PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE (32 page)

Concern flickered
across his face, but he swiftly brushed it aside. I appreciated that – that he
cared, and that he cared enough to not try and force me to open up.

“Of course,” Trent
smiled, pulling me into his embrace. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

My hand brushed
against the bulge of his cock, and I grinned wickedly up at him.

“I can think of a few things to fill the time…”

“Oh yeah?” He
chuckled.

“That’s right,” I
whispered, unzipping him. I could already sense heat emanating from the growing
bulge, and I lowered my face as I withdrew his thick, mighty weapon…

Chapter
19

Trent

We settled into a fun
routine over the following few weeks as our band tour finally wound down.

Working on material
while Angel slept.

Chatting, eating
together during downtime.

Practicing with the
band.

Rocking out onstage.

Briefly appearing at
the after-parties.

Finally, taking Angel
in my bed.

It was the perfect
routine. Out on the road, doing what I love, and coming back to the bus with
the girl I had slowly turned into my own, private sex fiend.

She might have been a
virgin, but she was making up for lost time. Angel loved fucking everywhere she
could, burning through my extensive repertoire of sex positions, and just flat
out reveling in our contact together.

Which didn’t bother
me one bit.

Besides being
physically a challenge in the bedroom, she still contested me mentally. She was
always trying to pry into my head and figure me out.

For someone who had
been stuck in the sticks for as long as she had, Angel had ideas – big ideas...

To my total surprise,
she was fun to brainstorm with. I’d sit in the room and write poetry – pretty
much the closest you can get to a song when you lack the instrumentals – and I
let her read some of it sometimes.

Angel made solid
suggestions, and helped me tighten up some of the lyrics. I’d sing a few parts,
here and there, and she’d recommend different tones or help guide me a little
in the delivery. The girl was a natural.

Sometimes we listened
to recorded jam sessions together when a song was coming along. I played a few
studio session snippets, singing some of my lyrics over them.

And the feedback she
gave?

Golden.

It was fresh… Almost
naive. A new take on the sound.

Where did this fucking girl come from?

Of course, I knew
that. I’d plucked her out of that place, thinking she was a challenging, hot piece
of ass that I couldn’t bear to part with.

Turns out I’d found
myself a diamond in the rough. Angel was proving herself incredibly useful in
ways I hadn’t even remotely considered.

She held up to her
end of things.
 
She was like a ghost
to the rest of the band, but I knew she was getting bored. Restless.

That’s how I noticed
her penchant for drumming her fingers. I didn’t think much of it at first, but
the more that she did it, I realized that she was pretty good at keeping
rhythm.

“Do that again,” I
asked her one day.

“Hmm?”

“With your fingers.”

“You mean, this?”

She rattled out a
slight beat.

“Yeah. Do that again.
Faster.”

She did so.

“Do it four times in
a row.”

Angel looked at me
oddly, but complied.

“You can hold
rhythm,” I observed. “And you’re pretty talented at it, from what I can tell…”

“Is that good?”

“It means you might
make a decent drummer someday,” I chuckled. “If Dylan ever drops dead on us,
that could be useful.”

We were interrupted
by a knock at the door.

“Yo, we’re refueling
for the road,” Terence called out. “You need anything?”

“Come on in,” I
called out.

Terence quietly let
himself into the room, smiling politely to my girl. “Hiya, Angel. You enjoying
yourself?”

“When someone’s here,
yeah,” she smiled.

Of course, out of everyone around us who would be even remotely civil
about Angel being around, it’s my bassist.
I
didn’t overlook that fact as I motioned him over.

“Hey man, take a look at this…”

After introducing
Terence to her surprisingly rhythmic skills, we took turns giving her
instructions for drumming her fingers. I thought better and drug up a pair of
pens, and had her rattle out some cadences against a few surfaces.

“Yeah…” Terence
nodded thoughtfully. “Your girl’s good. She’ll need training to take it any
further than pens on your countertop, but this is actually pretty rad.”

“Yeah,” I thought
aloud. “I definitely agree.”

Since we needed to
get going, we left her to her devices for the time being. Taking advantage of
the pit stop for refueling and supplies before getting back on the road, I took
the opportunity to refill the mini-fridge in my room.

I also decided to
treat her to a tablet.

She almost didn’t
accept it, until I reminded her how much time she’d be alone while I was
working with the band on and off the stage. It was a bit of an impulse buy, but
I had the cash to blow, and I wanted her happy while I was gone.

Besides. Chances
were, she would stop putting out if I didn’t try to make an effort, anyway.

“Well… okay,” She
whispered to me after unboxing the device. “But seriously, you didn’t have to
do this. I’ve got books and everything, I could probably keep myself fulfilled
anyway…”

Angel thanked me
later that night with a ton of fantastic sex; it culminated in the most
incredible blowjob I’d ever felt.

After that gesture, I
felt better about dragging her along and leaving her trapped in my small bus
suite. Most of our stops had decent wifi, and with some movies and books on the
tablet, she’d have something to occupy herself.

We were on the tail
end of our tour.
RipFest
was just a
last-minute addition that sold tickets – lining our earnings during what would
have been a brief lull, while taking an already great lineup and making it
better.

But that meant that
we were tired.

Tired and volatile.

I know that I should
have spent a little more time with them, instead of cooped up in the back of
the bus with my little Angel, but I hadn’t anticipated that the rest of the
band was growing resentful.

“Look who’s here!”
Waylon sneered at me when I walked into the practice session one afternoon.

“Sorry I’m late,” I
replied. “Lost track of time.”

“I’ll bet. Guess
you’re finally done fucking your little honey for a few minutes, eh?”

I ignored his remark,
knowing that he was just trying to goad me on. I would find a way to stick it
to him later, maybe after the tour…but there was no point in fueling him before
another big show.

“Let’s just get to
it,” I grunted.

Terence the bassist
glanced up at me with a slight nod of his head. No matter what, he was always
the agreeable, reasonable one.

We practiced for a
while, but I wasn’t really feeling it. The rest of the musicians seemed to pick
up on it, but I forced myself to go through the motions.

Angel
was
a distraction.

But not the kind they
probably thought.

It had taken her
presence for me to realize how grueling and miserable the tour had been. Part
of me felt bad that the others didn’t have this – that they had to watch me
experience this bliss without finding their own way to attain what I suddenly,
irreversibly had.

The stress relief
helped, that’s for sure.

But she complemented
me.

The more I talked to
her, the sharper I realized she was…and the more vulnerable. It was this
pervasive feeling hidden just out of view. I knew that her forgotten past
bothered her, although she tried to keep it out of the way. I also knew that
she did her best to leave it well out of sight, but the unanswered questions
burned in my bind. Why had she run away from home? How much of her past was
lost to the accident, and how much had she
chosen
to forget…

Didn’t take long to
realize she was just as stressed as me…And just as grateful for the endless
carnal distractions.

The rest of the band
wouldn’t understand.

That was fine by me.

I remembered thinking
about the filth that I was drenched in…and how the darkness swallowed me whole,
tainting me in its depths.

But when I was with
her…

I felt a little
lighter.

I didn’t directly
understand this intoxicating whirlwind of tension just beneath my skin… not
until she brightened her light on me.

I was tired.

I was ready to go
home.

I was
done
.

And I couldn’t wait
to take her with me.

Chapter 20

Angel

“This is our last
night on the road,” Trent whispered to me one early morning in the dark. We
were lying in bed together, cuddling naked. It was swiftly becoming a favorite
pastime of mine.

“I’ll bet you’re
ready to be done with this.”

“Oh, you have no idea…”

I knew what I wanted
to ask, but he never made it easy on me.

“So…” I started.

“So,” he repeated, a
sly smile on his face.

“After tonight…what
happens? Do I have to go back to Alabama, or…?”

Trent rolled over,
propping up his face with his elbow. “Well, that’s up to you, honestly.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Trent
grinned. “Kind of grown to like having you around for now. You’re just so great
in bed,” he whispered, kissing my neck as he hand ran up my thigh. It sent a
shiver up my spine, even if he was mixing in a little too much arrogance into
his words for my taste. “I was sort of thinking you would come back with me.”

“What, to your
place?”

“That’s right.”

I searched his eyes,
but there was nothing there to tell me that he was anything less than
completely sincere – regardless of his inability to be kind for more than a few
minutes without making himself sound like an egotistical or insensitive prick.

Truth be told… I
didn’t want to leave him even if I knew I was playing with fire. This thing
that we shared, whatever it was, struck me as the flicker of a lightly burning
fire. So far, we could pull back from the heat, save ourselves from the inferno
in our future. Everything that we did only added fuel to the flames; it built
up a glowering blaze that threatened to erupt into wildfire with too much
tinder on the pile.

Am I equipped to handle it if I get burned?

I tried to push these
thoughts aside, focusing on something true and solid. I needed another stone; I
needed something else to take my attention, something to focus on when things
grew too wild between us.

I will not be a burning Angel,
I
thought.

So, I agreed.

Why wouldn’t I have?

It’s not like I
really had anywhere else to go, anyway.

The last performance
night came and went, surprisingly quicker than I thought. I’d never thought to
ask, but apparently the whole band – manager and all – lived in the same city.
That made sense, explaining how they’d come together in the first place.

The tour had been
scheduled to end at their hometown, earlier than usual. After they came back
into the bus and cleaned up, the driver took us by each home, dropping each
member off. As the prospect of rest came, each band member was clearly
relieved, if not a bit exhausted.

They even allowed me
out of the back of the bus to say their proper goodbyes for now.

I hadn’t heard
anything but awful things about Steven, but even
he
seemed civil, given that the tour was finally over. Although, we
clearly weren’t on the best terms after all; he angrily sneered at me when he
saw me pop out to head for the bathroom.

Soon, there was just
the two of us left, Trent and me, and the bus pulled up to a curb to let us out
in a small neighborhood.

Throughout our entire
time together, Trent had barely said a word about his place. I guess I came up
with my own idea of where a rock star lived… Somewhere cold, industrial, and
smelling of the filthy city.

As I stepped out of
his car and gazed up the driveway, I realized just how wrong I’d been.

Beachfront.

Honest to God beachfront!

For such a cocky and
egotistical guy, he’d been modest in his silence. Here I was, thinking he lived
in some rudimentary, dirty old house, but the truth was just completely
incredible. Sitting against the water with the ocean to its back, his house put
me in awe. A place like this had to cost an absolute fortune...

Once we stepped
inside, I realized just how big a star Trent really was… As beautiful as the
home was from the driveway, the interior was on a whole different level. I’d
never seen a house like this… Hell, I’d never been in the same
county
as a house like this!

For the generous den
area, a massive 81-inch television screen dominated the space with ample
sectional seating for a dozen people or more. One hell of an interior designer must
have come through at some point, because nothing about Trent exactly screamed
tasteful stone paneling
or
expensive, modern lighting.

A few entire bedrooms
on both floors were closed off, collecting dust from disuse. He kept two – one
for himself, and another as a practice room, with a few instruments around and
a sound recording chamber.

I didn’t even
know
that he could play, but these
guitars, drums, and other assorted instruments were clearly not just for
display. As I thought about this, I remembered that his fingers were slightly
rougher than the rest of his hands. Once I’d put two and two together, I came
to have a deeper appreciation for his talents.

Trent’s small
fortress of a kitchen featured top-of-the-line appliances, enough counter space
to feed a full party, and cookery that would make a professional chef weep. For
a girl used to a hot plate and a microwave, it was like stepping into heaven.

“
HOW
,” I muttered breathlessly as I took it all in. “
HOW CAN YOU AFFORD ALL OF THIS.
”

“Friend of mine in
the industry got it up his ass that he wanted to leave the country. Head
somewhere exotic, like Hong Kong or something. I wound up getting a pretty
killer deal...” He grinned self-importantly, carefully watching for my
reaction.

“Still,” I murmured.
My hands ran along the sectional couch. It was plush, comfortable, and looked
like it had been barely used at all. “This thing probably cost more than I made
all year…”

“This is the kind of
money you wind up with when you’re smart, negotiate a good contract, and happen
to strike it lucky with a few big singles,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt that
I got a competent lawyer involved at the start… or that we’ve been touring
pretty much nonstop.”

Trent glanced around
for a moment, lost in thought. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually
stepped foot in this place in months. That’s kind of strange to think about,
now that it’s all over and I can finally kick my feet up…”

“It looks like it.
You could probably put most of this stuff back in the boxes, they look so new.”

“Yeah, well…material
possessions were never really my thing,” he shrugged. “Just sort of weigh you
down, you know? All I ever really needed was myself.”

“For someone who says
that, you have a lot of it.”

“Look around,” he
retorted.

I did, and I saw his
point.

There was barely
anything in the way of decorations. I could see now that on a couple of
bookcases, he had some books…and a few awards, but a lot of empty space. There
weren’t any paintings on the walls; he didn’t have the patience for extraneous
pieces of décor on his countertops. Hell, the only thing that kept his coffee
table company was the TV remote.

I flipped through
living room cabinets, expecting a sea of blu-ray films or DVDs. That’s what
guys like, right? Collecting up a sea of barely-watched multimedia to show off
to their guests? Instead, they were almost all completely empty.

“My accountant
basically forced me to buy this place. Said I couldn’t just leave my money
sitting in the bank with the low interest rates… All this shit? It came with
the house. Give me a ten by twenty hotel room and my guitar and I’m happy…”

“So… We’re supposed
to live here? In a place like
this
?”
Angel asked quietly, taking it all in.

“That’s the plan.
We’re going to need to shop for some groceries,” he answered as he watched me
peer around. “No point in stocking up prior to a tour, you know. Unless you
have a problem with that…”

I almost burst into
laughter.

“What did you want to
do for dinner?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” he
smiled cockily. “I was thinking something nice, tender, and juicy. Maybe you.
Serve you up on a plate, your legs spread wide for me… nothing juicer than
that.”

I lightly slapped at
his wrist as he reached for the hem of my shirt. “There’s time for that… but
I’m actually
really
hungry. Can we
order take-out? Is it too late for that?”

“Nah,” he chuckled,
immediately fishing out his phone. “What’re you in the mood for? Anything in
particular?”

My stomach rumbled,
as if offering a suggestion.

“You know, I feel
like I could go for a pizza.”

“Kind of what I was thinking, too…”

We rattled out the
details and settled on it, and he placed an order to a gourmet delivery pizza
spot.

About half an hour
(and an autograph to the star-struck delivery teenager) later, we were settling
down in front of the big screen on the couch and enjoying thick, greasy, cheesy
pizza. A sitcom was on in the background – one of those late nineties shows
that seemed vaguely familiar.

We didn’t have cable
much while I grew up, so pretty much
anything
on the television was alien to me.

“This is amazing,” I
told him when the commercial break came back on.

He flashed a smile.
“The pizza?”

“All of it,” I
confessed. “The pizza. This place.
You
,”
I added seductively. “A couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t imagine having this
kind of life…and now…for a little while, at least, I do.”

“Hey, none of this
for a little while
bullshit,” Trent told
me, sliding down in the couch to look me in the eyes.

“You…
can’t
mean that,” I replied, gazing into
his eyes. “There’s no way…”

“I mean it,” he
whispered hungrily, pulling me close. “You are
mine
, Angel. You belong to me… no exceptions. None whatsoever. Do
you understand? You’re
MINE.
”

“I…”

The sheer force of
conviction burning in his dominant eyes took me aback. They were filled with
fervent fire, burning deeply and brightly.

I will not be a burning Angel.

“Shhh,” he whispered,
a finger to my lips. He drew me up from the couch, tossing me over his
shoulder, and dragged me upstairs towards his bedroom. Every ounce of
resistance I had melted away under the heat of his desire, because deep down,
no matter how badly I might be burned… I wanted it too.

“Not the bed,” I
murmured as I took in his room. There was a large, four-poster king with
velvety bedding of rich red and black hues. It was almost hilariously bohemian.

“Making demands?” He
growled into my ear.

“Making
suggestions
,” I cooed.

Trent dropped me to
my knees, shoving me towards a wall. I could already spot that insatiable bulge
desperate for release, and I reached for it.

He swatted my hands
away.

“No.
I’m
in control,” he snarled, advancing
with ravenous eyes upon me.

The lust had taken
hold. Seeing him like this was the biggest turn-on in the world. I already knew
I was in for the night of my life. Trent wasn’t accepting anything less than
complete and utter submission.

A sly smile crossed
my lips. “Come here, you,” I grinned sexily, beckoning him with a finger.