Encore: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Lane Hart

  “Ready?” Tessa asks when a white van pulls up.

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  Once we’re both inside with my Fender standing up between us in the back seat next to the amp, the driver pulls away, heading to the outskirts of town.

  “This, um, this cabin is sitting on several acres of land, so there are no neighbors. And I had the local realty company stock the fridge, as well as provide sheets, towels, and toiletries for you,” Tessa says, her voice a little shaky, like she’s nervous about being alone with me. I didn’t even think about needing all the stuff she listed.

  “You didn’t have to come with me,” I tell her.

  “I know, but I wanted to. It didn’t seem right to send you out alone to a strange place,” Tessa says, as if I’m a five-year-old kid.

  “I’m a big boy,” I tell her.

  “Yes, but I’ll feel better if I go with you to make sure that you’re happy and all set. Then I promise I won’t bother you again for a few days. No one else will either.”

  Other than my phone, the amp, and my guitar, there’s nothing else in my possession. I left all my clothes and shit on the bus, but I can buy new ones. Or not wear any. That’ll be nice too.

  A few minutes later, our ride pulls down a long winding gravel road that climbs up a hill before leveling out again. Off in the distance, I see the small, one level log cabin that has a large deck that juts out over a huge pond or maybe it’s part of a lake. There are too many trees to see how far it goes.

  “I’ll be right back,” Tessa tells the driver before we climb out and walk up to the front door. “The code is 8245. I can text it to you if you need me to,” she says to me when she presses the keypad next to the doorknob.

  “Nah, I can remember it,” I say. Most likely, I won’t leave unless I walk outside and if so, I’ll just leave the door wide open to let in the fresh air.

  Inside, the entryway opens up into the living room on the left with a fireplace and flat screen hung over it, and some brown leather furniture positioned toward them. Over to the right is a small kitchen with the usual appliances.

  “There’s just two bedrooms and one bath. Hope that’s okay?” Tessa turns to ask me.

  “Yeah, sure,” I reply, setting down my things before I walk down the short hall to check them out. One room has a giant bed; the other has a small one, which makes my decision which one to sleep in easier.

  “What do you think?” Tessa asks as she comes to stand in the doorway of the bigger bedroom.

  “I like it,” I tell her honestly. “You did good.”

  “Yay!” she says with a stunning smile. Then, “So, I’ll get out of here and let you have the peace and quiet you asked for. I’ll leave one of my cards on the kitchen counter with my cell phone number written on the back if you need anything before I come back in a few days.”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  “Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here alone?” she asks rather than leave.

  “Ah, yeah,” I assure her. “You gonna stay if I’m not?” I joke.

  “No, just making sure. I’m sure Clarke wouldn’t mind staying with you…”

  “I don’t need Clarke or anyone else to stay with me.”

  I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to stay, but since that’s not gonna happen…

  “Okay, fine,” she says. Stepping toward me, I’m a little surprised when she wraps her arms around my waist to hug me. She’s so small that my waist is about all she can reach without standing on her tiptoes.

  I don’t know what I’m thinking or why I do it, but when my arms go around her, they grab her ass and hoist her up my body so that her legs are around my waist.

  “W-what are you doing?” she asks, her greenish-gold eyes widening in surprise, her hands clenching my shoulders.

  “I dunno,” I answer truthfully. “Hugging you back. You’re too short for me to reach.”

  “Oh.”

  “This all right with you?” I ask.

  “Um, yeah. I think so,” Tessa replies. “You’re, uh, really big.”

  “You have no idea,” I tell her as the bulge behind my zipper begins to grow.

  “Oh!” Tessa says, her lips parting when she apparently feels the swelling in between her legs. Her eyes drop to my lips, and when her tongue wets hers, I can’t resist leaning forward and tasting them.

  The next thing I know, I’m slamming Tessa’s back against the bedroom wall, wanting to rub my cock against her pussy, even if it is through several layers of clothing.

  I worry that she’ll push me away, that I’m being too rough and aggressive. Instead, Tessa wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back, thrusting her tongue against mine as I grind on her until both of us have to pull our mouths away to catch our breath.

  “You’re not gonna stop me?” I ask.

  Tessa’s head falls back against the wall, and she wiggles her body as much as she can in the position I have her pinned in. “Not yet,” she answers, making me chuckle.

  I go back to kissing her while we start fucking each other through our clothes as hard as we can.

  Tessa moans into my mouth and then pulls away as she cries out, “Oh, my God, don’t stop! I’m coming.”

  “Me too,” I reply, knowing it won’t take but a few more thrusts until I cream my pants like a horny teenager. What can I say? It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman.

  I pound her into the wall one last time, and then all I’m capable of is an animalistic roar as I shoot the biggest load of my life.

  “Did you…” Tessa asks when she pulls back.

  “Yeah. You?” I ask. But one look at her flushed face, and I know the answer.

  “Yes,” she answers with a soft, content sigh. Brushing her hair from her face, she says, “I can’t believe we did that.”

  “We technically didn’t do anything,” I point out.

  “You know what I mean. That was…I shouldn’t have…” she starts.

  “Come back tomorrow and let me fuck you without any clothes in the way,” I blurt out stupidly, and then brace myself for her rejection.

  “I shouldn’t,” she says again. Then, “What time?”

  Grinning, I tell her, “Whenever you want.”

  “You can’t tell anyone about this,” she warns me.

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she agrees. “You can, ah, put me down now.”

  “You’re not gonna change your mind, are you?” I ask in concern, my eyes narrowed as I study her face for the truth.

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Then I’m not putting you down,” I warn her.

  “I-I could get fired,” she points out.

  “Not unless you tell your boss, because I won’t,” I assure her.

  “Oh, my God,” she says as she rubs a hand over her face. “Okay, put me down. I’ll come tomorrow.”

  “Damn right you will,” I promise her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tessa

  What the hell was I thinking?

  That’s the question I keep asking myself as the driver pulls away from the cabin and heads back to the main road.

  I still can’t figure out how I went from standing there saying goodbye to Davis one second and the next…oh, in the next, I was pressed against the wall by his much bigger body and unable to stop myself from rubbing against his hardness between my legs like a dog in heat. It was pathetic how easily I succumbed to him. Never in my life has a man picked me up and thrown me around like that. It was hot. So hot that I didn’t even consider what a bad idea it was until after I had an orgasm while being fully clothed.

  This is bad. Very, very bad. Not to mention that Davis asked me to come back tomorrow to do it without the clothes, and I agreed.

  Why? Why would I do that?

  I was so confident in myself when I refused to give in to Ford on the bus, telling him that nothing would happen between us.

  Why did I break that sam

e rule when it came to the big, grumpy guitarist?

  I shouldn’t have come to the cabin alone with him. That was my mistake. But I didn’t feel right sending him off to an unknown house in the middle of nowhere without making sure he was happy with it.

  Judging by the size of the bulge behind his zipper, he was very, very happy.

  In the span of the ten-minute ride, I’ve flipped back and forth on whether or not I’ll go back tomorrow. I’m sure that once I sleep on it, I’ll realize that while it was enjoyable to fool around with Davis, it was stupid and something that I shouldn’t ever do again.

  The van driver pulls up outside of Ford’s two-story brick house that looks oddly plain without the tour buses out front. I’ll let Mr. Cole figure out where to park the buses and store the equipment. I have my hands full here, literally and figuratively.

  Rather than just walk in, even though I’ll be staying here, I ring the doorbell. Ford answers after just a moment.

  “Hey,” he says. “You made it back. Wasn’t sure if Davis would leave you in one piece. The brute doesn’t spend much time with women, so you’ll have to forgive his harsh demeanor.”

  That’s surprising since he certainly knows how to manhandle one into coming while being pinned to a wall, I think to myself.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I tell Ford as he steps aside and lets me in the house.

  “Good,” he replies. “I brought your luggage in and put it upstairs in one of the guest rooms that has its own bathroom.”

  “Great, thanks,” I tell him, since I didn’t even think about my things in my rush to get alone with Davis. Jeez, this is so bad.

  “You feeling okay?” Ford asks, his brows drawn together as he looks at me in concern. “Your cheeks look flushed.”

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I say. “Just exhausted from the ride. I don’t know how you guys did it for so long.”

  “Fuck, tell me about it,” he mutters, and then feels around his pockets.

  “You don’t have any cigarettes on you, do you?” I ask. “Any in the house?”

  “No,” he huffs. “How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

  “Just took a guess,” I reply. “How’s Ben? Did you check the cabinets for alcohol?”

  “Yeah, the house is clean,” he agrees. “He’s upstairs in bed, not feeling too great.”

  “I’m guessing it will take a while for his system to get through the withdrawals.”

  “Probably so,” Ford agrees.

  “Let me go get a quick shower, and then I’ll go check on him,” I say, since I need to change clothes; in particular, my panties.

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” Ford says.

  “I will. And don’t even think about leaving the house to go buy more cigarettes,” I warn while pointing my finger at him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a grin that’s bad for my already weak knees thanks to a big, gruff man.

  I still can’t believe I did that.

  Upstairs, I find the room with my luggage. There’s a queen-sized bed with a green comforter, a dresser that I unpack my clothes into, and thankfully an adjoining bathroom where I take my toiletry bag and gather a towel and wash rag.

  While I may have showered on the bus, the stall was so tiny I could barely turn around. I have no clue how four big guys managed to use it, especially Davis. They probably had to slouch just to get their heads to fit under the showerhead.

  As I wash, I continue to ask myself how I let things get so far off course back at the cabin with Davis. The biggest problem is that even though I know it’s a terrible idea, I can’t help but want to return to see him again. There’s something about the big, angry man that calls to me. And based on what Ford said, I don’t think he’s been with many women, which is surprising given his rock star status. It seems like Davis is the type of man who pushes people away as soon as he meets them rather than let them get close and hurt him.

  And Davis grew up here with the guys, so I wonder why he didn’t want to stay with his family. Guess that’s a question for when I see him tomorrow, because no matter how much I want to stay away and do what’s best for my career, I can’t help being drawn to him.

  I dry my hair and put on some shorts and a t-shirt to try and be comfortable, since there’s no one but me, Ford, and Ben in the house. Even if they are clients, if I’m going to be living with them, I can’t maintain the professional office persona forever. The guys and I will be spending a lot of time together, so I should get used to being more relaxed around them.

  The first stop when I step out of my room is to find Ben. I hear his moaning before I get to the open doorway of the room where he’s staying. He's in bed, curled up on his side in a ball with the sheets thrown off him, wearing only a pair of shorts.

  “Fuuuck,” he groans.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I ask, as I go over and kneel next to the bed in front of him.

  “My stomach…” he starts, eyes clenched shut. “It’s killing…me. I think…I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Crap! Standing up, I look around for a trash can but don’t see one, so I run into the closest bathroom off the hallway to grab the small white container and run back with it. Thankfully it has a liner in it, which will make it easier to keep it…

  “Rahhhhhh.”

  Clean.

  I barely made it back in time for Ben to lean over the bed and hit the can.

  I cringe away but don’t move until his heaves stop. Poor guy.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell him when I set the can down and go back to the bathroom to wet him a cool washcloth.

  Back in his room, I rub the wet rag over his face that’s dripping in sweat before placing it on the back of his neck.

  “Thanks, Tessa,” he groans as his fists clench the pillow under his face.

  “Do you feel any better now?”

  “A little,” he replies as he shivers.

  “Here, let’s get you covered up,” I say, as I reach for the covers and pull them up to his shoulders.

  Even when I cover him, he keeps shivering.

  “I don’t know…if I can…do this,” he says, teeth chattering while he blinks his sad chocolate eyes open to look at me. I swear he looks more pitiful than a puppy that’s been run over. I don’t know whether to hug him or put him out of his misery. “Let me have a sip…just a little bit…of…of something…anything.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” I tell him as I brush the brown strands of wet hair from his forehead with my fingers. “If you drink something now, tomorrow you’ll be right back here, starting the cycle all over again.”

  “I just want it…to stop,” he says.

  “You can get through this,” I promise him. “I know it’s not going to be easy, but in a few days, you’re gonna feel so much better.”

  “Or…I’ll be dead.”

  “You’re not going to be dead,” I say. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Although, I really need to do some research on alcohol withdrawal to see the warning signs for when a doctor is needed. Maybe Ford can do that while I stay with Ben.

  “I’m gonna empty the trash, and then I’ll be right back,” I tell him as I pick up the smelly can and hold it out away from me as far as my arms can reach.

  Downstairs, I find Ford sitting on the sofa with a video game controller in his hands.

  “I need your help,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he asks as he sets the controller on the empty sofa cushion beside him.

  “Ben is pretty sick. Could you take this can out and put a new bag in it?” I ask, since I don’t yet know where the garbage cans are, or anything else in the house, for that matter.

  “Oh-kay,” he drawls. When he stands up and takes a step closer, he reels back and slaps his hand over his face to cover his nose. “What the fuck?” he asks, voice muffled.

  “He got sick. You may want to hurry before he does it again on the bedroom floor,” I point out.

 ; “Jesus,” Ford grumbles, but takes the can from me and jogs off with it outside through the kitchen.

  I wait for him in the living room, listening to see if I hear Ben. So far, so good.

  Ford makes it back in record time; not just an amazing singer but apparently, a sprinter. “Here,” he says, handing me the can back with a new clean liner in it.

  “Great, thanks,” I say. “Now, could you do some research on withdrawal? See if he’s okay to stay here or if we should take him to the hospital?”

  “We shouldn’t take him to the hospital unless it’s an emergency,” Ford declares. “The media would be all over it, and that would be bad for us when things are already on the brink of disaster, right?”

  “That’s true,” I agree. “But I don’t want to take any chances with Ben’s health either.”

  “I know,” Ford says. Going over to the table next to the sofa, he picks up his cell phone. “And we won’t let it get that far. I’ll call our band’s doctor we keep on retainer and see what he says.”

  “That would be good,” I tell him. “Let me know what he says. I’ll be upstairs.”

  My foot is on the first step when Ford says, “Do you think he’s gonna make it through this?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “He’s gonna need you and the other guys to help him, though.”

  “We will,” Ford assures me before he returns his attention to his phone.

  Back in Ben’s room, I set the can down as close to the bed as I can get it and reach out to feel his forehead. He’s burning up, so hot my hand feels like it’s been scalded.

  Going into the hallway so that I can lean over the banister to talk to Ford, I say, “Ask the doctor if we can give him anything for the nausea or fever!”

  “Okay,” Ford agrees when he glances up at me, then continues talking to the person on the call.

  Until Ford can figure out what the doctor suggests we do, I grab another cold washcloth and take it back to start wiping Ben down, starting from his head, and then lowering to his chest, arms, and stomach, returning to the sink to cool the cloth down every few minutes when his skin heats it up.

  “It’s…too cold,” Ben says to me, still shivering.

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