Page 10 of Revel
Sighing, I roll my eyes, wanting to punch myself. I have to get her to stop talking. “Yeah, totally fuckin’ crazy.” Leading her to the back of the bus, I leave the sliding door open and lean back on the L-shaped couch. Reaching for my belt buckle, I nod to her. “On your knees.”
Naturally, given who I am, she doesn’t think to question this and does exactly as I say. Fun fact, any chick I bring on the bus, or back to my room, they usually steal my clothes. Problem is I don’t have a lot on to begin with, so losing even one piece could mean full nudity. They’ll take anything, man. Socks, shirts, pants, shoes a few times, and almost always, if I’m wearing any, my underwear. I’ve seen it on eBay once. Let me tell you, it’s awkward walking back to the bus in the morning stark-ass naked, but it’s been done many times. Since those incidents, it’s like a game to me to see if I can get laid fully clothed.
Blow jobs work the best when you’re short on time and want to keep your clothes.
Almost immediately this chick starts deep throating me and staring at me like she’s ready to scribble my name on her binder with hearts and arrows. They’re all the same. Fucking groupies.
I will say this. She’s skilled and knows how to work her tongue ring around the dick piercing I have without getting the two tangled. I’m impressed.
It’s about a minute into it when I hear commotion on the bus and wouldn’t you know it, there’s an audience. Pop princess has arrived with her entourage. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but I know those red curls anywhere.
Taylan’s eyes flash theatrically, and then her gaze clings to my face. Despite what I think of her professionally, she’s hot, and I’d like to fuck her. I’m not sure what it is, maybe because it’s Taylan Ash who is standing there staring at me while this chick is sucking my dick, but it sends me over the edge, and I come in the blonde chick’s mouth.
With my hand buried in her hair, securing her face to my cock, she sucks up every bit of cum and then smiles, finally noticing the two people behind us. “Oh, uh. . . .” Her timid voice trails off, pink in her cheeks but it’s nowhere near the redness in Taylan’s.
Righting my jeans, I motion to the girl on her knees. “It’s time for you to go.”
Our tour manager slips in and helps her off the bus, his eyes on mine like he can’t believe I just did that, but it really shouldn’t be a surprise to him. I’ve certainly done worse.
Do you notice the pop princess still standing on the bus, color in her cheeks and disgust in her eyes? She hasn’t moved. Not an inch. It’s almost like she’s locked in this battle with herself. Should she stay or should she go?
But I notice something. This princess is looking for a king.
WHAT THE HELL?
TAYLAN
My stare locks on Revel’s, revealing a clouded mixture of restlessness and curiosity. I want to look away, Christ, I want to so badly, but can’t. Hell, even Bella who usually has something to say about everything is either starstruck or taking pointers on the girl’s technique. I’m not entirely sure. As disgusting as it is to see, it’s equally fascinating witnessing him in this position, and I’m trying to keep myself staring when I see him tucking himself back into his jeans. Just a quick peek won’t hurt anyone, right?
Girl, you know I looked! Did you? Pft, you did. Don’t be ashamed. And I know, you weren’t disappointed.
Despite this, I roll my eyes, showing him, or rather trying to convince him—and maybe myself—that I’m unfazed by his petty antics to get a rise out of me. I don’t care if he fucks the entire planet.
Bull-fucking-shit. I do care. I can’t tell you why but the pounding in my chest, the warmth that runs through my body watching him reach his climax, I care more than I want to make of it. I care so much, I’m practically burning a hole through her as she shuffles past me, and him as he stands there in stoic silence watching for my reaction, his taunting eyes over the brim of his shades never leaving mine, and I know in this moment I’m being tested. My first of many on this tour.
He’s still standing there, waiting for a reaction from me. The longer we stare at each other, the more I’m weakened, falling under his spell. It’s a sweet yet bitter fog only he can create around me. It’s sexual and completely inescapable. I want to hate him, if not more than I did before. How can men do this to you? How can they have such control? Does it happen to you?
I attempt to break free, blinking a few times rapidly, but for the life of me, Ican’t. Or maybe it’s that I don’t want to? I’m playing with fire, but I want to see what he’s going to say to me.
Stepping out from the back of the bus, he fastens his belt buckle as he walks toward us. Revel lifts his sunglasses and winks at Bella.
He invades my space, his warmth radiating into me, and his lips find the shell of my ear. “Enjoy the show?”
Utterly embarrassed, I try to say something in reply, but my mouth won’t form the words.
Remember that girl who was confident yesterday and knew she could handle a tour with a bunch of rock stars? Yeah. Me neither. What thefuckwas I thinking?
“You’re disgusting.”
His side smirk lingers even behind the cigarette now placed between his lips, Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” playing in the background. How damn cliché. “Yet I bet your panties are wet thinkin’ of me making you bleed.”
I blink. Twice. “What. . . why would I bleed?”
He raises an eyebrow, and then rights his sunglasses, bowing his head to his lighter, the cigarette between his lips coming to life, the solitary flame illuminating the stubborn shadow draped across his face.
With a nudge from Bella, it dawns on me what he’s referring to. “I’m not a…” He thinks I’m a virgin. Again. Such a jerk. I blow off my embarrassment with, “Whatever. Think what you want. You’re disgusting, and I wouldn’t want you, let alone allow you to touch me, ever.”
There’s something about the arrogant set of his jaw that makes him look scary. He inhales deeply, maybe from boredom and then shrugs. “Then why are you still standing here?” he asks, his deep voice fit for blues and just as intimidating. He takes a drag on his cigarette, waiting for me to react.
