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OCTOBER 30
“No.”
“Dee—”
“I said no, Van. That’s it. End of discussion.”
“This came directly from Greg. I don’t have a choice in the matter and neither do you.”
Today was off to a shitastic start.
Last night wasn’t any better. It could’ve been.
If Van and I hadn’t been interrupted…
Fuck, when Van grabbed hold of me in that club and teased the skin on my lower back, I nearly came in my lace underwear.
He was about to kiss me, and I was more than ready for it.
Fucking hell, I just about had a heart attack, and we’d done nothing but brush our hips together.
Then we were whisked out of the club by Dawson, and my attention pivoted to Holls.
Despite my friend’s assurances that he was okay after his scuffle, I could see that the incident had shaken him up. I stayed with him on the ride back, but he insisted he was fine. Holls hugged me after we exited and assured me that all he needed was aspirin and a good night’s sleep.
Van was on his phone per usual as he exited the SUV at the hotel. He looked irritated and stressed.
It was late and we all needed rest, so, like a mature rock star, off I went to my own room. Alone.
Frustration didn’t begin to cover it.
All I really wanted to do was to knock on Van’s hotel room door, shove him onto that king-sized bed, and show him that these lips were made for his. They were gonna rock his fucking world, pun intended.
I was going to give him all the pleasure. I was going to ruin him for anyone else.
Admittedly, I had a rockstar ego.
But I came by it honestly.
The same couldn’t be said about Greg Haddley.
Since when did I need to hire a fucking date for an event? And making Van organize this? It pissed me off on so many levels. And more so because Van acted like it was no big deal and I should just acquiesce. (I’m not just a pretty face; I know big words.)
“I’ll agree to it, but only if you can be my date,” I replied, smiling at Van.
We were huddled around the coffee table in my suite, the remnants of breakfast and coffee mugs littering the space.
I hadn’t slept enough. I’d hardly slept at all.
As soon as I entered my suite last night, I yanked down my underwear and wanked off to the thought of finally slipping my tongue deep inside Van’s mouth. I pictured him lying on his back as I made my way down his body. The visual was so clear, so sexy, that I worked my dick furiously, using pre-cum and spit as lube.
Van would devour me with those denim blues of his and groan out my name.
With only a couple of tugs on my throbbing dick, I was there. I came all over my hand, my kilt, the rug.
Then I passed out on my bed and woke up at nine.
To a knock on my door and a weary looking Van on the other side of it.
