They offer up muffled goodbyes as they exit the tiny dressing room and the minute the door is shut and they’re all gone, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Brit—I didn’t even realize that was her name until she introduced herself to everyone—is on me the second that they’re gone, her mouth finding mine as she grinds her tight body against me.
“I thought they’d never leave,” she murmurs against my lips before she dives her tongue into my mouth.
&nb
sp; I kiss her for a while and then push her away, taking a couple of steps back for some much-needed space. “Don’t know if I want to do this.”
Huh. When do I not want to do this? I’m all about the quick fuck in a dressing room, hotel room, on the tour bus. Hell, wherever I can get it. I’ve lost track of how many women I’ve been with over the summer.
Too many to mention.
But now I can’t get Ellie’s face out of my mind. The flash of pain in her eyes when our gazes met. Seeing me with Brit hurt her.
I don’t know if she’ll forgive me for what she witnessed.
“What do you mean, lover?” Brit rests her hand over my dick, giving it a squeeze. “You seem ready to go to me.”
I remove her hand from my crotch. “Yeah. Not right now.”
Anger lights up her eyes. They’re pale blue and a little freaky. “So when? A few minutes? You want to change? I get it. You’re all sweaty and worked up.” She rests her hands on my shoulders, letting them roam over my chest. “I can help you burn off all that energy rumbling inside of you.”
Her words are tempting. She’s describing exactly what I’m feeling. I guess she’s done this before. How else would she get backstage when I didn’t invite her? Security must know who she is.
A groupie. It doesn’t matter what band you’re in, she’ll do you just for the clout.
“I don’t know…” My voice drifts.
She drops to her knees.
And I don’t stop her.
I show up at my apartment an hour later, freshly showered and without a lick of Brit’s cloying perfume on me. When she was finished, we shared a bottle of Jack, though I drank most of it. Kicked her out of the dressing room when I realized she wasn’t going anywhere. Cleaned up, then got an Uber home because I didn’t drive to Strummers, knowing I would get fucked up when my performance was over.
This is it for me this summer. My rock star moments are finished—for now. I still want to produce music. Write a few songs. Plan for a tour next summer. Maybe even put together a record—independently of course.
I don’t want some asshole in a suit telling me what to do.
The Uber driver drops me off in front of my apartment building and I climb out of the car, staring at my door. I can hear music coming from inside. The sound of raucous laughter. My heart immediately lightens and I feel like I’m home. With my friends.
Where I belong.
I march up the walkway and barge in through the door, throwing my arms up as soon as I enter. “The party can begin!” I yell.
There are at least thirty people crowded in my living and dining room, if not more, and all of them roar in approval when they spot me. I see members of our football team. Faces I don’t recognize whatsoever. Lots of pretty girls eyeing me up and down. And scattered among them all, my closest friends.
“You made it,” Eli says as he approaches me. He pulls me in for another hug and murmurs close to my ear, “Just a warning, but my girl and her best friend are plotting your death.”
“Noted,” I tell him with a firm nod, pulling away from him. “I should avoid?”
“At all costs,” Eli says seriously, which is not a normal look for him.
I knew Ellie would be sad. A little mad. But plotting my death?
I bet I can convince her what I did wasn’t so bad. I have in the past.
God, I’m such a dick. She should run screaming from me.