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“That’s great!” I say. “He’s really cute.”
“I guess. I don’t know. He’s much younger than I am. He’s only twenty-four. I have an eighteen-year-old daughter who has a crush on him. She loves this band. This is all really new for me. I think I’m too old for this.”
“You don’t look thirty-six,” I tell her, and she really doesn’t. She looks about mid-twenties to me. “And who cares about age? If you’re happy, go for it.”
“Look who’s talking!” Amy pipes up.
Ivy laughs softly and lowers her voice, leaning closer to me. “I heard about you and Storm. Lukas told me.”
“Heard what?” I ask her, afraid to even know.
“About the blizzard, how he fell for you. Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. Lukas told me about it. He wants to see him happy. I think they are kind of close. I’ve only met him one other time. He seems nice.”
“Yes. He is.”
The song ends and Ash grabs the mic off its stand and walks a little closer to the end of the stage.
“So, as you guys know, my brother got stuck in a blizzard a few weeks ago, right? Like trapped in his truck in the woods?”
Oh. Shit.
The crowd screams.
“So this chick he was stuck with had no fucking idea who he was. Can you believe that shit?”
NO! The crowd yells.
“Fuckin’ A, right? Anyway, my brother gave her one of our sweatshirts to wear. You know because he steals them all and he had one in his truck.” He looks over at Storm, who’s laughing over on his side of the stage. “And she says, ‘oh, is this one of those bands that just yells and you can’t even hear the fucking lyrics?’”
The crowd roars and laughs. Ha Ha. Very funny.
“So we decided to do a song with no fuckin’ yelling, just for Blizzard Chick. And as a special treat, Storm’s gonna sing this one. It’s one of his favorite songs.”
More roaring and crazy from the crowd. I hope Ash doesn’t announce that I’m sitting here. I will die.
“Now, you all know he can’t sing as good as me, so let’s go easy on him, okay?”
The lights dim so far down, we can’t see anything on stage. Michael looks over at me and laughs. “This ought to be good,” he says.
Crap.
The sound of a violin comes from the stage, and a blue spotlight shines down on the stage on one member. It’s Lukas, playing the violin, haunting and beautiful.
“Oh, my God,” Ivy says, grabbing my arm. “I had no idea he played the violin!”
“They’re full of surprises.”
Another spotlight shines down and there’s Storm sitting on a stool, center stage, holding his guitar. He looks so hot and so damn sexy. I can’t believe this man has kissed me. Had his arms around me. This same man made me an orange smoothie when I was sick and spent the weekend watching dumb comedies with me. And there he is on stage and singing a song for me.
All of this would be perfect if I didn’t have a boyfriend.
The other guys start to play softly, and Storm begins to sing a slow, darker rock version of Knights in White Satin. His voice is unlike Asher’s, but he is still a damn good singer, his raspy voice with a slight lilt belting out the words. The way they’ve arranged the song is awesome, his voice and the violin just haunting. Romantic. All the girls in the crowd are swooning and probably creaming in their pants. Except Juggsy. She’s staring right at me, and she’s not happy.
I watch Michael for some sort of a reaction to the song, but he shows none. Amy, on the other hand, is practically having a fit.
At the end of the song, Storm jumps up and takes a bow. “See? We don’t have to fucking yell,” he exclaims. “But we want to!” That starts them off into another hard rock song.
Amy leans into my ear. “That song was beautiful. That wasn’t easy to sing and he fucking killed it.”
“I can’t believe he did that,” I reply. “I had no idea. It was awesome.”
After the show, Amy drags me off to the restroom, leaving Michael at the table. Just as we’re coming out of the ladies' room, Storm grabs us both and pulls us into a storage room.
“Well, this could be fun,” Amy says, playfully batting her eyelashes. I shoot her a dirty look.
Storm is all sweaty and smiling. He looks at Amy. “I need five minutes with her. Can you wait outside and make sure Michael doesn’t come looking for her? Please?”
She smiles ear to ear. “Anything you ask. Behave yourselves,” she says. “You got five minutes. I’ll be right outside the door.”
I wait until she leaves and turn to him. “Storm, you can’t do this.” Before I can say anything else, he’s got me backed up against the wall, his body pressing up against mine. He buries his face into my neck, his hands on my waist. “Holy shit, I fucking missed you,” he breathes.
“That song—” I start to say, but his lips capture mine before I can keep talking. He kisses me long and hard, desperately.
“Did you like it?” He finally breaks away from my lips, leaving me unsteady and reeling.
“Yes...”
Grabbing a handful of my hair, he yanks me to his lips. “I want you right now. I can’t fucking stand to see you with him.” He kisses me so hard I can barely stand up. I wrap my arms around his neck and allow myself to return his kiss, my body settling against his. I can feel his cock in his jeans, huge and hard, pressing against me. He lets out a small growl and grinds himself against me. He bends down slightly, and I feel his tongue licking the sides of my breasts in the opening of my sweater. He has never touched me like this before, and I don’t know if it’s from being jealous or if it’s an after effect of being on stage.
I push on his chest. “Storm... Storm. Storm! Stop!” I shove him off me and he stumbles back a bit.
“I’m sorry. Fuck” He shakes his head. “I’m fucking crazy tonight, I’m sorry.” He steps closer to me and puts his hands on the sides of my face, leans forward and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just the adrenaline from playing. It’s been a while.”
“It’s okay...” I stare up into his green eyes, and I see fire. Want. Determination.
His hands go to my jeans and have them unbuttoned in a second, the zipper dragged down instantly. I feel his hand slide under my panties, his fingers gliding over my clit.
“Storm—”
His lips cover mine. “Shh... just let me...” He picks me up effortlessly and plops me down on top of a table a few feet away. Pushing my torso down onto the table with one hand and my pants and panties down with the other, he ducks his head down, putting my legs over his head and onto his shoulders, kneels on the floor and dives between my legs, his tongue ravishing my pussy. My body lurches up from the sheer
unexpected ecstasy. His hands grip my thighs, pushing them apart, spreading me open for his mouth to kiss, lick and suck. His finger slowly slides into me, and I feel myself clenching around him. He groans and moves his mouth up to my clit, sucking, his tongue swirling round and round as he finger fucks me with one, then two fingers. I feel like I’m floating above myself, disconnected from what’s happening. I am trapped in euphoria, unable to move, unable to stop. My entire being is focused on what’s going on between my legs, what Storm is doing to me. The universe has disappeared and all that remains is the incredible feeling of his lips, his fingers, the feeling of his silky hair on my thighs. Each lick, each suck, each thrust, pulls me deeper into everything that is him. My pussy quivers and an ache settles deep inside, wanting him. My breasts swell, nipples harden, jealous for his touch. Every second pulls me further and further away from everything I thought I wanted, everything I was. I’m breaking. I’m falling. I’ve lost my walls. The past few weeks crash together in my head and in my heart, all the feelings I tried to ignore now screaming, tearing their way out, and rushing down to explode against his mouth.
The orgasm he brings out of me is the most intense I have ever felt in my life, my entire body tightening, shaking, and then releasing, causing me to grip at his head with my hands, pulling his hair. I can’t take another second. I will die. A moment ago, I could not get enough of his mouth, and now I feel like I will shriek and pass out if he laps at me one more time.
“Stop.” I gasp, pulling his head away. He stands and pulls my body up against him, lifts my face to his and kisses me gently, his tongue slowly caressing mine. His lips and face are wet. With me. I love it, me all over him. Like he is mine.
“I could lick you all fucking night,” he whispers.
Orgasmic fog slowly lifts as my mind comes back down to reality. All the wrongs immediately start screaming in my brain. Slut. Liar. He will hurt you. Idiot!
