Текст книги "Insider"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

He eased her upright. Toni’s head swam at the sudden change of position. She made a grab for the back of the sofa as he lifted one of her knees onto the sofa arm and shifted so that he could thrust up into her. Once she had her balance, she began to move with him again. He held her breast, massaging and tugging her nipple as she bounced on his cock faster and faster. Her pleasure built until orgasm was just within reach, but she couldn’t figure out how to tumble over the edge.

“Logan,” she said, her legs starting to tremble from all the unfamiliar activity. “How do I?”

“How do you what, baby?”

“How do I come?”

“Touch yourself.”

“What?” Why would she do that when she had a man at her disposal? Wasn’t the whole point of having a lover so she didn’t have to get herself off?

“I’d do it for you, but I don’t have a spare hand at the moment.”

Her hand was trembling as she slowly slid it down her belly. When her fingertips brushed her clit, her body jerked. “Harder,” she demanded, wanting him to roughen his touch on her aching nipple. His thrusts grew harder. Faster. Harder. Her fingers stroked her clit, and she cried out as she exploded instantly.

“Keep it up until I finish,” he said in her ear.

Oh, but she couldn’t. It was too much. She wasn’t used to the added stimulation of a cock thrusting into her as she came. The pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Her entire body was shaking with pleasure.

“Rub it out, baby,” he demanded. “Don’t stop.”

Her fingers began to move against her clit, sending her into a state of euphoria she hadn’t known existed. She was only partially aware of being pressed face down on the sofa with her hand trapped beneath her body so she could keep touching herself and of the loud cries of pleasure bursting from her throat and Logan’s answering cries as he worked toward his own orgasm. She was fixated on the intensifying and receding waves of friction as her pussy clenched rhythmically on Logan’s hard, thick cock. Her body began to twitch as she rubbed herself and rubbed herself and he fucked her and fucked her. His strokes stilled suddenly when he shoved into her balls deep and shuddered against her with a loud cry. She slowed the rapid stroking of her clit and groaned as her body shook with continued waves of pleasure.

“Best. Pussy. Ever.” Logan punctuated his words with hard thrusts.

She laughed softly, still shaking. He collapsed on her back.

“Was it good for you?” he asked with a self-serving chuckle.

“Not bad,” she teased.

“Not bad? Damn, woman. I thought your pussy was going to suck my dick clean off my body you were coming so hard.” He kissed her shoulder, nuzzled his face into her hair, and gave her breast a gentle squeeze.

“Did it hurt?” she asked.

He laughed. “In that way you think you might die from too much pleasure.”

“That’s how it was for me too.” She shifted her hand out from under her body. It was slick with her fluids.

“Just so you know—since you’re not very experienced and all—what we have here isn’t normal.”

Great. Something else that was abnormal about her. “I’ll do better. You just have to teach me what to do.”

“Better? Woman, if you do any better, they’re going to have to check me into a hospital.”

She’d always imagined she’d feel some profound, psychological connection with her partner after sex. But lying squashed under Logan’s hard and heavy naked body, absolutely nothing insightful stirred her soul. Nope, the only emotion washing over her was exquisite joy. And maybe a little love.

Okay, a lot of love. Overwhelming, tummy-fluttering, breath-stealing, thought-shattering love.

At least she thought that was what she was feeling.

But she wasn’t foolish enough to tell him that.

Seventeen

Logan jammed his foot into his shoe and tied his laces. He scowled at Toni, who’d managed to get one leg in her panties, but was now lying on her side on the sectional, her face squashed and her eyes closed.

“Come on,” he said. “Get dressed. The party has started without us.”

“I’m not going,” she murmured. “Too tired.”

He took her foot in one hand and slipped it through the empty leg hole of her panties, which he didn’t notice were wrong side out until he had them drawn up to her knees.

“You have to come,” he said, removing her underwear and turning them right side out before starting over. “I want to see what you’re like when you’re drunk.”

She opened one eye to look at him. “This is pretty much what it looks like, but with more vomiting.”

He was hoping that pouring a little alcohol down her throat would loosen her up a little. Open her shell.

“Don’t you need to see what an after-party is like for the book?”

“Yeah,” she said.

Ha, he knew he’d get her to accompany him somehow.

“But not tonight,” she said. “I’m exhausted. I need sleep.”

“So you’d rather stay here on the bus by yourself than go to a party with me?” Was he pouting? He was pouting. What the actual fuck?

“Actually, I’d rather you stay here with me.” She patted the sofa cushion beside her.

“Fuck, woman,” he said with a crooked grin. “And I thought I was the horniest person on this tour.”

“Not for sex,” she murmured, her voice slurred. “For sleep.”

“You just have to stay for a little while.”

“An hour?” she bargained.

An hour? How much partying did she think she could accomplish in an hour? He supposed she wasn’t used to keeping up with him. Yet. He’d let her get off with an hour this time, but he’d keep her out until dawn at the next party. The woman needed to get out and have a little fun. Under his supervision, of course. He didn’t want any other man to discover what fantastic blow jobs she gave.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’ll probably stay out later than that.”

She rolled over and tugged her panties up her thighs, and then continued to lie there half asleep. By the time she was dressed and the two of them left the bus, they’d missed out on at least an hour of fun.

The bar the tour had borrowed for the evening’s festivities was jam-packed from wall to wall. Those who couldn’t get inside were having their own little party in the parking lot. He lifted a hand to people he recognized as they called out greetings to him. Logan scarcely noticed the two members of the security team who escorted them from the bus to the bar entrance. He was so used to them being there in his shadow, that it was natural to be followed. Toni kept glancing back at them, though, as if they were stalkers, not protection. There were plenty of yellow shirts mixed with the crowd inside as well, but they were there to make sure their employers didn’t get hurt, not to get in the way of their good time.

Logan took Toni’s hand and led her through the crush of bodies. He knew almost every person in the place, so he got stopped often on his way to the bar.

“Who is this?” Matt Chesterfield asked, his British roots made apparent by his accent.

“This is Toni. Toni this is—”

“Matt Chesterfield,” Toni said, reaching out to shake Matt’s hand. “Lead singer of Riott Actt.”

Matt raised an eyebrow at Logan. “Girlfriend?”

Logan’s brow crumpled. Why would he think that? Sure, he and Toni were holding hands, but Logan always had a girl or two on his arm and no one had ever mistaken one of them for his girlfriend. “No, just friends. She’s writing a book about Exodus End. I figured she’d want to see what one of these after-parties is like.”

“Nice to meet you,” Toni shouted over the raucous noise of the crowd and the music blaring in the background. “If you’re interested in having an interactive biography written about your band—”

“What’s that?” Matt shouted, leaning closer to her and turning his ear in her direction.

“I said,” she shouted louder, “if you’re interested—”

A nearby explosion of laughter cut off her words.

“Sorry?” Matt asked.

Toni shook her head. “We’ll talk some other time!”

Logan tugged her through the crowd once more, introducing her to anyone of interest. Matt wasn’t the only person who mistook Toni for his girlfriend. Logan was getting really annoyed by the fifth time he had to correct someone. “No! We’re just friends!” he yelled at Twisted Element’s lead guitarist.

“My apologies,” Brent said, holding up both hands in surrender, though a brown beer bottle was hooked in one.

Toni offered Brent a weary smile.

“What do you want to drink?” Logan shouted at her over the ruckus.

She pressed her hands to her temples and shook her head. “Is my hour up yet?”

“You’re not having fun?”

She looked like a wilted flower—still beautiful, but fading fast.

“This isn’t really my thing,” she said, “and I’m tired.”

He rubbed her arm. “You can go back to the bus if you really want to.”

He wanted her to say, I’d rather stay here with you, but she perked up immediately at his suggestion to leave. “Thank you,” she said with a relieved sigh.

He tugged her back through the crowd toward the exit, not sure how anyone would willingly give up partying with over a dozen rock stars to hang out on a boring tour bus.

Once outside, Toni sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air.

“I’m going back inside,” he said. “Can you make it to the bus by yourself?”

She glanced across the parking lot to where the bus was parked under a collection of street lights. “Yeah.”

He kissed her cheek, knowing that if he drew her into his arms and kissed her the passionate way he wanted to kiss her, everyone would mistake her for his girlfriend. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She stared up into his eyes for a long moment as if she wanted to say something, but turned away instead. “Good night.”

She was a couple of yards away when he nodded at the nearest security guard so he’d follow her and keep her safe from the drunks in the parking lot. She started when she noticed the yellow shirt trailing behind her, but she offered him a timid smile and continued toward the bus.

Ensured of Toni’s safety, Logan returned to the bar.

“About time he ditched the stiff,” Logan heard Steve yell as soon as he got inside. “I thought maybe he was too pussy whipped to have any real fun tonight.”

Pussy whipped? Please.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Logan said, lifting a hand toward the bar and finding it immediately filled with his usual drink—a Godfather. He chugged it in two gulps and extended his arm for a refill.

“This is Candace,” Steve introduced the gorgeous blonde on his right. “And Tonya,” He nodded to the equally gorgeous black woman on his left. “Oh, and you met Stacia earlier.” The same brunette Steve had banged backstage. She must be exceptional if he hadn’t ditched her yet.

“Ladies,” Logan said, lifting his fresh cocktail in their direction.

After the hi’s and great-to-meet-yous, Stacia moved to stand so close to Logan that her breast was pressed firmly into his arm. “What are you having?” she asked, eyeing his drink. Her perfume assailed his nostrils, and his nose twitched.

“If he had half a brain, he’d be having you,” Steve said and lifted his glass at her.

If he hadn’t just finished with Toni, yeah, it probably would have been Stacia. But he felt absolutely no interest in her, and he could only attribute his disinterest to having already had sex a handful of times that day. With the same woman. Which rarely happened.

“It’s a Godfather,” Logan said. “Scotch and amaretto.”

“Can I taste it?”

Knowing he could have as many as he wanted, he handed his drink to Stacia. She lifted it to her ruby lips and sipped, her eyes smoldering into his as she licked the rim of his glass. “Mmm,” she purred.

Okay, normally if a hot woman pressed her tit into his arm and made out with the glass he’d just sipped from while producing those kinds of sounds and offering him come over here and fuck me glances, his dick would have been bursting through the zipper of his jeans. But he didn’t feel so much as a tingle down below. There was some weird shit going down here. He must be getting old or something.

“It’s good, right?” Logan said.

“Strong,” she murmured. She rubbed her boob into his arm as she turned toward him and tried to hand the lowball glass back to him.

“You keep that one,” he said, extending a hand toward the bar for a fresh drink.

Reagan appeared unexpectedly beside him and practically shoved Stacia to the floor in her quest to get in next to him. Definitely some weird shit going down here. Reagan had never come on to him before. And it soon became apparent that she wasn’t coming on to him now as she jabbered about the concert and how she’d twisted her ankle in her damned high-heeled boots and how she wasn’t going to wear them anymore. She was going to wear her combat boots. Fuck Sam’s idea of feminine beauty. Blah blah blah. Eventually Stacia got tired of standing behind Reagan and making huffing sounds with her arms crossed. She wandered off to find less annoying company.

“Cock block,” Reagan whispered in Logan’s ear and then danced away.

What did she mean by that?

He glanced over at Steve, who was making out with the two women he’d introduced earlier. Hell if Logan could remember either of their names. Normally Steve’s behavior would have gotten Logan in the mood to one-up his bro and make out with three women at once, but he didn’t see a single woman who interested him, much less three of them.

Weird, weird shit going down here.

He begged his leave from the horn dog across from him and sought less promiscuous company. But Dare was with his brother—coming between that pair was an exercise in futility—and Max had disappeared for the evening. Maybe Max had already gone back to the bus. Maybe Logan should go back to the bus as well. Not to be with Toni. Just because this party was kind of dead. He usually had a lot more fun at these things. What the hell was wrong with him tonight? Maybe he was just tired. Or maybe he needed another drink. Or maybe he missed Toni.

Nah. He just wasn’t drunk yet. Though he usually didn’t drink enough to actually get drunk. He only drank until he mellowed.

A hush fell over the bar, and Logan turned to see Steve standing on a table and searching the crowd. “Logan!” he yelled. “Where the hell did you run off to, bro?”

Someone shoved Logan in the back, and he stumbled forward, his movement catching Steve’s attention.

“There you are. Candice and Tonya have agreed to a little game of double or nothing.”

“I don’t want to play. Pick someone else.” Why didn’t he want to play? It was his favorite game of all time, and the rewards were guaranteed to blow his mind. Or his load. Mostly his load.

“Awww, I think someone is pussy whipped,” Steve called to the bar patrons, getting everyone in the place chanting: “Pussy whipped. Pussy whipped. Pussy whipped.”

“Fuck you,” Logan shouted over the chanting. “You’re going down, Aimes.”

A knot formed in Logan’s gut as Steve’s two women removed their tops and lay on their backs, head to head across the wooden bar. They were still wearing their bras—which was a bit of a relief—but Toni wouldn’t like him playing this game. And she really wouldn’t like it if he won. The prize was a threesome with the two ladies. Logan wasn’t sure if Steve would purposely throw the game so Logan had to admit he didn’t want to bang the two hot chicks or if Steve honestly wanted a competition. Dude was almost as competitive as Logan was.

“Logan,” Reagan said, tugging on his arm. “Don’t hurt her. She’s such a sweet girl.”

He pretended he didn’t know Reagan was talking about Toni. “I’m sure they’re both sweet girls,” Logan said, “which is why they agreed to fuck the winner of this game. They won’t be sweet when I’m finished with them.”

Many of the male patrons at the bar cheered his boasting.

Once Trey had collected his cock-blocking pest of a girlfriend and the game had been set up, Logan stood next to the knees of one participant and waited for the festivities to begin. He couldn’t make it obvious that he was losing on purpose; he’d never live it down. At the very least, he had to make it look like he was trying.

“Go!” Steve shouted.

Logan leaned over the woman’s crotch, used his teeth to pick up the shot glass balanced on her pelvis, and tilted his head back to pour tequila down his throat. He swallowed, dropped the glass on the floor and bent over the woman again to lick the salt off her belly. He took the next shot glass off her stomach, which was a challenge because she was fighting a case of the giggles. Logan dropped that glass as well and fished the lime from between her tits with his mouth. Good thing she was relatively flat-chested, so it didn’t take too many swipes of his tongue to retrieve the green wedge. He bit into the lime and spit out the rind, wincing at the tartness on his tongue. He then snorted the bump of cocaine off her collarbone. Logan stood abruptly, smacking himself in the eye when the rush went straight to his head. He produced a full-body shudder and peeked at Steve’s progress. Steve was still trying to get the lime out from between his girl’s tits. Probably because he was doing more licking than lime seeking. Damn. Logan rubbed his nose and sniffed, shooting a second rush of exhilaration up into his brain. Whoa! Good shit. He didn’t do coke often—he was hyper enough without it. But how was he going to lose if Steve was so far behind? He had only one task left to complete.

Carla—was that even her name?—lifted a maraschino cherry toward him with her fingertips. Normally when he played this game, he licked and sucked the woman’s fingers as he attempted to get the cherry in his mouth, but in this case, he went after it with his teeth. He groaned when the first cherry fell to the floor and she had to grab a second cherry out of the bowl near her hip. He caught a glimpse of Steve snorting his bump of coke—finally—and going after a cherry without pause. That meant they were neck and neck. Logan might not have to throw the game after all. Holding the second cherry between his teeth, he moved to stand over the woman’s face. The idea was to get it from his mouth into hers without touching her lips. Which was way easier if he got up close and personal, but he dropped his cherry from full standing height and cringed as it fell toward her wide open mouth in a perfect trajectory. Shit! Why did this chick have to have a mouth like Steven Tyler? It was like dropping the cherry into a kiddie pool.

The cherry hit her tooth and for a second he thought it might bounce out of the gaping orifice. But no, in it went. The riveted crowd cheered.

His stomach dropped into his shoes.

Well, fuck. Now what was he supposed to do?

“That was a close one!” Steve said, coming over to pound Logan on the back. “But I won again. You suck at this!”

Wait? He’d lost? Woo hoo!

Uh, he meant damn. How had he lost? He’d been so far ahead before that first cherry had gotten away from him.

“I’ll get you next time,” Logan said, punching Steve in the shoulder several times.

Steve leaned in close to Logan’s ear. “You would have won this time if you weren’t so pussy whipped.”

Logan shoved his laughing opponent out of his face. “Whatever.”

He was relieved when Steve left with his two happy prizes. No one else would bother him about his disinterest in chasing skirts tonight. He thought about going back to the bus and crawling into bed with Toni, but even the small dose of coke he’d snorted made him way too fucking hyper. He’d never be able to sleep and would disturb her rest. So he burned off some of his excess energy by making an ass of himself on the dance floor. And then he burned off some more by talking like an auctioneer to anyone who would listen and to several people who weren’t listening. By the time he finally settled down, the bar was mostly empty and it was well after three a.m. Normally the cops would have come to make everyone go home after two. But police tended to look the other way when Exodus End was out on the town. Unless Steve stirred up a fight or someone was rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning or a drug overdose. Such things didn’t happen as much as they used to. The band members were slowing down now that they were all in their thirties.

“We’re like a bunch of old ladies,” Logan said to a lamp post as he stumbled back toward the bus.

One of the security team stopped him from walking into a fire hydrant. “I got this,” he assured the guy and patted him on the chest. “Do you think Toni is sleeping?”

“I don’t know, sir,” the man said. He had a buzz cut and deeply tanned skin. But Logan mostly noticed his yellow shirt. That meant he was one of Logan’s own and he could trust him. “It is very late.”

“I think I’ll wake her up.” He lifted his T-shirt to his nose and sniffed. “Does this smell like women’s perfume?” He offered the shoulder area of his T-shirt to the security guard, who was now walking beside him with his arms out, as if trying to save a toddler from falling on the cement and cracking open his skull. Perhaps Logan was stumbling to his left. But just a little. “Smell it. Smell it.”

The guy took a whiff. “Yes, sir. It does smell like perfume.”

“Shit. She’s going to think I’ve been messing around with other women. I didn’t though.” He patted the guy’s arm. “Why didn’t I?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Fuck it.” Logan stripped his T-shirt off over his head and tossed it on the ground. “Burn that,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Another of the security team that was trailing Logan picked up the discarded shirt.

“I’m tired.” Logan felt himself fading. He just hoped he blacked out on something softer than the sidewalk.

“Would you like to go back to the bus, sir?”

Logan scowled. “Isn’t that where I’m going?”

The guy somehow managed not to laugh. “No, sir.” He nodded in the opposite direction. “The bus is that way.”

Logan turned around, squinted down the sidewalk, and recognized the bus almost a block away under a bunch of bright street lamps.

“So it is.” He turned on his heel and started toward the bus. Again. “I think I might be drunk.”

“It’s a possibility, sir.” Logan knew they hired a lot of military veterans to serve on their security team, but why did this guy keep calling him sir? It made him feel old.

Logan ambled toward the bus, his thoughts—as always—on the woman he’d met the night before. “Do you think she really is my girlfriend?”

Enough people had certainly mistaken her as important to him.

“Who’s that, sir?”

“Toni.”

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir.”

Logan sighed. “I’m sure I don’t know either.”