Page 84 of Revel
In a matter of weeks, he’s taken over my entire world. Revel’s breath is harsh and ragged against my neck. I love how caught up in the moment he gets. How this wild man you see on stage and the quiet one backstage is nothing compared to the one I get now, the one so completely undone formehe’s begging and pleading for more. “Fuck,” he groans, his hand sliding up to my waist, to my breasts. His eyes are set on mine, but then he drops them lower to where we’re connected, watching himself slide in and out of me. My eyes follow and focus on the tightness in his abdomen and sheen of sweat that’s gathered over his skin, the dampness on his brow and the way the rays of light leaking through the stage illuminate his body and mine.
I’m not exactly sure what compels me to do this, but I wrap my legs around him tighter and then lie back against the box, my body laid out before him. Revel’s hand goes to my clit. We’re too caught up and it doesn’t take long before I start to unravel beneath him, spread out and bathed in neon lights. I feel beautiful in the harsh light, alive, consumed.
“Don’t stop,” I cry, my voice pleading. “God, Rev, I’m going to come. . . .”
But he does stop. Suddenly he withdraws his hand, flips me over so that my chest is pressed into the box and then roughly grabs my hips to enter me again. It’s not gentle or even comfortable as he pumps into me faster, grunting with each thrust. “This is what you do to me. You leave me wanting more,” he whispers, his movements so hard and painful, I want to tell him to stop, but I don’t.
I start to cry out because even though I didn’t get to finish, it still feels amazing having him hit the deepest parts of me. His hand presses my face down against the metal, the cold a relief in comparison to the heat from the two of us. Leaning forward, he keeps one hand firmly on my hips, gripping me so hard I think it’s going to bruise later while the other fists in my hair. Tugging harshly, he yanks my head back so that his mouth finds mine, hunching over me and driving my hips into his.
He grunts as the release claims him, making his body shudder and shake violently behind mine. His mouth parts from mine as he lets out a low groan, face pinched in ecstasy. It’s freaking hot, yet damaging all the same. Part of me feels used because he didn’t wait for me. He purposely turned me around when he knew I was going to come.
His pace slows, then stops altogether. With his breathing heavy, his grip on me loosens, and he lifts up, one arm supporting his weight. Twisting around, I let a hand drift up to the side of his face, running my fingertips along the edge of his cheek, and for a split second, he opens his eyes to me. I want to see warmth and the connection reach his eyes. And when I don’t see it, a hint of fear hits me when I realize it’s sadness. His lids fall shut, and then he kisses me again, this time harder.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, my voice soft and timid.
He doesn’t answer me. I know he heard me because his eyes meet mine, but no explanation is given.
Straightening his posture, he slides out of me and my breathing begins to even out. Only Revel’s doesn’t. Something isn’t right. Shaking, he begins gasping and yanks up his jeans, fastening them just as quickly. Leaning into the box, his hands find his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, his entire body trembling now.
He looks over at me, almost confused as he continues breathing heavily, trying to keep his lips closed, but eventually he gives up and gasps for air. His head slumps forward as he pants in harsh breaths, drowned out by the cheering of the crowd behind us. I shift on the box, reaching for my shirt and then my pants he hands me.
When our eyes finally catch after I’m finally dressed, he stands there staring at me for a moment, the rush of the moment wearing off. My pulse should be pounding, but it’s struggling to even beat at this point. With the way he’s looking at me, I’m dying trying to decipher the look on his face but I can’t. He’s normally so sure of himself, but right now, he looks uncertain. Something flickers in his eyes, though, a realization I can see. Of what, I don’t know. Rejection maybe. Does he think this isn’t going to work? Did I do something wrong? Where’d the change happen? Did I miss it? What the hell is going on?
And I want to scream all of that in his face, but then he moves away from me, quickly, telling me he’s going to be sick. He finds a nearby trash can and vomits.
Fearing he’s going to hurt himself or smack his head on a bar underneath the stage and pass out, I follow him. Hovering over a trash can, he looks back at me, and then the can again. He doesn’t get sick again but sinks to the concrete floor, his face in his hands.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
He looks up at me, his eyes so bloodshot, so lost, I gasp. “No.”
I sit down next to him and wrap my arms around my legs, our shoulders touching. “What can I do?”
He presses his forehead against his forearm and shakes his head back and forth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s crying by the subtle shake of his shoulders. “Just don’t leave me.”
I don’t. I wrap my arms around him and hold him because if I can’t change the look in his eyes, I can at least do this for him.
REALITY COMES CRASHING IN
TAYLAN
I knew the stories were coming after that performance, and though Revel told me not to read them, and broke my phone after I did, I can’t forget what they said about us.
POP PRINCESS GETTING HOT AND HEAVY WITH THE BAD BOY OF ROCK!The surprise performance at Madison Square Garden got a huge reaction from fans, many excited to see their chemistry on stage, but their actions leave most obsessing over if there’s more to their relationship away from the public eye. The question remains, are they together or not?
I take in Revel’s appearance before the show in Denver two nights after our performance at Madison Square Garden. His attitude, his demeanor, it’s all different and a product of the bottle of wine he consumes during the meet and greet. I try to take it away from him, as does Liz, and even Cruz, but I’m beginning to understand that if Revel doesn’t want to listen to you, he won’t.
During the meet and greet, he’s clearly drunk and bordering on obnoxious. He signs a lady’s tits, shoves a male fan away from me when he tries to get a little grabby, and then proceeds to tell another he can suck his dick because he’s not playing “Disturbed” tonight, a song he wrote with Hensley.
I attempt to take the bottle from him once more when the fans are ushered out and it’s just me and his band, and the drunk guy. Revel raises the bottle in the air, his cheeks flushed and smiles. “Let’s celebrate.”
“Celebrate what, bud?” Cruz laughs, running his hand over the back of his neck, clearly done with Revel’s outbursts for the week. Believe me, this isn’t the first time we’ve had to take alcohol away from him, and drugs.
He doesn’t answer Cruz. Instead, he grabs my hand and yanks me toward him and onto his lap, the wine in his other hand. He doesn’t smile. In fact, there’s a hardness to his eyes I haven’t seen in a while. I touch his face, leaning into him. “Maybe it’s time you stop drinking for the day. I think you’ve had enough.” I try again to reach for the bottle.
He pulls it back making a humming sound. “Nobody tells me when I’ve had enough. Not even you, Princess.”
The harshness of his words sink in, but it’s heavy eyes set on mine that holds me in place. For a moment. “Yeah? Well. . . .” I stand, pushing away from him. “You can suck my ginger balls. Nobody talks to me like that either.”
