by Cari Quinn
Gray sat on the stool in front of the lighted mirror and Simon perched on the dressing table, one of his hands tilting up Gray’s face and the other deftly applying mascara to Gray’s eyelashes.
At least she assumed it was deft until she screeched and Simon’s hand slipped across Gray’s cheek, leaving a giant blue-black smear.
“Jesus, woman, a little forewarning, hey?” Disgusted, Simon grabbed a makeup wipe and attacked Gray’s face. Gray shoved him away but Simon wouldn’t be deterred, ambushing him with a knee damn near to the groin to hold him still while he cleaned up the mascara. “Stop squirming! If I crush a nut, it’ll be your own damn fault.”
“Hey baby, what are you doin’ in here? Wanna see me get maimed?” The grin Gray flashed her made her last bit of frustration about the song drain away.
Actually it was a tossup between the panty-dropping grin and the smokin’ eye makeup.
“Holy fuck, you look hot in guyliner.” She patted her chin. “Just making sure I’m not drooling.”
“Come here and sit on my lap.”
“Oh hell no. This space is not sanctioned for ménages and shit.” Simon dropped the mascara wand and backed up, palms raised. “You’re on your own, Ghosty boy.”
“I think we can take it from here.” She smacked Simon as he passed and giggled at his growl. “Ah, I do so love my guys.”
It was Gray’s turn to growl playfully. He hauled her onto his lap. “Guys, plural? I think not.” His mouth was on hers before he’d finished the statement.
“I’m outta here,” Simon said.
Jazz waved halfheartedly at him over Gray’s head and rubbed her lips over Gray’s, absorbing his low groan. She’d never get tired of kissing him. Or feeling his wicked fingers trailing up her thighs. He wandered past her exposed garters to her flippy short skirt and underneath to where she already burned for him.
“Mine,” she whispered, sinking her hands into his thick dark hair. It was so long now and she didn’t even care that it was a bit crispy with the product he’d put in it. All she cared was that she had her hands on him, and he had his hands on her.
All over her.
“Yours,” he agreed, reaching past her to grab the mascara off the dressing table. “I look a bit cockeyed at the moment, but if you still want to claim me…”
“Fuck yes. Since when do you do the whole guyliner thing? In high school, you refused.”
“Gotta change things up now and then. Don’t want to get stale.”
“No chance there.” She eased back and studied his face, her heart speeding up even more with one glimpse into his smudgy gray eyes. “You are a little lopsided though.” She grinned and took the mascara. “Let me fix you.”
He palmed her ass under her skirt and settled her right on his stiffening cock. “Oh sweetheart, we don’t have nearly enough time for that. Unfortunately.”
“Funny guy.” Catching her lip between her teeth, she uncapped the tube and took an experimental stroke with the mascara. It was only when she had to apply the makeup that she realized his body held a faint tremor, almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. But when she needed him to hold still, that slight shaking made a world of difference.
“Hey, are you nervous?” She laughed, though she didn’t find it amusing at all.
He’d been performing for over a decade, and she’d never seen him with anything but nerves of steel. Crowds didn’t rattle him. Being in the center of a bunch of screaming fans rattled him even less. Despite what the members of Oblivion probably would’ve guessed based on his disappearing acts and sometimes sullen behavior over the past year, Gray was a showman through-and-through.
“No. Of course not.” His laughter sounded fake to her ears. “Why would I be?”
“I don’t know. So why are you shaking?”
He went still. “I’m not.”
You are. But she didn’t say it, because he seemed to be mostly better now. He must be anxious for some reason. Perhaps it had to do with performing her song. Could be he thought she wouldn’t like it.
No wonder he didn’t want to share it with her ahead of time if he was wigging out that much.
“That’s better.” She gave him an easy smile. “Tilt your head back.” Once he complied, she swept the mascara over his lashes a couple more times, smudging it a little beneath the lash line. “Why do boys always have such thick lashes? It’s completely unfair.”
“We need something to lure in you ladies.”
She inched back on his lap and gave him a dispassionate glance, scanning for flaws. There weren’t any. His bone structure could’ve made angels weep. His eyes were sexy and beguiling. His mouth…oh, his mouth.
And then there was his cock, hardening more beneath her with every passing moment.
“Don’t think you have to worry about luring anyone, Duffy.” She glanced down at tonight’s costume. He tended to wear some outlandish things compared to the rest of them. Tonight he had on just a pair of navy suspenders and black lace-up leather pants with heavy black boots. She capped the mascara and snapped one of his suspenders. “You’re not actually going out there like this, are you? Where’s your shirt?”
“It’s gets hot out there. Why bother? This saves me laundry.” He hooked his hand around the back of her neck. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
She couldn’t help laughing as she covered his mouth with hers. He kicked his foot off the floor and sent their stool spinning, making her shriek and hold on tighter. When they finally stopped, he grinned up at her, the dancing lights in his eyes reminding her of the impish Gray from so many years ago. The one she rarely saw traces of lately.
She traced her fingertip down his nose. “I love seeing you like this. I missed you.”
“I’ve been with you all along, baby.”
“No, you haven’t. Not like this.” She tipped her forehead to his. “Promise me it’ll always be just like this between us. Fresh and new and so hot I can’t breathe when our skin touches.”
“I promise.” He rubbed the inside of his wrist along her bare midriff, and she shot him a sexy look under her lashes. Sometimes it amazed her sparks didn’t erupt at the point of contact between them. “After tonight, everyone will know how I feel about you. How I spend every hour of the day wanting to be inside you and every hour of the night making that wish come true.”
She swallowed hard. “Oh. Okay then.”
His grin turned teasing. “I love making you blush. Knowing that I’m the one who always could, even when there was nothing between us but friendship.”
“Was that ever true?”
“You did an awful good job of acting like my good buddy for too many years.” The prune face he made caused her to giggle.
“If you ever want more insight into my perverted teenage mind, check out my composition notebook.”
His brows lifted. “I’ve been through that composition notebook a million times.”
“Not that one. My secret one.” She smiled and hopped off his lap. “Come on, sexy. We’re needed onstage.”
He smacked her ass before snatching his hat off the dressing table and propping it jauntily on his head. Then he rushed ahead of her to open the door. Even when he was being salacious, he never lost his gentlemanly ways. “Tease. I’ll get you for that later.”
“I should hope so.” Adding a flirty sway to her walk, she led the way backstage.
When the house lights came down half an hour later, he shot her that cocky grin that made her pulse turn frenetic. He faced her as he started the first frantic notes of “Ripcord”, sucking her into his music with merely the power of his stare and his incredible skill. She played from rote, her hands barely aware of the sticks. Scarcely able to focus on anyone or anything but him.
All she could see was the boy she loved, playing for her and her alone.
From “Ripcord” they went into “Taste of Candy” and “Breaking It Down.” They followed that with “Balls To The Wall,” which transitioned well into one of their band
camp collaborations “Lit.” The new song was a party anthem, plain and simple, and Simon introduced it by tugging off his shirt and tossing into the crowd. When that wasn’t enough, he tugged off his boots too and pranced across the stage like a drunken cheerleader, doing high kicks and gyrations to Nick and Gray’s dueling solos.
Considering they’d only had a short time to rehearse the song as a group, they didn’t have too many stumbles. Well, no one stumbled but her anyway. When Gray looked back at her after he came out of the finger-blistering solo with Nick, his grin mile-wide, she actually lost hold of one of her sticks. Only a quick save with her toes and a flip of it back into her hands saved that section of the song.
Worst of all? Gray knew his effect on her. He fucking laughed and added a little extra fingerwork to his part, nearly cutting Nick out in his haste to demonstrate to her that he could keep the beat. Ass.
An adorable ass, but still an ass.
Then her breath caught at the first chords of “Sugar Kiss.” The drums throbbed, a low and erotic rhythm meant to make the crowd sway on their feet. And it worked too. Before Simon’s low growl let loose with the first lyrics, the ones she knew because Gray had sung them in her ear that night in the hot tub, the fans were screaming. They could feel the change in the air.
Gray didn’t look at her as one verse blurred into the next. He focused on his fingers, playing with a demonic sense of possession that made his muscles bunch tightly and gleam damply with sweat. His back flexed and his hand flew up and down the frets, pulling out slyly sexual chords. Because the song was new, she had to concentrate and missed some of the lyrics, though she heard snatches over the endless pulsation of her sticks against the skins.
She managed not to blush until Gray turned toward her to sing the last two verses. Simon’s voice dropped away and he grabbed his guitar Cherry to pick up the rhythm section that Gray abandoned. Nick tossed a grin at Simon and they went back to back as they always had in the early band footage filmed before she and Gray had joined. Deak kept the bass line steady, adding a heavy heartbeat that ran through the song.
And Gray sang to her. Openly. He tugged off one of his suspenders, letting it hang, and the women in the crowd whistled and shrieked. Bracing one leg on the riser that held her drum kit, he added his own guitar to Simon and Nick’s, his finger play a somehow carnal backdrop to the way his voice rasped over the lyrics he’d written. Through sheer will she managed not to lose the thread of her part of the song, but watching his sensual lips mouth words for her ears alone while chicks screamed only a few feet away nearly broke her a dozen times.
Instead of ending the song as they’d rehearsed it, he kept going, repeating the last verse, stringing out his guitar part until the other guys had no choice but to join him. Somehow she found herself singing louder, repeating the same sexy lyrics back to him, only aware that her mic had been turned up when her own voice echoed back over the track. She started to back off, but Gray’s voice grew stronger, teasing hers out as if she were a turtle poking out of her shell.
His eyes stayed on hers, his stare strong and unrelenting. With one glance, she knew he was mentally peeling off her clothes and running his mouth down her body, playing her curves with his fingers with the same infinite patience he worked the strings.
She’d never been verbally made love to before. And she’d never reflected every bit of her desire right back.
As the song wound down, the hooting and hollering from the crowd shook her out of her stupor. But when Gray scaled the riser and locked his hand in her hair, hauling her mouth up to his for a hot, rough kiss, she succumbed to his spell.
Dimly, she heard the cheers and Simon’s lewd laughter while he teased the audience about what they’d borne witness to. But the rest of her consciousness was completely centered on Gray and his slick tongue slipping over hers.
“I want to fuck you right here,” he panted into her mouth, and God, she believed him. She wanted it too. More than she’d ever wanted anything before.
By the time he jumped back down and took up his regular space at Nick’s side, she was shaking so hard that her sticks vibrated against the drums before she got hold of herself. Her nipples had beaded to painful points and between her legs, she was so soaked she didn’t know what she’d leave behind on the seat. He’d fucking melted her.
By the time Nick ended the song with the solo of all solos, hunched over the guitar he gripped like it was a wild animal on the verge of escape, the crowd was on fire. A quick couple of hand gestures from Simon to Deak and the rest of the band and they changed up the setlist, going into a high energy cover they pulled out every now and then to keep the audience revved. As the first licks of Guns ‘n Roses’ “Sweet Child O‘ Mine” reverberated through the club, Simon grabbed Gray’s hat and pitched it into the crowd, tempting him to lose his place. But Gray only grinned and kept right on playing.
Once the set was over, she’d search online for another velvet hat to buy him. Superstitions mattered. Tonight, when everything was going better than they’d ever dreamed—the band finally gelling, the audience vibe perfect, the music sounding better than ever—she wasn’t about to alter any of their normal routines.
Including her post-show jump off the drum kit to grab a water and tease Gray. Tonight wasn’t going to be any different—or so she thought until he waited through their three-song encore to turn to her, the look in his eye painfully intense. And obvious.
He intended to fulfill his fucking fantasy, right there.
The curtain dropped and the stage started to empty out, somehow faster than normal. Roadies scurried away with their equipment, calling instructions to each other, and Simon and Deak and Nick left as one, slapping each other on the back. This show would clearly go down as one of their biggest triumphs since last year’s contract asshattery, in spite of the fact that they’d played for much larger crowds than this one. But hell, she seriously doubted they’d ever been more in sync and more amped than they’d been tonight.
Jazz rubbed her sweaty hands on her thighs and swallowed hard as Gray handed off his guitar to the stage crew. Then he was free to focus all of his attention on her again, his gaze burning her to the core. Each step he took toward her made her tremble harder until he stood in front of her. She couldn’t even gather enough breath to say his name.
He didn’t seem similarly afflicted. “What do you have on under that skirt?”
He jumped up on the riser and picked her up, spinning her around and settling her on his lap. She straddled his thighs, more than a little shocked that the normally proper Gray had pulled a page out of her rule-breaking playbook. He’d never been a goody-goody, but he’d also never been the kind of guy to go at it in a club.
Or on stage, with people still milling around, shouting and laughing, on the opposite side of the walls that surrounded them. Even the audience was still just a few feet away on the other side of the curtain. Most of them were probably dispersing fast to the bar area. Still, plenty of people remained behind, not ready for the party to end.
Neither was she.
She traced her fingertip from his sweaty throat down his chest to the top of his new Oblivion tattoo. Funny how something she’d teased him about didn’t seem so humorous now. It peeked over the top of his low-waist pants, showing off way too much of that sexy-as-sin body for her liking. She caressed his happy trail and lower, cupping his cock in her hand while she nuzzled the sweaty side of his neck.
“Why don’t you find out?” she asked against his skin.
He made a sound in his throat that verged on animalistic and slid one hand beneath her skirt while the other palmed her ass. When he found her bare beneath, he wasted no time in sinking two fingers inside her. “You do this a lot, sugar? Just sit up here and play and get your thighs all wet because you’re not wearing any panties?”
“No.”
She threw her head back, her hips lifting to give him more access. He rubbed her deep inside, massaging that secret place that always made he
r thighs shake. Now was no exception. His thumb toyed with her piercing, sending the longer crystals she’d worn tonight tinkling over her swollen folds. Already she was on fire for him.
“No? Then why’d you skip underwear tonight?”
Trying to respond was becoming increasingly difficult. All of her air was trapped in her chest behind her heaving breasts, the heavy tips brushing his chest without relief. She longed for him to lower his head and suck on one through her top, but he just kept the easy pace between her legs while he squeezed her ass.
“Because I wanted to tease you like this. I wanted to imagine you…”
His teeth closed over her earlobe. “What, baby?”
“I’m going to come,” she gasped, shocked. How could she be there that soon?
Guess all the show foreplay had done its job.
“Uh-uh. Not until I’m in you. This is just the appetizer before the main course.” Demonstrating it, he slipped his wet fingers out and painted them over his lips, making her moan as he licked up the traces of her excitement. His dark lashes lowered and he growled again. “New rule. I can’t fuck you unless I can eat you out first. It’s the worst kind of torture.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the drums. He laughed and locked an arm around her waist, hauling her close for a scorching kiss. “You want it that bad, huh? You’re willing to risk damaging the kit just so I can get my mouth on your pussy?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “I’d even lay down on the floor. I’d need a decontamination chamber later, but yes.” She framed his face between her palms and nibbled his lower lip, relishing her flavor on his mouth. Dark and sweet and so frigging naughty. “That’s what I imagined,” she added, unable to stop now that she’d started. She ground against his cock, needing that friction against her plump clit. “You just throwing me down somewhere after the show and shoving inside me, all rough and sweaty and wild…”
“My dirty fucking girl.” He used a fistful of her hair to tug her head back and arrowed his tongue over her collarbone, tasting her skin with the same eagerness he would’ve gone down on her. “You ready for me, sugar?”
