Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

It’s a beautiful thing.

A goddamned glorious thing.

I let go myself, pummeling her soft frame with my hard one. Her voice hits a high, thin note as she comes again on my dick. Her sweet, sticky essence coats my shaft. I fuck her hard until the last drop of come jets out of me. I drop my forehead against the wall next to her head and try to catch my breath.

“That was—”

“You okay in there, Adam?” A hard bang on the door jolts us both upright.

Landry nearly breaks my dick in her scramble to get off me and out of my arms.

“Oh my God.” Her mouth forms the words, but no sound comes out.

Davis. That boy has the fucking worst timing.

“Get out,” Landry hisses.

I grab some toilet paper and hand it to her. She grimaces as the rough paper scrapes against her delicate, swollen parts.

“Sorry,” I mouth, grabbing my own wad of toilet paper, which I use to wipe myself off. I toss the trash into the toilet while Landry scrambles around for her panties.

“Someone missing these?” Davis toes a scrap of red silk under the stall door. Any other time, I’d be laughing, too, but I value my dick too much to allow even an upward tilt to my lips. A quick peek at Landry’s red cheeks tells me I made the right choice.

An expression of horror across her face, she leans down and swipes the panties up, balling the sexy underwear in her hand. Too bad. I was thinking of pocketing those.

“Go,” she mouths again and points a finger at the door.

I tuck my dick away, pull up my jeans, and slide out, careful not to open the door too far. It doesn’t matter, though, because Davis is at the urinal wall, pissing.

He looks over his shoulder. “Wondered why you were in such a hurry. Thought you had the runs or something.”

“Or something,” I mutter as I wash my hands.

How long is he going to take? Landry’d kill me if I abandon her in the bathroom while her brother is still here. Davis finally finishes and comes over to wash his hands beside me.

“So fucking some chick is more important than starting our set on time?” he grouches.

I rub my hands a little harder. “I was two minutes late and no one noticed or cared.”

“I noticed. So did Hollister.”

Christ. How much longer is he going to wash his hands? Our hands are so clean, we could be readying for surgery.

“I hope your groupie was worth risking pissing off the crowd.” A low, angry sound emanates from the stall. Davis freezes, shoots a questioning look over his shoulder, then laughs. “Sounds like you had a live one.”

He rips off a length of paper towel, dries his hands, then tosses it in the trash. On his way out of the bathroom, he bangs on the stall door. “I’m the one wearing the blue T-shirt, sweetheart, if you’re interested in another go-around.”

Inside the stall, there’s a gagging noise.

He turns and frowns. “You bring a drunk girl back and fuck her, Adam? Dude, that’s not right.”

I run a hand wearily across my forehead. “She wasn’t drunk. She’s probably getting sick on toilet fumes. Come on, she’s shy.” I drag Davis out of the bathroom and shove him toward the front. “Get your own damn girl. This one’s mine.”

He cranes his head backward. “Really? I wanna meet her then. You haven’t hooked up once since we went on tour and this one you were in such a hurry to fuck, you had to do her in the men’s room?”

“I had no idea you were so interested in my sex life. I’ll be sure to run all my potentials past you first.” Not so gently, I drag him toward Ian and Rudd, who are leaning against the bar.

“That’s not a bad idea.”