Thirty-One
Kat
Overkill – Motorhead
His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me deeper into him.
I savor the kiss that’s igniting a fire low in my stomach and deep in my heart.
His mint and tobacco scent wraps around me, making my head spin.
His mouth moves slowly against mine, so fucking slow.
Like he has all the time in the world to taste every breath I give him.
For a moment, I forget that we’re in his office, that there’s a whole crowd of people downstairs waiting for the show to start.
A bell jingles softly as Freddie pushes his cat ball, the sound echoing through Elias’s office from the home security feed.
I can’t bear to be away from Freddie for too long, so he comes practically everywhere with me—aside from Headstone.
A bar with hundreds of drunk people and loud music is not the best environment for him.
I tried and he spent the entire time hidden under Elias’s desk, so now he stays at Elias’s house where I have permanent visuals on him, thanks to my man’s obsession with home security cameras.
I’ve almost convinced Kaycee to let me take him to work, and I’ve even come up with a loose business plan for a cat cafe, but I haven’t quite cracked it yet.
My world has been a lot lighter these past few days.
Waking up every day to Freddie’s wet nose and purrs is something I always thought would be a memory.
I still can’t believe he’s here. Almost every night, I’ve woken up just to check he’s still around, and when I can’t sleep, I spend the night wrapped in Elias’ arms, allowing him to occupy my mind in other delicious ways.
“Distracted?” Elias breathes against my neck, the hot breath sending jolts of electricity straight to my core.
He moves my hair behind my shoulder, his soft lips trailing kisses down my neck.
My head falls back as shivers of pleasure erupt all over my skin.
He knows exactly how to keep me present.
Every brush of his lips sends a slow pulse through my body.
My grip on his shoulder tightens, my nails pressing through the soft fabric of his dress shirt as shivers roll through me.
From where I’m straddling him, his hardening cock rests perfectly at my clit, and I can’t help but undulate my hips.
Wearing panties today was the worst fucking decision I’ve made in a long time.
I glance at the clock on the wall.
Fuck.
“Ugh, I have to go,” I say, unravelling myself from his lap. My skirt is bunched around my waist, and I have to shimmy it back down.
“I’ll pay you all for a month’s worth of shows if you stay right here,” he pleads, pulling me back down onto his lap, palming my ass in the process.
“Do you want to explain to my bandmates why you’re cancelling their show five minutes before we’re due on stage?” I smirk, rising from his lap.
Elias inclines his head in understanding, but he’s wearing a dark grin. The type of grin that usually means I’m about to have some of the best orgasms of my life. I’m already imagining what he’ll do to me later, and I can’t help but lick my lips in anticipation.
“Before you go,” Elias says as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, pulling a small black velvet bag out. “I have something for you.”
“What is it?” I ask, staring at the bag as he walks towards me with a lazy smirk. That expression makes my fucking pulse spike as I let out an audible gulp.
He comes to stand in front of me, the bag in his hand.
My breath slows instinctively, like it already knows something is about to happen.
He reaches under my skirt and moves my panties to the side.
My breathing hitches as he pushes something inside me, the foreign object also resting against my clit.
Motherfucker.
“I can’t go on stage with a remote-control vibrator, Elias!” I barely get the words out before jolts of vibrations shoot through my pussy, and my knees almost give out. My hands fly to his shoulders to steady myself as heat rushes through my body.
“I’ll be watching you, little rebel.” He kisses my cheek before playfully dangling the fob in his fingers. I can’t stop the glare that darts towards him.
As I open the door, a vibration shoots through me again, my pussy flooding with wetness. I grip the doorframe to stop myself from falling. But I refuse to turn around and give him the satisfaction. Behind me, I hear the faintest chuckle—he knows exactly what he’s fucking doing.
I have no idea how I’m going to make it through this set without completely coming apart on stage.
My fingers fly up and down the fretboard, the metal strings cutting into my calloused fingertips.
The crowd screams and cheers me on as my solo crescendos.
This is definitely our biggest show yet.
Just when I thought Headstone was at full capacity, Elias and Gareth find new ways to grow it.
Heat rolls off the crowd in waves. Sweat, beer, electricity. The whole room feels alive.
I give a cursory glance over the crowd, searching for any familiar faces. Kirk hasn’t been to any of our shows recently. I actually haven’t seen his disgusting face since that night he cornered me outside of the dressing room.
Good. I hope the asshole got the hint and left the city.
Muscle memory takes over as the song flows back into the chorus, and I allow my thoughts to drift to Elias.
He hasn’t used the vibrator yet. I clench my thighs in anticipation, and my panties are completely drenched.
Every step I take across the stage makes the vibrator rub against my engorged g-spot.
This set is lasting a fucking lifetime. The anticipation is almost as bad as the vibration.
Every second stretches longer than the last as my body waits for the next jolt.
He knows just having the vibrator inside me is enough to make me quiver with need, and he loves to watch it.
As the final notes of the song ring out, my eyes find his. Harper uses the time between songs to talk to the crowd, but I can’t hear a single word she’s saying through my heart beating in my ears. Elias holds my gaze from the back of the room as he dangles the remote fob.
Oh no.
My pussy contracts in anticipation. I already feel full from the vibrator alone, but I know it’s not enough to get me off. It won’t take much to tip me over the edge, and he fucking knows it.
Ryland thumps the opening of Overkill, and my senses kick in.
No sooner had the first note hummed through the room, vibrations wrack through my pussy, my knees quiver, and my face contorts.
I bum a note but quickly fall back into rhythm.
This is one of those times when I am so thankful for our cowls.
How the fuck am I going to finish this set?
We have two songs left, and this is the most technical one.
Sweat beads on my forehead as dread and pleasure fight for dominance low in my stomach. The vibration continues, and my pussy flutters, pleasure winning the fight. The familiar electric tension builds in my spine. The beat of the drum only intensifies the vibrations.
There is no way I’m going to come in front of all of these people… Am I?
The thought barely finishes forming when the vibrations vanish, leaving my pussy quivering on the edge of orgasm. I can finally catch my breath.
He knows.
He knows my solo is coming, and he didn’t want me to bum notes in front of everyone. The realization sends a new warmth spreading through me. Even while he’s tormenting me, he’s still watching every move I make. He’s in complete control.
My chest tightens as I breeze through my solo. I glance up and see a small mosh pit forming in the middle of the room. Bodies crash into each other, heads whip back and forth, and screams echo. The clash of sensations is overwhelming.
The vibrations start back up after my solo, and I drop to my knees.
I glance at the crowd, thankful that they just think I’m really into my music.
They’re completely ignorant of the war between pleasure and performance going on in my body.
The stage lights darken under my cowl as the sensation threatens to consume me.
My panties are so wet that my thighs are slick with my arousal, a coil winding low in my belly.
My orgasm builds, and my body stiffens. Just as I’m about to lose the battle, the vibration stops.
I snap my eyes to Elias, who has a devious grin on his face. I let out a groan only I can hear. He lifts the remote slightly, rolling it between his fingers. He knows exactly how close he just pushed me to the edge.
My chest rises and falls as I try to drag my focus back to the music. Sweat trickles down my spine beneath my shirt. Every exposed piece of skin is now coated with a sheen of sweat.
Ryland crashes into the next song, his drums shaking the stage beneath my boots.
The vibration snakes through my legs, straight to the toy buried inside me.
I grit my teeth and force my fingers to keep moving.
I have to concentrate twice as hard on every note.
My hands know the song, but my body and mind are still trembling from the orgasm that threatens to wrack through me at any moment.
All the while, Elias casually leans against a pillar at the back of the bar like he’s just another fan enjoying the show. But his eyes aren’t on us. They’re on me. Tracking every move I make. Watching me struggle. Watching me recover.
I shift my weight and start the next riff, every ounce of focus going into not fucking up the song. If I keep playing, maybe I can ride this out without completely falling apart in front of a sold-out crowd.
The final chorus hits, the entire band locking in as the crowd screams along. My fingers burn as I hammer through the last progression, sweat dripping down my brow, getting caught in my eyelashes, making my vision blur.
Just a little longer. Just finish the last fucking song.
We complete the set, and Harper thanks the crowd. Screams fade into the background as I unplug my guitar, the cable falling to the floor. I storm to the back of the room, and the crowd parts for me.
“Let’s go home,” I command.
Surprise consumes Elias’ face before he takes my hand and leads me outside.
I don’t allow myself to linger on the fact that I just implied his house was home.