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“You are a whore in church,” I mutter playfully. “But the shirts, huh?” I ask with a grin, slapping his hand away and plucking his lip.
He groans, catching my wrist. “Yeah. They’re cool, Pretty Girl. All fancy with our band name on it, but I’m so restricted.” Rad leans in closer to my ear. “It feels like a damn lake in my pants. My balls are so sweaty, babe,” he pouts, begging me with his eyes to give him permission to strip them off and air out his dangly bits.
“Keep your pants on, Cowboy. You can’t scare away the crowd. You can air those out later tonight, in private,” I say, smoothing out his shirt that sticks to his skin. His lips pop open in retort, but he’s cut off.
“The sun will set soon, and it’ll cool down when it does,” Asher grunts, rolling his amp down the ramp attached to the back of Kieran’s SUV. “Please keep your dick in your pants.” He scowls in Rad’s direction. “We’re in public,” he mutters the last part with a headshake. “And there might be children present. The last thing you need is a trip to jail.”
Rad recoils at the thought of jail but continues his rant anyway. “But it’s hot now. Can’t I strip?” Rad whines, pulling at the ends of his shirt, attempting to take it off.
“You heard Evil Ash. There’s definitely a no stripping rule on stage,” I say, fixing his shirt and earning a scoff. “But I do have an idea.”
Rad’s eyes widen when I whip out my knife and flick it open, exposing the sharp blade gleaming in the sun.
“Pretty Girl,” he says with apprehension. “I might be into a little stabby-stabby in the sack, but uh…” he trails off when I pull the sleeves away from his skin and yelps when the blade tears through the fabric, eliminating the sleeve. I swear his body sags in relief when the slight breeze blows through, cooling him off. “Ah, finally. Fuck. I think I love you, Pretty Girl. Will you marry me?” he asks breathlessly as I do the other sleeve and even cut down the sides to expose his ribs.
“Evil Ash?” Asher huffs, amusement pulling the edge of his lips. “We’ll discuss that later.” I roll my eyes at his attempt to discipline me.
We definitely won’t be discussing that later. What is he going to do? Spank me? Bend me over his knee and tell me I’ve been a bad River? I shiver. Okay, so it doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me. He seems like the—take control in the bedroom—type. I’m down for that only if he’s ready to take on a brat.
Over the last three weeks, Asher and I have grown a little closer. We aren’t besties by any means, and sometimes I want to smash his skull in the doorway, but we’re getting there. Just recently, we’ve gotten into this push-and-pull sort of relationship mixed with heavy amounts of sexual tension. One day, Asher will blow his lid and take me like I know he wants to. So, I’ll keep pressing his buttons and getting on his last nerve.
“Fine.” Rad frowns, looking up at the back of the stage, losing his pout.
A closed, dark curtain cuts off the audience’s view, separating us from the growing crowd beyond. Our stage is nestled in the back of Central Park, settled just past the large fountain and facing a blocked-off street. Several businesses line the road, towering above us. People drunkenly walk the streets, free to roam without worrying about traffic. It’s street festivals like this that I live for. The atmosphere, people, and smells of food—make it perfect.
People hoot and holler as they roam the blocked-off streets of the Celebration. Police barricades sit at the end of every downtown road, forcing traffic to avoid this area. Not like they’d get through the crowds or people, anyway.
The Central Fall Celebration started over fifty years ago. Street vendors who offer food, wood carvings, toys, and anything you can imagine line the streets. Bands play on five different stages, placed around the ten-block radius. It’s practically a holiday for the people of Central City. A time to let loose, drink, eat, and socialize with everyone in their path. It’s the only time both sides of the city come together and celebrate as one unit, bringing in the new season with a bang.
“Sounds like-like a lot of people are here already,” Callum mumbles, hanging tight to his bass case with wide eyes, white-knuckling it. A large lump bobs in his throat when he swallows hard, frantically looking around.
“It’s your fans. You go on in two hours, but everyone is already lining up at the front of the stage.” I peek between the curtains. “Yup, there’s already two or three rows of people.”
Even Tessa and Sara sit front and center as usual with their tits pushed up to their chins and fake smiles on their faces. A gaggle of girls surrounds them, moving their arms excitedly around, anticipating the boys getting on stage. Great. Just who I want to deal with all night. The boys have already dismissed them repeatedly, and I’m not sure how they’re not getting the hint. Maybe I need to jump one of the boys on stage and claim what’s mine for them to get the message to fuck off.
Asher’s grin grows when he stops beside me, peeking out. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles in awe. “You got us somewhere, Little Brat.” Color me shocked when he places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Dare I say he’s happy and proud? “This is the best thing anyone’s ever helped us accomplish.”
Meeting his eyes, I offer him a soft smile and tap his hand resting on my shoulder.
Something odd happens inside my body when his praise hits my ears. I stand taller. My chin juts out, and my heart pounds with excitement. If Asher happens to call me good girl, I might drop to my damn knees and suck his soul from his dick.
“You almost sound proud of me, Evil Ash,” I quip, swallowing the odd feeling bursting inside me. “Is Daddy proud?” I bat my eyelashes, poking the rigid bear.
Ash’s eyes widen, and a little red tint takes over his cheeks as he sputters, collecting his breaths. His eyes slide to mine with a knowing look, most likely remembering the words he spoke a few weeks ago.
“For fuck’s sake, Little Brat,” he gasps, tightening his grip on my shoulder. “You remember what I said, right? What happens when you call me daddy?” he murmurs, inching his face close to mine.
Asher looms over me, bringing our bodies closer and closer together until my back hits a wood support, and he cages me in, examining my eyes. I don’t know what he sees behind them, but he grins, exposing all his teeth.
“I am very fucking proud. Maybe you’ll get a reward later,” Asher murmurs, inching closer until his soft lips land on my cheek, awakening the butterflies in my stomach. “But stop calling me daddy,” he says against my flesh, verbally pleading with me. “Or you won’t like the consequences.” Shivers roll through me when he pushes away and walks toward the SUV.
“Okay, Daddy,” I taunt, watching as he halts his steps before making a mad dash away.
“You’ve gotta stop winding him up, River Blue. Especially before a performance,” Kieran chuckles, wrapping a sweaty arm around my shoulders.
“Um, what’s the fun in that?” I laugh, shrugging off his heavy arm. “You boys have two hours until the show. It gives you time for sound check and all that fun stuff.”
“And you?” Callum asks in a small voice, making his way onto the back of the stage with his bass. Standing high above me, he tilts his head and examines me. “You’re staying, right-right?” Big puppy dog eyes greet me when I look up at him, drenched in the shadows of the stage.
