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CHAPTER THREE
Imake a show of closing my dressing room door, even though I know damn well that he’s stalking right behind me, ready to pounce. In the meantime, I take several large gulps of the cool water I left on one of the side tables before the show. The space is more of a closet than a dressing room—a futon shoved on one wall accompanied by two tiny tables, one floor length mirror, and rickety coatrack—not a lot of room. Nothing fancy. But I’ve never cared about fancy, anyway.
I’m looking at myself in the mirror when he comes in. He quickly locks the door behind him. Sweat drips from my temples, leaving my shaggy, milk chocolate hair plastered around my temples and forehead. I lift my black t-shirt up and wipe the excess.
Without a word, Ash comes up behind me. We both know there isn’t time to linger.
We’re almost matched in height, though Ash is a smidge shorter. Still, he has a way of making me feel small when he hugs me from behind like he is now. He delicately trails his lips, which are dry from screaming into a mic for the last hour and a half, from my earlobe down to that sweet spot right above my collarbone. I hiss and roll my neck as he snags some of my skin with his teeth and flicks my captured flesh with the tip of his tongue.
I glare at Ash playfully in the mirror as he works my belt and pants hungrily. His eyes are hooded and darker than normal. If there was more time to spare, things would be playing out much differently, and he knows this, but we have rules, and I’m not one to break them. Not unless he misbehaves, that is.
Ash’s jet black, closely cropped hair scrapes across my neck as he pants, hardly able to contain the lustful monster within. I could tell by the way he exited the stage that he was anxious to get his hands on me—and I’d be lying if I said my jeans didn’t rub against my cock a little tighter than they had been when we first went on stage as I felt Ash’s heated gaze follow me to the room.
We don’t bother taking our shirts off. There’s no point, and he’s wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, anyway–too many buttons–especially when I feel his need pressing urgently against my back.
I turn to face him and try to guide us over to the futon, but he presses my arms up and into the mirror in front of us with a curt shake of his head. The cool bite of the mirror clashes with my heated palms. He bites his plush bottom lip and meets my eyes in the reflection.
“I want you to look at me while I fuck you,” he whispers.
His rough hands are at my waist, shimmying my tight jeans down to the floor. I hear them hit the carpet with a softthunkfrom my belt. My dick breaks free of my pants immediately, standing at attention and throbbing with need. Ash removes one of his hands from the mirror to stroke me. He bites my shoulder to muffle the groan lodged in his throat, because Ash Lancing isn’t just loud when he’s singing on stage. I love watching him try to keep his composure in the mirror when I know that he’s about to completely unravel within me.
Ash’s hazel eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he gives me a cocky smirk that heats my core while he fists my cock in slow, teasing strokes.
“You’d better,” I swallow roughly. “Hurry the fuck up.”
We can hear the crowd cheering through the closed door. There will only be one minute, maybe two if we’re lucky, before our band manager knocks on the door, or one of the guys tries to barge in to get our asses back on stage.
Of course, they don’t know what we’re doing back here.
Best friends since right after high school. That’s all we are to them. Best friends. Bandmates. Past roommates.
Ash nibbles on my earlobe as he releases my arms so he can pull down his own jeans. A low moan erupts from him as he frees himself. I want to look behind me to see him in all of his glory, but that’s for another time. He pushes me back up against the mirror, rougher this time, and I arch my head back into him.
“Like that?” he murmurs in my ear.
All I can do is nod and bite my lip.
Ash’s beautiful, large hands grip my hips, then dig into each ass cheek, full of desperation for my body. He acts like we’ve been away from each other for months, when in actuality, it’s only been a couple of weeks. Ash spreads me apart, and in a flash, one of his hands leaves me, and I faintly hear the small bottle of lube he keeps hidden somewhere pop open. Within seconds, the wet tip of his needy cock is teasing at my ass. My pulse is pounding like the beat of my drums in my ears. My head spins in delight as he moves inside of me, inch by inch.
Though he no longer secures my hands to the mirror, I keep them there, knowing exactly how he wants me. He grips my hip with his left hand, using it to steady his rampant movements. His other hand meets my mouth, and I open up for him like he’s my only source of air. Ash slides three fingers into my mouth and I lick and suck. Before I know it, his coated hand is on my shaft, and he’s working me in his masterful way. I look down and watch, unable to resist the temptation. I can already feel the beginning of an orgasm blossom inside of my core. As he thrusts and works me, my skin catches fire, so desperate for the release.
In the distance, the crowd grows louder. We have seconds of alone time left.
Ash moves hard and fast inside of me, but his hand that strokes me doesn’t stall. I look up and meet his gaze in the mirror, consuming the way his lips are parted, the blush that’s wildly apparent on his fair complexion, and spreading across arched cheekbones and the bridge of his slightly pointed nose. I twist my head to meet that delicious mouth of his.
Something about kissing Ash has always felt like coming home.
He doesn’t stop, even as my tongue flicks inside of his mouth, and he doesn’t stop as I nip at his bottom lip. But he does groan louder than he usually allows in these situations, completely lost in the moment.
Ash breaks our kiss and whispers, “Come.”
I do. I was already on the verge, and his demand breaks whatever control I have left. I look down and watch as I spill over his long, elegant fingers, right as he crashes into me one last time with a shaky huff. His body trembles and I’m seeing stars.
Just as we pull away from one another, there’s a knock on the door.
Ash grins at me wickedly, then walks over to the side table that has napkins on it and comes back to the mirror. He cleans me and his hand up, and I can’t stop staring at him, totally lost in my infatuation. The eyes, the blush spreading across his cheeks and neck, the cheekbones, and the spread of beige freckles on one side of his sharp jaw. The way his lips curve into another taunting smile as he notices me checking him out like I’m seeing him for the first time.
“Alright, lads, it’s go time!” Our manager, Mike, pounds on the door again.
