be a fucking dream come true.

  The only problem is that thanks to her fine ass grinding against my cock as she dances, I’m rock hard now, and there’s a whole lot more show to go before our wild night can get started.

  With everyone watching the band, that means no one would be paying attention if my hands, say, made their way up her dress, would they?

  Nope, definitely not.

  I scoop up another handful of ice and then reach around to run the cubes up the inside of her thigh while leaning forward to watch her face. Her lips part on a gasp and her head falls back against my chest.

  Reaching down with her free hand, she grabs my wrist and urges it upward until I’m rubbing the ice over the crotch of her lacy thong. Her thighs clench around my hand as the ice drips down them.

  When the band ends the first song to a raucous applause, I ease the ice inside the front of her panties and start rubbing the cubes around through the lace, moving them back and forth over her clit.

  Apparently, I’m so distracted with her iced pussy that it takes me awhile to realize the band isn’t playing another song yet. When I glance back up at the stage, Rob Lawrence is looking right down at me, at us, his pierced eyebrow arched. I grin at him like a lunatic, and then he comes over and, no shit, squats down to pinch one of her nipples!

  It’s so hot to witness that my dick weeps at the sight.

  In the blink of an eye, Rob is gone and the drummer is playing the beat of the next song.

  “Holy shit!” the girl exclaims. “Did you see…” she asks me over her shoulder. “He just…holy shit he touched me!”

>   “I know!” I yell back while I keep playing with the ice in her panties. “You lucky little bitch!” I tease her.

  “I love you, Rob!” she yells with her arms in the air until I ease my fingers down the front of her soaking wet panties and shove two fingers inside of her. “Oh fuck!” she shouts, grabbing onto the stage with both hands as she squirms on my pumping digits, working her ass on my erection so hard the friction alone is going to make me come while simultaneously leave my cock raw. My fingers push in and out while pressing the heel of my hand firmly against her clit until it finally happens. This girl whose name I don’t even know shakes and screams for me, not the rock star on stage. The only thing that would make it better is if she was screaming my name that she wouldn’t let me tell her.

  Once her convulsions stop, she then reaches back and I’m not sure if she’s trying to tell me to stop or what before her fingers find what they were apparently looking for all along…my zipper. It’s not easy to get it down over my hard-on, so I take over the task, glad to give my Johnson a little more room to expand outside of my tight leather pants.

  “Do you have a condom?” she asks over her shoulder as she wraps her fist around me and strokes hard.

  “Yeah,” I answer on a grunt. “You mean…right now? Right here?” I shout next to her ear to make sure she understands and we’re on the same fucking page because, hell yes, I want to fuck her.

  “Right here,” she says. “Sex, drugs and rock and roll, right?”

  “Right,” I agree as I quickly retrieve the condom from my wallet while her hand keeps moving. Ripping the foil wrapper open with my teeth, I have the rubber out; and then she rolls it the rest of the way down my dick in record breaking time.

  Would it be weird if I thrust inside of her to the beat of “Love in the Fast Lane”, one of my favorite songs while the band performs it?

  Nah. Fuck it.

  Hiking up the back of her short dress, I yank her panties down to her knees and grab her lean hips to tug them backward. She rests her forearms on the stage just before I let go of one of her hips to line my cock up. A surge from the crowd pushing against my back is how I end up fully seated inside of her the next second.

  Oh and it’s like the snuggest, hottest fit of my entire life. I have to take a few moments to close my eyes and soak it up, wanting to remember this, the thumping of the music, the sound of Rob’s melodic voice before he yells lyrics into the microphone all while I’m doing the thing I love most above even my bike — fucking.

  It’s a goddamn perfect night that I don’t want to end. So I take my time, fucking her nice and slow to the love ballad about finding love on the side of a highway, making it last and waiting for her pussy to lock my shit down. When it doesn’t happen and the song is about to end, right along with my dick, I reach around under the front of her skirt and rub my fingertips over her clit. It takes about five slow circles before her cunt squeezes down on my shaft the first time. I start fucking her faster and stroking her swollen clit like my life depends on it because it does. Nothing feels as good as a woman getting off until she milks the cum from my hard cock.

  Her entire body dips and sags, and then it happens — my dick is locked up tight by her throbbing pussy that’s trying to pull me in as deep as possible as she draws every drop of seed from me. I thrust like a mad man and explode into the condom so hard that for an instant I worry the rubber won’t be able to hold up to the force.

  Any grunts or moans we make are drowned out by the crowd as our bodies take what they need from each other.

  And by the time it’s over, this chick is so fucking wet my balls are soaked with her juices. If we were back at my place, I would put her on her knees and make her lick them clean. But we’re not. We’re in public at a rock concert, and we just fucked like wild, horny animals.

  I put in a damn good effort but not enough to explain the sweat that’s pouring down my forehead and back.

  It takes my sex-hazed mind several minutes to realize it’s not sweat but rain pelting down on us from the sky that’s just opened up.

  A crash of thunder interrupts the band’s song, causing the guitar and drummer’s notes to die down before Rob looks over to the side of the stage. Then he says into the microphone, “Sorry, folks. We’re gonna have to call it a night before the lightning fries us all.” He yells, “Keep fucking rocking!” before he goes over and puts the microphone back into the stand and then carries it off the stage. The rest of the band unhook and carry off the other instruments and whatever equipment they can carry while I stand there frozen in shock.

  Guess Fiasco was right about the weather forecast – it’s raining fucking cats and dogs. That may be the first time he’s ever been right about anything.

  “Crap,” I hear the woman I’m still buried inside of grumble as the crowd behind us starts screaming and running for cover.

  “Do you, ah, do you want to go back to my place and finish this?” I ask her over the sound of the pounding rain coming down on us, soaking us through our clothes.

  “I did finish!” she tells me when she slips out from in front of me and turns around to face me with an enormous smile, not bothered in the slightest by the rain drenching her hair.

  “I could help you finish a few more times before the sun comes up, girl with no name.”

  “Oh, I have a name,” she says. “You just don’t need to know it.”

  She’s wrong. I do need to know it, or I may go crazy trying to find her again after she leaves my apartment in the morning without giving me her number. There should be plenty of time for me to discretely grab her phone to call myself later.

  “So? My place?” I ask.

  She turns toward the stage. Sitting her cup down, she flattens her palms on it as if she’s sad it’s already over and we have to say goodbye to it before turning back to me. “Yeah. Your place.”

  I’m about to grab her hand to pull her toward the exit to try and find a ride home when a dark figure jogs out from backstage. He comes to a stop in front of us, and that’s when I finally realize it’s Rob fucking Lawrence with a black hoodie pulled up over his head.

  “Come on,” he says, offering his tattooed hand down to the girl.

  Great, she’s about to have the night of her life aboard the tour bus, getting her brains banged out by the most awesome rock band of all time. Is it weird that I’m a little jealous even though I’m totally straight?

  The girl looks back at me and then up at Rob as if it’s a fucking decision before finally handing her empty cup to me and taking his hand so he can pull her up the stage. I give her ass a boost to help her up, depressed to see her go but glad for the time we got to have together, even if I never did get her name. Removing my used condom, I toss it on the ground in frustration to zip up my leather pants, disappointed I only got to be with the sexy purple-haired girl one time.

  “You too,” Rob Lawrence says, holding down his palm to me.

  “Me?” I repeat in disbelief, even pointing a finger at my own chest to confirm I heard him right.

  “Yeah, you! Time to party with Rob Lawrence. Are you in or out, man?”

  Did he just refer to himself in the third person? That is so…strange and awesome.

  For a heartbeat, I wonder if accepting the lead singer’s hand means I’m agreeing to sleep with him. But then I decide that getting to touch him and meet him is totally worth the risk. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

  I clasp his hand and heft my knee up on stage to climb up since I weigh a lot more than the chick.

  “Thanks, man. You’re incredible!” I tell Rob Lawrence as I get to my feet, sounding like the fanboy I am.

  “No problem! Now, let’s hurry up and get out of the storm and get to some place that’s dry,” Rob tells us. He points back behind the stage. “But it probably won’t stay that way for long,” it sounds like he mutters.

  Chapter Three

  Jetta

  * * *

  When I woke up this morning, I
had no idea that I would flash hundreds of people my boobs, hook up with a man I just met at a rock festival, see Wasteland Authority from the front row, and I never, in a million years, expected to be hurrying along behind Rob Lawrence toward his tour bus!

  Boy am I glad I threw my three date-rule out the window, or I would probably be heading home with Carla and Mitch to spend another night alone.

  Instead, I’m here, climbing up onto the bus full of rock stars for what I hope will be the most exciting night of my life after what can only be described as hands down, without a doubt, the best sex I’ve ever had. The thrill of possibly getting caught, of having other people watch us, it was insane, like nothing I’ve ever done before. Who knew I was an exhibitionist? I sure as hell didn’t before now. I’ve never imagined being with more than one man at a time, but only because I never thought it was possible to sleep with the entire Wasteland Authority band.

  Except, after I sweep my wet hair back from my face to see better, the inside of the tour bus is empty other than the three of us standing in the crowded living room, dripping wet.

  “Where’s everyone at?” my hot hookup asks from behind me.

  “Oh, the rest of the band are a bunch of pussies,” Rob says. “They’re hunkering down in the back of some concession stand. I highly doubt a tornado will come through here.”

  “A tornado?” I repeat.

  “Yeah, the city is just under a watch, not a warning or anything,” he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Rob Lawrence isn’t going to die from a fucking twister.”

  Hot guy I just had mind-blowing sex with and I exchange a shared look of concern when he mentions a national disaster and continues speaking about himself in third person. Then we both pull out our phones, his from his tight pants pocket and mine from my fanny pack. Sure enough, there’s a National Weather Service warning about a severe thunderstorm in the area and a tornado watch.