38. Othelia
Chapter thirty-eight
Othelia
Sitting in the chair, I can feel the anticipation building up as my hair and makeup stylists put on the finishing touches. My stomach churns with nerves, making me feel nauseous.
I focus on my breathing as I stare at the mirror surrounded by lights, and marvel at how different I look. I haven’t done this much to my hair and makeup since the last time I performed. Mermaid-like waves cascade down my back, transforming my pin straight hair into a crimped masterpiece. The dark shadow and thick lashes framing my eyes create an almost otherworldly effect.
I once would have been ecstatic about the transformation in my appearance, feeling like a superstar, embodying the true essence of Othelia. Sloane would be there, screaming about how damn hot I was and insisting that I would score with that smoking hot hockey player I was into. Her suggestive eyebrow wiggle would’ve been off the charts.
I thank my stylist, close the door, and try to calm the nausea by taking deep breaths. A knock at the door causes me to jump backwards, grabbing my chest. Fuck .
I unlock the door, knowing exactly who’s gonna be there, but my heart drops when it’s a roadie on the other side. “Uh sorry, the guys wanted me to give you a twenty-minute warning.”
“Oh shit,” I say, looking down at my black silk robe and bare feet. “I’ll be out there in a sec.” He shuffles awkwardly and nods, before disappearing back down the hallway.
Shutting my door, I race to get dressed, slipping off my robe and dropping it on the floor as I grab for my favorite high-waisted black leather pencil skirt. I’ve had hip high splits added to either side, making it easier to perform in while the leather waist helps curve my hips into a perfect hourglass.
I slide on a black lace long-line crop, even though the top is lined with material that matches my skin color. I turn back and forth in front of the mirror, double checking that everything is covered.
Happy that all is as it should be, I slip into ankle-high combat boots and adjust a studded belt at my waist. I look in the mirror one last time at the character I used to love stepping into, but instead of excitement, I’m filled with this overwhelming sense of dread.
The sound guys come over to us on the side of the stage, strapping us in and going over the set list one last time, even though it’s already printed on paper and stuck to the floor by each of our spots.
I’m startled by the noise of someone walking past me, yelling, “Ten minutes!” The techs move back and forth, ensuring all our instruments are tuned and ready for each song, but I zone out.
My heart races as people pass me, though I can’t focus on what anyone’s saying.
I think the team arrives. I can faintly hear Lennon and Rian’s voices, discussing the number of tickets sold for the show, but a buzzing fills my head.
The stage darkens to prepare for our entrance and the crowd’s energy builds with anticipation. Chants for Hopeless Mercy ring out through the arena, but all I want to do is run and hide.
Knowing I can’t back out now, I retreat towards the nearest wall and disappear behind the end of the thick black stage curtains, needing a minute. Tucking myself down as far into the wall as I can get, I squeeze my eyes shut as I attempt Sloane’s tapping, but the thought of Sloane only causes my breaths to become more ragged.
I can feel tears streaming down my face, crashing onto the leather of my skirt.
I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this.
The next thing I feel is my hands being pulled away from my face. I look up to find Rook, his warm hands cupping my cheeks, and his stormy blue eyes meet mine just as a sob escapes me.
I can tell he’s trying to speak to me by the movement of his lips, but I can’t seem to catch any of the words. My ears are too filled with the buzzing of my mind and the chants of the waiting crowd.
Grabbing my hand, he presses it tightly against his chest so I can feel his heartbeat, his fingers splaying on top of mine. The curtain next to us shuffles aside and a face I don’t recognize pokes through.
Rook glares at the intruder, the promise of death crossing his face, and I feel the rumble in his chest of him speaking. Whatever he says has the unknown man disappearing behind the curtain and then his eyes are back on me, scanning for injuries.
“I can’t do it. I can’t go out there.” Between gulping breaths, I manage to get out with my head shaking from side to side.
The buzz of the speakers next to us gets louder as the crowd cheers, my name now clear in their chants. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I feel myself being dragged to my feet. Rook settles me on the floor, supporting me between the wall and his firm body.
His intense gaze locks onto mine once more as his hands cradle my face. His thumbs gently push my hair back and trace over my damp cheeks as he tries to rub away the streaks of makeup.
“You’re going to come back to me, Rockstar. Then you’re going to go out there and blow them away like we both know you can.”
“I… can’t…” Shaking my head, I gasp, trying to grab onto any air I can catch.
“Look at me, Rockstar. Keep breathing and just focus on my hand.” My body shakes as I try to breathe deeply, but I force myself to maintain eye contact. He doesn’t look away as his hand traces from my cheek, down my neck, fingertips grazing across my collarbone.
My lungs burn as my chest heaves, but I try to do what he says and focus on where he’s touching me.
His hand slips down my breast, my nipple stiffening at the slow caress of his thumb before his hand continues on its path. His palm glides across my waist, giving it a small squeeze.
When he licks his lips, I feel like molten lava, boiling and bubbling, heat radiating out from my core, a pulsing need growing. I inhale a sharp breath that has nothing to do with the panic I was feeling and everything to do with the touch of his fingertips running across the waistband of my skirt.
He doesn’t stop there, going lower and lower, discovering the high split in my skirt and groaning with approval as he pushes the material aside, showing off my lace panties.
I figure he’ll glance down, see where his hand is headed, but he doesn’t. His unwavering gaze is a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge.
As his fingertips find the edge of my panties, my eyes flick to the curtain over his shoulder, the thick black material the only thing stopping over fifty people seeing us. As he pulls me back to the present, the sound of the crew bustling on the other side grabs at my attention.
Rook clicks his tongue, using the hand that was cupping my face to grip my chin, pulling my face back towards him. Then he presses it against the wall behind me, pushing us closer.
“Eyes on me, Othelia.” His fingers push my panties aside, releasing a growl as he runs his finger along my slit, finding me already soaked for him. His eyes close and he presses his forehead against my shoulder. “You have no fucking idea what you do to me.”
With each slow, deliberate circle of his thumb on my clit, my body responds eagerly, craving more of his touch. My hands fist in his shirt as he centers me, every stroke making me feel more whole and grounded.
As smoke shoots out from cannons placed around the stage, the excited crowd grows louder, eager for us to take the stage. The sound of twenty thousand people chanting my name reverberates in my ears, serving as the perfect soundtrack to our connection.
“Do you hear them, Rockstar? Do you hear them screaming for you?” His breaths now pick up as he dips a finger inside me, his palm adding friction to my clit and I gasp at the contact. Our lips crash together, my desperation overpowering my anxiety.
He slips in a second finger as I grind against his hand, and he plants soft kisses on my collarbone, neck, and jaw. I try to kiss him, but he moves away and brings his lips to my ear. I feel a shiver run down my spine.
“I want you to scream my name just as loud as they are screaming yours,” he growls into my ear.
“Uh, five minutes till go time,” a gruff voice coughs through the curtain, rippling with their nearness.
“Not now,” Rook barks at the voice and the curtain stills.
“Rook… I…” The words die on the tip of my tongue as he presses me harder against the wall and drops to one knee in front of me. Pushing the split in my skirt farther aside, he lifts my leg over his shoulder.
“I’ve been dying to taste you, Othelia. Ever since I had you in my bed, I haven’t been able to get this sweet pussy off my mind.” His eyes peer up at me, begging for permission.
I whisper breathlessly, “Yes.” His eyes darken as his head drops, maneuvering my panties to the side before he dives in, feasting.
The rumble of pleasure that escapes him vibrates through my core, setting me ablaze as he licks and sucks at my clit. My head falls back against the wall as the pleasure builds, his tongue dragging circles around my clit before lowering to push inside me.
I grab at his hair to hold him closer as he continues his assault. His hand slides up my thigh, before finding its spot at my center, achingly slow as he pushes the tip in before it pulls back out and I whimper at the loss. I’m so desperate for him, I grind myself on his face.
“How badly are you wanting this, Othelia? Your fans are desperate for you. Are you desperate for me too?” His finger teases at my entrance and I whimper, a grind against his rough stubble the only response I can seem to muster. “Words, Rockstar, you sing so beautifully for them, now I’m gonna need you to sing for me.”
“Please…” I stutter out as he drags his finger up my center before pressing down on my throbbing clit, sending pulses of pleasure through my body making me beg. “Please, Rook.”
The words must please him as he dives back in, pressing his flat tongue against my needy clit and pushes his finger inside without warning. “Your pussy is dripping for me, Rockstar.” My core clenches at his words. He pulls his fingers back, adding a finger as he pushes back in.
Moans pour from my lips as he consumes me. I feel like I’m floating, the pressure of his tongue lapping circles around my clit, dragging me back into myself. The pressure in my core builds as his fingers curl within me, hitting me in just the spot I need.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “God, I can’t wait to have this pussy wrapped tight around my cock.”
“Rook, please fuck me.” His eyebrows lift and a smirk plays across his glistening face as he lowers my leg from his shoulder, standing to his full height and spinning me at the waist to face the wall.
With his belt opening and my skirt bunched at my waist, he guides himself inside me, and we both let out a sigh of relief, his head against my shoulder as he kisses my exposed back. “Fuck, Rockstar, I’ve missed you.”
When he moves, my whole body clenches in response, moving in sync as I feel myself build. The groans coming from Rook make it clear he’s close too. As he kisses me, I whimper into his mouth while his fingers find my clit and the pressure quickly mounts.
Sensing my impending orgasm, he leans in, growling, “Now, tell the world who owns this pussy, Othelia.” Then he tilts my hips just right and I explode.
I scream his name as my body convulses, every part of me clenching and pulsing as he grinds himself into me. Seconds later, he tips over the edge and roars my name right along with the crowd.
Sliding his cock out of me, I relish in the way my body contracts, attempting to keep him inside, resisting his retreat. He tucks himself away before bending over to straighten my panties that are now so wet, I will feel the coolness against my skin for my entire performance.
“I love the fact that my cum will be spread all over your pussy while you go out there.” He chuckles against my cheek, kissing me.
Rook steps back, fixing my skirt and leaving me unchanged except for the flush on my cheeks and heaving chest. He remains motionless, leaning against me, my hands finding his waist and clutching his t-shirt, both of us unwilling for it to end.
“Thank you,” I whisper, now feeling embarrassed at the way I spiraled. “I’m sorry —”
“You never have to apologize for feeling, Othelia. Sometimes we just feel too much. I won’t let you fall.” He cups my face. His lips caress mine and I push forward, wanting more, his words filling me with hope. “Plus, that was the best thanksgiving feast I’ve ever had.” He shrugs, his boyish grin giving me butterflies.
We’re in the middle of making out when a cough interrupts us. We both turn our heads but stay wrapped up together. Peeking through the thick curtain, Terry avoids our gaze and wears a sheepish expression as he stares at the ceiling. “Ah one minute until go time, Tilly and we need to finish getting you mic’d up”
Despite Rook already ensuring I look fine, I straighten and release him to adjust my clothes. Running a hand through my hair, my cheeks turn crimson as I blush. “Oh, ah, of course.”
Just as I’m about to walk away, Rook grabs my hand, leaning in to give me one last kiss, reminding me he’s in this with me. I smile up at him as we let each other go and I move towards Terry and the curtain he’s now holding open for me.
I walk out from behind the curtain to an assault of catcalls and whistles from the band and crew that obviously just had a front-row seat. Rook stands tall behind me, his warmth encasing me and making me feel slightly less embarrassed.
Shaking my head, I move towards the crew as they begin their routine of running the earpiece leads up my back and securing the earpiece in place as stylists rush to fix any streaks of makeup.
A spotlight falls on the drum-kit, revealing a smiling Trace as he drums our opening beats. Lights then fall on Lennon and Jericho, each standing on opposite sides of the stage.
As the start of the first bars of our first number one hit, the crowd erupts in squeals and screams, only pausing when my empty spotlight shines in the center.
I step into the light, pushing everything else aside. I start to feel the building rush of adrenaline as I look out over the crowd pushed up against the railing.
“My name is Othelia and we are…” I gesture behind me, “HOPELESS MERCY.” The crowd explodes and we explode right along with them.
I head to the wings to grab some water. Rook stands waiting, holding the bottle out for me, a soft smile on his face.
“I've been thinking,” I say, taking a large gulp of the ice-cold water, wiping sweat off my forehead. Rook’s eyebrows raise in question, but he waits for me to continue. “I want more.” It’s probably the adrenaline of being back out on stage for the first time in months making me feel bold, but I need to get it out. I said it, the ball is in his court; he can do what he wants with it.
His mouth gapes, but he recovers, chuckling to himself, and my brows knit. “Rockstar, are you asking me to be your boyfriend ?” he teases, the boyish grin from earlier back on full display.
I throw the bottle back at him, which he catches way too easily, as he continues to chuckle. “Oh, my God, just forget it.” I walk back out onto the stage, the crowd erupting in cheers as I come back into view.
“Tilly, please, wait.” Large hands snake around my waist, pulling me to a stop. He spins me around until I’m gazing into his sparkling eyes. “Baby, I’m sorry. You want more? More than just exclusive?” He pushes back stray strands of hair that are now stuck to my forehead with the sweat that pours off me.
I slowly nod, not knowing what else to say. I have all these feelings that feel a hell of a lot more than just ‘exclusive fuck buddy.’
“OK. Let’s talk. Have an actual fucking date, maybe. I am so in for this, Rockstar, but I’m worried this is the adrenaline talking, and in a few hours when it wears off, you might feel different. So go kick ass while I sit back here and watch your fine ass work, and we’ll talk this out after.”
I nod again, feeling a little dumbstruck. I'm a little hurt that he didn't say yes right away, but I also love that he wants to ensure I’m fully on board.
“Are we good?” he asks, genuine concern in his features, his hands gripping my waist.
I nod again, but this time, I tip onto my toes, gripping his shirt to pull him towards me. He comes easily and our mouths meet.
The kiss lasts way longer than I plan, until the crowd starts whistling and cheering, led by the guys behind me. We break apart, still holding each other, red staining both of our cheeks as he pats my ass, giving it one last squeeze before letting me go. Giving me a wink and a nod, he steps back into his spot.
I glance at the crowd, blushing even more when I see the cheesy grins on my bandmates' faces. I roll my eyes and we jump right into the next song.
This song is a love song I wrote before I met Clay, about a girl dying to be seen and accepted by the man she loves. When I met Clay, I thought I had finally become that girl, but now glancing over at the wings, watching the man leaning against an amp with the biggest smile on his face, I wonder if that girl ever really knew what love was.