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Prologue

Rafe

“All this is, Rafe, is just sex,” Lyric whispers through his low gasps and quiet moans. His jagged words are intended to cut me, hurt me, I’m sure of it.

Though it doesn’t matter if he lays down the law. I’ll have Lyric any way I can get him—anytime he’s willing to give me his body.

This isn’t our first time hooking up and it’s not going to be the last. I promise you that. But Lyric’s right. This is all about the fucking. Neither of us wants any emotional ties. I have to remind myself that this is all it is. Giving pleasure and getting it.

“You got it, K-pop,” I say in a low rumble, using my nickname for him even though I know Lyric doesn’t like it. He reminds me of the guys in those Korean boy bands. Straight black hair. Full lips that started out slick with watermelon flavored gloss—even though we’ve since kissed it off, I still want to devour those lips. The pupils of his soulful, dark brown eyes, which he lines with black, are currently blown wide.

I would rather call him mine, but Lyric put a stop to that notion. However, it doesn’t mean I can’t think it.

“Stop calling me that.” Lyric’s voice lashes out like a hard slap. His eyes narrow in anger as he looks up at me from where he’s half reclining on the bathroom counter. The back of his head is against the mirror, and I’ve got his ass pulled almost over the edge of the counter, so I can impale him with my cock. He lifts the hand he has on his own dick and begins pushing me away.

I move my hand to wrap around the front of his neck, my fingers on both sides of his jugular, putting enough pressure on it to give Lyric what he needs. I know he likes it rough, so this bit is for him. If it were up to me, I would rather his air be cut off by him choking on my cock until his face is red and messy with his saliva and my cum.

Lyric Kim brings out the beast in me. I’m such a bastard, but I can’t help the way I feel. The dark desire he evokes deep inside me is hard to ignore. I want to own him, possess him until I devour him whole. I’m willing to do anything to have Lyric again and again.

I meet his stare and smile as I continue to thrust into him.

I release his throat, lean in and admit, “I like you feisty, brat.” And then I kiss him. Hard and demanding, just like the way I’m fucking him.

I could easily get lost in his kisses—in his body. The taste of his mouth, the taste of his skin when I bite into it. When I leave my mark of ownership on his flesh, something he loudly opposes each time I do it, yet he’s never stopped me from doing it again the next time we fucked around.

I swiftly pull out, jerk Lyric off the counter, turn him around and bend him over it until one side of his face is plastered to the mirror. When I slide back inside, I have Lyric’s left leg bent and his knee positioned on top of the sink. With his ass spread open for me, I drive back into his body until my balls are slapping against his. With my hand gripping the back his neck this time, I drill into him like I’m a desperate man.

“Fuck, just looking at you like this—I can’t get enough of you,” I confess with a growl.

“Be quiet. I don’t want anyone hearing us,” he manages through a moan.

“I’ll try, K-pop,” I say the nickname again, just to incite him, as sweat slides down the sides of my face.

Who does Lyric think he’s kidding? He’s moaning as loudly as I am. Hell, together we’re louder than the music my band, Warrior Black, cranks out on stage.

He’s right, though—we do need to be quieter. The last thing I want is every member of the band and our security team pounding on the bathroom door, disturbing us. Which is a real possibility since the bathroom we are in is on the band’s touring bus, and we’re all on the bus, driving to Rocktoberfest in Black Rock, Nevada. I doubt the road noise and everyone’s chatter is louder than we are right now.

“Rafe,” he snaps out my name like a bullwhip—sharp and precise. “What did I say about that name?” Fuck, he’s so beautiful when he’s all flustered that I fuck him even harder.

Too bad we’re heading to Rocktoberfest, I’d love to see what kind of music Lyric and I could make if we had a whole week together. Alone.

Feeling the familiar buzz in my balls, I lean over his back and whisper into his ear, “I’m going to come, brat.”

Lyric stills in my arms, angles back his head away from my mouth and glares at me. “Don’t call me that either.” Strife ladens his command, then it seems to be forgotten because a second later he shoves his greedy tongue into my mouth to shut me up.

At this angle, I can thrust deeper and harder into his ass, pulling another moan out of him, which I capture in my mouth.

I wrap my arms around his chest and rock into him in a frantic pace, yearning to see him come apart in my arms. Lyric pulls away from my mouth and jacks himself. He’s close, because I can feel his ass tightening around my cock.

Lyric leans his forehead against the mirror, lets out a muffled moan and comes in his hand. I groan out my own pleasure as rapture shoots straight down my spine and into my balls. I grit my teeth tight and grunt out his name as I spill into the condom.

“That was good,” he utters breathlessly, then says something else in a different language as his flexible body folds awkwardly so that his chest is resting on the counter and his face is up against the mirror.

We’re both panting from the exertion, as I hold him until the wave of euphoria thrumming through me settles. I’m letting out a soft hum of satisfaction when Lyric quickly pushes his body backwards, and my condom-covered dick slides out of him.

I step back as far as I can in the tiny bathroom—half a step. With that little space between us, Lyric takes the wet washcloth he had prepped before we started fucking and proceeds to cleans himself. Then he drops it into the sink, rinses his cum from his hand, and without a word, puts on his briefs and shorts, squeezes past me and leaves the bathroom. He doesn’t even bother to slide the door closed.

I’m standing there, dazed but not totally surprised by Lyric’s sudden departure, since he did this to me the last time we hooked up. Shorts and briefs around one ankle and the deflated condom barely clinging to my limp dick—I am exposed to anyone who walks past the doorway. I quickly close the door, get rid of the condom and clean myself with the same washcloth.