Nine
MORGAN
Zach stares down into my eyes, desire apparent in the dark depths. If it weren't apparent there, it would be in the way his hard cock presses into my belly. I want to rub up against it, pleasure and tease both of us at the same time.
Instead, I wait. I wait for him to make the next move. He's in control here, we both know it. And I love it and hate it in equal measure.
Gaze never leaving mine, he leans in and brushes his lips over mine. A whisper more than a kiss. My chin raises, chasing his lips as he takes them away.
They're a breath away, and he waits. Watches me. Maybe he's waiting for me to push him away. But I don't. He drives me absolutely up a wall, I don't like him. But I need this kiss more than I've ever needed anything in my life.
Kiss me, you dumbass.
It works. In the next moment, his lips crash over mine, his tongue already pressing against me, demanding entry to my mouth.
Just to torture him a little, I don't open right away. I suck at his top lip and he grunts, licking me where I've touched him.
His hand comes up and cups my face, tilting me to the angle he wants. His other arm wraps around my back and pins me against him. As if I'd go anywhere else.
This is bliss. This is perfection. This is exactly how I knew it would be between us. Better. Explosive. My whole body throbs with desire for him. I want to pull his cock out of his jeans and stroke it until he comes all over my shirt. I want to drop to my knees and suck on him until he comes down my throat.
And of course, I want to take him inside me. Ride him until we both come harder than we ever have before.
But I can't do any of those things. Not with him. And definitely not in a backstage bathroom.
His tongue continues to poke at the seam between my lips, and finally I let him in. With a groan, he strokes his tongue over mine, and arousal arrows through me, centering between my legs. I rock against him, so ridiculously turned on. I need him so badly.
Damn Past Morgan for getting drunk at the engagement party last week. We could've done this when he took me home. And then gone up to my bedroom and fucked all night.
Except we wouldn't have. Because this is Zach. And I might be horny as fuck for him, but I still don't like him. He thinks I'm a con artist. How could I sleep with someone who thinks so lowly of me?
But oh, deities, this feels so good. How could I not?
Not that it's even an option on the table. Sure, he's kissing me like a starving man eating his first meal. But I know musicians get wound up when they perform. When Amethyst was dating one of their former drummers, they would go fuck after every single concert. All three of my cousins have talked about this effect from performing.
That's surely all this is for Zach.
Which is a shame. His lips are as magic as... well, magic. Even if he doesn't believe in it.
I'm tempted to conjure up a little magic in this kiss, just to fuck with him. But I'm too lost in lust to focus on magic. The way his lips play across mine, the way our tongues tangle and duel for control, it's got me so ramped up my head is spinning.
I scratch my nails up his back. I want to leave marks on him.
He groans and presses his cock harder against me. We're grinding on each other and I could come just from this. I only need a little longer.
His hand strokes my side, then comes around to rest just below my breast. Almost cupping it, not quite touching it. Teasing me.
His thumb strokes me, touching the very edge of my breast and making me moan and arch into him. All the while my nails score the skin on his back.
He sucks my lower lip between his teeth and?—
"Oh, shit. Sorry!"
Zach rips his mouth away from mine and whips his head around. I don't need to look to know who walked in. I know Amethyst's voice. Instead, I drop my head onto his bare chest and resist the urge to lick over his tattoos.
"I'll leave you two alone." Her voice is dripping with amusement. "But you might want to lock the door."
It's too late. I can tell from the tension in Zach's body that this is over. My cousin burst whatever lusty bubble we were in and we won't get it back.
When the door clicks shut, he pushes off the wall and away from me. He spears his fingers into his hair and holds his head.
Facing me. Unintentionally, sure, but he's displaying all that beautiful ink to me. All those lean muscles I want to stroke and the black lines I want to trace with my tongue.
And his cock is still pressing out the front of his jeans. Practically begging me to relieve it.
I close my eyes and bury my face in my hands so I don't have to look at him. Otherwise I might do something foolish like beg him to fuck me.
"Sorry," he grits out. His voice is low and gravelly and makes my clit throb. "I shouldn't have done this."
I'm torn between snapping at him that no he shouldn't have, hiding behind my usual grumpiness, and begging him to come back to me.
The words that come out of my mouth land somewhere in between. "It's fine. Already forgotten."
I can feel his gaze, palpable as it rakes over me. I chance a look back at him.
Mistake. He's dropped his arms but he's still tattooed sexiness personified. And he's still hard.
His eyes are dark and hooded in shadow from the dim overhead light. I can't read his expression.
But it's awkward as fuck now. I need to get out of here. Amethyst inevitably told my sisters and hers what she walked in on. So I'll catch shit as soon as I leave this tiny bathroom. But I can't stay in here with him any longer. Not if I want to leave with even a tiny shred of my dignity.
I pull my shirt into place and push off the wall. Carefully, not wanting to bump up against him, I head for the door. "I'll, uh. I'll text you about leaving tomorrow."
Shit. I forgot we have a three-hour drive together again tomorrow. Just him, me, and Maria again.
Maria is going to give me endless shit for this. I'm sure she's hanging out in the Green Room with everyone right now and probably heard Amethyst telling them.
Super.
I yank open the door. It's cooler in the hall and that air feels heavenly on my overheated cheeks.
Everything in me wants to glance over my shoulder and take one last look at him as he is right now: shirtless, sweaty, and aroused. But I force myself to look ahead and not say anything.
Leaving the door cracked open just a little, I head down the hall to the Green Room.
Everyone's in there, of course. Including Maria. And they all go silent when I walk in. Bronwen is doing her best not to grin, Sirona and Amethyst are grinning. Sapphire arches her eyebrows at me and Garnet stares down at her feet.
I don't bother checking on Grant or Evan.
I hold up my hand before anyone can speak.
MORGAN
The hotel we're staying at is ornate and fancy—there's a damn gold lion in the lobby—and rumored to be "haunted." Maria hasn't stopped complaining about that since we got here.
She hates the stereotype that spirits are malevolent, or that they haunt. I can't say I disagree. I mean, are there spirits who are mean assholes? Sure. Because they were mean assholes when they were alive. But the vast majority of spirits, just like the vast majority of people, are pretty decent.
It's almost eleven when we get to the hotel. Someone who works for the band already checked us in and took our luggage to our rooms. Amanda, the band's manager, hands out our key cards .
And of all the hundreds of rooms in this hotel, Zach is not only on my floor, he's in the room right fucking next to me. No one else is on our floor. When the elevator reaches four and only Zach and I get out, Bronwen shoots me a triumphant smirk.
She can fuck off. Just because our rooms are next to each other doesn't mean we're going to hook up or something. First of all, I've got my ghostly chaperone. Second, there are spirits everywhere in this hotel. For some reason, this seems to be a kind of afterlife hangout. No wonder there are rumors it's haunted.
I even heard there are a few pro athletes who refuse to stay here when their team is in town. Which I find hilarious. It's not like spirits can do anything to hurt humans anyway. They can, technically, move inanimate objects, like knocking over a lamp or something. But it takes so much of their energy, they rarely bother. I've only seen Maria do it once.
I very pointedly ignore Zach as we walk down the hall. Unfortunately, I'm extremely aware of him. He's put on a fresh t-shirt, but the memory of how his bare skin felt is still at the forefront of my mind. Along with every fucking moment of our kiss.
I stop at my door and attempt to open it. The lock flashes green, then red. Three more times it does the same thing.
A long sigh comes from the door just past mine. "Do you need help?"
"No!" I snap.
"Let him," Maria says, innuendo heavy in her voice. "Then you can invite him in."
I just glare at her as the lock finally clicks and the door opens.
Do I say good night? It's pretty rude not to, but also, I don't know if I want to.
Before I can decide, he mumbles, "Good night," and disappears into his room .
Leaving me no chance to respond. Which annoys me, even if it is irrational.
I toss my bag on the bed, set my suitcase on the stand, and open it. I go through my nighttime ritual of skin care and changing. I'm not much into fashion, but I have a thing for cozy pajamas. Tonight I brought a black crepe t-shirt and shorts set. The fabric is soft and feels good against my skin. They're the slightest bit translucent, not that anyone will see me in them.
"Shame to waste those sexy jammies on me," Maria says. She's sitting in the armchair by the window. Spirits may not be able to easily move human objects, but they can interact with them.
The hotel room is the same basic layout as all generic hotel rooms: a dresser on one side, king-sized bed on the other, small desk in the far corner, chair by the window. And a small bathroom near the door. The difference here is everything is a little more upscale than a chain hotel.
The art on the walls has character, the bedspread is higher quality. Shit I don't care about, but if it means the sheets don't feel like sandpaper, I'm all for it.
"You could always go show them off next door," Maria continues.
"Not a chance," I say, despite the warm rush of lust her suggestion causes to wash through me.
I changed my underwear before putting on my pajamas, because the pair I wore to the concert was uncomfortably wet. But my body still hasn't chilled the fuck out, so I'm dampening a new pair. My clit and nipples haven't stopped throbbing.
And my imagination won't stop filling in what might have happened if my cousin hadn't interrupted us. Maybe he'd have fucked me right there, against the wall. Maybe he would have sat down on the toilet lid so I could ride him. Maybe?—
Fucking imagination .
None of that would have happened and none of it will happen. Doesn't matter how much I'm attracted to him. We can't get involved. We don't even like each other.
Maybe if I remind myself enough times, it’ll eventually sink in.
If only there were a way to just get him out of my system. Maybe Bronwen knows a de-lust spell. I'll have to ask her at breakfast.
I'm still too amped up to go to bed, but there isn't much else to do. I don't really want to watch TV, and I forgot to bring a book with me. So I end up pacing back and forth, over the short span between the door and the bed.
"Would you sit down?" Maria snaps. "You're making me anxious."
I'm making myself anxious too.
"You know what you two need to do?"
I stop and glare at her. "We can't get involved. For so many reasons."
She shrugs. "Who said anything about involved? You just want sex. So go get it."
I sigh. "That's getting involved."
"Doesn't have to be. Go to his room. Have one night of an all-you-can-eat sex buffet. Have so much sex, you're done wanting it with him anymore. And no one but the two of you ever has to know." She has a mildly triumphant look on her face. "It's the perfect solution and you know it."
My first instinct is to tell her it's a terrible idea. But I don't.
What if she's right? What if this is the way to get him out of my system?
The hunger swimming through me heightens as I consider it. As images flash though my head, images that could become memories.
Ah, fuck it.
"One night. No one has to know except the three of us."
Maria looks startled. "Three? Who else are you inviting? "
I give her a flat stare. "No one. But you'll know."
She grins in an unsettling way. "Yes, yes I will."
I close my eyes and picture a condom aisle at a drugstore we saw down the street. I imagine one of the boxes appearing on my bed, then snap my fingers. When I look, there's the box.
Next I imagine a twenty dollar bill going from my wallet to the drugstore cash register. More than enough to cover my magical purchase.
"A dozen. My aren't we ambitious," Maria teases.
I just roll my eyes.
I'm really going to do this. I'm going to proposition Zach for sex.
And with that thought, a knowing settles over me. Yes, this is the right thing to do. This is how he and I move forward.
I open the box and pull out four condoms, which I put in the pocket of my shorts. Still ambitious, but better safe. I could always conjure a condom from my room right onto his cock, but I don't want to get into an argument with him about magic. Not tonight, not if we're really going to do this.
If he turns me down, my pussy is going to be so upset. Along with the rest of me.
I slide my keycard in with the condoms and stand in front of the door.
"Good luck. Be sure to be loud enough I can hear you."
"You're a pervert." Hand on the doorknob, I take a fortifying deep breath. And open it.
Nervous, determined, and horny as fuck, I step into the hall. A few long strides and I'm at his door.
I knock.