by Eden Summers
He gripped the barrier and squeezed until his knuckles turned white. He knew what she meant, yet her word choice grated over his nerves. He didn’t make women do anything. Still, there was a certain deviance to his position of power and he couldn’t deny enjoying the control. “You’re one of the first in a damn long time.”
She raised a brow, announcing without words that she thought he was full of shit.
“I just broke up from a messy relationship.”
“Ahuh. Well I guess it’s bad timing that you won’t let me walk straight backstage without providing you with a service.”
He gave a derisive chuckle, hating that she’d hidden her groupie enthusiasm under the cloak of a breathtaking smile. But she was still the one baiting him with her deep brown fuck-me stare. Sex with him had always been on her agenda, no matter what she said.
“Sweetheart, if I thought you didn’t want to blow me, I would’ve let you walk in without question.”
Chagrin crossed her features as she sucked her lower lip into her mouth. “I guess I need to work on my poker face.”
He was in trouble. Not only for falling back into the habit of sleeping with fans, but for being so easily tempted by this femme fatale. She had an invisible hold on him with those pouty, red lips and smooth-as-silk skin. He needed to touch her—to see if the fantasy would waver with the brush of his fingers over her cheek, or the tight grasp of her hair in his fist.
He stepped into the railing, making her chin raise to maintain their connection. “Your poker face is just fine.”
She reached up on her toes, bringing their noses bare inches apart as the wall of security guards behind him started to disperse. He could taste her minty breath, smell her sweet perfume. She was driving him crazy with the need to have her and the need to be wanted in return—for reasons other than screwing one, or more, of the band.
“Are you going to help me over?” she cooed.
“How about you give me your name first.”
“I’ll give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”
A shiver ran down his spine and settled in his balls. She made his dick ache to be sated, and his hands fist with the need for relief. “What’s your name?”
She inched closer, her lips hovering over his. “Lori. But you can call me whatever the hell you like.”
He growled against her mouth, insane with the desire pulsing through his veins. He grabbed her waist, sinking his hands into the softness of her curves and lifted her over the barrier. As he placed her boot-covered feet on the ground, there was nothing between them, nothing but the hardness of his dick throbbing against his zipper.
“How bad do you want the backstage pass, Lori?” He nudged his erection against her pelvis and almost groaned at the friction.
She chuckled, leaned into him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “From the feel of things, I’d say just as much as you want me to. But I’m not an exhibitionist. Whatever you need me to do has to stay between the two of us. I don’t want an audience.” She ran her hand around the back of his neck to the short-cropped hair at his nape. “Have you got a place where we can go?”
His hotel room for one. Problem was, that wasn’t an option when this was a means to an end. She wanted The Screaming Tuesdays. This thing between them was a mere stepping stone to achieving her goal.
“I can see the doubt in those hazel eyes of yours,” she murmured. “Caring and hesitant. What remarkable attributes. What’s eating at you?”
He laughed. How much detail did she want him to go into? He could mention all the times he’d fucked groupies for the pleasure of it, knowing they didn’t give a shit about who he was. He could tell her how even his ex had tried to worm her way into the band member’s beds, or how he’d only found out the night before he left Australia. But that bucket of ice-cold clarity would ruin the moment.
“I only hold concern for you, sweetheart, and what’s in store for you once we get up those stairs.” His grin was predatory, as he fought the urge to sink his teeth into her bottom lip. “And that’s before you even get to the band.”
He closed his eyes as she came closer, her lips hovering close enough to give him goose bumps.
“So you’re not going to blurt the line—‘it ain’t gonna suck itself’?”
Her breathy laughter teased his mouth, but her words made the anger return to his veins. Anton was an A-grade asshole, and tomorrow he’d make it known the guy wouldn’t be working with the band any more.
“No,” he growled. “I’d never stoop that low.”
“Then tell me,” she whispered into the silence between them. “I want to know all those filthy things you’re going to make me do to get backstage.”
Fuck. His mind filled with images so vivid pre-come seeped from his dick. He kept his mouth shut, unable to speak as his thoughts went on a fantasy trail of what he could do to this woman. He wanted to see her naked. To feel her skin—every inch, every curve.
“Lost for words?” she murmured.
He opened his eyes and fell further under the spell of her tempting features. “I’m forming a list.”
She chuckled, low and raspy. It was all he could take. He had to taste her, not backstage, not in seclusion, but right here, right now. In the view of the security team and the fans still leaving the stadium, he slammed his mouth against hers. Her moan undid him, making his cock throb to the point of pain. She kissed him with the same hunger, the same passion and excitement that made him mindless and stole his breath.
She sucked on his lower lip, and allowed his tongue entry as those sexy jean-covered hips ground against him. “Privacy,” she murmured into his mouth. “Take me some place quiet.”
For him, the world around them had ceased to exist. There was only her and the cloying need building in his limbs. But he wouldn’t back down on his promise. He’d give her the seclusion she requested.
He glanced over his shoulder to the three guards still manning the front of the stage. The bastards were smirking, having a chuckle at his first skip down Groupie Lane since they’d been in the US.
“Got a problem?” he barked.
The men straightened, the one closest shaking his head.
“Good.” He grabbed Lori’s hand and turned toward the temporary staircase. “Make sure nobody comes back here while I’m gone.”
All three nodded in unison, while the man closest struggled to contain his grin. “Sure thing, boss.”
Josh took one last look around the stadium to appease his guilt. Standing room was now empty. All that remained were fans trying to leave in the upper levels. There was no threat to security within his area, no need for concern on his radar at all.
“You’re in charge?” Lori stole his focus as she spoke against his shoulder.
“Of the front line, yes.” It was his ass that would get kicked if someone snuck backstage without authorisation. And although it currently didn’t look like it, he took his job seriously.
“Ahh,” she murmured against his neck. “Now I understand the hesitancy.”
No, she didn’t. But that was fine with him. He led her up the stairs, into the darkness of side stage alive with crew packing up for the night. They didn’t pay them any attention. They didn’t need to. It was common practice for attractive women to be escorted along this path after each show.
“Where are we going?” Lori clutched tight to his hand, her boot heels echoing off the temporary platforms the crew built specifically for The Tuesdays’ performance.
“A janitor’s closet or something.” He had no clue. If he’d anticipated this woman seducing her way into his pants, he would’ve planned it better. He would’ve pre-organised somewhere they could have privacy.
“Wait.” She planted her feet as they approached the door leading to the change rooms and then yanked his arm toward the pitch-black darkness of a corner.
He didn’t have a chance to question her before that intoxicating mouth was against his. A rumble echoed in his chest as he lea
ned her against the wall, taking what she was offering and giving it back in return. Her hands were in his hair, one leg wrapping around his waist. Even in his early days, groupies had never acted this way. They only ever gave what they had to in order to get backstage. Nothing more. Nothing less. This woman was offering herself to him without question or guidance, and it drove him wild as shit.
“You’re damn eager to earn your way, aren’t you?”
She pulled back, placing her palm against his cheek. “I’m definitely eager.”
“Who for?” he asked, then needed to clear his throat to relieve the dryness born of jealousy. “Which member of the band are you looking to score with?”
“Umm.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Tough question. I guess, the drummer.”
Right. Sawyer Temple was the cocky sweet talker of the group. The blonde haired, brown-eyed musician was generous with fans and loyal to a fault. His presence demanded female attention. All The Screaming Tuesdays men did.
“But let’s not get distracted from the here and now,” she uttered, tightening her leg around his thigh. “My only interest at the moment is you.”
He was falling into the illusion of her, finding it hard to separate the real reason she was seducing him, with the fantasy in his mind. It had been a while since he’d felt the bitter sting of being second best. Or fifth or sixth, when the band and crew were concerned.
Fuck it. It was too late to back out now. He wasn’t going to let go of this opportunity. His dick would never forgive him. He ground into her, thrusting the hardness of his shaft against the apex of her thighs. The sound of her hitched breathing spurred him to push harder. The expansion of her chest had him gripping her raised thigh for better access.
His hand tangled in her hair of its own accord, slowly dragging through the smooth-as-silk strands. She leaned her head into the movement, arching her neck, exposing him to the most flawless expanse of skin he’d ever seen, no matter how limited the lighting was.
He could smell her perfume, or maybe it was her shampoo. Exotic. Wild. A tangled mix of everything the woman before him was. He leaned in, filling his lungs with her. “What exactly are you willing to do, Lori?”
He closed his eyes and tilted his head to run his lips along the length of her neck, all the way down to the start of her shoulder. He bet her pussy tasted the same way she smelled. Pure eroticism. He couldn’t get enough.
“Test me. I doubt you’ll reach any boundaries.”
It was a challenge. A taunt maybe. All he could see was a red flag waving in front of a bull ready to charge.
The door to their right opened silently, the light from the other side bathing her in a glow.
“I see you two hiding there,” a male sneered.
Shit. Just what Josh needed, fucking Anton. He glared as the other man made a deliberate show of yanking up his zipper.
“Done already?” Lori taunted.
If Josh hadn’t been lost to this woman already, he totally was now. He wanted to make her scream in pleasure for the ego blow she’d landed against the arrogant bastard.
“Fuck you, you little tramp. Bitches like you are a dime a dozen.”
Josh stiffened, and this time not in an enjoyable way. Every muscle tensed as he pulled back, ready to cold cock the asshole in the face.
“Don’t.” Lori chuckled, gripping the short sleeve of his shirt. “His opinions don’t mean dick to me.”
Her continuous mirth made his heart rate kick up a notch. Her confidence was erection-inducing, but her smile, her laugh, it was like liquid gold running through his veins. She was going to set him aflame and he couldn’t wait for the burn.
“Fuck off, Anton,” he muttered, grabbing her hand and leading her toward the door. “If I see your ugly face again, I’ll break it.”
Thankfully, the prick wasn’t dumb enough to reply. He strode away as Josh held the door open and ushered Lori into an empty hall filled with fluorescent light.
“Now where?” She waggled her brows, playful as hell.
“Over here.”
He strode to the first closed door and twisted the knob. Inside was darkness, but also the privacy they coveted. He led her inside, allowing the door to close behind them with a definite click. Finally, they were alone. In silence. Nothing but their heavy breathing filling the space.
“Lights,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his. “I want to see you.”
He reached out his arm, walking his fingers along the wall until he found the treasured switch and flicked it on. He squinted at the bright light and focused on the sight in front of him, a vision that was a hundred times better than what he pictured in his mind for those brief seconds before.
“That’s better,” Lori murmured. “I didn’t want to miss out on seeing that handsome face of yours.”
She turned her head, depriving him of her enticing mouth as she scoped their surroundings. They were in a storage room, wall to wall of cables, microphone stands, spare speakers, and stage lights. It was a jungle of musical equipment and he only had eyes for her.
The longer she diverted her gaze, the more intensely his dick throbbed. She had him on a leash. A short one. Which was fucking crazy because he’d never been seduced before. It was time for the tables to turn.
He lowered his head toward her—to the creamy expanse of skin that joined her neck and shoulder. He planted kisses, soft ones that dragged her attention away from the room and sent her hands clasping onto his shoulders.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that,” she whispered, scratching her nails on a path to his scalp, making him fight to stay in control of his senses. “The full package—the spiky light brown hair, the penetrating eyes, the broad shoulders and the body of a Greek god.”
She strode backward, dragging him along as if hypnotised until she scooted her ass onto a thigh-high speaker. He nestled between her spread legs and clutched the waistband of her jeans, wishing they’d fall apart under his hold.
“I have one more request to ask of you.” Her gaze was intense, her heated breath sinking beneath his skin.
“Name it.” The only thing he didn’t think he could handle right now was stopping. Obviously, he would if he had to, but it would fucking hurt to back away.
“I want to be selfish.” She leaned closer, her breasts rubbing against the cotton of his security shirt. “I’m not here to blow you. It’s not enough for me. I want to feel you. All of you.” Her tongue snuck out to moisten her lower lip. “Everywhere.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He was in. All in.
She grinned and reclined, clutching the hem of her shirt as she distanced her torso from him. With a teasing curve to her lips, she pulled the loose material over her head, exposing a cherry red bra to match the gloss on her lips and the swell of creamy white breasts.
Josh salivated, swallowed, and struggled to contain himself. She may think he was the man of morals and manners, but those attributes were lost in the heat of sex.
“Don’t stop there.” He stepped back eager to watch the show.
She arched a brow and gave him a predatory grin. “Pants or bra?”
“Both,” he demanded. “All of it. Off. Now.”
Fuck it, he’d do it himself. He grabbed her boot and yanked it off, followed by the other one. Then his focus was on the waistband of her jeans. He undid the button with a push of his fingers and lowered the zipper to discover matching panties.
“Nice,” he murmured, and began tugging the material down her thighs.
“I’m far from it.” She grabbed his hand, halting his movement. “Forgetting something?”
His manners? His job? His sanity?
Lori reached into her pocket and pulled out a foil packet, holding it up between her middle and index finger.
“Shit.” He had forgotten about protection. “I’m glad you’re prepared. I have nothing on me.”
“You weren’t lying about the lack of women you bring backstage, were you?”
She slid the tiny
package into his pants pocket, gave a provocative smile, then reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. He paused, his fingers still clutching the denim of her jeans as she lowered the straps and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts were gorgeous. Full and plentiful with dark pink nipples standing at attention.
“Tell me again why you like the drummer?” he murmured.
She chuckled, ignoring the question as she shimmied, helping him remove the last items of her clothing.
He was serious. He wanted to know what a man had to do to score a woman like this. She was flawless. Sexual. Enticing. With a body made for pleasure and a smile wicked as sin. She had a mix of self-assurance and tenacity, but there was pride, too. He didn’t think she’d sleep with anyone to get backstage. He was just a lucky bastard. The one who was making her barter with her body.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He was a fucking pansy, but he couldn’t completely brush the guilt. He wasn’t the young, screw-’em-all kid he used to be. After thirty-three years he’d finally grown up. He only wished the epiphany would’ve happened tomorrow instead of today.
She pressed her lips together in contained mirth before composing herself. “Do I look apprehensive?”
“No, but the thought of using you doesn’t sit well with me.”
She straightened, softening the playfulness of her features as she tilted forward. “I’ll tell you a secret.” She leaned into him until her mouth rested against his ear. “I want you far more than you want me.”
“Like hell.” He was dying for her—for the taste, the touch, the release. Maybe it was the rush of the tour, or the tiredness from the heavy workload, he didn’t know. The only thing that was clear was the urgency overtaking his control.
He fell to his knees and stared up the straight length of her closed thighs to the neat patch of hair leading to completely bare flesh. “Spread ‘em.”
She raised a brow and slowly inched her legs apart. “That enough?” she teased.
“Does it look like I can fit my face in there?”
She threw her head back and let out a laugh that tugged at the corners of his lips. But as contagious as it was, he didn’t want her amusement. He wanted her surprise. Even more, he wanted to wipe the self-assured grin from her face and replace it with awe.
