Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Felix
I’ve been to the Sylverstro’s mansion a dozen times, and honestly, I’m not all that impressed.
You’ve seen one compound, you’ve seen them all.
The California air is hot, unseasonably warm for this time of day, or more accurately, night, since the sun will be setting in about an hour. Which is why most of us have taken to corral together inside the house, instead of on the extensive verandas.
I watch as waitresses parade on by with their trays of champagne, feeling utterly bored.
I’ve never been a fan of label events. Which is why I’m usually fucked up beyond all repair before the sun goes down.
Where the hell is Duncan?
Since our moment the other day, he’s barely said two words to me.
I’m trying my best to be patient, to wait it out and see what his next move is.
My anxiety keeps building, thinking he’s going to just leave, like Sully, and then I really will have an issue, being as the So-Fi show is a little more than a week away.
“There’s my favorite fucker.” A voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I immediately tense.
My gaze falls on Dare Wylde, the lead guitarist and singer from Heart Killer .
I don’t dislike the guy, but he’s annoying as fuck.
Small doses, that one.
“Dare,” I murmur, as he makes his way over to me, two drinks in hand. From the look of the grin on his face, I’d surmise he’s at least five or six in, at this point, and that makes me feel even more out of place.
He offers one crystal glass to me. “You look like you need a drink.”
I almost tell him no. But as I look around at everyone else, all schmoozing it up for press for this damn kickoff tour, I cave.
I grab the glass, my fingers brushing against his tattooed knuckles. I take a sip. It’s some fruity shit that is most certainly not vodka, that someone like Dare should be embarrassed to be drinking in public, but it isn’t terrible. It’s likely ninety percent sugar, so I suppose it’s better than nothing.
“Thanks,” I murmur, licking my lips.
“What’s your problem tonight, sourpuss?” He laughs, his vibrant red contacts catching the light. He runs a free hand through his jet black gelled hair, shaking his head a bit.
“Excuse you?”
“You’ve been in the fucking corner, watching the damn door since you got here. Either you’re waiting for a supplier—” He licks his lips, grinning at me.
Of course, that’s why he’s here. He wants drugs.
“Nope. Not my cup of tea anymore. That’s Sully’s department.”
Dare raises his eyebrows. “You going cold turkey clean, Hart?”
The surprise in his voice makes me loathe myself even more. Because the way he says it, is the same way a kid says “Santa’s not real?” Like they don’t fucking believe it.
I take a long pull of my sugary punch disguised as an actual drink, and shrug.
“Maybe, I just want to stop feeling like fucking trash when I wake up.”
Maybe, I just want more.
Is that so fucking crazy?
Dare shakes his head as he drains his drink. “I ain’t judging you, man. You do what you gots to do,.” he slurs.
Something about his words makes me feel like he’s hiding something, but what, I can’t tell.
“Oh my God, Lixxxy!” Jinger singsongs and I roll my eyes.
Dare laughs, passing his drink off to a waitress as Jinger saunters over to us, dragging Geo Graves, the lead singer of Gravedigger with her. His black shirt is popped open, displaying his giant medieval cross tattoo that spans his entire chest and abdomen.
I’ve lost track of how many tats I’ve acquired, being as half of them were acquired when I was drunk, but Geo’s got to be the only one on the label with one tattoo.
Even Jinger has, like, four. All strategically placed, of course, to heighten her sex appeal.
Like butterflies are considered sexy.
Whoever came up with that idea is an idiot.
“I’ve been looking for you all evening,” she coos as she abandons Geo, throwing her arms around me, rocking me and making my drink slosh.
I peel her off of me as Dare and Geo chuckle.
“Yes, well, I can’t return the sentiment,” I mutter as she pouts.
“You’re such a killjoy,” she mewls, crossing her arms.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I am so ready for this fucking show next week.” Geo groans, rubbing his neck.
Dare shrugs. “Ready for the flashing lights and the screaming fans.”
Geo chuckles. “The only screaming is going to be for you to get off stage,” he razzes Dare.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Dare slurs, swaying backward a little.
Jinger giggles as Geo gives the finger to Dare. I roll my eyes.
I know we’re all a mix of ages, but I swear these guys act like damn teenagers.
As I break my gaze from the riveting discussion in front of me, I turn to see Duncan on the other side of the room.
His gaze catches mine, and my heart skips a beat.
Clearly, he’s utilizing the capsule collection I sent him. His deep, gold silk shirt is unbuttoned at the top two buttons, his leather jacket accentuating the ochre tones perfectly. Combined with the fitted black jeans and boots, he looks more like the Duncan from Hollow Pointe , than the Duncan in faded jeans and vintage tanks.
His deep brown eyes pull me in like a fish on a damn hook.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to extricate myself from this riveting conversation,” I state, as Jinger laughs, Dare questioning what the fuck extricate means.
I make my way across the foyer, until I meet Duncan on the other side.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to show up,” I say gruffly.
Duncan slides his hands in his pockets, cocking his head to the side, his thick, neatly trimmed eyebrows furrowing.
My gaze dips to his trimmed beard, to his mouth where he’s sporting the slimmest sliver of silver.
A fucking lip ring.
My cock throbs at the sight as thoughts fill my brain of what that would feel like against my thighs, scratchy beard and cool metal.
What it would feel like pressed against the slit of my weeping cock.
Fuuuuck.
I swallow hardly, trying not think sexy thoughts.
But I find that’s extremely difficult when I am ninety percent sober and in the presence of this mountain of a man.
“Lou said it was mandatory press for the tour, so...”
“Right.” I nod as both relief and disappointment flood me. Relief because he’s acknowledging the tour, which means he must be staying, but disappointment because maybe he doesn’t want to be here.
And because I’m a goddamn glutton for punishment, I quip, “You clean up nice.”
Duncan cracks a half smile, but it’s genuine and warms my insides better than any fruity concoction.
Which I take a sip of, if only to keep myself from spewing more stupidity.
“Yeah, well. It helps when someone else picks out my clothes. If it were up to me, I’d be in a Slayer shirt and a pair of blue jeans.”
I smirk at him. “Honestly, it might be this…” I tap my own lip ring. “Really pulls the whole outfit together.”
Duncan slides his hands in his pockets, slowly walking us around the round foyer.
“I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to revive the look. For the tour, anyway.”
I take the lead. “Let me give you the unofficial tour, of the Sylvestro’s palace,” I offer before I start spouting sonnets about his perfect, pierced mouth.
After one drink, that should be a record. I pawn off my empty glass to a waitress passing by, waving about to the first room.
“That over there is the kitchen, full of fancy schmancy shit that tastes like fuckin’ cardboard, then you’ve got the great room, where all the corporate assholes hang out.” I wave at the great room. I catch Lou in my sight, who sees us, and Duncan waves.
Lou doesn’t get up, but he nods at us as I continue my tour.
“This is the living room, or one of the four living rooms, technically, where all the producers hang,” I say, pointing out Palo and the other studio producers.
I gesture to the area of the room I occupied previously, pointing out Geo, Dare, and Jinger. The only one missing from the bunch is Mage Of Mercy ’s lead singer, Mateo Starr, aka Matty, but he’s always been reclusive, even for a rockstar of his caliber.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s holed off somewhere on one of the top floors, where no one else is, just so he can avoid the rest of us.
“And what about up there?” Duncan points to the grand staircase, to the balcony that overlooks everything.
“Four bathrooms, a game room, and of course, guest bedrooms. Third floor has the master, plus a conservatory, and a music studio. That’s probably where Mateo is.”
I watch as Duncan slides his hand up the staircase banister, my gaze falling on his perfect, round ass as he slowly ascends the stairs.
He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Well, are you coming or what?”
I sigh, knowing I’m sealing my doom.
Of course, I will go wherever this man wants me to go. I’d rather be around him than Jinger and Dare.
Geo’s okay... but his straight edge former Christian rock shit gets on my nerves. The guy is about as pure as Colombian cocaine, despite his aesthetic.
I skip ahead of him, if only so I can illustrate dramatically the beauty of the main feature of this damn staircase.
The gigantic crystal chandelier.
“And of course, we can’t miss the Phantom Of The Opera ,” I say sarcastically as Duncan looks up. I find a spot on the landing, over the railing, watching as Duncan slowly makes his way upward, his eyes as wide as saucers.
“We didn’t do press anywhere like this, in my day,” he states absentmindedly.
“Yeah, well, in your day, I’m sure you walked barefoot uphill in the snow both ways to the radio station.”
Duncan shoots me a glare, and I bite my lip.
Sometimes I wish I had a filter.
But alas, if I thought about everything before I said it, I wouldn’t have four Grammy’s.
That’s the beauty of being a singer slash songwriter. Sometimes, the lack of filter is best when it comes to writing songs.
Duncan makes his way over to where I stand, and suddenly, I feel hot. This close, I can smell his heavenly Old Spice scent mixed with cologne, and it makes my mouth water. Combined with his gold shirt and the sparse gray and brown chest hairs poking through his collar opening, I can’t deny I am attracted to the man.
Why do I always want what I can’t fucking have?
His expression changes, hardening, and a tension breeds between us.
“Is there somewhere we can... talk?” he inquires, swallowing harshly.
Panic floods me as he adds, “Privately, I mean? You know, before the press junket. Get some things, uh... straight?”
My heart sinks at his words. Get things straight .
Like, where we fucking stand before the cameras start flashing.
I nod toward one of the rooms on the other end of the hall, the opposite side of where the press is starting to gather. It usually takes a bit for them to trickle in, which is why we all arrive so bloody early.
“Yeah, of course,” I reply as nonchalantly as possible, trying not to betray the fact I feel like I’m walking to my doom.
Maybe he’s not staying. Maybe this is why he came. To tell me he’s leaving.
Just like Sully.
Just like every other man in my damn life.
I lead us into the room, opening my mouth to ask him what’s up, but I don’t get the words out.
Because the moment the door slams shut, my back is pressed against it, and Duncan’s lips are on mine, his hand settling at my throat, squeezing with the lightest of pressure, but warm to the touch.
The moment he kisses me, I melt into him like a fucking puddle in a damn swoony rom-com.
His metal clashes with mine as our tongues dance together.
When he breaks away, his amber gaze is full of fire, his lips glisten, swollen from our kiss.
A hundred emotions fester beneath my boiling surface, from excitement to happiness, to anger and anxiety.
Because as much as I want to continue this shadowy makeout, I also want more, and the feeling is as shocking as it is new.
For the last seven years, I’ve taken whatever I could get, wherever I could get it.
I’ve never once felt like I deserved more than what I’d had.
But as I look at Duncan McKay, feel his body pressed against mine, hand still resting on my throat, I realize I want to be more than just a hookup, for once.
I want to be more than just another man’s experimental phase.
Because clearly, that worked so well with the last one.
“Is this why you came?” I hiss, my walls going up as my heart starts to harden, protecting itself once more. I push back against him, escaping his hold.
Duncan catches his breath. “What?”
“To fuck with me some more? Lead me on to think you want me, and then just push me away? Take me up into the bedrooms and get me all worked up then leave me hard and wanting, only to parade me around in public and pretend we’re just bandmates. That this is just a job.” The words come of their own accord, and I can’t stop them. It’s like the dam has finally been broken, and years worth of pain surges forth.
I know it’s not all about Duncan.
But he’s here, and he broke me.
So, I suppose this is it. It’s sink or swim, and I am tired of fucking treading water.
I don’t want to drown anymore in the Black Sea.
“Is that what you think of me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed. For a moment, the pain registers on his face, but it is soon replaced by something else, something I am much more familiar with.
Anger.
“That I’m some cruel asshole who wants to hurt you?”
“What I think of you has nothing to do with this,” I hiss. I turn away from him, heading for the door.
He grabs me by my wrist, his grip tight and warm, and I hate how it makes my blood rush, how his nails digging into my skin makes my damn cock throb.
“Felix...” His tone is not accusatory, but it is a warning.
I shake him off, hating the feeling of emptiness that sweeps over me because he is no longer touching me.
“Felix, please, just hear me out, okay?” Duncan’s voice is strained.
“Why? So you can spout more philosophical shit to me and make me want to be a better fucking person and then lead me on, only to tell me you don’t want this...” The words are like knives as I speak them, as I try to shove the anger, the pain, and the overwhelming need to cry down into the pits of my stomach, but it’s no use.
I don’t even think a drink can fix this.
Or several.
“I don’t know how to do this, Felix! I don’t?—”
“Do what?” I snap. I don’t move to leave, because I am a serious glutton for punishment.
A masochist in love.
Carnage is the only thing I know.
“I don’t know how to do this ,” he growls, pointing between us, his voice shaking. “I’ve never been with anyone... like you.”
I scoff at his words. They slice me like daggers, ripping through flesh. His hold on my wrist lessens, but he doesn’t drop my hand.
His gaze captures mine, and I almost feel like an asshole.
Almost.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I bite.
Duncan’s thumbs rubs my raised vein, softly.
His gaze implores me as my heart beats so loudly in my chest I think he can hear it.
This... this is where I die.
Because this is where Duncan McKay breaks my heart, and I’ll never be able to recover.
“You know who you are, Felix. Good or bad, you know who you are, and you accept that. I don’t...” His voice cracks. “I don’t know who I am. I thought I did, for a while... I was Duncan McKay, drummer of Hollow Pointe . I was Duncan McKay, husband and father. But now...”
“But now, what?” I ask, my own voice slipping with the truth as I await his words.
“I feel like I’m discovering myself all over again. With you.” Duncan reaches out, settling his hand on my neck once more, but he doesn’t grip me. He slides his fingers back, teasing the trimmed hair at the nape of my neck gently.
It’s a strange sort of feeling, given that there is nothing soft about Duncan’s looks.
The man is built like a brick wall, large and ominous with his dark hair, speckled with strands of gray, and deep brown eyes that glitter with gold and amber in the light.
My gaze settles on his shiny, silver lip ring.
And for once in my life, I don’t want to fight.
So, I don’t.
I reach out, settling my hand on his neck, and I pull Duncan McKay to my lips like he is oxygen, and I am deprived.
I move my lips slowly against his, savoring every sensation; the pillowy soft texture of his mouth, the metallic taste of his lip ring, the warm, smooth texture of his tongue.
I slide my free hand around his tree trunk waist, but I don’t dig my nails in. Instead, I smooth my fingers over the silk of his shirt, rhythmically drawing lines across his muscles, where I can feel the faintest dip of skin, of his hipbones.
I lead him softly, slowly, and he follows me without question, his entire body relaxing against me as he settles his free hand on my hip, slowly sliding it back to rest just above my ass.
Heat envelopes us both as we give in to the fire that exists between us, the one that I am certain is impossible to distinguish.
“I don’t know how to do this, either,” I whisper against his lips. I close my eyes and he rests his forehead against mine. “I don’t know how to be the kind of person you deserve.” My voice comes out shaky, nervous. “But I want to be.”
Duncan looks at me with glassy amber eyes. “You are,” he whispers as he kisses me again, forcing his tongue in my mouth, biting at my steel, causing my cock to twitch.
He presses his body against mine, and I can’t argue with him. Not when his mouth travels to my neck, biting and sucking at my flesh, or as his hands slide over my body, exploring it with newfound interest.
His fingers slowly, deftly trace the outline of my cock as he continues his assault on my neck.
“You need to tell me,” I choke out, needing to be one hundred percent with him before I completely cross a line he isn’t comfortable with. “If you want me to stop. I’ll stop.”
The words feel strange on my tongue, because I don’t know how to take things slow.
Duncan stops his assault on my neck, looking into my eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Oh fuck, no,” I whisper, signing my damn tombstone.
Duncan smiles, the corners of his lips lighting up his eyes as his fingers slowly unbutton my pants and I think this is it.
If we do this, there is no going back.
Duncan slides his palm against my cock, the thin fabric of my boxers the only thing separating us, and I look up at him, noting his dilated pupils.
My breath catches in my throat as he stares at me with an intense gaze, his fingers slipping through the thin slit of my boxers.
I close my eyes in ecstasy as his fingers slide against my swollen head, and his hand wraps around my cock.
My shoulders tense as an involuntary moan escapes my throat.
“You like this?” he asks curiously. “Me touching you, like this?”
I nod furiously. “Fuck yes, but I’d like it better if it was your mouth.” I say the words, not thinking twice about them, but once they are out there, I immediately regret them.
Damn fucking no filter Felix!
I know I should slow things down, let him take the lead, but it’s hard. I don’t know how to not be in control, when it comes to this.
Duncan squeezes me tightly, his thumb pressing into my slit.
“Oh really?” he teases, his voice dark as he nibbles at the shell of my ear with his teeth. His lip ring rattles against my skin, causing a shiver to race down my spine.
Duncan backs me up against the wall, pressing my body against it, my cock warm in his solid grip, throbbing with need.
Between the dark tone of his voice, the feel of his hand wrapped around me, and his lips on my neck, I don’t even know if I will make it if he does take me by mouth.
Jesus Christ!
“Uh huh...” Words are difficult at the moment, and my faculties are slowly disappearing.
Any minute, I’ll become a fucking vegetable if he keeps this up.
“Well, then, I suppose we should give the spoiled brat what he wants, or he’ll probably throw another temper tantrum, right?” Duncan chastises me, and it ignites feelings within me that make me want to scream for mercy.
I want to come so fucking bad, and the way he’s touching me, slowly squeezing and stroking my cock, I think I’m not that far off.
I twist beneath him, thrusting my cock in his palm, seeking the friction.
“Get on your fucking knees,” I growl, adding a “Please” for good measure, because I don’t want to sound like a complete asshole.
Duncan chuckles as he slides down my legs slowly. “Maybe this will kill your fucking attitude,” he purrs, and before I can say anything, he lets go of me.
The crisp, cool air kisses my skin and my cock twitches.
And just when I think perhaps he’s changed his mind, I feel the onslaught of his wet, warm tongue, and the world around me disappears.