Strings (12 page)

I wait a solid minute to see if he types
anything else. He doesn’t. I peel back the curtain and look out.
It’s dark on the bus. Snores emanate from the front, but no sound
from Kate above me. And no motor noise to drown out any stray
fuck-gasps.

The challenge of keeping quiet should worry
me. What worries me instead is that I don’t know which bunk is
Shades’s. I never saw him near the beds earlier. Fuck!

Pride won’t let me text him. He managed to
find my phone number—I wonder who gave it to him?—so I should be
able to figure out which of the three unaccounted-for bunks belongs
to him.

The one directly across from me on bottom is
Toombs’s. Whoever’s above him is snoring, so it’s probably not
Shades. It seems likely Freddie would sleep toward the front, and
considering his size, I’m guessing he’d do better on the bottom.
That means Shades is in the front top bunk.

I slip out of bed and tiptoe forward. I step
on the first rung of the mini ladder and reach for the curtain.
Something grabs my ankle. My heart stops for a beat, and I manage
to contain the scream poised at the top of my vocal cords. I look
down. Shades smiles up at me.

Jesus Christ. How did Freddie manage to get
up here anyway? I step down quickly, slide into Shades’s space, and
slowly pull the curtain closed. It smells like him in here—that
heady combination of cologne and male musk I noticed our first
night together. The scent is concentrated lust.

He looks like he’s about to bust a gut
laughing. I cover his mouth and gaze at him through the cell phone
light. His teeth playfully graze the skin on my palm.

And the juices begin to well.

Once again, I’m torn. I don’t want to enjoy
this. My id’s writing checks my ego can’t cash. Yet the promise of
giving up the ass to Shades on a tour bus full of people is so
fucking erotic.

Okay, enough waffling. It’s time to commit
and get it over with. Where are we in the clothing department? I
move my hand down his neck, stroke his throat, rub his naked chest
(ooh la la!), and trail lower…oh yeah. That’s what I’m talking
about.

His big cock is free of restraints, and
judging by the size of it, as anxious to get this show on the road
as I am. I want to suck it so damn bad, but there’s no room. Not
unless I kneel in the aisle and lean in. Believe me, I consider it.
But if we’re caught, it could jeopardize the entire tour. Kate may
be playing nice for the moment, but if she has the slightest
inkling I’ve gone to “the other side,” the precarious truce is as
good as a hot knife through cold shit.

So, lying on my side,
facing him, I palm his dick and stroke. This whole nonverbal
communication thing is both annoying as fuck and rather alluring.
Not knowing
exactly
what he wants for his birthday present makes it fun to
guess.

He slips a hand inside my boy shorts, parts
my labia, and fingers me. I want to kiss him, devour him, but I
keep my desires on a leash. This is about my ass getting him off as
payment for services rendered. No need to get emotionally
involved.

Right?

Right.

I roll over for ease of entry and tug down
the shorts. With a few kicks and a lot of wiggling, I free one leg,
which is good enough. His cock bounces against my ass as I
move.

Here’s the thing about anal. With the right
guy, it can be a lot of fun, but I’ve never done it with a dick
this big, so I’m not sure how this is going to roll.

A thumb—I assume—rubs my clit in fast
circles, thoroughly distracting me. Much as I want to come, I can’t
do it first. It’s his birthday, after all. And there’s the matter
of my pride. I’m not supposed to like this guy. So, I push his arm
away and thump his man meat on my ass cheek, hoping he’ll get the
message.

He fidgets behind me for a few seconds, and
then I hear the sound of a wrapper opening. Good. Something wet and
cherry-smelling drizzles down the mound of my butt and beelines for
the crack. My pussy opens like a flower in front while I spread my
backside. I wish he could see me stretched wide for him. I take his
index finger, swirl my tongue around it, leaving a good bit of spit
behind, and guide it into my ass.

Visualizing us somewhere else where there’s
plenty of room and light, I release my breath gently and close my
eyes. I rock my hips to give his finger better access, tighten my
ass muscles, squeeze him.

His rough chest presses against my back,
scratching it. His breath ruffles the hair over my ear. One hand
gropes a tit while the other ass fucks me. He adjusts his angle and
increases his pace. The world transforms from beautiful black and
white to vivid, raging color. Oh my God, the tip of his finger hits
the underside of my clit, teases that throbbing love nub slowly.
The pleasure is agonizing, constricting, and freeing at the same
time. Fuck, I’m gonna come.

I wrestle free of his grip. He brings the
finger to his mouth and sucks my ass off it. Holy fucking
Jesus.

That’s it. I assume control of his lubed,
condom-covered cock and spread my cheeks again. The head of his
dick alone is huge, not to mention the length. I drool—literally
drool—at the thought of his ten inches filling my ass.

The clit stroking resumes. Arching my back,
I push my hole against his mighty wang, and open up.

The pain rips me, and I let go of a gasp.
His cunt-diddling hand covers my mouth. My tongue darts out for a
taste of myself, and my pussy responds with another flood. Oh my
God, his cock is about to split me in two.

And I love it.

I slowly shift my hips forward. Back. A
little deeper that time. Forward. Back. Deeper still. Forward.
Back. He squirts more lube onto our love connection, and that’s
when I have a breakthrough of the erotic kind.

I take his cock—all ten inches—balls
deep.

My breath rushes. I try to quiet it. I’m
fucking dizzy.

Lips hit my neck, and chills climb my spine.
Teeth graze as he rocks me to a new song, a Shades-and-Letty
lullaby. His thrusts are gentle, perfectly timed, and Christ, his
rocket rams the underside of my clit just like his finger did
before. The temptation to scream his name and cut the fuck loose is
too much.

Fuck the band.

I moan. He stops. Someone sighs from one of
the beds. His rough hand covers my mouth again. I inhale through my
nose and let out my breath slowly. We lie like that, with his dick
fully engaged in my backfield for several minutes.

The waiting is agony. I want more of him. I
need him moving, taking, imbibing. I remember the taste of his cum
on my tongue in the hotel room, the rapturous expression after I
finished with him, the way we passed out afterward.

Much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s my
sexual soul mate. No inhibitions. No fear. No boundaries.

And tomorrow I have to go back to pretending
I don’t give a shit.

He uncovers my mouth and resumes his gentle
thrusts to the pulse of my throbbing clit. I’m spread as wide as
the small space allows. Vulnerable. Naked. I should hate him for
forcing my hand with the birthday vow, but I could have refused,
and I didn’t. I guess that says a lot about me.

I draw up my bent legs to give him wider
access, and his thrusts roughen. He yanks my face toward his and
goddamn it, he stares at me while he fucks my asshole into
oblivion. Lips fall on mine, softer than I expect. His tongue eases
inside my mouth, stroking with that delicious silver stud.

I finger fuck myself. My
clit screams for release. My ass burns with fever.
Come on, motherfucker, make me come.
I put my hips into it and assume control of the
thrusts, impaling myself over and over on his glorious rod the same
way he did when roles were reversed. He squeezes my tits so hard,
these bitches will probably have bruises tomorrow. Still kissing
me, he pauses a second as his lower half halts all forward
movement. I can only assume he’s filling that rubber. Goddamn it,
what a waste of good cum.

I rejoice in knowing I made him climax
first. Now it’s time for me to pay the piper. Squeezing my ass
tight around his schlong, I ride him for three more strokes. The
head of his cock hits my clit like a battle ram, and sweet Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph, I douse the fucking curtain with my release.

I fucking squirt.

Never done that before.

In the aftermath, I quietly heave for
breath. Shit, he had to have noticed. Is he thoroughly
disgusted?

He reaches around me and touches the wet
fabric drape. He licks his fingers, and the rest of me melts. I
want to see if I can do it again. Maybe I’ll aim for his face next
time. Cunt hydrant. Fuck!

I feel his grin in the dark. His arms
enclose me in a blanket of cum and warmth and satisfaction. And
then he kisses me. Not like a guy who’s flailing in wild throes of
passion. Not like a guy motivated purely by sex. Not like a guy
trying to shut me up and get rid of me. No, his tongue makes love
to my mouth. Slow, careful circles floating on waves of desire.
Without thinking, I answer with the same warmth.

Then my brain crashes the party.

Do not get involved. This is the last stop
for you and him. Time to get off the train and make a clean break.
You honored your promise. Now get the fuck out of his bed and don’t
come back.

Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen after he made
me hose his bunk.

But I really should leave. I don’t want him
assuming this is more than payback, even though it’s starting to
shape up that way.

Fuck. Why do I always fall for guys who are
totally wrong for me? Tomorrow, he’ll probably act like nothing
ever happened. When he gets horny and can’t find a groupie to bang,
he’ll come looking for another bash-and-dash.

But would that be so bad? And who says I
can’t use him the same way? If we agree to keep it casual and not
get involved beyond the fucking, we both win.

I like this plan.

I pull his still-hard honey dipper from my
ass, and he sighs. I use his bed sheet to sop up the stray squirt
juice that got on my leg and to tidy up the lube on my ass. I drag
my little shorts up, peek past the curtain, and survey. Coast is
clear. He touches my arm and lifts a brow. With a saucy grin, I
leave him with the mess and commando crawl to the bathroom to clean
up any remaining fluids.

See, it was a good idea to do it at his
place after all. I’m so pleased.

Once I settle in my bed, my phone
vibrates.

U made me so hard
tonight
, he says.

Ass fucking does that 2 a guy.

No. When u were on stage.

I shut my open mouth with the flat of my
hand. He liked watching me play? Maybe that’s what the “attack”
after Cherry Buzz Float’s set was about. Fuck, that’s an even
bigger turn-on than the squirting was.

Can I have my song now?

No.

Smug, rich bastard. Why am I not surprised?
Though playing fuck-tag with him to try and win the napkin back
could be a hell of a lot of fun. The perfect carrot to dangle in
front of me.

Footsteps trudge down the aisle toward me.
My pulse takes off at a sprint. I squint through the crack in the
drape. Damn it, Shades doesn’t even pause as he passes my bunk. He
must be going to the bathroom.

Maybe he’s thinking the same thing I am.
That we can keep up the steamy-hot sex as long as we don’t get
caught.

The possibilities boggle. And the
possibility of being discovered at any moment ratchets up my need
for variety. Ah, the glorious temptation of pretending to hate
Shades in front of the band but secretly fucking his brains out at
every opportunity gets the juices flowing anew.

I’m officially in love with this plan.

This is going to be the beginning of a
beautiful partnership.

Interlewd Two

It turns out undercover fucking does wonders
for inspiration. I spend the next few days working on songs with
Kate and Jinx. I ignore Shades, as he does me.

At least in public. Nobody
knows we’ve been texting each other on and off. He sends daily
sweet little ditties like,
I dreamed I
tied u facedown on a bed of hundred-dollar bills and drilled
u.
Or
I wanna
drizzle your ass cheeks with cum.
Or my
favorite,
I miss your pussy,
pussycat.

Isn’t he a doll?

The interaction and ensuing sexual tension
fucking rock, except for the fact that my phone is a hunk of
dinosaur dung, and it takes me ten minutes to reply. By the time I
shoot off my return message into cyberspace, the hotness of the
moment has passed.

Ah, well. At least our illicit
communications provide vivid fantasy stimulation while I’m churning
my butter alone in my bunk at night.

I try not to think about the phone charges
my mom’s gonna have to pay this month. Fuck it. I’ve been pretty
good about keeping my activity to a minimum until now.

First on my wish list when Cherry Buzz Float
makes it big: a smartphone.

“
Let’s take a quick break.
I need to refuel,” I say after a two-hour marathon session. “This
song has a lot of potential if we can just nail down the
chorus.”

Kate nods. “Yeah, we’re close.”

I love it when the three of us get into the
same headspace.

I pull out my trundle and fish around for a
protein bar.

Jillian grabs the hot pot and turns it on.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you eat real food since we got on this
bus.”

From the back, Shades catches my eye for a
split second, and then looks away. Jillian’s almost right. Shades
gave me the burger and fries on our first day, and he’s been
leaving me other stuff here and there. Yesterday, I found a wrapped
sandwich and a bag of chips in my bunk. No note. No comment. But I
knew it was Shades.