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Striding over to me like a blond Adonis, Astro does a push-up above me, blocking out the sun. “See something you like?”
“Absolutely,” I murmur, rolling my clit harder and lifting my hips.
“Need a hand?” he flirts, watching my hips.
“No, I’m good. Go back to being eye candy,” I reply, pulling my fingers from my shorts and sliding them across his lips. They part as he groans, his pink tongue darting out to lap at my cream.
“Shit, Reign.”
“Back in formation,” Raffiel barks.
Throwing me a glare that promises retribution, Astro stomps back over as they carry on with their drills. Raff pushes them hard, no doubt for my benefit, as I leisurely play with myself. I drag my pleasure out as I push two fingers inside myself, letting every noise of pleasure slip past my lips to give them motivation.
The sight of them and the feeling of my own fingers finally sends me over the edge with a cry, and I arch off the daybed, my legs shaking as I come. I pull my fingers from my shorts and open my eyes to see them all slack-jawed with tented shorts.
Sucking my fingers clean, I wink at them. “Back to work, boys. Got to keep those bodies prepared.”
Astro smirks. “In case you’re attacked?”
“In case I want to climb you,” I respond as I put my earbuds in once more, grinning at their incredulous expressions.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“You never asked about my brother,” Reign says randomly.
I turn my eyes from the horror flick we’re watching and peer down at her where she’s cuddled into my side. Her warmth invades my usual cold, and the numbness fades around her. I wonder if this is how most males feel all the time. It must be exhausting, not to mention the continuous hard-ons.
“It’s your past, your story,” Cillian murmurs, squeezing her hand and laying his head on her shoulder. We are way past caring about lines, and in this house, we can be whatever we want. “If you want to tell us, you will, and if not, we respect that. We don’t get your pain just because your asshole ex-friend used it like ammo.”
It’s quiet for a moment, but I feel her tense.
“His name was Attie,” she whispers. “He’s dead now.”
That’s all she says, and it’s clear she’s swallowing anything else, but the fact that she trusted us with that shows how far she’s come. “Thank you for telling us,” Raff murmurs, leaning over to kiss her. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
“Thank you,” she says.
Just then, a cell phone rings loudly. Hers is usually on silent or forgotten somewhere, so it must be one of ours. Raff groans, pulling it out and answering.
“Yes?” he barks, and then he listens before handing it over to Reign. “It’s for you,” he grumbles.
“Hello?” she answers as I reach over and pause the film. “How the hell did you even get his—never mind. The answer is no. Fuck no actually. I told you, my life, my choice. I am not going on his show.” She pauses. “Because he’s a sexist fucking pig.”
There’s silence again as she listens, her eyes narrowing and brows furrowing. Her lips twist in anger—anger that has my cock jerking. “I don’t give a fuck what the PR team or my contract says. We made a deal.” She drops her head back, clenching her fists. “If you put me on that show, I won’t hold back. You’ve been warned.” She disconnects the call and tosses the phone.
“Want me to beat him up?” I ask, deadly serious. I heard his voice. It was her dickhead manager. I can’t kill him . . . .At least, I don’t think so.
She laughs, and I frown. Did she think I was joking? Patting my chest, she leans into me again. “Tempting.” She’s quiet for a while, and we trade glances, wondering how we can help. She was so happy and relaxed, and one phone call changed everything. No wonder she protects her privacy so much. Sighing, she grabs the remote and turns the movie off, making Astro groan, but she ignores him and puts on a talk show interview.
There’s a middle-class white man behind a desk with celebrities on a sofa, although I couldn’t name any of them. He’s laughing and joking with a man in a tux, and next to that man is a young lady in a red dress, who looks distinctly uncomfortable. If you weren’t looking at her body language, you wouldn’t notice. She smiles and laughs at the jokes, even when they are at her expense.
“I fucking hate him,” she mutters. “I remember being in her place. I cried after my interview with him when he insinuated I was only a good lay and not a musician. He’s a sexist asshole, but he’s the best in the industry. He can make or break careers, so you grit your teeth and smile. Most managers even prep you for it. Look at her.” I do, frowning when I see a sheen in her eyes. “She hates it. She’s embarrassed and upset. It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be forced to endure that for simply wanting to do something you love. Fuck it. Call them back and tell them to book me.”
“What are you planning?” I ask since I can almost see the wheels turning in her head.
“Anarchy.” She grins and then tilts her head. “Can you get me dirt on him?”
“What kind?” I murmur as the others straighten.
