Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

“Bathroom,” she says.

Davis looks to me, and I pause, not good at this secret thing. Not good at hiding. I’ve never once in my life had to slink around. Women were proud of fucking me. They bragged about it. My first lay announced to the entire bus that she’d just finished popping my cherry. I barely had time to tuck my dick away before my dad and the rest of the band found their way back to the bunk to congratulate me.

“Me, too,” I announce.

Davis’s eyes dart from Landry to me and then back to his sister. “Okay, well, hurry back. I just bought these.”

Landry sinks back into her chair. Her lusty expression is replaced with apprehension. “I don’t need to go.” She eyes the beers. “And I’m not thirsty.”

“Well, I am. And a beer’s not killing me.” He thrusts out his chin.

And they arguing over beer? With a sigh, I join them.

“That set was good,” Davis says, setting down the beers. He grabs one and downs half of it, staring defiantly at his sister.

There’s a weird vibe here and it doesn’t seem at all related to the fact that Landry and I were fucking in the bathroom not so long ago.

“It was terrific,” Landry agrees. Her eyes are glued to the bottle in Davis’ hand.

“One of my favorite sets ever.” I can’t keep the smugness out of my voice.

Landry kicks me under the table. I reach underneath and catch her foot, slipping off her shoe and pressing my thumb into her arch. She slides down in her chair even farther, until the heel of her foot presses against my crotch. Davis, ever the dim, doesn’t notice.

“You excited, Landry?” He says, setting the beer down and pushing it slightly away.

I can see her tension recede.

“About what?” she asks.

“The ’rents are coming home in a week.”

She jerks upright and pats at her hair, as if her parents had walked in on us fooling around on the couch. “I forgot.”

Now it’s my turn to start chugging my beer. I have one more week with her and then it’s over? No. I don’t accept that. It’s time that Landry and I had a talk about this.

“I think we should stay at a hotel tonight,” I announce. I get to my feet and reach for my wallet.

“Can’t. Rudd invited the manager to the bus for a party tonight,” Davis informs me.

I pause in the process of throwing down a few bills. “When did that happen?”

“When you were fucking in the bathroom. Pay attention to the band and you might keep up.” Davis reaches for his half-empty beer. “Come on. Let’s go support TA and then get lit.”

Landry’s mouth presses into a tight line. “No. I’m not getting drunk with you. In fact, I think you’ve had plenty.”

“Whatever,” he says and pushes away from the table.

I wait until the crowd swallows him up before pointing at Landry. “Bus. Now.”

* * *

I take her on the table. The lights are off. Ed, our driver, is outside smoking a joint with TA’s driver, and we have a blessed moment of privacy.

“Anyone could walk in here right now,” I growl in her ear. Her hair is fisted in my hand and I tug it back. “Rudd, Ian. Anyone. They’d see your sweet ass and how well you take my cock.”

She whimpers, a reedy and wanton sound. I’d like to record it, play it on a track, layer over her sighs, the sounds of my flesh slapping into hers, and finish it with a smooth rendition of 50 Cent’s promise that he’s going to unbutton, lick, and touch just a little bit.

Of course, I want to do more than a little. I want to own her. I want to carve my name into her heart so that every time it beats, she hears the echo of my name in her ears. My feelings are barbaric and more than a little frightening, so I clench my teeth to keep them in, allowing only my body to show her how much I want her, how desperate I am for her.