Three Rockstars of Sin

So yeah, my man wasn’t happy with the purchase at first, but it was starting to grow on him. Maybe he wouldn’t admit it, but he loved flying in style just like the rest of us.

In fact, it was fucking amazing, thinking back to all the jocks that shoved us around back in high school. Those were the tumultuous years. The “cool kids” tortured the three of us just because they could.

Now, while they coached peewee football in northern Maine, we were traveling the world. Girls screamed our names while tiny boys screamed theirs.

I could just imagine, “Coach Curt! Coach Curt! I peed my pants!”

It felt good to know that hard work had finally paid off. Hundreds of guitar and singing lessons, the money we invested in Gunner’s drum-kit—there was a rhyme and reason to all this.

“You do own your life—and an airline,” I noted. Luxury was awesome. Maybe it wasn’t what we grew up with, but sometimes change is good.

“True.” Hudson looked around, his smirk growing. “Fuckin’ amazing, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Gunner growled. “I told you assholes it’d be like this someday. And now you believe me.”

Because Gunner was the dreamer. Even when we were playing in our shitty middle school garage band, Gunner always had his sights set on something bigger.

Turns out he was right.

I sat back in my chair, lounging. It was just after eleven in the morning. As far as we were concerned, it was too early to fly anywhere.

Because yeah, we got smashed after the Detroit show. After meeting our new personal assistant, the three of us needed some relaxation. Sure, pouncing on the little girl right then was an option, but it was too soon. After all, Hard Fought was hardly a group of gentlemen, but we were a group of professionals. Scaring off young women was not something that any of us aspired to do.

“One more city done,” Gunner said. “Chicago next, and about a million more to go.”

He was right. Touring was always long. In reality, there were only forty-seven cities on the itinerary, but they all blended into one another. Each time we visited a new place, time started to drag.

At the beginning of this whole thing, the three of us had been psyched to get on the road and play sold-out stadiums and amphitheaters. At least I was. Plus, it had been two years since we last toured in the United States. But as the weeks went on, something changed. The intense scheduling was starting to wear me down, and although I usually knew what my bros were thinking, I didn’t this time.

Well, at least not about the tour.

But I knew what they were thinking about on a personal level.

Because we all wanted our new assistant, Kate.

Speaking of the temptress, it sounded like she was nearby. The plump angel was the only other person that we were waiting for, and the sound of squeaking sneakers told me that it had to be her. What was up with the sneakers, anyways? And the khakis and polo shirts? I’ve never understood women who downplayed their assets, but there are always firsts.

We turned upon hearing the approaching footsteps.

“Miss Jugs herself,” Gunner growled.

And seconds later, Kate came on board. Fortunately, she didn’t hear Gunner’s predatory comment. Good, because I wouldn’t have blamed her if she quit.

And fuck, but the girl was beautiful.

She was still wearing that white polo shirt and those stupid khaki pants. They weren’t sexy clothes at all, but on a girl like Kate, shit, they were mind-blowing. I didn’t even hear the squeaky shoes anymore because my focus was on her massive breasts.

Oh yeah. Fantasy-level double-Ds bounced just right. God damn, I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on those tits. She was sexy as fuck and even that plain outfit couldn’t hide her thick lusciousness.

Her melons pressed up and out under the shirt, nipples tight as little hard candy kernels ready for me to suck. And her ass...fuck. I couldn’t wait to get into that.

Gunner looked at me, then we both exchanged glances with Hudson who was practically salivating and rubbing his cock right in front of her.

Fuck.

We couldn’t wait to get into that.

And the best part of this? We were all alone. One of the perks of owning our own airline was that we were riding alone with Kate to Chicago. Everybody else was on a second plane that had already left an hour before ours. They had to set shit up, while we sat back and enjoyed the ride.

This is the life.

And yet, our victim didn’t even realize.

The eighteen-year-old goddess came on board with a little clipboard, barely paying attention to where she was, looking down, all business. And at the last step to get into the plane, she tripped. Instantly, I jumped up to catch her before the brunette tumbled.