Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) (15 page)

I swallowed.

As did my vagina.

“I’m stealing that.”

Cori followed the direction of my pointed finger. “You are not.”

“Oh, yes I am. You can’t stop me.”

“No, but she can.”

Turning my head, I watched Patsy—the Wild Nights Revue manager—walk toward us. I smiled sweetly. Patsy was a lesbian, and lesbians loved me. “Patsy, those jeans look great on you!”

“They look great off me as well, hon,” she replied with a wink.

I laughed—a little too girlishly. “I’m sure they do. You have great legs.”

“Oh Pah-lease!” Cori groaned. “Em, stop it. You’ll get Patsy all worked up for nothing.”

“Whaaat?” I drawled. “I’m just complimenting her.”

“You’re buttering her up because you want that poster.”

Patsy and I turned toward the large sheet of sex on paper that Cori was pointing at, and I nodded. “Yes, I do. Very much so.”

Patsy burst into laughter and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “Consider it all yours.”

“Yay. Thank you!” I clapped excitedly and kissed her cheek.

“Uh-uh. Don’t you go gettin’ your panties wet just yet. It’s all yours … after the tour.”

I pouted.

She tapped my nose.

I mouthed
thank you
.

She gave me a quick once-over and groaned, shaking her head as she walked off, disappearing backstage all the while yelling, “Ten minutes till doors open.”

Score!
My abilities and powers of persuasion even impressed me sometimes, and I couldn’t help but greedily smile to myself.

“You’re a shocker, Emily Davis. You just seduced a lesbian twice your age.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I replied, assessing my reflection in the mirrored panelling of a concrete pylon, one of many that supported the roof of the building.

“It is!”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I smoothed my short, black dress down my hips and over my thighs.

Cori shook her head at me.

“I can see you, you know.”

She poked her tongue out. “I know. Oh, and by the way, you’re helping me tonight. I need you to be my bag bitch.”

Wiping a small smudge of lipstick off my tooth with my middle finger, I simultaneously flipped her the bird in the mirror. “I’m nobody’s bitch.”

“Fine. Whatever. I need you to be my assistant.” She looked down and huffed as she rummaged through her camera bag. “The guys are performing a new routine tonight, so I want to get as many shots as I can.”

Pirouetting one-and-a-half turns, I landed in an extended fourth position directly in front of her, right arm forward, left arm to the side. “Ahh … assistant. That’s better. I can deal with that title. Now, give me your bag.” I flicked my fingers in a come-hither motion, indicating she hang the strap over my arm. “Let’s do this. Let’s get up close and personal with five delicious naked men.”

She hung the bag as requested. “Oh, you are in for a treat. Mark my words.”

***

“Em! EM!” Cori’s hand hit my leg, snapping me out of my near-paralysed state.

“What? Sorry. What?”

“Can you please pass me the smaller lens?”

Shit!
Fumbling, I dipped my hand into her bag and pulled out a lens. “This one?”

“Yeah.” She took it from me and chuckled. “As you were.”

As I was? Fuck! If I go back to ‘as I was’ I’ll need to duck behind one of the floor-to-ceiling curtains traversing the room and rub one out like the horny deviate that I am. Holy shit-fuck!

On stage Brad, Josh, Noah, Lucas and Matt wore construction worker vests, hard hats and jeans. “Welcome To The Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses blared through the speakers, and the lights had only just brightened to reveal
the glistening, shiny, oiled works of man-art strutting before me.

Ouch.

My vagina was smouldering, and if you were to put your head between my legs, I’d no doubt be able to give you an awesome steam facial. Yeah, I’d become Emily the Steam Engine in the time it had taken Brad to lift his tilted head to meet my gaze.
Toot. Toot.

“Oh my God! I can’t … I can’t even right now,” I babbled, tongue-tied as my eyes raped him.

The sexy son-of-a-bitch held a tape measure at his crotch and grinded his hips while he pulled the tape out slowly, inch by inch. I wanted desperately to check his measurements, and
I wanted him to take mine and record the distance with his tongue.
Gah!

“Ha! Wait until you see his solo performance,” Cori shouted, her face still buried behind her camera. “It’s SO good!”

Hearing her say that and knowing he’d performed it for her made my stomach retch a little. I didn’t like it. It was an icky feeling, that retching jealousy. And I wasn’t normally the jealous type.

I controlled the green-eyed monster.

And that green-eyed monster could kiss my arse.

Quickly swallowing and digesting the ickiness in my tummy, I rid myself of any green within. “Oh, believe me, I can’t wait to see his solo. He mentioned something this morning about riding his board.”

“I’m sure he did,” she said, laughing. “So, are you going to ride—”

Cori’s question was interrupted when the level of decibels in the room went up, women screaming and cheering as Dimps stepped off-stage and chose a random woman in the crowd. He dropped to his knees before her and placed his hands on her thighs, spreading them apart and shuffling in between them.

Lucas’s kind but devilish eyes held hers before he leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and dropped her hands to her sides, which was when he ran his hands up the insides of her thighs and back down again.

The women seated at the table surrounding them squealed and bobbed up and down in their seats, the odd few covering their faces with their hands, seemingly embarrassed for their friend. But the woman at the centre of Dimps’s attention wasn’t embarrassed. In fact, when he stood upright and stepped between her legs, she greedily wrapped her arms around his waist and clenched his arse, tight.

I cracked up laughing. The look on his face was priceless—a comical expression, one of ‘get me out of here’ and ‘squeeze me harder, baby’. And in the end, the ‘squeeze me harder, baby’ prevailed, because he placed his hands over hers and pushed them into his firm cheeks before removing them and gliding them down his ripped abs as he rolled his hips toward her face.

The woman bit her lip.

So did I.

“Wow! The pup isn’t shy, is he?” I shouted over the loud screeching of Axl Rose’s voice.

“Actually, that’s the first time I’ve seen him come down from the stage on his own.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, this is his first tour,” she explained, holding her finger on the camera button while snapping away.

Dimps let go of the woman’s hands and grabbed her head, thrusting his cock at her face.

“Oh my God!” I laughed, my hand shooting to cover my eyes, my fingers spreading so that I could peek between them. It was a side to Dimps I hadn’t seen, and one I wasn’t sure how to take.

Letting her go and planting a kiss on top of her head, he boosted himself up on stage and slid along his knees to join the others as they dropped to theirs at the precise moment Axl sang that he was gonna bring us to our knees. All five of them then performed a dry-hump-the-stage manoeuvre.

The timing was on point, their bodies drilling the floor in perfect unison. I stuck my fingers in my mouth and wolf-whistled, clapping and helping to cheer them on with the one-hundred-plus other women in the room.

“I hope you’re ready,” Cori yelled.

“What?”

“I said, I. Hope. You’re. Ready.”

“Ready for wha—” I tried to finish the end of the word I’d started, but my mouth refused to close again and sound the letter
T
. It refused to close because it had fallen open right about the time all guys jumped to their feet and dropped five pairs of jeans, those jeans resting nicely around five pairs of ankles.

Holy mother of butts.

“I can’t believe you’ve been complaining about this job,” I said, annoyed while shaking my head, unable to remove the vision of five toned, tanned, taut tushies from my mind.

Not that I wanted to. They were exceptional tushies.

“I haven’t been complaining about that,” Cori replied, gesturing to the now empty stage
.
“I’ve been complaining about
that.
” She flicked her head toward the room of overzealous women. “And because the only other female on this tour is a lesbian, a lovely lesbian, but a lesbian all the same. Not to mention that the past four weeks have been a clusterfuck where Josh is concerned.
That’s
what I’ve been complaining about.”

“Well, Josh-clusterfuck aside, what just happened on that stage totally makes up for everything else,” I said, fanning my face with my hand. “Jesus, Cor, they’re really good.”

“Yeah, they are. They work so hard and take it very seriously. Even Josh.” Cori sipped her glass of water. “Okay, so yeah,” she said, swallowing, “he fucked around before I came along, but he always takes his performances and dance choreography seriously. It’s his livelihood. It’s
all
of their livelihoods.”

I nodded. “I can see that.”

“What I love is that each of them have their strengths, and each of them bring something different to the ensemble. They’re a family, you know?” She smiled toward the stage then sipped her drink again. “Anyway, I’ve loved being a part of this family. I’ll be sad when it ends.” Cori smiled dejectedly and swirled her straw in her glass, but I could see she was genuinely devastated and trying to tone it down.

“Hey!” I gave her arm a friendly nudge. “Who says it’s gonna end?”

She shrugged. “Everything ends.”

“Yeah, but when it does, something else begins.”

Cori scrunched her nose just as a loud, ear-piercing screech from the microphone sounded, garnering everyone in the room’s attention.

“Ladies and ladies, are you enjoying yourselves?” Patsy asked, a rumble in her voice as she took centre stage.

“Shit! The new act is next. I want to be at the very front of the stage. I’m okay on my own this time, so if you want to stay here by the bar, that’s up to you.”

“Yeah, no worries. You go. I’ll be around.” I winked and watched her scoot off before I turned to the barman. “Can I have a Chardonnay, please?”

“Sure, coming right up.”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies, do we have a treat for you,” Patsy continued. “Tonight, for the first time my boys will perform their newest act. And I can tell you …” she teased, one eyebrow soaring high as she ran her hand through her short, bleached blonde hair, “it nearly turned me straight.”

Everyone in the room laughed, some shouting things such as ‘bring it on’ and ‘I love Wild Nights’.

“Alright, alright. Hang on to your panties, because without further ado,” she continued to tease, lowering her voice as the lights lowered along with it, “I think you’ve earned it.”

“Here you go, ma’am. It’s on the house for cast and crew,” the barman explained.

I turned back to face him, and he nodded to my lanyard, which read ‘crew’.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He winked and moved on to the next person waiting to be served, so I turned back around just as the drums of ‘Earned It’ by The Weekend kicked in.
Oh, well played, Patsy. Well played.

I loved this song. It was so God damn sexy, one of those songs you couldn’t help swaying your hips to, which was exactly what I did as I stepped away from the bar, focussing on the stage and sipping my wine.

Lit only by a mild blue light, the stage was dark, but I could make out five silhouettes, moving into position before stepping to the slow beat of the song with their heads down. It was too dark to see what they were wearing or decipher any detail—not from where I was standing—so I moved closer to the stage, finding a spare seat on one of the outer tables.

Acknowledging the three women already seated there, I smiled politely as I sat down. They didn’t care. They didn’t even notice me. Instead, their eyes were glued to the front of the room.

It was by far the better view.

I took a sip from my glass, and the blue light brightened when the vocals began, illuminating five topless, muscled, hot-as-fucking-hell barefooted men wearing black, hip-riding trousers.

I practically choked.
For the love of bare feet and muscles.
Or maybe I snorted. Probably a combination of both. Actually, I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d done. I just knew that what I was seeing was one of the hottest things my eyes had ever witnessed, and they’d witnessed a ton of hot things. 

My eyes were thankful, though—I could tell. They twinkled like glittered fairies while the beddable dancey man-meat ran their hands all over their bodies, as if rubbing soap suds under the spray of a shower.
Damn! If they keep up all of that rubbing, gliding and gripping, I’ll need a shower, too.
Preferably a cold one
.

The pre-hook of the song began, the singer’s smooth falsetto and lyrics combining perfectly with the way each of the guys rolled their bodies in unison. It was so bloody sexy. Everything about it was sexy. The level of sexy was sexy. Sex was sexy. I needed sex. Now. Fuck!

Calm your lady farm, Em, and take another sip of wine.

Wine was good.

Wine pacified.

Wine was disappearing too quickly.

Resting the rim of the glass on my lip, I stared heatedly as Brad and Noah step-slid forward simultaneously, turning to their sides as if on rails—back-to-back—and holding their arms in front of them while swirling their hips in semi-circles to the beat of the chorus. I nearly bit the glass.
Holy double eye-orgasm. Double the holy fucking wet-twin-dream.

Okay, so, admittedly, I’d ruled out any romantic attraction to Noah early on in the week. But fuck me, I could quite easily forgo romantic fluff right about now and plant myself between his and Brad’s cocks. I could make a bridge with the two of them, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. They were both very appetising.
Very
appetising.

Both men took a step forward and moved in opposite directions, opening the stage and allowing Dimps, Chief and Josh to strut forward, thumbs hooked in the waistband of their pants and inching them down every time the singer said ‘you’ in succession, which was four times.

I counted.

Hello, happy trails!
All three of them proudly displayed the sprinkling of hair that led to their cock.
Why, thank you. Much appreciated.
It was super-nice, tempting and all, but damn … just one more ‘you’ and I would’ve seen where the trail of happiness ended.
Argh!

The chorus began, and I sang along about a girl being perfect, that she was worth it, deserved it, and earned it. It was also the point in the song where all five guys stepped off the stage and a found a girl they could perform that notion for.     

My eyes followed Brad as he made his way through the crowd, stopping not too far away from where I was seated at the foot of a pretty, longhaired brunette with blonde highlights. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes but a kind smile on his face. It was a devilish expression, and it contorted my stomach.

I insta-hated everything about her. I hated the way her cheeks flushed, how her hands covered her face, how her smile split her dainty little head, and how she sat there rigid when Brad straddled her lap and lowered himself to her.

Yeah, I hated her. And I hated me for allowing the green-eyed monster to rear its ugly head. It was an imposter, the hideous thing, and it had no right to infiltrate the happy I’d cloaked myself in.
Ugh!
I had to bury it and fast, because my icky thoughts were completely unreasonable. This was what Brad did. It was his profession, and he was good at it—more than good, he was amazing.

Trying to shake the verdant shade consuming me, I smiled and focussed on his performance skills, his acting … which was star-fucking-rated when he took hold of her hand and placed it against his heart, lip-syncing the part of the song where he explained that she knew their love would be tragic and that she was his favourite kind of night.
Favourite kind of night? Oh, I’ll give you favourite kind of fucking night.

The green in my vision brightened, so I sipped my wine again and momentarily closed my eyes.
Deep breaths, Em. He’s phenomenal. A true performer.
Focus on that. Focus on how talented this gorgeous man is and respect it.

I opened my eyes again and found Brad’s focus on the girl to be unwavering—his desire, explosive. It was exactly how it was supposed to be. Not to mention that his timing to the music was impeccable and on point, especially when he stood during the second pre-hook, placed his hands in browny/blondie’s hair, and thrashed his cock in her face, gently making contact with her cheeks, nose and chin.
Seriously! What the fuck? I haven’t even been that close to his monster yet.

My mood was clearly taking a soaring nosedive into Bitchy City, pulling to a stop at Ridiculous and Uncalled For Airport. But in my defence, Brad had not long ago told me that he liked
me
, wanted
me
, and was gonna have
me
, and unfortunately for me, the pretty little stripy-tigerhead he was dancing for was seeing more action than
me
. It wasn’t right. I wanted action. I wanted that action.

Skolling my wine and firmly setting the empty glass down on the table, I bit the inside of my cheek and sighed. Deep down, I wasn’t jealous of him touching and seducing the women in the room, because it was a performance. He. Was. Performing. And I’d done the same thing many times before.
Well, not quite the same thing. I’ve never dry-face-fucked any of my co-stars.
But I got it. I got the tease. I got the reason behind the attention he paid the women … I got the whole concept. I just didn’t like it all that much.

I gave a passing waiter my meek smile as he collected my glass, continuing to watch as all five guys took a step back while keeping their eyes locked on their ‘chosen ones’ and body rolling and thrusting to the beat. Despite Brad fucking the air surrounding him, I couldn’t deny that the choreography was incredible. I was a dancer too and knew what was involved in putting an entire act together, so I could definitely appreciate the performance structure, theatrics, and talent required to carry it all out. So yeah, it really was impressive.

All five guys simultaneously dropped to their knees, and once again, dry-humped the ground. I bit my thumb, my eyes slowly roaming the dips and curves of Brad’s back and arse. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something deliciously dirty about a man dry-humping the ground. Perhaps it was how his hips rolled, his arse mounded, and how his cock gently caressed the floor below.
Yes, perhaps it’s that.

Swallowing, I removed my thumb from between my teeth and licked my dry lips just as Brad crawled forward and opened his ‘chosen one’s’ legs. He shuffled forward and dipped his head, dragging his mouth along her thighs, up her tummy, over her chest, and stopping just centimetres from her mouth.
Whoa!

I sucked in a sharp breath and my heart all but stopped beating.
Surely not.
Surely, he wouldn’t kiss her. That had to be a no-go zone. Kissing was intimate. The touch of one’s lips to another’s was when no words were spoken yet everything said, when mouths connected, unvoiced, each other consumed instead. It was a language of lust, passion, and love, and it shouldn’t be spoken with just anyone—especially not some random woman in a crowded room.

Apparently, I was wrong.

Unable to watch his lips touch hers a moment longer, I willed the knot of discontent lodged in my throat to go down before standing up and exiting the room. I needed a moment alone. I needed air.

Stepping through the automatic glass doors as they opened, I walked out into the fresh but humid night air, taking a seat on a wooden park bench adjacent to a tropical-themed garden. Twinkling stars dotted the sky above, and the gentle breeze blew a subtle aroma of frangipani from a nearby tree. It was nice, sans the distant sound of cars travelling the freeway, an ungrateful reminder that I wasn’t lost in a tropical oasis.