In his head, though, she’d gone back to her hotel with these two guys…and this time, Josie was with her. They’d pair off, each making out with one guy, then they’d switch and make out with the other, slowly getting naked the whole time.
Kat in real life clamped her thighs around his head, muffling out everything else as she rode his face. He could feel her orgasm, more than he could hear it. He felt the quiver of her thighs, felt the tightness of her pussy around his fingers, the way her fingers gripped his hair. She lifted her ass from the sofa, grinding it against his mouth. She’d never done that before.
Not with him, anyway.
That thought ignited something inside of Julian. He rose, working open his cock. She reached for his erection, grabbing it, guiding it down to her open thighs. She didn’t say anything, but she was hungry. He wondered if she was thinking about the past, too.
He entered her, sinking cleanly. Easily. Burying his face in her rich hair, laced with sweat and perfume, he went back to the fantasy. The guys were fucking the two women, each of them bouncing in a lap—Kat’s dark, Latin complexion riding one man, Josie’s California tan riding another. Their eyes would meet, and they’d lean in together, their lips touching in a soft kiss before they giggled and broke apart. Fuck, that’s hot, one of the guys would say. Do it again, agreed the other. The second kiss would be deeper, less playful. Josie would push her tongue into Kat’s mouth, and Kat wouldn’t hesitate to accept.
“Oh, Kat.” Julian grunted, the only warning he gave as he exploded inside his wife.
“Yes, yes, Jules. Come. Come for me!” She wrapped her arms around him as he drove forward, releasing a torrent of come deep. The fantasy lingered as her cries turned into cries for the fantasy man and his come. He’d grab her by the hips, jerk her hard into his lap, and erupt inside her.
Sated, but not sober, Julian and Kat clung to one another as they tried to catch their breath. “We’re still in the living room,” Kat said, looking around. She gave a sharp laugh.
So, she’d been somewhere else, too, Julian noted. He wanted to ask where. Instead, he said, “I think I had too much to drink.”
“Lightweight,” she giggled.
“Hard to keep up with a couple of rocker girls.”
“Please. That was fifteen years ago.”
Julian stroked the small of Kat’s back. “Maybe not so long ago for Josie.”
“Yeah, I get that impression, too. I still can’t believe she actually got married.”
“Was she pretty wild? Back in the day?” He added the second question as a hedge.
Kat shrugged. “You could say that.”
“Want to share any fun stories?”
Kat shifted, looking at him with a knowing smile. “Why? So you can fantasize about Josie Jones and her wild exploits?”
Or I could fantasize about your wild exploits. He almost said it, then chickened out. “I wouldn’t be the first.”
“Come on, husband of mine. Let’s go to bed.”
The moment had passed.
Or so Julian thought.
Little did he know that everything was about to change.
Chapter Two
Thank goodness it was the summer break, that was all Kat could say.
There was no way she would have pulled any of this off during the semester, even if they could have squeezed the whole recording session into a weekend. She only had a month to prepare—that was insane.
She had so much to ask Josie about what had been agreed, but the first thing she said on Facebook Messenger when she got home was:
[Kat:] Are you kidding me? We only have a month to get ready for this? When did you find out?
Josie came back.
[Josie:] I swear, I only found out last week, and I really wanted to tell you in person.
Even an extra week would have been nice.
[Kat:] You can tell me on Facebook next time, or email. Give me a call, even.
It was okay for Josie, she was already based out in LA, she had the vocal coach, the personal trainer, even a goddamn personal chef to keep her in top form. Sure, her acting career hadn’t exactly taken off if you didn’t count guest appearances, but she was ready for something like this.
[Josie:] You know if this all goes well, people could be streaming and buying our stuff online. Isn’t that crazy? I could see us coming back at Christmas to get some kind of Greatest Hits album off the ground.
A Greatest Hits album… no pressure.
But Kat had to prepare herself. Oh, she kept in shape, but she was going meet the stars of Prisoner’s Wife. Aaron Simpson. She was going to have to fit in with all those stick thin Southern California women.
“You look amazing, are you kidding me?” Julian said as she returned from her third gym visit that first week after Josie’s visit. “You don’t have to fit in with anybody. I love that you’re not stick thin. You have curves, baby.”
But he supported her when she went to yoga twice a week, when she did it in front of the TV in the evenings. When she transformed her diet into something lean and protein-rich and supposedly based on something done in South Beach, Miami.
And then she had to actually practice, of course. Almost all her free time was spent in the attic of their townhouse, thrashing at her old Gibson. The infamous mid-track guitar solo had her the most worried. It had been years since she’d played it, and while she could still hit all the right chords, it never sounded right to her.
“You’re not shooting a video,” Julian had said to her.
“No,” she replied, “but I am playing the kind of song that was exhausting enough when I was twenty. I need to be in amazing shape.”
It wasn’t a wholly physical thing, of course. She had enough experience with live performances—and with just two days to record the track, this was akin to a live performance—to know how important confidence was to her own music. If she could get back some semblance of her early-twenties form, she could play like one, too.
Julian helped with the confidence, too. The way he looked at her when she came back from a run, or while he watched her doing yoga in front of the TV, was exhilarating.
He helped fix her meals on the weekends. He massaged her aching muscles after a workout. He watched her practice her guitar sometimes, and he made love to her afterward when she was so frisky from the buzz of playing and him watching.
He could make her come like a damn freight train when she came down from practicing. He barely had to pull off her damp clothes, get his hands on her and she was already halfway there.
And when they were together, his questions—his interest—got her going, too. Wow. Was the band really getting back together? It was going to be wild.
“What do you want to know?”
“You know… just what happened… what it was like.”
“What it was like? It was…exciting. Why do you want to know?”
Early on, of course, Kat had felt guarded about Julian’s questions. She didn’t want him to know what it had really been like in the band, on tour. Half of it she couldn’t remember anyway. The other half… well, he’d been jealous enough when they’d started dating.
“Because I’m curious. You were in a band! You never really talk about it. You were famous for goodness’ sake.”
“Hardly famous. We had one hit single.”
“You were playing to… what… five thousand people at a time? Ten thousand?”
Kat laughed. “I think the most we ever performed in front of was, like, three. And that was just when we were opening for Garbage.”
“Even so. Three thousand people wanting to get into your panties—”
“It really wasn’t like that, honey. Ever.”
Not quite, anyway. On Facebook, Josie told her that she told her husband stories about the old days all the time. George got off on hearing about his wife’s exploits with the band, from inviting fans into the dressing room between numbers, to banging members of the headline act on the damn tour bus.
> But then, as Josie told it, George got off on stories about her sleeping around in Hollywood even these days, during their marriage.
[Josie:] You know if we get the Greatest Hits album going, there might be demand for a comeback tour?
[Kat:] Seriously?
[Josie:] Hell yeah. You think Julian would be up for you doing that? Maybe even quitting your job for a few months…
[Kat:] I don’t know… what does George think of the idea?
[Josie:] George is in love with the idea. And what goes on tour stays on tour, as far as he’s concerned.
[Kat:] Except that you tell George everything, of course.
[Josie:] Of course. Don’t you think Julian would care to know how his wife is on tour?
[Kat:] And how is his wife on tour?
[Josie:] Come on girl—you can barely pick up your guitar without fucking something in pants when you finally put it down again.
[Kat:] Julian knows that.
[Josie:] I bet he does. I saw the way he looked at you when you’re on stage.
[Kat:] And how does he look at me on stage?
[Josie:] Like George looks at me. Like he can’t wait for you to tear the clothes off whichever man is nearest when you come off stage—even if it’s not him.
[Kat:] You’re crazy, Josie. With a capital Zee.
There was no way Julian was like Josie’s husband. Josie had met him only once. Anything she thought she might have seen was just projecting. It’s what Josie did. It’s how she lived her life.
In Kat’s mind, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. When they’d dated, she’d talked about being in the band. He’d been uncomfortable about her fame, about guys coming up to her in the street and recognizing her. He hadn’t liked the way guys had looked at her, the way men had owned her with their eyes just because they recognized her from The Ponytails.
Why was it so different five years on?
But maybe it was different. He was a lot more inquisitive these days, asking more questions about her time back then. What was it like being so famous? Being on TV, being on stage in front of thousands?
What was it like being a sex symbol? Being on posters on the bedroom walls of teenagers all over the country?
Kat told Josie about Julian’s renewed interest, and Josie had said maybe she should open up about what it was really like, particularly on that final tour. There’s no way Julian would want to know all that, she’d said. Josie had just laughed and went back to telling her how much George lapped it up.
She almost did tell him. It had all happened so long ago, before the two of them, before any hope of a band revival.
On the last evening before the flight to LA, she was lounging on their large L-shaped couch in nothing more than a white tank top and a pair of little blue lace panties, strumming her un-amped guitar on her lap in front of a muted TV. She’d been thinking about things, about how it had been. About the wild times on tour.
Her panties had been damp before he’d even come to sit down on the floor between her knees, leaning back against the edge of the couch. Before she’d put the guitar aside and reached forward to peel off his t-shirt. Before she’d draped her legs over his shoulders, stroking his hair to encourage him to turn around, to go down on her right there in front of the TV.
She’d almost told him.
Honey, you know what a total slut I was in that band? How it really was on tour? How the groupies used to line up hoping we were gonna pick some of them to help us warm up between songs?
Instead she’d just opened her legs for him, lounging back against the cushions as he kissed his way up her legs, then tugged her little blue panties down over her hips and thighs and off past her ankles.
“You’re ready?” he asked her, although it was more statement than question.
“Uh-huh,” she said, and maybe she was referring to being ready to play, maybe she meant she was ready for his devotion.
“I’m going to miss you this weekend,” he said, dropping her panties on the couch beside her. She stretched her legs apart for him, her feet sliding along each edge of the L-shaped couch out from the apex.
“Mmm… I’m going to miss this,” she purred, reaching forward playfully to grab his head and guide him down between her thighs.
His moans as he kissed so very close to her pussy drove her wild. His deep voice resonating with her, the vibrations stirring her even before his soft mouth began working its magic.
“Oh God…” she moaned. And then, a few moments later, “why don’t you come with me?”
“Seriously?”
She stroked his hair, gasped as she felt his tongue working its way through her folds, time and again, lodging deep in there. She giggled as he nibbled on her pussy lips, sighed as he nudged her clit with his nose.
“You can be my… support team…”
Julian moaned as he nuzzled into her sweet pussy, her little trimmed patch of dark hair tickling his nose as he feasted on her. She nearly came just from the vibrations of his voice alone.
“I have to work,” he groaned. “I really have to work… You needed a support team in the old days?”
Boy, had she.
She gazed down at her devoted husband as he sucked on her pussy lips, as he flicked his tongue over her little button. “Why… would you even want to know?” she asked. “God that feels sooo good…”
“You guys did nothing but sing about sex and love,” he chuckled, and his deep laughter seemed to provoke the kind of vibrations that melted her.
“We sang about it because we weren’t getting it,” she joked, pulling his head tight against her as though to stop his questions. She came that way. She always came that way.
“We really didn’t get a chance to do much fooling around,” she said when finally releasing his head, unwrapping her thighs from his face. “It’s a big myth that rock stars get laid all the time. Especially female rock stars.”
“A myth, huh?”
Pulling him up for a kiss, tasting herself on his mouth, she allowed him to wrestle her onto the couch. God, five days without him in LA was going to be hard. How would she do without him if the band got back on the road?
“Sleeping with the fans is a bad idea,” she sighed, sitting in his lap to ride the huge bulge in his pants.
“Why’s that?”
She moaned as he reached down to touch her sex while she gyrated her hips over him. “Josie once slept with this guy from Oakland… a fan… he stalked her for the whole rest of the tour…”
“You never dated any of the guys from other bands on tour?”
She gave him a wry smile. “Since when did we talk about dating history, anyway?” She slumped down to the floor now, rubbing her face over his prominent bulge. “You never used to want to know about me… before we met…”
“I was never this… secure,” he said. “I feel different now. Mature, I guess.”
“Mature?” She slipped his big prick out. “I guess so…”
She thought about what Josie had said on Facebook Messenger. How it had all started for her with George. George, who had single-handedly financed her first solo album, who had stood by as she’d dated her producer, her drummer, even her publicist.
It had started with George asking her to talk about her past, her time with the band, her dating. The guy wasn’t jealous, how could he be?
And here was Julian, asking Kat about whether she’d dated guys from other bands on tour. Looking down at her with not just interest, but real desire. So, this was how it starts, she thought to herself.
And God, he was so hard when he looked down at her like that. She couldn’t get enough of his colossal form, the size of his manhood, its slight upward curve, the thickness that seemed built for her hands, for her mouth to stretch around.
“I don’t want to know about the girls you dated,” she protested in between mouthfuls of his powerful cock.
“I wasn’t in a band. I didn’t date anyone of any significance.”
She liked
the way he said that.
But it immediately invited her unthinking response. “You think fans and groupies are significant?”
“So, you did sleep with them?” He had her there.
But she only smiled, sat back, peeled her top off to reveal her breasts to him, getting off on how he looked at her when she did, her dark little nipples so stiff as he stared at her like that. “Guys in other bands on tour… they were too much like co-workers, you know? And if you’re doing a hundred, two hundred shows with those guys… it’s a long road if you split up with them.”
“Okay,” he said. “So, you guys… didn’t get any action at all while you were on tour?”
She shrugged. “We were constantly on the move… there’s really no time… or space… or money…”
She rubbed herself all over his big erection—her soft face, her breasts, her stomach. Trailing her long, silky black hair all over his pale skin. Slipping the tip of his cock back into her mouth. “You’re sharing hotel rooms with your bandmates,” she said. “There’s twelve on your tour bus and the bunks are like… coffins…”
“Totally shot down my image of life in a band,” Julian grinned. “So you really didn’t date anyone back then?”
She shrugged. “Girls I talked to… always said rock stars pretty much all drink too much to, you know, get it up.”
She stood up, feeling phenomenal after all her working out, after reminiscing. She led him upstairs, to the bedroom, and their large bed where his hands and his eyes could roam her taut body at will.
“Why do you think we’ve all ended up with civilian husbands?”
“Civilians?” He kissed her stomach, breathing her in as though he only needed her scent to reach orgasm. “I’m a civilian?”
“Uh-huh.” She turned her back, letting him run his hands all over her body, all over the velvet skin of her behind, up between her thighs where she was soaking wet. Then she crouched, balancing her body on the tip of his big cock, teasing it into place at the entrance of her sex.
Sinking down slowly, she took his immensity inside her, holding his knees as she bounced on him.
She moved on him, her gaze drifting to the Matisse print on their wall without really seeing it. Her mind drifted… and suddenly he could have been anyone—the fan she’d been with in Austin. Or the drummer from Dreadnaught over in Portland. Or the bass guitarist from Oblivion in Chicago.
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