Rocked

by Maya Hughes

  Quickly recovering, she crouched down, made her way round the stage to get some shots of him from different angles. Taking a few photos from behind to get a shot of the empty stadium in front of him. It must be amazing to be up on stage with thousands of people completely engrossed in what you’re creating up there. She couldn’t imagine what that raw energy of performing in front of the crowd did to you. Feeding off their energy and allowing it to course through you. It was electrifying. Sitting in the wings, watching it all unfold got Keira’s pulse pounding and had her screaming, leaving her voice raw most nights.

  Watching him up there, the warmth of the stage lights hitting her even in the wings of the stage, the pumping rhythm of the music pulsed through her. Even without the crowd, the rush of blood to her head had her swaying on her feet. She steadied herself on an amp case before stepping back onto the stage.

  “Do we have a few minutes for me to try something new?” he asked into the mic, his voice booming through the empty arena.

  “Yup, everyone else is finished, take all the time you need,” called back a disembodied voice. She glanced out to the sound booth in the middle of the sea of empty seats to see a sound tech giving him the thumbs up.

  He pulled his notepad out of his back pocket and threw it down on the stage. Resetting the production pedals down on the floor, he started building the song one piece at a time, mixing them live. The initial sweet melodic tune of the song, soon built into the chaos and anger that the lyrics conveyed. Betrayal, resentment and sadness built until it ended in a discordant, but electrifying crescendo. Her hands and fingers working of their own accord, she snapped shot after shot of him, changing the film at least two times.

  He stood in the middle of the stage with his eyes closed, throat straining and fingers flying over the strings of his guitar belting out the final notes of a song that raised goosebumps all over her skin. She didn’t know who the song was about, but she hoped she never crushed anyone like he described, especially not someone with a silver tongue like Eric, who could expose that raw nerve and not only poke it, but slash it open for everyone to see.

  Had she ever made him feel like that? Made him doubt that she cared about him, even if they weren’t together that way? A pit formed in her stomach because she knew she’d have to do something about the Eric situation, but what? And how could she make sure she didn’t get crushed in the process?

  20

  The tour rolled on and they got closer to them leaving and heading out on their own tour and closer to visiting his family. They’d end up not too far from his hometown, so he planned on dropping by to see his mom and brother. Having someone around chronicling his days, turned out to be less weird than he imagined. It could also be the fact that Keira had been given this task and not a random off the street. That they’d only known each other less than a couple weeks hadn’t even registered. Their connection had been immediate and living in close proximity forced a certain level of comfort that compressed time.

  Waking up next to someone with morning breath, wearing his glasses and spending most waking hours together had a way of quickly pushing two people together. She’d run ahead into the diner to grab a table for them. If you weren’t one of the first off the bus, being stuck by the bathrooms in any place the crew visited was inevitable. And the rule about no No. 2 on the tour buses meant that being stuck by the bathrooms could be a serious hazard to your health, and appetite, with over forty guys on the tour.

  They’d quickly fallen into a routine on the bus between dashing off to sound checks, meals and performances, which meant that it looked like a tornado had blown through there. Looking for his wallet, Eric pushed a pile of clothes off the edge of the bed. The envelope with Keira’s prints inside fell off the bed and several prints spilled out, spreading across the floor. He’d seen the photos that the label approved and from what he’d heard they’d been selling well. She’d shoot them the day of a show, run out to find a place to develop them, the studio approved them and then they’d order multiple prints at a local shop and sell them during the shows. But the picture that drew Eric’s attention hadn’t been approved by the studio. In the corner, she’d scribbled ‘private' on the print and underlined it.

  He recognized the clothes he had on in the shot. This was only a few days ago. The first time he’d performed the Talia song. She’d caught him in a moment of intense frustration and anger and turned it into something else. He saw the pain there. She’d made it so plain to him that he couldn’t look away. This wasn’t a shot for fans, but it drilled into him like a portal into everything he experienced writing those lyrics. While he expressed himself through his lyrics, she could do it so hauntingly and vividly through her lens.

  She saw that when she’d looked at him in that moment, but hadn’t turned it over. He was sure the studio would have loved this, especially coupled with the completed song he’d sent to them. Looking at that picture and thinking about the whole situation, a weight lifted off him. He didn’t feel that pain anymore. Not even anger. She’d helped him see that Talia no longer had a hold on him. But Keira did, stronger and tighter than any woman ever had before and he was determined that tonight their professional relationship would take on a different tune.

  As Eric climbed off the stage, Keira’s pulse raced and her stomach fluttered as he made his way toward her. His show had taken on a different slant than it normally did. Usually, he played to the crowd, tried to get them involved, which was getting easier and easier at each stop. They were singing his lyrics back at him, but not tonight. On stage tonight, his eyes had undressed her with every song, every lyric sung he’d show her what he would do to her as soon as he got off the stage. Her defenses couldn’t hold up to that kind of amped up seduction. A man with his guitar, commanding a crowd and singing about everything he’d ever wanted to do to a woman. Do to her.

  All day he’d been working her into a frenzy. At the diner, he sat on the same side of the booth as her. His leg grazed against hers constantly. He found little excuses to touch her hair, her neck, her face. She’d never known how much damned lint and eyelashes she apparently shed. He changed right in front of her on the bus, pulling his shirt up and over his head, showing off his sinewy body and happy trail that had her licking her lips before she could turn around, fanning herself.

  Backstage, before he went up, he brushed up against her, the guitar between them, poking her like an extension of his manhood. By the time he’d gone up on stage she didn’t’ know if she was coming or going. Preferably, coming. Her mind raced as she tried to go through that list of professionalisms over and over again in her head. But the list quickly became a jumbled mess of words that didn’t mean anything, like when a word repeated in your head.

  The minute his feet hit the bottom of the steps, his lips found hers and he pushed her up against the backstage wall, attacking her mouth like a man starved.

  “Eric,” she said, staring into his eyes, but her mouth just opened and closed like a fish.

  “No more words,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hall toward the dressing room. No longer able to put up any resistance, she sunk into the kiss before grabbing the back of his head and attacking his mouth with as much ferocity as he attacked hers. Screw professionalism…

  The pounding vibrations of the band on stage filtered back to the dressing room. Eric had her pinned to the top of the vanity, back pressed up against the mirror. The mirror even colder against her searing flesh as Eric ran his lips all over her neck and shoulders. She held his head to her neck while he nipped and sucked on her skin, tasting the salty sweat.

  “How long until they’re finished out there?” she panted, hiking her legs up higher on his hips. She was liquid, her panties completely soaked.

  “Not long enough, but this is only round one, Keira,” he said, promising her it was going to be a long night, his eyes like liquid sex, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop if someone came in and interrupted them.

  He tugged on
the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her hips to help him slide them over her ass and down around her ankles. They hung off her feet as he got down on his knees and spread her legs open. She tried to squeeze them closed, but he pinned her with a hard stare.

  “You’ve denied me this long, I’m not doing anything else until I have a taste,” he growled. All she could do was nod. He breathed her in before spreading her lips apart, the wet snick reaching her ears and turning her even redder than before. He groaned, teasing her opening with two fingers before burying his face in her pussy.

  She cried out, clamping her thighs around his head, happy there was a pounding concert going on to mask every scream, cry and shriek he drew from her as he teased her clit, pumping his fingers into her. His callused fingers rubbing inside of her and touching places she’d never been touched before. Her legs shook and she gripped the edge of the vanity before she grabbed onto his hair and screamed as the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had overtook her. She saw stars winking in and out of her vision before he gave her a final kiss on her clit that made her jump.

  He stood and threaded his fingers through her hair, kissing her. She tasted him and her on her lips and she wanted more. He reached into his back pocket and slid the condom on before burying himself in her in a slow, tortious thrust. He picked up the pace, slamming into her in rhythm with the driving bass from Uncharted up on stage.

  The angle of his thrusts ground against her clit, making her legs tremble. He slid his hand along the side of her face, rubbing his thumb over her lips before pulling her head toward his as he increased his pace and mimicked those thrusts with his tongue. The thin threads holding her together were coming apart with each thrust, pulling his head down to her, she held his face between her hands as he gripped her hair, tilting her head back to pepper her neck with kisses and bites.

  As the band on stage reached the climax of their song, Keira exploded around Eric, screaming out her release as he continued to pump into her. He cried out, tensing between her legs as he pushed himself into her for a final time, emptying his release into her. An unexpected second orgasm ripped through her, she’d never had a double before. He held her as she rode out the waves of her second orgasm. He could feel a shutter course through her body and she smiled against his neck. She slumped back against the mirror trying to catch her breath, pledging to herself that when the feeling returned to her limbs she would thank him profusely.

  So what did this mean for the two of them? Sleeping with someone on tour was a complication and she didn’t know how it would change things.

  21

  After their night backstage and then back on the bus, Keira had given up pretending that things were only professional between them. They’d gotten redressed in record time, her shirt inside out, but no one paid much attention to her. The two of them alternated between exchanging sneaky glances that made her pussy throb and want to beg for another round, as they left for the buses, grinning like idiots. They snuck back onto their tour bus while Uncharted were still up on stage, not that anyone noticed, but they usually hung around to watch the show and sometimes Eric went out to the merch area to sign autographs for fans.

  He held her hand, pulling her along to the bus, navigating the underbelly of the venue and through the doors that led to the warm, humid air outside. They’d sped walked between the buses, making it to theirs in record time and climbing on board. Steve was nowhere in sight. They’d stripped back out of their clothes and almost immediately had another round in the living room booth. Not the best idea, between sliding off the leather seats and the awkward table placement. Next time, they’d make it to an actual bedroom.

  But tonight, was another night on the road. She strolled through the belly of tonight’s venue, she needed Eric so she could run a new idea about her photography past him. The afternoons after sound check always dragged and she figured he was on stage playing around with some new arrangements for the songs he’d recently completed. She rounded the corner, following the signs to the stage when a shining explosion of glass knocked her back against the wall. Jumping and screaming, Keira covered her face as the pieces of glass flew everywhere. Shaking her head, she panted, grabbing onto her chest as little bits of mirror fell to the floor around her. Her blood pounded in her head as she tried to figure out what the hell just happened. In shock, she stood rooted to that spot, unable to move. Glancing to her side, Owen stood frozen, his mouth hanging open and his eyes bulging out in horror, through the open door to their dressing room. Once their eyes connected, he rushed over to her.

  “Holy shit, are you okay?” he said, gently grabbing her shoulders and running his eyes over her.

  “What the fuck?” she said, finally finding her voice. “What the actual fuck?” she shrieked. She pushed him away from her and shoved his shoulders. “You could have killed me,” she shrieked. Some of the roadies gathered in the hall. Someone appeared with a broom and cleaned up the shattered mirror pieces strewn all over the hallway.

  Owen grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into the dressing room, closing the door behind them. She yanked her arms from his hands and rounded on him, ready to lay into him. Stopping short once his drawn and pale face turned to hers, her anger ebbed away slightly.

  “What is going on, Owen?”

  He hung his head and paced in front of her.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I went a little crazy.”

  “No shit, I know, but why?” He was grabbing and ripping at his hair as he moved back and forth like a feral animal penned in at the zoo. Her heart rate got closer to normal and she watched him, still trying to figure out what was going on. He’d always been an ass, but something else was going on. “Are you okay?”

  “Listen, I know you’re just here to fuck Eric and take your little pictures. I don’t need to explain myself to you,” he snapped.

  “Owen—”

  “Listen, I’m sure he had to pull some serious strings to get a professional knob polisher added to his backstage list, but he’s a rising star now, right? I’m sure you’ll be one of many.” Her head snapped back like he’d slapped her. She and Owen hadn’t exactly gotten along, but he’d never gone out of his way to spew venom at her like this.

  “What the hell? Screw you, Owen! I am a hell of an artist and Eric didn’t bring me on tour to fuck him. But you’re right about one thing. He is a rising star and I see the number of people leaving after each show after he performs. So, you know what? Screw you!” Her heart pounded and the blood rushed to her head as her anger increased with each second. Who the hell did he think he was?

  “I’m sure you’d love to, wouldn’t you?” he snarled.

  “Not if you paid me. I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to get your head out of your ass,” she stood and tried to push past him. He grabbed her wrist and she tried to shake him off.

  “Get off me,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Wait, I…I didn’t know anyone was out there. I’m sorry,” he said, glancing away and releasing her hand. And just like that, he’d sucked some of the rage out of her sails. This guy was mercurial as hell. “What’s going on with me…It’s not really any of your business, but I’m sorry I nearly hit you with the mirror, so you can chill out and back off,” he said, glaring at her. Like an asshole. Like someone who was trying to piss her off so she’d storm out. She’d seen his face before. If he was this much of an asshole he wouldn’t have cared if he took her head off with that mirror.

  “It’s a hallway. It’s a hallway that people have been walking up and down all day to get things ready for your show. For a show, they are working their butt off to make perfect for you and the rest of the guys,” she said, the veins in her neck throbbing.

  “I know. Trust me I know. I screwed up,” he said, hanging his head and rubbing his hands along the back of his neck.

  “What’s going on with you, Owen?” she said, ducking her head to try to catch his eye.

  “Everything is going wrong. Everything is fall
ing apart,” he said, his voice cracking. Her chest tightened at the pain in his voice. He sat on the arm of the couch in front of her.

  “I know you don’t really know me, but you can tell me what’s going on. I might not have any answers or good advice, but I can at least be an ear for you if you need it.” She stood and placed her hand on his shoulder squeezing it. He glanced up at her and she swore tears pooled in his eyes. He quickly looked away and shook off her hand. Clearing his throat, he stood and stared at his hands, which he fisted in front of himself.

  “I’m fine. Everything is fine. I don’t need your help.”

  “Okay, I just wanted to offer that up before you decided to start trashing your dressing room and chucking furniture out into the hallway,” she said, cracking a smile and trying to catch his eye again.

  “Again, I’m sorry about the mirror. It won’t happen again.”

  “No worries, I’ll make sure I check that the coast is clear before I walk past your dressing room.” He stood still as a statue staring at the wall behind her. Fine, if he wouldn’t give up what the hell that was about, she wasn’t going to push. “I’ll see you around, Owen,” she said, opening the dressing room door.

  “Bye, Keira.”

  The door closed behind her and she ran smack into Eric. He put his hands on her arms to steady her.

  “Hey,” he said, glancing back at the dressing room door behind her.

  “Hey, I was looking for you,” she said, moving toward the stage.

  “You were?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to know if maybe you might want to,” she glanced over her shoulder. “Join me back on the bus because I have something to show you,” she said with a coy smile and peeking up at him through her eye lashes. He looked over his shoulder before backing her up into a dark corner blocked by a stack of enormous equipment cases.