Raina and I lean away from him, giving him space to come down from his orgasm, but I don’t plan on letting that space last too long. Our girl still needs to come after all.
“Why?” Raina asks. “That’s exactly what we wanted.” She smiles at him, it’s soft and affectionate.
He reaches to the end of the couch where his clothes from earlier are sitting. Grabbing his shirt, he carefully wipes at the cum smeared on her face. Damn. Such a sight. Something I’ll never get tired of seeing.
“Just—I—It.” Blake seems to have short circuited, not being able to sort his thoughts into a sentence. He finishes cleaning her face and turns to me in a fluster. He wipes mine as carefully as he did hers, something I didn’t expect.
“Raina didn’t come,” I tell him as he rubs the fabric over my chin. “Would you like to see how beautiful she is when she does?”
He pauses, meeting my gaze and swallows. After a beat, he glances at her to gauge her reaction to my offer. I don’t wait, already having seen his answer in his eyes.
“Straddle him, baby. Let’s get you taken care of before we have to get on stage.” The reminder has her scrambling from the floor. His cock ends up between her legs, still half hard. My fingers glisten, having slipped from her in her movement, and I hold them up for him to see. “Look at how wet you made her.”
Our girl turns and wraps her fingers around my wrist, her hold gentle but firm. She brings my hand toward Blake’s mouth until there’s only an inch of space. “Taste me?” she asks, her voice sweeter than sugar.
Her question hangs in the air between us for a beat, leaving the decision to him if he wants to sample her from my fingers or not. He closes the space, licking the length of them before he sucks them into his mouth. His tongue flicks back and forth, and I have to hold my moan back with the thought of what it would feel like on my dick. This is more than I ever expected from him.
Slipping my fingers from his mouth, I move from the floor and rest a knee on the couch next to them, pressing my body against Raina’s side. “You want to come, baby?”
A whimper falls from her lips, a sound sweeter than any note she sings on stage. “Yes,” she whines, her head falling to Blake’s shoulder.
“Kiss your man while I make you come. I want him to swallow all your screams.” I press my lips to the side of her neck, giving her an affectionate kiss. “Let him know what you sound like when you’re enjoying yourself so he’ll know you’re honest in the future when he finally fucks you.”
Blake slides his hands along her thighs and up her body until he holds her to him. He cradles her neck in his palm and runs a thumb along her pulse point as she lowers her lips to his, kissing him sweetly before deepening it. He doesn’t hesitate to taste himself on her, making me smile as I dip my fingers past her costume again.
Raina can’t help but moan when my fingers slide across her G-spot and rub with the right amount of pressure to make her sing. Her moans, whimpers, sighs, and mewling sounds are muffled, but they still let him know how much she enjoys my fingers pumping in her.
“Blake, I’m so close,” she whines, her legs shaking as she collapses against his chest, unable to hold herself up.
He reaches between them and grips her chin, forcing her to lift her head so he can stare into her eyes. “You’re close?” he asks, his focus switching back and forth between each eye. She licks her lips and nods, her gaze glossed over with how on the edge she is. “I want you to come for me. Come all over my dick.”
I finagle my thumb to rub her clit, and her hips buck like she’s actually riding his cock. It’s only a few seconds until her body shakes against him right in time to meet Keaton’s knock on the door.
Yesterday’s show surprisingly went off without a hitch, and now we’re in the middle of our second performance with Darius. Sweat drips along my temple, but I’m in the middle of a song and can’t swipe at it right now.
That’s one thing our practices aren’t able to prepare us for. The heat of the lights shining on us, the way the crowd seems to change every little aspect of playing. There’s a certain kind of energy they give off, which is completely different from the shows we did with Tristan.
Raina moves across the stage, her backup dancers right behind her as she performs for the other side of the auditorium. Her ass sways seductively. I really do get the best view of her from my kit. I’m sure the others do too, but I rarely pay attention to what captures their focus when playing.
Glancing at Blake, I find his fingers moving on the strings with his eyes closed, not wanting to let the audience freak him out, although the time he spent inside the dressing room last night with Raina and Nash seems to have helped a lot. He wasn’t nearly as bad tonight.
Nash’s attention is all over the place. He watches his fingers on the fretboard for a moment, then smiles at Raina before staring at the crowd. They dance to the song, screaming out the words along with my girl. She might fear everything the tabloids say about her, but her fans seem to be all about the music. Loyal to a fault.
A pang of devastation rips through me when my gaze lands on the lead guitarist, only to find Tristan isn’t there. It almost makes me hit the drum a fraction too slow. Things changed so much with him when we signed on to the tour. His anger turned him into someone I no longer recognized. I couldn’t fully understand why he was acting the way he was.
And now I fear I’ll never get to ask him why he couldn’t simply talk things out with her. To apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusion when I thought he was raping Raina. To fix things so we can be a cohesive group for the first time.
I push my anger and regret into my kit, striking the drums with crisp hits of my sticks and slamming my foot on the pedal for the kick drum until we finish the song and move into the next one.
Tapping out a rhythm has been my way of expressing myself for as long as I can remember. Slow, fast, hard, soft. I’ve used it as a way to speak when the words won’t come out, to at the minimum let those closest to me know what’s going on inside me. But right now, it’s not fucking helping. Probably because I’m forced into what it is I’m playing instead of being able to do it with my soul.
Another bead of sweat drips from my hairline, making a path straight for my eyebrow which will eventually end up in my eye. Hitching my shoulder, I quickly lift my arm to wipe at my forehead, knocking out my in-ear, allowing the full force of the audience and music to hit me like a two by four in the face.
The sound of a riff reaches me, drawing my attention. With all the practice we went through—drilling each and every song into our memory until we could play in our sleep—it’s easy enough to hear the change.
Who does this asshole think he is? Coming in and switching things up like he has the power to rewrite the music. Thank fuck Raina is wearing her in-ears or the unexpected shift in the riff might’ve thrown her off. Perhaps that’s why he thought he could get away with it. Figured she’d never know any different with the pre-mixed music being streamed into her IEMs.
Darius coming in hasn’t seemed natural to me at all. It’s all way too easy having Tristan disappear, then this guy magically showing up. I don’t like it, and I don’t trust him one single bit. Not with the way he looks at my woman or how he’s flirted with her. He’s here for a purpose, I simply haven’t figured out what it is.
