Here it comes. The same thing that happens at the end of every concert.
“Do you want to get out of here?” She licks her top lip as her lust-filled eyes bore into mine. “I have a hotel room one block over.”
Just as I am about to reply, a stern cough sounds over my shoulder. I don’t need to turn around to know who’s there, I can sense her a mile away, but I do because I love when she gets riled up with jealousy.
When I crank my neck back, my suspicions are confirmed. Kylie is standing firmly with her tiny hands on her cocked hips, and her narrowed eyes are shooting daggers at the blonde. Let me tell you, jealousy has never looked so fucking good.
I don’t need to decline the blonde’s invitation. Even someone with air for brains has no trouble deciphering the tension bristling between Kylie and me. It’s so fucking hot, the blonde’s annoyed huff when she storms away makes it feel like I’m sitting on a furnace.
When I take a step in Kylie’s direction, she stops monitoring the blonde’s departure to lock her eyes with mine. Now instead of being narrowed, they’re wide with desire. I arch my brow, wondering if she’ll make me chase her like she usually does, or if she’ll stand firm. When I spot the corners of her mouth lifting, I know she’s going to run.Yee-fuckin’-ha!
She makes it all the way to the stage before my long strides catch up with her. When I band my arms around her waist and hoist her off the ground, her squeals echo around the empty stadium, startling a few of the stagehands. She loves being chased, and I love nothing more than chasing her.
After pinning her to a wall at the side of the stage, I seal my mouth over hers. Our kiss starts slow, but when she parts her lips to let my tongue slip inside, it ramps up in intensity. I kiss her with everything I have, certain I’ll never get enough of her delicious taste.
While my zipper bites my cock, I move us into the wings of the stage, not wanting any spectators to see our hot and heavy make out session. I love making Kylie quiver and shake, but I sure as fuck ain’t letting any other man get in on the action—even if he keeps his hands to himself. If he wants to jerk off, he better go watch porn, because that’s the only guarantee he’ll end the night without my baseball bat rammed up his ass.
When I break through the thick curtains at the side of the stage, Kylie yanks her lips away from mine. Anyone would swear it was me pulling back from how loud she whimpers. She doesn’t need to speak for me to hear her torment. I can see it in her eyes. I’m also aware any time I try to coerce her into going further backstage, she shoots me down like getting hot and heavy with a drummer backstage at a concert isn’t on her bucket list.
I showered Melanie with thankful texts when Kylie showed me the items she had added to her list. When we crossed off number one hundred fifty-five—the best limo ride I’ve ever had in my life!—I sent her the hugest bouquet of flowers I could order, but any time I encourage Kylie to cross off number one hundred fifty-three, she denies my advances. I have no clue why, but it’s giving me a severe case of blue balls.
“I’d never let anyone see you.” There’s no chance in hell I’d ever let that happen. I’dneverlet another man see skin that belongs to me.
“I know that.” Kylie drags her teeth over her bottom lip, amplifying their plumpness. “I just don’t want to do anythinghere.” She emphasizes the“here” part of her statement with a hint of bitterness.
“Why?” I question, curious as to why her eyes are clouded with more jealousy now than they had when the blonde propositioned me. “It’s on your list, so why don’t you want to cross it off?” I smile a grin that reveals the cocky bastard I am under the tattoos and dreadlocked hair. “You’ve also never been shy, so out with it, spill therealreason you don’t want to get frisky in public.”
When her eyes stray to my chest, I roll my hips. As my cock becomes friendly with the heat between her legs, her eyes snap back to mine. They reveal what I’m saying is true—she isn’t shy by any means—but they also expose that she’s hesitant.
“It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”
She wiggles, trying to lower her legs. I hold on tightly, denying her request. She huffs and attempts to cross her arms in front of her chest. Her efforts are fruitless. We’re standing so close to one another, even her scrawny arms can’t fit between us.
When her eyes drift back down to my chest, I lift her chin, forcing her eyes back to mine before cocking my brow, wordlessly demanding an explanation. She rolls her eyes, ignoring my request. I rock my hips upward four times. She groans and snaps her eyes back to mine, pissed I’m using her attraction to me against her but having no defense against it.
I arch my brow again, implying I'll tease her until she tells me what I want to know. “I’ve got nowhere to be and enough adrenaline surging through my blood to last three nights, Kylie, so either confess now, or when you’re so fucking tired, we won’t be able to put your jealousy to good use.”
“Fine!” she drawls out the one word as if it’s an entire sentence. “I saw the whole…stage curtainincident.” She air quotes the words “stage curtain.”
Although I’m smug as fuck she took my threat as literal, I’m still stumped as to what she means. “What stage curtain incident?”
She takes in numerous deep breaths, her breasts thrusting out with every inhalation before she breathes out, “In San Diego.”
I give her a look, indicating I don’t have a fucking clue what she’s talking about. “You’re going to need to spell it out for me, because I’m fucking lost on where you’re going. That’s not surprising; you’re shit at giving directions.”
She nearly smiles until the reason for our conversation crashes back into her. “I saw you with a groupie in San Diego.” Her words are barely whispers but crammed with palpable anger.
“What groupie?” I cringe when my question comes out snappier than I expected. I’m not angry at her, just still clueless as to why she’s so riled up.
She wiggles her hips, once again requesting to be put down. I reluctantly set her back on her feet before pressing my palms against the wall behind her head, trapping her in front of me. “What groupie?”
She glares at me while snarling, “I didn’t think to get her name.” My jaw muscle quivers when she bobs under my arm before making a beeline toward my dressing room. “You probably didn’t either.”
I seize her wrist and pull her back to me. She huffs again while folding her arms in front of her chest. My eyes dart down to her cleavage. I can’t help it. I’m a guy, and she has fantastic tits.
When she notices the direction of my gaze, she tries to hold in her smile. She fails miserably. She loves the effect her body has on mine.
I give her a few moments to gather her composure before confessing, “I haven’t fucked a groupie in weeks.” I’d like to say months, but unfortunately, I can’t.
