Paint her with my sweat.
Mark her tits with my cum.
Bury myself in her mouth.
Pick her up and set her on my cock and fuck her till she screamed, till she passed out, and then wake her up with the smallest quietest tenderest kisses I could manage, and make love her to slowly and endlessly and softly.
“Gonna club her over the head and drag her to your cave, my man?” Myles muttered.
I came awake, out of my erotic reverie. Shook my head. Glanced at my best friend. “Huh?”
He chuckled. “I asked if you were gonna club her over the head and drag her to your cave.” Another glance, this one at the front of my jeans. “And, by the looks of that poor zipper…put, like, eight babies inside her.”
“That’s not how babies work, you idiot,” I grumbled, retorting on autopilot.
“Oh, so you are planning on doing the caveman thing?”
He was still in his leather pants—or in them again—but shirtless and barefoot and wearing mirrored Oakleys, his short brown hair wildly mussed, as if certain fingers had yanked on it a whole lot last night. He was wearing the arrowhead necklace my mammy had made him that summer when we were kids and he was kicking it with me and River Dog and Mammy. Layered over that was a braided hemp necklace faded from having never been taken off, along with a woven plain black leather necklace also faded and worn. He had a small silver St. Christopher medallion on a silver chain, and a black-and-blue bandana folded and tied around his throat. He was every inch a rock star, the stupid beautiful fuck.
“No, I’m not clubbing her over the head,” I said, chuckling.
He eyed me. “She as sweet and innocent as she seems?”
I laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nah, that one’s all you.” His eyes followed Lexie as she played Hackey Sack with Zan who was, at his core, just a happy little granola stoner. And, yeah, wearing nothing but a cut-off T-shirt, Lexie athletically and vigorously playing Hackey Sack was…quite a sight. “Brother, that girl is…” He shook his head, a rough breath gusting out of him. “Didn’t figure there was a woman on the planet could keep up with me, but Lexie? Shit, man. She can damn near outdrink me, out-curse me, and out-fuck me. I’ve tangled with some wildcats in my day, as you know. But Lexie is…” He blew a disbelieving raspberry, head shaking again. “That girl is a motherfuckin’ hurricane, man.”
I laughed. “Sounds like you got a tiger by the tail.”
He stretched, scratching his chest. “No kidding. Literally—she’s all teeth and tits and claws, man.” He showed me his back—scratches raked down his spine and bite marks adorned his shoulders.
I shook my head, laughing. “Damn, dude.”
He eyed me, then Charlie, then me again. “What?”
I frowned. “What, what?”
He indicated Charlie with a jerk of his chin. “You’re looking at her weird. Like, intense. Like if you take your eyes off her, she might vanish into a puff of smoke.”
I sighed. “She’s just…she’s complex, man.” I shook my head, not taking my eyes off Charlie as she laughed, leaning against the side of the bus, watching her sister play like a schoolgirl. “Not at all what she seems. I mean, she is, in some ways, but a whole hell of a lot more.”
He nodded. “Lex too. I was figuring this would be like what it usually is. Drop her off at the next stop and get her a plane ride back home, see ya, had fun. But dude, she’s…different. For as wild as she is in the sack, she’s…fuckin’ smart, man.” He rubbed his scalp again. “You know how I grew up, shit, you were with me for most of it. Neither of us got a lot of real schooling, you know? I ain’t dumb, you ain’t dumb, but those girls, man? They’re fuckin’, like, next level smart. Educated, articulate, and…”
“Sophisticated.”
He stabbed a finger in the air at me. “That’s the word. Lexie has this outward persona, this, like, thin layer of acting like a foul-mouthed wild child who doesn’t give a shit, does what she wants. It’s not fake; it’s all her, all real. But there’s a whole hell of a lot more.”
I eyed him skeptically. “Wait, you did more than just bone?”
He made a baffled, shocked face, scrubbing his cheeks with both hands as if to wake up. “Would you believe we spent more time just talking than we did anything else? Legit, you are the only other person I’ve ever talked to that much all at once, ever.”
I gaped at him. “What? You never want to talk to your conquests, Myles.”
He frowned. “No woman is a conquest, Crow. I ain’t like that. They’re people. I respect them. I may only be interested in having sex, and casual sex at that, but that don’t mean I think of the women I’m with as…as…as bags of meat, or fuckin’ conquests.”
I frowned harder. “Shit, man, I was joking, mostly.”
“I know. Sorry. But Lexie especially ain’t a conquest. She’s not like that. Not for me.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “Well…shit. Okay.”
He pushed a pebble around the asphalt with his big toe. “What?”
“Just…I think you like her.”
“No shit, man.” He glanced at her. “The fuck am I supposed to do?”
I shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
He swallowed hard. “Remember back when we first started touring? That old church van, just me and an amp and some guitars? You setting up, running sound, lights, doing everything but play the guitar and sing for me?”
I nodded. “Some good times, brother. Of course I remember. Why?”
“You remember when we ran out of money and got stuck in Des Moines?”
I nodded again. “Yeah, sure. You started hanging out with that group of scary-ass carnies.”
He sighed, a long nasal out-breath. “Yeah. Well, I never told you, but I got hooked on coke, hanging out with them.”
I glanced at him sideways. “Think I didn’t know? Why do you think I never went with you?”
He nodded. Eyed the ground. “Figures you knew.”
“You are about the only family I’ve ever had, Myles. Everyone else is dead.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “What’s this got to do with liking Lexie?”
He pawed his hair aggressively, making it stand up on end—and even that made him look even more like the wild rock star. “I tried, and I knew from the first fuckin’ hit that I was in deep, deep trouble. It was so good, and so, so bad. It scared me absolutely stupid. Like, I just knew in my fuckin’ soul that this shit would kill me real goddamn fast, because I liked it way, way too much. I couldn’t quit, though. Not after the first hit. Had to have that feeling again.”
I growled. “Scariest couple weeks of my life, in some ways, watching you go through that and knowing I couldn’t do shit to stop you.” I bumped him with my shoulder. “We left Des Moines and I’m pretty fuckin’ sure you haven’t touched that shit since.”
He nodded. “Me and the carnies, we were sitting around in this half-assembled tilt-a-whirl, drinking Everclear and bumping lines.”
I winced. “Jesus, dude.”
“I don’t know what happened. That shit doesn’t make you hallucinate, but I swear, I saw myself die. I was laying in this half-built tilt-a-whirl, staring up at the sky, watching it spin and I saw myself laying on the floor of a hotel room, dying, coked out. I fuckin’ saw that shit, real as you’re next to me right now.” A long pause. “I got up, staggered back to our van, and vowed I’d never touch anything harder than booze as long as I live.”
“Again, what’s the connection, man?”
He stared at Lexie, unblinking, his gaze on her exactly the way he’d said mine was—intense, as if she’d vanish if he blinked. “Lexie makes me feel like that. Scared, because I feel so fuckin’…high when I’m with her. Like I could lasso the moon and haul it down for her. But it’s…it’s got the feel of an addiction. Like…” He turned to me, and I knew the only reason he was saying this out loud was because I knew him better than anyone alive ever could, bec
ause we’d saved each other’s lives and seen each other at the absolute worst, and best. “Like, if I’m not careful, I’m gonna end up fuckin’ needing that chick in my life like I need to breathe, and I am scared abso-fuckin-lutely spitless by it. And all this from, what, less’n twelve hours of sex and talking? What the hell, man? How does this happen?”
“Didn’t think anything like that was possible, but it is, I guess.” I said this quietly, because his words were resonating in me. Hard.
“You too?”
I nodded. “Different, but yeah. That shit is going on under the surface, for me. Like, I feel it, but it’s too hard to let it out.”
“Well, my emotions run on the surface. You keep yours way down deep.”
I nodded. Stretched, kicked. “Don’t know what to do with it, honestly.”
He laughed. “What can we do? Roll with it, and see where it goes.”
I eyed the back of the bus—my bike was on a trailer behind the bus, tied off and covered. “I think I need to ride.”
He nodded. “Figured you would.” A glance at Charlie. “Alone?”
I shrugged. “Not if I can help it. Not sure if she’ll go for riding a bike, though. We’ll see.”
Charlie and Lexie were in the lounge of the bus, watching Jupiter make a stupid amount of scrambled eggs and bacon. By stupid amount, I meant two dozen eggs and at least three pounds of bacon.
Jupiter: six-five, former professional bodybuilder, with a blond mohawk pulled back into a ponytail, and ice-blue eyes. His body resembled a G.I. Joe action figure turned real—he wasn’t on the show circuit anymore, but staying huge and lean was a way of life for him, so he was only a little less perfectly built than he would be if he were to go back on the circuit.
He glanced at me as I slid into the booth next to Charlie. “Yo, Crow. What up, bro?”
I sighed. “You always have to rhyme everything with my name, Jupe?”
He snickered. “Can’t help it. Must be a poet, just don’t know it.”
“The ‘roids must’ve gone to your head.”
He flipped me off with both hands, one of which was holding a spatula, the other a pair of tongs. “Fuck you. You know damn well I was natty.”
I just laughed. “Yeah, yeah.” I glanced at Charlie. “He feeding you, too, or just his own fat ass?”
Charlie arched an eyebrow. “Fat ass? I don’t think he has a single molecule of unnecessary fat on his whole body. I’ve got more body fat in one thigh than he has everywhere on his body.”
Jupiter blew a raspberry. “I’m at eleven percent right now. That’s a lot, for me. I used to cut down to five percent or under when I was showing.” He eyed her as he flipped bacon. “Don’t take this the wrong way cuz I know you’re with my boy Crow, but what you are is soft in all the right places, and not a single thing more, so cut that shit about fat thighs.”
She blushed, shifted in the booth. “Uh, thanks.”
“You know what they say, right, Charlie?” Lexie asked, her tone mischievous.
I sighed. “No, Lex, what do they say?”
“Thick thighs save lives.”
She snorted. “Nice.” I arched an eyebrow at her. “So you are saying I have thick thighs.”
“Yep, and that it’s a good thing.” She glanced at me. “Right, Crow?”
I smirked at Charlie. “Um. I mean. I’m partial to thick thighs, so yeah, I agree.”
Charlie just blushed, bless her.
Jupiter shut off the heat, pulled out plates, and divvied up the food onto three plates, then eyed me. “Some for you?”
I nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
We ate in companionable silence, and eventually I broached the subject on my mind. “So, the limos won’t be here for another hour, and the repair guys for an hour after that. I’m gettin’ antsy.” I met Charlie’s eyes. “How you feel about riding with me?”
She tilted her head. “Ride with you where, on what?”
“On my bike.”
Her eyes widened. “On a motorcycle?”
I nodded. “Yep. We’d just head on to Denver.”
She swallowed hard. “I, um. Isn’t it dangerous?”
I smiled. “I mean, it can be. But I ain’t reckless. Been riding since I could fit onto a dirt bike. You’ll be safe as houses with me, darlin’.”
Jupiter shoveled eggs into his mouth. “Don’t let him fool you. He has literally lived most of his life on the back of a motorcycle. Personally I’d trust my old grammy on a bike with him, and I love my grammy somethin’ fierce.”
I grinned at him. “Why, thanks, Jupe. Means a lot comin’ from you.”
She eyed Lexie, who just shrugged, but it was a grinning shrug. “You do you, boo,” Lexie said. “But if it were me, I’d be all over that shit like white on rice.”
I could see she was trying to contain her excitement. “Then, yes.” Her eyes actually, literally fuckin’ sparkled. “Do I need anything?”
“Purse. I’ve got an extra leather and helmet you can wear.”
She eyed me. “I need a leather jacket?”
I nodded. “Yep. Preferably tight jeans or leather pants, but since you ain’t got your luggage, your leggings’ll do.”
“Won’t your jacket be enormous on me?”
“Not mine,” I said, and hoped to leave it at that.
She nodded. “I see.”
Jupiter eyed her—his no-neck bodybuilder physique hid a smart, observant personality. “Brand had a groupie on board a few months ago. She left it behind.”
He was covering for me. She’d come on board with Brand, but had gotten one look at me and hopped trains, so to speak. Between the groupies that Myles, Jupiter, and Zan had brought aboard, Brand hadn’t been sore about it, as there’d been plenty to choose from. That had been one of the very few times I’d dipped my toe into those waters.
Charlie was eying me. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, Crow. You’re a single man living on a rock star tour bus.” She smiled. “Groupies are part of the gig. Doesn’t bother me.”
Jupiter, again. Nosy butthead. “Ahh, Crow don’t play like the rest of us. Once in a while he’ll…unwind, a little. But the groupies are mostly for the rest of us. He keeps to himself. That was one of the only times he’s done that since I’ve known him.”
“Don’t need to explain shit for me, Jupe,” I said, a little tightly. “But thanks.”
“And let me guess, Myles gets the lion’s share of them?” Lexie asked.
Jupiter didn’t answer right away. “Um.”
Lexie laughed. “Awww, the big meathead is speechless. How cute.”
Jupiter snickered. “I mean, he is Myles North. Plus, look at the fucker. Prettiest male I’ve ever seen, and you know I’m the most rabidly hetero male on the planet.”
Lexie patted his arm. “Well, I plan on taking him off the market. For a while, at least.” She grinned. “That won’t cramp your style, will it?”
He lifted his arm and gave his best IFBB bicep flex—which admittedly was impressive. “Don’t think that’ll be an issue, sweetheart.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not call me sweetheart.”
Charlie snickered. “Yeah, you really don’t want to do that.”
He eyed Charlie, then Lexie. “My bad?”
I glanced at Charlie. “Bike is ready to go. Want to get out of here and leave these two to their posing?”
“Who’s posing, bird boy?” Lexie snapped.
“You are, firecracker,” I shot back.
Charlie elbowed me. “You don’t want to cross wits with her. Trust me on this.”
I laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Jupiter went back to shoveling food into his mouth. “Yeah, same. No offense meant.”
Charlie grabbed her purse while I dug the spare leather jacket out of the storage cubby. It was a real biker jacket, with tassels and zippers and buckles, and it fit Charlie like it had been made for her. Seeing this girl in a biker leather was…
I pulled the extra half helmet out of a different storage locker, gathered my phone, wallet, and other accoutrements, and led Charlie outside to where I had the bike on its kickstand behind the bus. She eyed my bike. A lot like my dad’s, and I‘d bought in honor of him. A 1947 Indian Chief, all original, in near mint condition, with a comfy seat for two.
She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m a little nervous.”
I popped the helmet on her head; she’d re-braided her hair into a dizzying complex triple braid, so the thick glossy mass of black hung down over her shoulder and rested just above her breast.
Clipping the helmet under her chin, I brushed her cheek with my thumb. “It’s all good. I’ll climb on first, you climb on behind me. Snuggle in close, and don’t be shy about hangin’ on tight, okay? Squeeze as hard as you want, won’t bother me none. I’ll go slow until you feel okay. Promise you, after the first rush, you’ll be having fun.”
I swung on, inserted the key and twisted it, pulled back the kickstand and balanced. Grinned at Charlie, popping my own Kaiser-style helmet on. “Climb aboard, darlin’.”
She put her hands on my shoulders, hesitated. “Promise it’s safe?”
“Eyes on me, babe.” She met my gaze, and I held it, giving her my open soul through my eyes. “I swear on River Dog’s immortal soul that you will be safe with me, always.”
She saw something that made her shiver, and nodded. “Okay.”
And then she threw a leg over behind me, slid on, the angle of the seat helping her press up against me. I drew a deep breath and held it, focusing on not popping a hard-on at the feel of her plump firm breasts against my back, the V of her thighs wedged against my hips. And then her hands latched around my waist, low, and that fight was near impossible.
I balanced with my feet and adjusted her hands a little higher, near my diaphragm. “Little too close for comfort while I’m ridin’, babe.”
Not So Goode Page 15
