Kate collapses against my sweat-soaked chest, straddling me as our labored breathing and heartbeats synchronize, both of us unable to muster the strength to remove my cock from her. She shivers as I run my fingers up and down her spine, every sensation heightened. I bet I could make her come again. It wouldn’t take much… A few strokes on her clit and I’d have her screaming my name. A wicked grin grows across my face as I lean back slightly, moving my fingers in the direction of where we’re still joined.
She gasps. “What are you doing?”
A quick flick of my thumb over her clit makes her practically jump off me.
“Seeing if I can give my girl three in a row.”
Her eyes widen as I slowly circle her clit with the pad of my thumb. One circle. Two. Three. My dick begins to harden again, ready to go another round if I keep this up. Four. Five.
Several loud bangs on the door startle us, making me eternally grateful she locked it.
“Five minutes,” Max calls out, banging twice more for good measure.
“Okay,” I yell, dropping my forehead to Kate’s and letting out a sigh. “Duty calls. I should probably get dressed.”
“Yeah,” she whispers before climbing off me and searching for her clothes, strewn all over the floor.
I throw my jeans and boots back on and grab one of the shirts from the rack. My stylist picks out countless options before the tour starts, and Max ensures I have multiple shirts to choose from every night. We learned early on that selecting one shirt for each show was a colossal mistake. Between the ridiculous number of drinks spilled backstage and the oppressive summer heat, it’s not uncommon for me to change shirts at some point. There’s nothing worse than wearing a damp shirt on stage.
“Ready?” I ask, reaching for Kate’s hand as she checks her appearance in the full-length mirror and tightens her ponytail. “You look gorgeous.”
She smiles, taking my hand and softly kissing my lips. “Thanks, babe.”
We exit the green room, making the short walk to the side of the stage, where one of the sound technicians quickly gets me mic’d up. I stretch my neck a few times, trying to get the stiffness out before I spend the next ninety minutes running around. The crowd is already boisterous, bursting with energy for me to take the stage. The first few moments of stepping in front of the crowd are one of my favorite parts of performing because it’s when the fans are the absolute loudest.
The band gathers around me as the lights go down.
“Let’s fucking do this, and have a hella good show tonight, boys,” I say, bumping fists with each of them.
I grab Kate by the waist, pulling her into one last deep kiss before I take the stage—my new favorite ritual. As soon as we break free, she shoves something into the back pocket of my jeans. “What’s that?”
She looks me straight in the eyes. “My underwear. Have a great show, babe.” She winks and quickly walks away from me.
Holy fuck.How the hell am I supposed to think clearly when I have her wet panties in my pocket? When I know she’s walking around commando all fucking night? She’s going to pay for this later.
The next ninety minutes go by both fast and slow as I try to stay focused on the show and not the woman of my fucking dreams watching me without any goddamn underwear. Talk about the quickest way to make me forget the lyrics to my own damn songs. I messed up at least two of them because I caught her eye fucking me from the side of the stage, and my brain broke, devoid of any words, lyrics, or logical thoughts. Thank God for Shane’s backup vocals, otherwise it would’ve been a lot more noticeable.
After the two-song encore, I jog off stage. A sound tech quickly takes off my mic pack as Kate waits in the wings, smirking. She knows exactly what she fucking did, and she’s loving every minute of it. So am I.
“Great show,” she says, lacing her hand in mine. “You didn’t seem distracted at all.”
“Uh-huh. You’re so gonna get it when I get you alone on the bus,” I murmur, leading us through the amphitheater hallways.
“I’m counting on it,” she replies, turning her head to wink at me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
kate
The nonstop vibratingand dinging of a phone startles me from my sleep, disorienting me for a minute until I remember we’re on the bus, heading to Nashville. At least I got more sleep last night than the prior weekend, thanks to the extremely hot, orgasmic punishment Jake doled out because I stuffed my underwear in his back pocket before he went on stage. Did not love the fucking edging for almost an hour, but the payoff was incredible.
The vibrating starts again as I fumble around the nightstand. After last weekend’s fiasco of Max almost walking in on us, he was quite adamant about Jake and me keeping our phones in the bedroom at night. I glance at my phone, grateful it’s not the one going off with some client emergency. After only a few hours of sleep, I’m not prepared to deal with any chaos. I reach for Jake’s phone as it vibrates again, seeing a flurry of message notifications covering his home screen.
Whatever is going on doesn’t look good.
“Jake. Jake. Jake!” I shake his shoulders, gently at first. Then more aggressively as the seconds tick by. “Something’s going on. Your phone is blowing up.”
“Hmmm. Tell them to fuck off,” he murmurs, draping his arm around me and scooting me closer.
