She smiled. “No groveling needed.”
The bathroom door opened, and a brunette swayed out, nude and smiling. Her gaze shifted from Charlee to beyond Charlee’s shoulder, and her smile widened. “Oh. My. God. It’s Jay Mount-Me Mayard!” She bounced up and down, as did her tits.
Charlee shook her head, lips curving up, and moved down the aisle toward the galley. Jay pressed against her back, arms hooked around her belly, breath hot on her neck.
Poor guy was probably terrified one of the girls might touch him, and not for the reasons he’d once had. He didn’t need to worry. The fact that he’d tracked her down and accepted her sexuality in the dungeon was a comfort no one had ever shown her. His commitment and loyalty had restored her trust in him.
She twisted her neck and kissed his pinched lips. “Fucktillion ways to entertain themselves? I’m just now getting the meaning of that.” Wasn’t the first time groupies came aboard the bus, but the orgies were usually contained to the hotel rooms. She kissed him again until his lips relaxed and parted. “See anyone you know?” She didn’t want the answer to that, but the question tumbled out unbidden.
His eyes widened, and he croaked, “No, Charlee. God, I’m not…”
“Jay Mount-Me Mayard? I’ve got two hours in a dungeon that proves the mounting.”
The engine purred, and the bus rolled into traffic. Nathan exchanged a few words with Colson and stood at the center of the lounge, hands on his hips. “All right, ladies. The fuckateria is closed for the night. We’re dropping you back at the hotel. You can catch cabs from there.”
Moans volleyed back. A pair of fuchsia panties landed on his chest and dropped to the aisle.
Chuckling, Charlee rifled through the fridge and removed lunchmeat and condiments. “Hard salami sandwich, baby?”
A smile pulled the tightness from his lips. “You don’t need to wait on me.” Jay uncurled his body from hers and tugged the wrap of meat from her hands. By the time he devoured his second sandwich, the bus was pulling away from the hotel, leaving behind the smiling, sated groupies.
Sitting at the foldout table in the galley, he inhaled the last bite and rubbed his stomach, exposing a band of golden skin in the process. Her fingers itched to feel the muscle beneath. She crawled over the seat beside him, ducked her head, and bit him above the belt buckle.
His hands flew to her head and his abs rippled against her lips. “Keep doing that, and I’m going to take you right here on the table.”
Footsteps approached behind her, and Jay covered his eyes, groaning. She glanced over her shoulder and exploded in laughter.
Laz bent at the waist and dug through the galley cabinet, clad in a too-tight gold thong.
“Jesus, man.” Jay’s forehead hit the table top. “We talked about this. No grape-smugglers.”
Unscrewing a jar of peanut butter, Laz looked over his shoulder and tugged the gold strip from the clench of his ass. “What’s wrong with the rockstrap?”
“Rockstrap?” Charlee’s amusement shriveled as he reached his thong-tugging hand toward the open jar of peanut butter. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. He plunged his fingers inside. “Put your name on that jar. It’s all yours.”
He narrowed his eyes at his snack and shrugged. “I don’t know how Jay rocks with his cock on the loose. The rockstrap—” he snapped the string on his hip “—keeps the twig and giggles from bobbing and chafing on stage.”
Jay raised his head. “Did your parents have any children that lived?”
Lifting a glob of peanut butter to his mouth, Laz swirled his tongue over his fingers in a disturbingly erotic fashion. “You know, Jay, I was so miserable without you on the bus today, it was almost like having you here.”
And so the barbs continued for the rest of the day and however many miles through Louisiana and Mississippi. Laz modeled his collection of rockstraps, Wil and Rio played video games, and Nathan and Tony drifted into the back lounge.
Jay led her to their cozy bunk where he described the beaches he would take her to and the cabin in the Canadian Boundary Waters that he would transform to accommodate a BDSM dungeon.
For the duration of the tour, however, their quad-axle home was her icon of security. There were no untrustworthy staff members. No automation systems to hack. No concealed corners where Craigs could hide in wait.
But as the next venue grew closer, anxiety built in her belly. Nathan and Faye worked a legal offense against Roy, using Ella as fuel, and what they found was an all too common story. Ella met Roy once while he dined at the restaurant she worked at. Her payment was delivered in cash by a third party. Nothing connected her to Roy. Her word against his.
A dead-end prosecution was the lawful approach. Follow the legal system, let justice take him down.