We all have vices. Sean, he loves a good microbrew. He’s the most health conscious of us and doesn’t overindulge in much of anything. But get the man inside a brewery and he’ll drown himself before anyone can drag him out.
Austin loves the hard liquor, but once he pounds back a few drinks his biggest vice is a pack of cigarettes. An on and off and on again smoker, he can easily go a few days without a smoke—mostly because we don’t want him smelling up the bus. But give him a shot of vodka and he’ll bum a cig off a homeless person.
Iz is stuck in a 70’s time warp. Boy loves his recreational drugs and does them like they aren’t illegal. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna end up dead or in jail one of these days, but as long as he can play drums, it isn’t our place to interfere.
Me? My stimulus of choice will always be pussy. Sure, I get that it’s not technically a drug, but it should be. Bottle that shit and sell it, and I guarantee the world will be a much happier place. Can you imagine? Everyone walking around fully satisfied like they just got some. Well, I guess not everyone. You’d still have straight women because most of them don’t want pussy, but to be honest, they’re unpredictable as fuck anyway. Take the fact I could screw a woman senseless and she’d still bitch and whine at my ass later, easily forgetting the orgasmic bliss I delivered only moments prior. Tally it up to one of the many reasons I don’t do relationships. Way too much work, and the return on investment is not worth the short-term dividends.
We’re staying over in Charlotte and I should be ecstatic knowing I’ll be getting a hit of my drug of choice by night’s end. But ever since I snuck a peek at Lexi’s warm up today, I’ve been wrestling with an unusual and alarming predicament. Mr. Trent. My dick. I can’t get him up.
Actually, I can, but only when I imagine Lexi’s red painted lips wrapped around the fucker ... the way she had them against the mic. And that’s a problem. Big problem.
First of all, we made a pact at the beginning of this tour. No one fucks Lexi. I gave my word, and I never go back on a promise. I sure as hell don’t go back on my word for pussy. Lexi’s great and I’m sure she’s phenomenal in bed, but there’s a line of women waiting to fuck me after every show. Black, white, short, tall, skinny, curvy, and everything in between. I’m an equal opportunity employer. But tonight I don’t even have to make the choice. Not with Cora here, expecting what I should be. Only I’d rather trade the supermodel for a certain blonde with a smart mouth. My dick has never been so particular.
Damn it, Trent.Get your head in the game.
Cora grins, a seductive smile just for me, leaning across the table as we finish up dinner in the hotel restaurant they opened up exclusively for our group. She’s beautiful. Sweet.Flexible.There’s no doubt what she wants for dessert. She’s offering up her luscious body on a platter, a rare repeat hookup whom I never turn down. With her there are no expectations, only fantastic sex. She’s single. I’m single. We hook up. It’s an unspoken rule. Why would I want to fuck that up? I haven’t been this confused since high school calculus.
The entire meal I’ve been glancing over my shoulder, expecting that maybe Lexi would join us, but I guess it’s probably better she didn’t. Then I’d be in even more of a conundrum. At least now I’m only resisting the image of her. If the real life version had joined us, I’m not sure I’d be able. Not that she’d want me. Fuck, how messed up is that.
“Trent?” Cora’s sweet voice breaks my thoughts and her captive eyes hold my stare.
“What’s up?”
Her lips lift, and she tilts her head toward the bank of elevators. This is it. This is my moment. I don’t turn down nights with Cora Bentley. Not because I’m weak, but because she’s a fucking goddess and good in the sack. If I start now ...
I don’t want to change. I like my life. My lifestyle. I love women. That doesn’t change because some sexy little singer joins the tour.
“Let’s go,” I say, standing from the table. “Later, guys. It’s been real.”
They offer their good-byes and Cora wraps her arm around my waist, a perfect fit against my side and good for balance, too. We’ve been drinking whiskey since the show ended and that shit sneaks up, stealing my ability to walk a straight line before I even feel drunk.
We make it inside the elevator, and I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. Everything is fine. I can do this. I want to do this. I want to do her.
She giggles. “Everything all right?”
No, you want Lexi Marx.
My eyes snap open and I meet Cora’s flirty smile in the mirror’s reflection. I open my mouth, not quite sure what I want to say. We reach my floor and the door slides open with a ding. “I’m pretty fucked up right now.”
Cora laughs, her shoulders shaking with the sound, and we walk down the corridor until I find my door. “Let’s get you undressed and in bed, big boy.” She pats my stomach, skirting her fingertips down the material until they rest over the front of my jeans. My dick kicks with appreciation.Maybe this can work.I pull my keycard from my back pocket and wave it in front of the sensor above the handle. The light blinks from red to green just as there’s a click from behind.
I glance over my shoulder and there she is.
Fucking Lexi.
Walking around in an oversized sweatshirt. She does it all the time on the bus. It’s not her fault she’s so petite, but she swims in those sweatshirts. My gaze is drawn to the strong, toned muscles of her legs. The thrill of thinking she’s naked is a rush, but then with a lift of her arms my dreams are crushed by the sight of her tight little shorts, only to be turned on again at the way they fit like a second skin.
“Sorry. Ice.” She flicks her lip ring and it’s then I realize I’ve been staring.
I clear my throat. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m just—” My chin turns to where Cora leans inside my open doorway.
“Yeah. I can see.” Lexi’s eyes dart down the hall. “Well, I better ...”
“Yeah, I better ...”
“Have a good night, Trent.” Her face shows no emotion at all. No joy. No anger. Nothing. Just that stupid hotel ice bucket clenched in her grip. What I wouldn’t give to know her thoughts. She lifts her chin. “Night, Cora.”
“Night, Lexi,” Cora sings, a smile in her voice, and before Lexi can walk away Cora’s hand dips inside the waistband of my jeans and she yanks me inside the room. “Come on, Trent. Bedtime.”
