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My eyes fly open when her tongue drags along the underside of my cock and I groan. Her soft lips wrap around me and suck me in, her eyes flicking up to meet mine, that blue gaze sizzling through me.
“Jesus, Chelsea.” The words are hardly more than a sigh. Her mouth is like magic. She drags her dress back up her hips, revealing her slick pussy to my hungry gaze. Her panties must still be somewhere off in a corner where I threw them earlier. I can hardly focus on that, because while she’s sucking my cock she’s running her finger up and down her slippery slit, moaning into me, sending vibrations all the way to my toes.
“Oh God, yeah, play with your clit, sweetheart,” I groan, dragging my fingers through her hair as her lips pump up and down my thick shaft, doing their damnedest to draw the cum right out of me.
She’s already trembling when she slides two fingers inside herself and the display is so fucking sexy that I force my eyes closed for a second to stop myself from coming right then and there. But I know what she’s doing because the soft vibrations of her moans are going straight from her throat, through my cock, and into my balls, making them tighten.
“Make that sweet pussy come for me just like I’m going to do as soon as we’re back in that hotel room.” I feel her gasp and then her fingers still, her eyes squeezing shut. The satisfied groan that comes next is all it takes.
“Chelsea, I’m gonna—” I don’t get it out before I’m coming. Normally I like to give a girl enough warning to pull away if she wants, but full of surprises as she is, Chelsea takes it all, swallowing my cum before looking up at me with this smile that makes my heart skip a beat and my cock twitch toward her all at once.
“Holy shit,” I sigh, sinking against the door. “Not that I’m complaining, but what the hell was that for?”
She shrugs, pulling her dress down as she stands and demurely wipes the corner of her mouth like she’s worried there might be crumbs, not semen, there.
“I wanted to… And I really appreciated you standing up for me with Kandy.”
“But I thought… With Rosa… You’re not mad about that?”
She shakes her head, grinning at me like I’m a little slow. “No. Rosa is my fight, but Kandy? Well, Kandy can go fuck herself.”
I chuckle and pull her into my arms, shaking my head. “Who knew you had such a filthy mouth on you?”
She arches an eyebrow at me and I burst out laughing. “Okay, fair enough. I definitely knew. Especially after that performance.”
She’s still grinning, but her cheeks burn red as she smacks my shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I want to hear more about what you’re planning to do in that hotel room.”
And just like that, I’m sporting a raging hard-on again. It doesn’t take much with this girl, but I haven’t even managed to stuff my dick back in my pants yet. She notices the struggle and grins that sly little smirk that’s probably supposed to look apologetic but is filled with too much pride to pull it off.
“My my, so eager?” she says innocently, dragging her hand over the front of my pants again, only making me swell more, making putting my pants on even harder.
“For you, always. But if you ever want to actually get back to the hotel room, you should probably stop being such a damn tease.”
She gives me a playful pout but finally pulls away, letting me get myself situated as she picks her things up from around the dressing room.
“I’ll be waiting for you out back,” she says, giving me a kiss on the cheek as she slips something into my pocket and walks out the door. I shove my hand in my pocket and feel the scrap of fabric. But that can’t be—
I pull it out and it is. The minx stuffed her damp panties in my pocket. I shove them back and growl, my cock straining at the front of my jeans. This damn girl is going to be the death of me.
But what a sweet way to go.
Chapter 16
Ian
I’m backstage in my dressing room getting pumped up for another show—our seventh in ten days; we’re in Atlanta now—and I’m nervous as hell. Not because of the show, though. The tour’s been going great. The press has been amazing. We’re sold out of every show, the fans are loving it, Wish Givers is getting a ton of money, and Chelsea and I are closer than ever.
But that’s why I’m so damn nervous. Because everything’s going too good. So good, in fact, that I’m planning on telling her tonight. Telling her that I’m crazy about her—no, more than that, I’m in love with her. She’s incredible. Smart, funny, talented, and insatiable in bed. Not to mention gorgeous and unafraid to call me on my bullshit. I can’t imagine there being a better woman in the world and it’s time I finally tell her.
I know it happened fast, but it hit me hard. And I think she feels the same way. At least I hope she does. I guess tonight I’ll find out for sure.
I still haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to do it, though. Before the show? After? During?
I immediately dismiss that one. There are some people who would make big romantic gestures on stage, and maybe even some girls that would like that kind of thing, but I doubt Chelsea’s one of them. And besides, I don’t want her to feel put on the spot or trapped in front of an audience. The pressure of being in front of the crowd might be enough to force her into agreeing to something more than whatever unlabeled fling we’ve got going on now, but I’m not going to do that to either one of us. I want to know she’s in it for real.
And if she’s not? I don’t want it to ruin the show. So after is the answer. But how I’m going to keep my nerves in check up until that point, I have no idea.
I’ve been pacing restlessly for a while, but now I sit down on the couch and try to get my breathing under control. Do that meditation shit I learned in rehab. But instead of closing my eyes and thinking about nothing, I pull out my phone and scroll through my pictures from the last week and a half.
