Holding Charlee’s gaze, he lurched back toward the crowd until his body was once again bathed in spotlights. “I found my huntress.” His eyes seared into hers. “My Charlee. Let me be very clear.”
For the first time since the show began, he looked away from her and toward the audience. “No one fucks with my girl.” He squinted into the lights, sweeping a pointed finger over the endless landscape of faces. “No one.”
Huntress. Charlee. The titles of their biggest hit songs. Before she could ponder what the crowd must be thinking, his eyes swung to hers and he belted the first verse of the first song she’d ever heard by them. “Huntress of the room in my head. Fearless and knowing.” The fluctuation of his beautiful voice was as haunting as the muddy notes humming from his amp.
The roadie pointed at an X taped on the stage in front of the drum kit. Jay walked past the designated spot, whipping the power cord so that it dragged behind him unhindered. He didn’t see the roadie stomp a foot and point at the X again.
She covered her mouth to muffle a laugh. Must have been a new guy. Surely the seasoned ones were used to Jay’s rebellion.
For the remainder of the set, Jay’s stage presence remained in the shadows. His charisma radiated an energy that rooted inside her, transforming her. He sang his heart out, hitting octaves that vibrated her bones.
She latched onto the passion behind his words, let it weave through her soul. The aroma of his musk-laced sweat rode on her inhales, fueling her body and rendering her paralyzed. She couldn’t avert her eyes from his smoldering ones as he performed song after song written for her.
On the fringe of her periphery, Laz and Wil jumped around center stage, their heads nodding to the beat of their instruments, in sync with the verve heaving from the crowd. The fog of pungent smoke—which could only be produced from the greenery passing through the crowd—was thick enough to drown out the perfume-weighted estrogen fuming behind her.
When the last note of the encore buzzed from Jay’s amp and drifted through the house, he yanked out the power jack. Holding the guitar out to the side, he didn’t look at the roadie who grabbed it. His eyes were on her, and they were hungry.
Applause thundered behind him as he inched closer. Arousal mounted on his face and pressed against his fly. Shit. Was he going to fuck her right there?
He reached for his belt buckle, released it. Unzipped his pants. The head of his erection pushed through the open flaps. He rolled back his shoulders.
Oh God. This was what he did after his shows. He didn’t have to leave the stage. His choice of lays would’ve been waiting in the wing. She squared her shoulders. He didn’t need them anymore.
But was that what she wanted? To go at it right there in view of the crew breaking down the equipment?
Her * throbbed. Exhibitionism defined the whole of her sexual history with Roy. Every interaction recorded and observed. It should’ve deterred her from wanting that with Jay, but like all her sexual desires, she craved it in spite of her initiation to it.
Nathan and Tony stood near the stage curtain. Charlee caught Nathan’s gaze, reached for the hem of her skirt, and sent him a silent plea to look the other way.
He tapered his eyes, clenched his jaw, and put his mouth at Tony’s ear. A few words passed between them, and he moved toward the wing, turning his back. Tony’s vigil returned to Charlee and Jay and everyone around them.
“Charlee.” Jay’s gaze made an explorative journey over her body, pooling heat everywhere it idled. He went back to her face, his tongue rolling over his bottom lip.
She gathered the skirt and bunched it up her hips until her thighs were bare. Biting down on a fingernail, she spread her legs.
63
The click-clack of multiple heels stampeded over Charlee’s shoulder. The groupies must have been released from their cage.
She straightened her spine, but in the next breath, she forgot why. Jay was on her. His hands bit into her thighs. Moved to her hips. Ripped the strings on her panties. The ruined lace dropped somewhere behind him. His tongue pushed past her lips, slashing with hers. She raised her pelvis, meeting his groin, grinding, unbidden and impatient.
A long-lost sensation uncoiled and heated where he thrust against her. The tease of penetration. The aggression. The onlookers. The threat of Roy in this public place. Her adrenaline spiked. Heaven help her. If he fucked her, she might come.
“Charlee, fuck. Tell me I’m not dreaming. You’re my here, my now, and God, if I’m lucky, my hereafter.”
The force behind his words illuminated their darkened recess. She sighed into his mouth and wrapped her fingers around his length. “If you throw me down and fuck me, I’ll be your hereunder.”
A shadow fell over them. Felica curled her pleathered body against his side, one hard nipple poking out of her low neckline.