by Amelia Mae
“Fuck, sweetheart, keep going,” he rumbles, “That was getting good.”
I arch my back, knowing it’ll give him a good view of my tits peeking up over the bubbles and shake my head.
“No that easy,” I tease, “You want a show? I should get one too.”
I’m baiting him. Will he bite?
His tongue slides over his lower lip and he half-smiles as he unzips his jeans. He takes his long, hard cock in his fist, starts stroking himself, and I swear my mouth waters.
“Please, sweetheart,” he pants, “Let me watch you come. Don’t leave me like this.”
His eyes are on me. He’s begging me to touch myself for him.
I take my tits in my hands and squeeze, toying with my nipples until I hear Shawn let out another low moan. My hand drifts down, under the bubbles. I know that he can’t see exactly what I’m doing, but I want to get off for real.
For him.
I get rough with myself. I push my one finger inside. Then another. Then curl them towards my palm again and again, finding my rhythm. Hitting that sweet spot.
“Fuck,” I grunt.
“That’s it,” Shawn grits out, his teeth clenched, his strokes getting faster. “Beautiful.”
I take my thumb to my clit, working it in small circles.
My stomach tightens. My breath hitches.
“Shawn,” I seethe, “Fuck. I’m so close.”
“Me too.” His voice is heavy.
I press down hard on my clit and push my fingers deep inside. I take myself right to the edge. It’s intense. Almost hurting.
“I need you.” He’s really breathing hard. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
A few determined thrusts later, I’m there. Pulsing. Moaning his name. Coming in spasms on my hand.
I watch Shawn come, still backed up against the wall, a sticky mess coating his hands and part of his shirt.
My eyes close all on their own. I sink back into the warm water, every muscle in my body relaxing.
“Fuck,” he says, taking a deep breath and blinking his eyes open.
Fuck is right.
“Get in,” I tell him. I try to sound forceful, but I mostly just sound desperate.
He groans. “You have no idea how badly I want to get in that bath with you,” he says, “But I left my phone up here and had to leave the venue to come get it. I’ve been gone awhile and probably have a dozen calls from the guys wondering where I am. But I heard the whirlpool going and you moaning and I couldn’t resist.”
He washes up in the sink.
“Shawn… umm,” I start, “Can we talk about something. Doesn’t have to be now.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? You sound serious.”
“Not now. You have the sound check.”
“Fuck the sound check.”
I look up at him. I love that he’d blow off it off for me, but I’d never ask him for that. “Later’s fine. After the show. I just really need to talk.”
He nods. “After the show, sweetheart, I’m all yours.” He leans down to kiss me, then heads out into the main room. A minute later, I hear the click of the automatic lock and I let out a long, low sigh.
Tonight. After the show. We’ll talk.
21
Shawn
The lights go down.
Ian steps out onto the stage first. It’s dark, but the crowd can see enough of his silhouette that they start screaming.
I’m second.
Normally, I love this part. The anticipation. The build-up. The audience holding their breath. Waiting for me.
But tonight is different.
I’m still thanking my lucky stars that I’m here, but I can’t get Aya out of my head.
She sounded so serious. What did she want to discuss with me? Does she want to end our arrangement early? I don’t think so. She wouldn’t have wanted to come on this trip and share a room with me if she was thinking of ending it.
It has to be something big, though.
Then Jack steps out. He gives the crowd his best fuck-me stare and licks his top lip even though it’s dark and they can’t see it. The crowd gets louder anyway and I roll my eyes at him.
But my thoughts go back to Aya in the bathtub, sopping wet. Her head back. Eyes closed. Mouth open. Moaning my name as she touched herself.
Shit. I can’t get hard onstage.
Dylan’s last and by this point, the crowd is on their feet. Girls in the front row are pushing to get closer to him. They shriek and stomp and scream ridiculous things at him.
“I love you, Dylan!”
“Marry me, Dylan!”
“Get me backstage and I’ll rock your world!”
“I want to have your babies, Dylan!”
Jesus, some of these fans are crazy. I mean, wanting to marry and potentially have the child of someone you barely know? And these girls are serious about it too. They’d have Dylan’s baby in a heartbeat.
What if Aya’s pregnant?
Whoa. I think the room just started spinning.
It would explain the serious tone. And why she wanted to take her time telling me.
I picture Aya with a swollen belly and that glow that pregnant women get and find myself getting fiercely protective. And proud. And hard.
I can’t help it, it’s completely primal. My girl. Having our kid. Two people that are mine forever.
I try to push the thought from my mind, but it won’t go.
But, truthfully, I don’t know if I want it to.
Then the stage lights go up and I try desperately to get my head in the game and play the show.
Ian counts off and we kick off the show with our new single, Spin the Bottle, which Ian wrote a few months ago about the first time he saw Cora. It’s the first single off our third album and it’s been climbing the charts.
I start the song with a low, sultry bass solo before Jack and Ian come in with their parts.
“Kiss me, baby. You know the rules…”
About two and a half hours later, we hit the last note on our last encore and Dylan bids the crowd good night.
“And we hit the road next week. Twenty one cities. Come see us play with My Hero. Tickets are on sale…”
At least I think that’s what he’s saying. The crowd is screaming so loudly they’re drowning him out.
This is what I live for. All I want to do is fire up the sound equipment again and keep on playing. But then I remember that Aya is waiting for me and I’m itching to get backstage and see my girl.
My girl. Whose carrying my baby. Who’ll be in my life forever.
The stage lights go down, the house lights go up. I hand my bass off to the roadie in exchange for my phone back and I practically run to find her.
I look around and see Cora introducing Ian to a middle aged woman, presumably her mother, who says something in Japanese that Ian doesn’t understand.
“She liked the show,” Cora translates. “She says it was very good. And very loud.”
Finally, I spot Aya leaning against the bar, wearing a gorgeous, but flimsy pink dress. She’s looking for me, but facing the opposite direction. I sneak up behind her and snake my arms around her waist. She jumps, startled, but turns around and kisses me hard.
When she finally pulls away, she’s breathing heavily and her face is flushed.
“You liked the show?” I tease.
She nods. “Haven’t seen you in rock star mode in a long time. Makes me a little crazy.”
I smirk. “Ready to throw your panties on the stage?”
“Of course not.” She leans in to whisper in my ear. “No panties.”
I growl and give her ass cheek a hard squeeze.
“Lets get out of here. Now.”
After a fucking eternity getting out of the concert venue, into a cab, and back to the hotel, I take Aya by the hand and lead her through the lobby to the elevator. The doors are barely closed before her mouth is on mine and we’re kissing like the world is ending tonight and we’ve got to
make every last moment count. She moans loudly into my mouth and I kiss her harder to keep her quiet.
Still three floors to go.
Fuck it. I can’t wait any longer.
I untie the knot holding her halter-top dress up and let her tits spill out and she arches against the wall, offering her chest to me. She gasps as I wrap my lips around one hard nipple, kneading the other with my fingers.
“No bra either?” I muse.
She shakes her head and grunts when I move to suck on her other nipple.
I hiss, moving up to sink my teeth into her neck as my throbbing dick pushes uncomfortably against my zipper.
I slip my hand under her skirt, between her legs, and feel that not only is she totally naked under this tiny dress, but she’s gushing wet. I slide two fingers inside, relishing in the soft whimpering noises she makes.
“We should… talk,” she says between gasps.
“We should,” I say, breathing hard.
She’s right, but that’s sure as shit not happening right now. Not when I’m hard enough to drill a hole through the wall and a beautiful girl is ready and wanting and whispering my name like a desperate prayer.
I keep my eyes on hers, but curl my fingers inside of her, keeping her pinned against the wall. I run my lips down her neck and nip at her collar bone. “You first,” I husk out as I kiss the hollow of her throat right in the spot I know will make her crazy,
“Ungh,” she whines, as my fingers keep moving and my lips skim up her neck. “I need… I need to…oh God.” She pulses around my fingers, moaning and digging her nails into my shoulder blades as she comes. Her head lolls over to one side and her breath warms my neck.
“You were saying,” I tease, pulling my fingers from her and sucking them clean.
“Huh?” she asks, wide-eyed, as I set her down.
I crack a cocky smile and scoop her into my arms, carry her from the elevator to the hotel room and throw her on the bed. Finally, I can push her dress to her waist, and sink inside her like I’d been dying to all day.
22
Shawn
I lie with Aya in our massive hotel bed, tangled in the sheets, with her head on my chest and her body curled into mine. We’d neglected to talk, yet again, in favor of amazing sex, but now she’s fast asleep and I’m not about to wake her.
I have no desire to move, but my mind is going a mile a minute.
What if she’s pregnant?
If she’s pregnant and she wants to keep it, then that’s that. I’m going to be a dad and Aya’s going to be a part of my life permanently, whether or not we’re a couple.
And, of course, what if we were a couple?
I picture myself in a suit standing at an alter, looking down the aisle to see Aya in a white dress.
No. She’d want something less traditional. A blue dress. In honor of her formerly blue hair.
I smile. That’s more like it.
I picture a tiny baby that’s half me and half her. Maybe with her dark eyes and spitfire personality. Or with my light hair and laid-back nature. It’s asleep in a crib next to our bed while Aya sleeps soundly, like she’s doing right now, shifting so she’s got her arm across my waist and her head practically in my armpit.
I should feel stressed. My whole life might be changing right now.
But I’m not.
I’m strangely peaceful about it.
Relieved, even.
I’ll never have to say goodbye to Aya.
I stroke her stomach lightly with my knuckles.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I whisper as she stirs. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
She shakes her head. “I’m awake now. And we forgot to talk.” She sits up and brushes the hair out of her face.
“I think I know what this is about,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she starts, “That’s good, I guess.”
I take her hands. “You’re pregnant.”
She looks at me like I’ve just told her the sky is green.
“What? No.” she practically shouts. “Why the hell does everybody think I’m pregnant?”
I stammer. “I don’t know. You were all serious when you said that we needed to talk. Plus you got a burger last night and I’ve never seen you eat burgers. And you’re jumping my bones at any given moment. Isn’t that one of the side effects?” I ask.
Yeah, now that I’m saying it out loud, I realize how ridiculous and presumptuous I sound. But, I swear, it made sense in my head.
And maybe assuming that Aya was pregnant was more wishful thinking than rooted in proof.
“I’m definitely, absolutely, one-hundred-percent not pregnant,” she tells me. “God, what would you have done if I was?”
“Whatever you wanted,” I answer, “If you wanted to…”
“Have an abortion,” she finishes bluntly.
“I’d go with you to the doctor and hold your hand,” I tell her, “But If you wanted to keep it, I’d be there too.”
“Really?” she asks quietly.
I nod. “I’d marry you if you wanted.”
She sits up and wraps the comforter around herself. “Well, I’m not pregnant,” she reiterates.
“Okay.”
She pulls the blanket tighter. She’s nervous and trying to make herself smaller.
“So what happens now?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice neutral, “I guess we just go back to the way things are?”
Her face falls. “You mean dating until the tour starts and then breaking up?”
“I guess.”
“Do you know what I wanted to talk about?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I wanted to talk about this stupid deadline on our relationship. I hate it. We have something real here, Shawn. Tell me you don’t feel the same way.”
“No, I do.”
“And I wanted to tell you that I want more time. Why are we walking away from a good thing just because it’s about to get difficult? Let’s at least give it a try before we decide we can’t handle it, right?” she asks.
I think about it.
“But now I don’t know what I think,” she says, getting flustered. “I mean, you basically offered me exactly what I wanted.”
I cut her off. “You wanted to get married?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. Not married. But I want to be with you. And you only offered because you thought I was pregnant and I assume you felt obligated.”
“I didn’t…”
“Yes you did. As soon as you knew the truth, you backed out,” she says, her voice breaking. “I think… that I might be in love with you, Shawn.”
“Sweetheart,” I start. She holds up her hand to stop me.
“And I know that you care about me. But I’m definitely more invested in you than you are in me. And right now, I kind of feel foolish.”
“Please don’t, Aya,” I start, not knowing how to finish. “I definitely care about you. A lot.”
“Save it. You can’t make me feel better right now.” She fights the catch in her throat. “I’m gonna go. I can’t stay here right now.”
She gets up and starts to rummage around for clothes and shoes.
“Don’t,” I say, stopping her. “You stay here. I’ll go.”
I put on jeans, a sweatshirt and my sneakers.
Aya doesn’t fight me. She doesn’t even look at me as I head for the door.
I try Ian’s room first, knowing that he and Cora are trying to spend the night apart, so I figure that he’s got an extra bed in his room. However, the moaning I hear from behind the closed door indicates that they’ve failed spectacularly and I shouldn’t interrupt.
Hesitantly, I knock on Jack’s door. He actually answers, which surprises me because I figured he’d have a girl or two in there. But he’s just hanging out watching movies with Nikki. Sometimes I forget that he doesn’t behave like a complete heathen when she’s around.
They’re sprawled on the bed, about ha
lfway thorough Wonder Woman, a pizza and several empty beer bottles surrounding them.
“What’s up?” Jack asks as he invites me in and hands me a drink.
I don’t even know where to start.
“Where’s Aya?” he asks, more seriously.
“In the room,” I reply.
I don’t offer any more information. I chug my beer while they stare at me.
“Want to tell us why you’re in here and your girl isn’t?” Nikki chimes in.
I finish the beer and grab another. “Not my girl.” I uncap it. “Got anything stronger.”
Nikki points to a bottle of Jameson on the dresser. “Go for it.”
I pour a shot and slam it back.
Jack throws his head back derisively. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” I say, “Well, first I thought she was pregnant…”
Their eyes go wide as saucers.
“She’s not,” I clarify.
“Holy fuck,” Jack interjects, “What did you do? I would’ve flipped my shit.”
“Told her we’d make it work. I told her I’d marry her if she wanted.”
Nikki looks confused. “How the hell did you go from potentially proposing to leaving her alone in a hotel room?” she asks.
“Well, she’s not pregnant, so she asked me what happens now. And I told her that I guess we just go back to what we’re doing. And then she told me that she might be in love with me and she wants to try being in a relationship for real, which is what she initially told me she’d never want and I don’t think I can give her what she needs, so she was going to leave,” I explain, “And I couldn’t stand the idea of her wandering around the hotel alone at night, so I kicked myself out of our room and ended up here.”
Nikki exhales loudly. “Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
I take a few more sips of whiskey. I’ve downed several drinks in a matter of minutes and I’ve successfully taken the edge off. I’m very quickly barreling towards drunk.
Jack wrings his hands. “Tell me again why you want to end things with her.”
I grimace. I’ve explained this so many times, mostly to myself, and I’m almost annoyed to do it again.
