Nocturnes (30 page)

Oh my God. He’s serious. He’s really gonna fuck me right here in the hallway.

Not if I do him first. I snatch the dick and stroke it wildly. He’s harder than the steel I climbed onstage a few minutes ago. And much, much warmer.

“You miss having me around to choke your chicken and give you the best orgasms in town?” I glance down.

“You have no fucking clue. Seeing you mount that pole…rubbing this hot pussy all over it. That kinda shit can make a man like me very jealous.”

I twist his dick a little harder than necessary, getting a nice, beg-worthy moan out of him. He crooks his fingers back inside me, and we engage in a battle of the sexes. He must remember exactly where he left my G-spot, because I swear the fucker homes in on it like a carrier pigeon on an urgent mission from God. I’m starting to lose my vision in the clouds of ecstasy. Not a bad way to go blind.

“I wanna be the only pole you ever need. I’m tall. Hard. Strong. Mostly straight. I swear to God I’ll always support you and never let you down.” He pauses and jerks his wrist as if to wake me from my lust daze. His lips barely graze mine as he continues. “And I’m crazy in love with you.”

My thong is officially ruined. “When did that happen?” I whisper.

He cups my cheeks, disarming me with his intense stare. “First second I laid eyes on you. Lola or Eve, I don’t care what your fucking name is or what role you’re playing. All I know is I gotta have you. Fuck those other guys at Nocturnes. Fuck anyone else you’re seeing. I’m keeping you to myself, and you’re gonna like it.” His lips charge mine head-on, and I go limp in his embrace.

Like
it? Hell, no. I fucking
love
it. “You’re the only guy I’m seeing. The only one I want.”

As his tongue rams my mouth, he cranks my leg a little higher and sinks his tattooed cock into my pussy. His motor revs and hits zero to sixty in half a second. I have no trouble keeping up. Taking him balls deep, I greet each thrust like a wife at the door with a martini, welcoming her husband home from a hard day at work.

Honey, you’re home.

Hell yes, he is.

His pupils flare with rampant, needy lust. A wild animal whose sole purpose is to fill his mate with enough seed to propagate a brand new species.

“Did you miss me, Eve?”

I match and exceed his heightened pace, threatening to commandeer the wheel if he can’t fuck me harder. “What do you think?” My soft panting quickens too.

“I think you’ve been denied decent cock for way too long. Your pussy is so fucking tight.” He groans. “I can only imagine what your ass is gonna feel like.” He licks my parted lips, presses his forehead to mine, and nuzzles the line on my cheek.

Ass…God, I can only hope that’s coming soon. But I’m still self-conscious about the nasty scar, despite the makeup hiding it. I twist my neck.

He clamps a hand to my chin and forces me to look at him, never losing his rhythm. “Don’t you ever be ashamed of
any
part of yourself. I love every inch of your body. Especially this.” His tongue traces the raised line, and I shiver.

Why’d he have to say that? I’ve struggled for months with how to deal with the awful chapter in my life I wish I could forget. I came to terms with the fact that I’ll never be able to buy my house in the Garden District without some kind of miracle, but the emotional scars that come with the physical ones still fill me with self-doubt.

Who would ever want a washed-up has-been face like mine?

Rax’s beautiful, crooked smile assures me he does. Unconditionally.

I’m unhinged. Thoroughly.

A funny squeak wiggles out of my mouth. I follow it up with a heartfelt, “I love you, Rax Wrathbone.” Inundated with a great swell of divine emotion, I charge into his lips, the rhythmic banging of sexy bits below almost forgotten. Almost.

He slows his thrusts and nails me with an eager gawk through our lip lock. We’re two madly-in-love people, squashed into a tiny alcove, who happen to be attached at the genitals. I snap a mental picture of this moment so I can relive it over and over again later.

It’s true. I love him. I laugh into his mouth. “I love you,” I mumble again, but my words are eaten by his kiss.

He rears back and hammers his hips into mine one last time, releasing a deluge of cum into my aching sex. “Fuck. I love you too, baby.”

That’s all it takes to cut loose an orgasm of my own. With one leg clasped around his thigh, I clamp down on his tongue, his bottom lip, one of the rings through it, and ride out the wave of desire splashing over me. It’s deep and wide, heady and more filling than Thanksgiving dinner with pumpkin pie for dessert. Exactly what I needed. And much more than I could have ever hoped for.

He collapses into me, pinning me to the wall with his still-hard dick. I’m worn out, barely able to lift my arms to hug him, but I conjure the strength to do it. Hugs are important. I smooth his wet hair and sweaty shirt, wishing we could stay like this forever.

He lifts his head from my shoulder. “Let’s do it again.”

“Don’t you need a little…recovery time?” I sure as hell do.

One derisive snort, a cock twitch, and an eye roll later, he slams me with a “You’ve gotta be kidding me” look. In the blink of an eye, my pussy recharges, and all systems are raring to go.

Damn, he’s good.

A couple of scantily dressed women stumble past and catch my eye. They give Rax’s behind a once-over, and I beam.
Don’t you wish.

His ass is covered with the jeans still hanging open at his hips, but it’s pretty obvious we’re up to no good. Best. Feeling. Ever.

They continue down the hall, whispering. “I think that was Rax,” one says.

Rax looks after them and grins. “We should definitely do it again.”

“Let’s save it for later. When we’re alone,” I whisper. The things I want to do to him…starting with more of his hot, sexy music and me dancing to it.

“Hey, Rax.” Toombs saunters up. His gaze drops to our connected, but mostly hidden pelvises, and he lifts an amused brow. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Rax pulls out and faces him, his glistening dick pointing at Toombs’s waist. I quickly spread my miniskirt over the vaginal wreckage below. Battered and used, and she’s already itching for another fight. Insatiable, she is.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Rax says.

“Yeah, I see that.” Toombs laughs as Rax stuffs the Cock That Will Not Be Tamed into his jeans and zips the fly. “And I approve.” Toombs smiles at me—an odd contradiction of genuine caring framed in frightening, macabre ink.

“Good.” Rax tosses an arm around my shoulder. “I ain’t sharing this one.”

Nodding, Toombs points a thumb down the hall. “Green room when you’re ready. The fans are horny as fuck for you.”

“What’s new?” Rax replies.

Toombs shakes his head and wanders off the way he came.

I turn to Rax, drape my arms around his neck, and lean in for a long, lingering kiss. My skin ignites everywhere he touches me, but he’s softer now, sated.

“So, that’s the guy who beat you up and had sex with you, huh? He’s not bad.” I’ve never seen Rax without bruises until today. He’s handsome. Chiseled. Even soaked, his hair is to die for. With all of this awesome DNA between us, we’d make beautiful babies. Not that I want babies now. But maybe someday.

Rax looks after Toombs. “Yeah, he’s pretty okay. But you…” He pulls back to study me. “You take the cake, the pie, the muffins, the cupcakes, the brownies, and all the candy bars in the world. How’d I get so lucky? I was gonna call you tonight after the show.”

“I know. Toombs got to me first. I’ll fill you in on the details later, but when he called me this morning, I was so excited. A little scared too. I just wanted to see you again. To know you were okay.” Tears fill my eyes. I let them fall. There’s no reason to be ashamed of anything anymore.

He catches one of the droplets in his palm and watches it roll down his finger. When he returns his gaze to mine, his face is filled with such love, such unencumbered devotion, I think my head might implode from the impact. His lips dip to my cheek and kiss the scar, brushing away stray tears, trailing all the way down my neck to where the raised flesh ends at my collarbone.

“I failed you, Eve. I let shit happen to you that no man should ever let happen to
anyone
—especially to a woman he cares about. That was my problem, see? I didn’t know how to be a man until it was too late.” He thumbs the scar gently. More tears pour down my face.

“But seeing you…like that, getting there too late to stop those motherfuckers from cutting you…that was the kick in the ass I needed. Don’t get me wrong. What happened was terrible. But something good came out of the bad for me. It took seeing you hurt for me to realize how fucked up and out of control alcohol made me. Your accident—your strength—pushed me to do something about it. I failed at sobriety a few times, but you helped me pick myself up and try again, even when you weren’t around.

“So, I owe you my life. You gave yours to buy me a new one. I know how important Nocturnes was to you, and I’m sorry for robbing you of your house. If I’d been sober, I might have found you sooner. Might have been able to stop those fuckers. Might have—”

I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. The important thing is you’re here. Now. With me. And you
are
sober.”

“Sober. And happy.” He demands my attention with his sharp gaze.

“Then I guess we both got what we wanted, huh?” I lick my lips.

“Yeah, if you’re into mistakes, you got a huge one.” Rax laughs. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

I stroke his cheek. “You’re the best goddamn mistake I ever made.”

“Does that mean you’ll come on the road with me?” He inches closer and slips his fingers under my elbows, urging my arms around his waist. “If not for the rest of the tour, for just a little while?”

I fall against his chest and crush him in a hug. “I’d love to.”

Side B: “You Really Got Me”

Rax and I hit the green room, which is a total freak show. Girls everywhere, squealing, bouncing, squealing some more. Tattoos, piercings, outlandish hair and clothes. The guys sign groupies’ body parts. The girls pose for pictures. Champagne bottles pop. Booze pours. Just Breathe’s music pumps through the walls as they get their set rolling.

“I gotta pretend to be interested for a little while,” Rax says next to my ear.

“Go ahead. I’ll find something to do.” I shoo him away. “Something to do” should include figuring out how the hell I’m gonna deal with living on a tour bus with a bunch of people I don’t know. I’m a ball of awkward, giddy, excited nerves. What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to come along with Rax? I was thinking about the sex. And the love. And maybe a little about the rock ’n’ roll.

“I may have to—”

“Grope groupies? Autograph boobs?” I laugh. “I’m totally fine with that. You watched me get gangbanged by three guys. I kinda owe you.” It’s adorable how he’s asking my permission to do his job. Makes me appreciate him even more.

He leans close and brushes his lips over my collarbone. “I’ll sign your tits with cum finger paint later.”

“Promises, promises.”

He pecks my cheek and rolls away from me toward the party.

I smile at Letty and Jinx laughing with their fans, Shades making bunny ears behind Toombs’s unsuspecting head as they pose for a camera. I’ve never been very good at making friends, but these guys seem like they might be fun to hang out with.

And I already know how much they care about Rax. Toombs would never have contacted me to do this gig if they didn’t. The members of this band take care of each other. They watch out for one another. They help each other through tough times. Kind of like…family.

Zoe, Gavin’s tall, pretty blond girlfriend sashays by, grinning on her way toward the door to the stage. “Rock stars. Gotta love ’em.” She winks at me, and I could swear her irises glow neon blue for a split second. Wow. Stunning doesn’t do her justice. I can see why Gavin keeps her around.

Rax catches my eye from across the room and flashes me a wolfish grin that says
I’m coming for you
. My pulse flutters. He’s a mess, through and through. But he’s
my
mess, and I’m gonna have fun cleaning him up.

The band’s manager Jillian strides over, electronic cigarette in hand. “The fans seemed to enjoy your performance,” she says coolly.
Puff. Puff.

“Thanks for inviting me. I had fun.”

“I haven’t spoken to the dingbats,” she nods to the members of Killer Buzz Float, “but how would you feel about joining the tour in a limited capacity?”

I startle. Is she serious? “Doing what?”

“Dancing. What else?” She looks down her nose at me, as if talking to a genital wart.

“I’m not…sure.” Dancing. Onstage. In front of massive crowds every night. Though my original dream was to do this wearing ballet slippers and a body suit, it’s clear the time for that is long passed. I glance over myself. I never had a chance as a ballerina with knockers like these anyway.

And dreams change as people get older. Papochka wanted me to dance. How would dancing onstage with a rock band be any different as long as it fulfills me?

“Look, sweetheart, you’ve got a great body.” She gestures vaguely down my front. Her gaze lingers on my breasts a little longer than necessary. “Your moves are totally hot. The guys in the crowd are stepping on their own tongues and frothing at the mouth over you.” She turns toward the smattering of male fans peppering the fringes of the green room.

I hadn’t even noticed them, but Jillian’s right. A small herd of salivating men are fixated on me, making eye contact from atop the rims of their red plastic cups, and then hurriedly looking away.

I’m used to stares like these, but they usually come from horny husbands whose wives are too uptight to let them out of the house without a leash (let alone pay them any attention in the bedroom), not young guys secretly idolizing the musicians I’m now hanging around with. Totally different clientele. And a big stage is far more appealing than dank, smoky stripper cages surrounded by cheap perverts jacking off under the table. Or rich perverts gangbanging me in Hell.