by Mia McAdams
She freezes. I catch the moment of fear that splotches her chest, and then she breathes through it as if it were nothing. “It couldn’t be avoided when I was younger. Usually when parents shove something down a kid’s throat, the kid rebels. Not me. I learned piano first and then guitar, and I loved every second of it. But I haven’t played in a while.”
“You really are a marvel, aren’t you?”
Lyric makes a face. “Not quite. Disappointment is a better word for it.”
I want to lean over the table, take her face in my hands, stare deeply into her sage-colored eyes, and tell her she’s crazy. Instead of scaring her, I remain in my seat, but I decide to let her know what I’m thinking. “You, Lyric, are the furthest thing from disappointment. Whoever helped you reach that conclusion is the problem, not you.”
She takes a sip of her wine, not tearing her gaze from mine. “My parents had expectations. I couldn’t fulfill them.”
“Couldn’t—or didn’t want to?”
“Does it matter? Perception is everything.” Her eyes gut me. They’re terrifying and beautiful and honest. I’m not sure if Lyric could hide an emotion if she tried. Not with such transparent armor.
“There’s a difference. You could have fulfilled their expectations, but maybe you realized you’d rather fulfill yours.”
Her cheeks turn a rosy pink. “That’s what I’m doing. At least I think that’s what I’m doing. I don’t really know. It’s nice being around the music 24-7, but I’m not sure what’s in my future.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’re doing what you love now; the rest will fall into place.”
She seems to be taking this in, and I just watch her, wondering how on earth her douche of an ex could have traded her in for someone else. Whoever it was must have had some magical pussy juice because Lyric is insanely hot, smart, and fun to be around. I’ve never felt so comfortable around a chick before. Not like this. Sleeping with someone is one thing, but talking to her and hearing her vulnerability is a whole other level of friendship I’ve never had with the opposite sex. I can already see that Lyric will change my opinion of the female species. Maybe she already has.
Conversation flows through dinner as I learn about the places she’s been and the things she’s never had time to do but wants to. She tells me about the first song she ever wrote.
“It was called Star Light, and I was eight. The song was about the beauty of the night and how there are messages in the stars.” She was all about inspirational messages at a young age. It seems she still is. Inspired, that is.
“Where do you get your inspiration when you write?” She asks.
I shrug. “It depends. You know well that inspiration can strike at any time. I’ve actually been having trouble writing lately. I think because I’ve been off the road. I’m hoping it comes back. The guys are begging for more.”
She seems to be considering my words. “It will come back.” She smiles, stealing my breath. “I can feel it, Wolf. Your inspiration will be found on this tour. You’ve only just begun.”
Funny. As she says, this I realize I’ve already found my inspiration and she’s sitting across the table from me.
Lyric
It’s late when we arrive back at the hotel, but we’re both wide awake. Derrick, Stryder, Lorraine, and Hedge pass us in the lobby. They’re already drunk and heading out to a club.
“There aren’t any clubs around here,” I say, panic rising in my chest. If they think they’re partying all night and waking up for a six a.m. roll call, they’re crazy.
“Why do we have to leave at six tomorrow, anyway?” Wolf asks before they can tell me where they’re going. For a second, I wonder if he’s considering taking off with his band.
I hesitate to respond. There’s no reason, exactly, except to stay on the schedule I created, which minimizes our risk of a late arrival to the venue on Saturday. “We can budge a couple of hours, but that’s all. I’m not your babysitter, but I will be a bitch if we’re any later than that.”
Wolf chuckles, and the rest of the crew joins him.
“You coming, Wolf? It’s not even a club. There’s a bar about ten minutes out,” Derrick explains. “Lyric, you should come, too.”
I shake my head. “Not tonight guys.”
Wolf looks at me as if debating something and then waves a hand at his band. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you at the bar. Text me the address.”
The guys leave, and Wolf’s expression turns to amusement. “I think you should come with me.”
My mouth drops open. “It’s already late. I can’t go out partying with you guys. You’re beginning to make me forget I have a job to do.”
“Good,” he says. “You should be having fun with us, and I want you to come.” There’s a gleam in his eyes at the last word, and I’d like to feel awkward about it instead of turned on.
I narrow my eyes. “You want me to sit around watching you all hit on the locals all night?”
“No, I want you to drink, dance, smile, and laugh. I’ll hit on you if it will make you feel better.” He laughs at his own joke. “Just come hang out with us for a little bit. If you want to leave, I’ll make sure you get back here safely.”
“Fine. But I want to change first.”
He throws his arms up in victory. “Finally, she’s giving in.”
I laugh, feeling a flurry of nerves react like Pop Rocks in my chest.
Shit.
Wolf is surprisingly attentive to me all night. The moment we arrive, I expect to see his show with the ladies. Frankly, I’m curious how he does it. Do they just start lining up, or does he give them the wink and nod to let them know he’s interested?
I chase back a shot of tequila and take the slice of lime from Lorraine’s lips. The guys go insane. Not just the band, but everyone standing around our VIP lounge. Turns out the little bar down the road was, in fact, a club. The merchandise team and some of the road crew have joined us out, and I’m surprised by how much fun I’m having. Melanie, who looks hot with her death-defying heels, short skirt, and plain tank, is becoming a fast friend as we trade ex-boyfriend stories and pop culture gossip.
I’m standing near the couch, dangerously close to Wolf, when I set my drink down, having to bend over slightly to reach the table. Wolf takes the opportunity to grip me by my waist and pull me to the spot next to him. His arm snakes around my shoulders, and he grins before burying his nose in my hair. “You’re sexy as sin, you know that?”
We’ve both had a few drinks by this point, but I’m alert enough to know I can’t take the compliment to heart. I smile anyway. It’s hard not to in Wolf’s presence. “Thanks.”
His nose runs a line from my ear to the base of my neck, and then he presses his lips into the soft spot. I try to ignore the shiver that ripples through me. I’m laughing while trying to push him away.”
“Where are you going?” he asks, trying to reach for me as I finally break away and stand. I’m too quick, stepping out of reach and smiling down at him. His eyes move to my bare legs below the bottom of my jean skirt.
“I’m calling for our ride. We should go.”
He groans as I walk away to see if our driver is still outside, which he is.
I call the taxi service to schedule rides for the rest of the crew and then step back inside to our roped-off section.
My excitement from the night immediately dissolves when I’m faced with the sight of an unfamiliar girl straddling Wolf, her hair shielding his face from me. My stomach flops like a fish trapped on dry land. He’s gripping her waist and she’s grinding on top of him, the crowd around them cheering. There’s a dull ache in my chest telling me I’ve seen enough.
Quickly, before I pull another move like I did when I found him with Jenn, I make plans to leave.
Lorraine approaches, throwing her arm around my shoulders. “What’s up, sexy?”
I laugh. “Time to go. I’m rounding everyone up. Can you help me?”
Lorraine look
s back toward our section and frowns. “Wolf looks busy. I’ll stay back with Rex and make sure he gets to the hotel okay. I’ve done this before. You get the other boys.”
Part of me wants to resist this idea until I realize it’s because I don’t want Wolf to go home with anyone but me. This tour is too long for me to begin thinking like this. I agree with her and let her take care of Wolf while I grab Derrick, Stryder, and Misty. Melanie rounds up her crew, and we take the cars back to the hotel. I strip my clothes the moment I’m in my room, too tired and drunk to change into something else.
The moment sleep begins to carry me away there’s a commotion at my door. “It’s my room.” A drunk Wolf is arguing with someone. And then I hear the door to my room open.
I hold my breath as he stumbles inside and comes into view. Only slightly. The room is mostly dark except for a thin strip of light coming through an opening in the curtains. Wolf gets to the edge of my bed and sits down. His hands brush through my hair and he strokes my cheeks. “Lyric,” he whispers.
I slam my eyes shut, trying to understand what the hell is going on. I’m torn between wanting him in my room and needing him to leave. The breath I’m holding is released when a hand brushes across my bare chest. “Fuck, you’re naked.”
I make no move to pull up the sheet. My breaths come out raggedly, each one pressing my breast into his palm, and my eyes flicker to his. We’re staring at each other when his hand strokes the tip of my nipple, thumb circling as if silently asking for permission. I know I should speak up now, object to whatever he’s about to do to me, but I absolutely want this.
He looks back at my bare chest and slides the sheet down until it’s below my waist. His fingertips brush the top of my thighs and drag them up to my belly button. When they get back to my breast, he’s taking a handful into his palm and squeezing. I moan with him. It’s been so long since anyone touched me like this. I feel a pinch as he tweaks my nipple and then a zing of heat straight between my legs before his mouth is on my skin. His magical tongue swirls circles around the sensitive peak before the flicking begins. My legs open instinctively to invite him in. He moves in a rush, planting his shaft right where I need him. Fuck, his jeans. I want to rip them off, but I’m too afraid to move. His mouth is busy ravaging my breast while his hand tweaks my other nipple. Our breaths are escaping in heavy pants, filling the room with our need.
“You’re so fucking sexy.” His mouth switches to my other breast, and his other hand slides down to my waist and grips it.
“Ah,” I moan, unable to contain the noises. How is this happening?
We’re drunk.
That little reminder is all I need, even in my state, to know what we’re doing is wrong. When a hand slides below my waist and a finger moves between my wet folds, I know it’s too late to do anything right. I’m too horny to stop this, and every fiber in my body is screaming for more. He presses his thumb down on my clit before moving it in gentle circles. “You want me, baby?”
I don’t have the strength to respond. I’m totally aware of his movements. He’s so turned on. I can feel the heat radiating from his cock. Wanting me. His breath is lingering over my nipple for just a moment before he plants his mouth on me again and sucks while torturing me with his tongue. Suddenly, I’m spiraling over the edge and he hasn’t even hit my O-zone. What the fuck?
What comes out of me is half-scream, half-moan as I ride the wave of my orgasm. He bites down gently in response before removing his mouth from my sensitive skin. I don’t have to wonder long what he’s going to do next. He stares into my eyes as one finger, then two plunge into me. I swear I see his eyes roll back in his head as my tightness squeezes around him. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since you barged into that elevator. My fingers are made for your pussy, too. Feel that?”
I let out a strangled cry in response. “Yes,” I breathe.
He moves slowly, pumping his fingers as he watches for my reactions. Every time he eases into me, my hips move to greet him. “Do you want to make you come again?” His voice floats over me. I’m in such a daze I almost miss his question.
“Hmm.” My voice is strangled, too distracted by his ministrations.
He buries his mouth in my neck and licks, his hot breath tickling my thoroughly teased skin. His pumping grows faster and the pleasant burning begins. It starts below my pelvis and holds for a minute before the heat begins to spread. “Wolf,” I cry.
“What is it, baby?” he asks knowingly as he increases the speed of his fingers, plunging and twisting and flicking until I’m begging for another release. “Come for me.”
At his demand, I explode around him and convulse for what seems like eternity. I reach for his hand, shoving it deeper into me and locking it there as I thrust with my hips, allowing the sensation to take over, and using his thick fingers for every inch of my release.
When I let go, he growls and slides down my body so his face is resting between my legs. His mouth is on me while I’m still recovering from my first two orgasms. His experienced tongue dips into me before going to town on my clit, sucking and flicking, and then his fingers are back inside of me. I think I’m going to burst as the fire starts back up again. He’s like the Energizer Bunny of oral sex. His head is furiously moving—as if he’s conducting a symphony and his tongue is the master. My pussy is his orchestra. This time when I convulse around him, he’s drinking me dry until he’s drained everything that once existed inside of me. Sensibility included.
I wake up wet, my fingers inside me, desperate pants infiltrating the air of my hotel room. I’m naked and alone, but fuck, I don’t feel alone. Vivid dreams of Wolf making me come multiple times are heavy on my mind as I lead myself to a self-induced climax. I’m panting when it’s all over and cursing my fucked-up mind for wanting it to be him shoving his fingers and tongue into me. Especially since Wolf was busy giving someone else orgasms last night.
After a long shower, I dress and throw last night’s clothes into my overnight bag. Slinging it over my shoulder, I head down to the breakfast bar before boarding the bus. We still have an hour before we have to be on our way, but I don’t want to risk seeing Wolf’s face this morning. Not only because he starred as the come-giver of my dreams last night, but because of what I witnessed as I was leaving the bar. I’m not sure why it surprised me. It’s what I expected to see. But maybe my expectations have changed. I don’t know, and I don’t want to fucking care.
I shoot a quick text message to the team, hoping it’s enough to wake their asses up. Stealing some coffee and a banana from the buffet, I dart outside to the bus and slip into my new bunk. The furthest one away from Wolf’s den. The safest.
As the guys start piling onto the bus, Crawley is walking around. I know he’ll want to see my face, so when he nears my bunk, I pull open the curtain and smile. He winks at me and turns back around. I slide the curtain closed again and lie back on my pillow, already knowing I’ll be riding most of the way to our next stop in here. Hiding.
Just then my curtain is rudely tugged open, revealing the one face I was in no mood to see. Especially this early in the morning after I spent the wee hours giving myself amazing orgasms to thoughts of him. My cheeks immediately heat under his gaze. His expression is haunted, and I know he wants to say something. “Where’d you go last night? I thought we were riding back together.”
I assume a blank expression as I look back at him. He regrets something—it's all over his face—but I don’t want to know what. “Lorraine said she’d see you home. You were busy with a different kind of ride.”
His face falls as if I’ve confirmed his suspicions. “Lyric, nothing happened.”
I laugh almost deliriously and turn my stare to the ceiling of my bunk. “It doesn’t matter, Wolf. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“Shit,” he says, seething. Then he yanks the curtain closed.
He walks away.
A door slams.
My heart sinks.
What the
hell was that?
Wolf
Nothing happened with that girl at the club, but that’s not why I’m pissed. I’m pissed that I found myself trying to explain to Lyric what really happened. When Lorraine said she took off without me, I knew Rex didn’t get that chick off me in time. I knew Lyric saw, but she saw wrong. I was practically molested by a drunk girl, and my own drunk ass couldn’t control her. She was all over me, dry humping me in front of my band. It was a joke with Lorraine the entire ride home, but I didn’t find it funny. I only had one thing on my mind and her name was Lyric. I went straight to her room and banged on her door, but she must have already been asleep. No one would let me in, so I finally went to bed.
Why am I so concerned about what Lyric saw? Or what Lyric felt when she saw what she did? Why do I feel this insatiable need to protect her as if she were mine? Why do I feel like she is mine? She’s the furthest thing from it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to bury myself inside her every time I see her.
There’s only one thing I can do on a ride as long as this. If I can’t get my mind off Lyric, I’ll write my own.
Stay
Emotions blister, feelings fester
Beneath . . . cold . . . skin
You weren’t invited in
Your heart is puckered at the surface
Feathers ruffled, you’re so damn careless
Strange vibrations, impure intentions
Everything . . . I . . . fear
Our connection so clear
It’s the ultimate crime, these sensations I feel
It’s every damn thing I fear
Stay . . . stay away . . .
You’re crawling beneath my skin
We’re putting a stop to something
Before it ever begins
Just stay . . . stay away from here . . .
Just stay . . . stay away from me . . .
It’s missing a bridge and maybe another verse, but I need to get up and stretch. I’ve been staring at my notebook for hours, unable to keep the words from pouring out onto the page. That’s as far as I get before I put the lyrics away and leave the space of my room. Writing never takes a toll on me like this. But then again, my songs usually involve partying and one-night stands. Not infiltrations of the heart.
