Chapter 8 #2
I grab her around the waist, burying my face between her tits as we work together, moving her up and down my cock. It's loud and messy and fucking perfect. Christ, she feels even better today than she did last night. Like heaven and home and forever all at once.
Within minutes, she's on the edge, her inner muscles fluttering around my cock.
"Hold it," I growl, bouncing her on my cock as I race to get there too. "Don't fucking come yet."
"Crue, please." She scratches down my arms, her eyes rolling. "I c-can't hold it!"
"Hold it, Ireland. Do not fucking come." I bounce her faster, turning my head to the side to pull her nipple into my mouth. I drag it through my teeth and then bite.
She sobs my name, her nails embedded in my arms.
"Now!" I growl as the pressure in my balls builds to a fever pitch. "Come now."
She shouts my name, letting go. Her cunt spasms around my cock, pulsing all up and down my shaft. I groan, dropping her down on me and holding her there as the force of her orgasm triggers my own. Cum shoots up my shaft, spilling into her again and again.
I force myself to keep my eyes open, watching her the whole time.
She's beautiful in this moment, stripped of every defense and drowning in pleasure.
Her lips are slightly parted, her cheeks pink.
Strands of her hair stick to her forehead.
Her eyes are dazed and glassy. She's a vision. One I don't ever have to share.
"I love you," I whisper, awed at how deep that emotion runs. There's an endless well of it just bubbling over.
"I love you too, Crue."
I wrap her in my arms, pulling her down to kiss me as we both come down. When she's no longer trembling through aftershocks, I pull back, tucking strands of hair behind her ear.
"When the tour ends, I want to marry you again with more than a judge and his wife and daughter standing as our witnesses. I want our friends and family there this time," I murmur.
"Really?" Her wide-eyed look of wonder steals another little piece of my heart. "You'd marry me again?"
"In a heartbeat, baby."
A bright, happy smile curves her lips. "Let's do–"
"Crue!" Havoc pounds on the door. "You've got to go, man! There's a whole group of fans heading this way."
Fuck.
Ireland jumps off my lap, nearly falling over. I grab her, growling and cursing when my cum drips down her thick thighs. It's supposed to be inside her. That is where I'm supposed to be right now, too.
I scoop it up with my finger, pushing it back inside her little hole.
"Crue," she hisses. "We don't have time for that!"
"We're making time," I growl, my gaze flashing to hers.
She gulps, falling silent.
I push my finger in deep, trying to keep as much of it inside her as possible. And then I grab her panties out of my pocket and wipe between her legs to clean her up as best as I can before pulling her dress back on over her head.
"Thank you," she whispers sweetly.
I brush my lips across her forehead before tucking my cock back into my pants. I have no fucking clue how I'm going to get us out of here without being seen, but I'm not going to stick around and let us be surrounded on the bus, either. That shit is dangerous and terrifying.
I pull the curtains aside an inch to peek out. An entire army of fans is trying to make their way to the buses. A few security guards are trying to hold them back, but they're not going to last long.
"Can you run?" I ask Ireland.
"Not very fast or very far."
"You see that golf cart?" I point at the golf cart the security guards parked halfway between the buses and the fans.
"I see it," she says.
"We're stealing it."
"We are not."
"We are."
"They're going to see us way before we make it to the golf cart, Crue."
"I know. That's why I need you to run like the fucking wind, sweet girl."
She eyes me like I've lost my mind, and then she laughs. "Okay, but if we get mobbed, just remember that this was your plan."
"We're not going to get mobbed," I promise, leading her to the bus door. "When I count to three, I'm going to open it. I want you to take off. I'll be right behind you."
"Promise?"
"On my life," I swear.
"Okay."
I count down and throw the door open. She takes off like a rocket, scrambling down the steps and then flying across the asphalt toward the golf cart. I give her a head start and then jump down, skipping the steps.
"Keep them off of us," I shout to Havoc, running after her. My feet pound against the ground as I quickly close the distance between us. The fans spot me and start screaming.
The security guards don't stand a chance in hell of holding them back once they see me. They surge forward as one big group, waving their arms and their signs and shouting.
I pick up speed, catching up to Ireland in four steps. We're still too far from the golf cart, and they're closing the distance. I scoop her up into my arms. She screams with laughter, clinging to my shoulders as I keep running.
"This isn't supposed to be fun, éire," I pant, smiling despite myself. Somehow, running from fans with her is a helluva lot more fun than running from fans with the band.
We make it to the golf cart ahead of the throng. I jump in, setting her on the seat beside me. The keys are still in it, exactly as expected. They never take the keys when trouble is brewing. They pull up, jump out, and handle business.
I crank the engine and hit the gas.
Ireland screams with laughter again as we take off, hauling ass out of there.
"Hey!" Security shouts, chasing us now.
I don't stop to explain. We just drive.
* * *
We spend the rest of the day holed up in the arena with the band, hiding from fans. They're camped out at the arena and the hotel, making it impossible for us to go anywhere. It's exactly like old times, except the girls are with us now, and it sucks far less.
I don't tell anyone that it's only going to get crazier. They may kill me when they find out what I did. But the truth is, all I did was speed up the inevitable. Sooner or later, the world was going to find out. I just hurried up the timeline.
"What are you working on?" Ireland asks after sound check, dropping down next to me at the piano. "That's not the same song you were writing yesterday."
"Nope. This is a new one."
"Can I hear it?"
"I've only got one verse finished, but I'll play it for you.
" I place my fingers back on the keys. I start playing, running through the notes I put together while she was sleeping last night.
"Caught in a whirlwind, emotions collide," I croon to her.
"Crashing together, craving more and more.
A symphony of passion and desire dances through your eyes as I trace the lines of your body, and you set me ablaze.
You ignite, and I go up in flames. Bound to you. Bound to you."
"Oh," she whispers. "That's really beautiful, Crue."
"Good because it's about you."
She glances up at me, startled.
"I started putting it together last night while you were sleeping."
"Really?" A happy smile lights her up. "You're writing a song for me?"
"For you and about you." I brush my lips across her crown.
"That's so cool." She leans her head against my shoulder, humming like a happy little kitten. And then she pops upright. "Hey. Can you teach me to play the piano?"
"Why? Are you going to write me a song?"
"No, but I'll sing yours really badly if you teach me."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "In that case, no. You already massacred DTF. Find a different band to pick on, Ireland."
She gasps in mock outrage, laughing up at me. "Just wait, Crue Blake. I'm going to sing your freaking songs every minute of the day until they haunt you."
I cast my eyes up toward the ceiling. "God save me. Please."
She elbows me in the ribs and then squeals when I grab her.
"Hey, lover boy." Asher pops his head into the room. "It's time for sound check."
"Oh! Then that means it's time for me to go back to the hotel." Ireland bounces to her feet. "I need to get pretty for the show tonight."
"You're already beautiful, éire."
"Yes, but I need to shower and change because of something someone did earlier," she says, shooting me a very pointed look.
Asher glances between the two of us, his brows furrowed. "Is this a sex thing? It feels like a sex thing."
"It's not a sex thing," I growl. "Stop talking about sex around my wife."
"It's totally a sex thing," Ireland whispers.
Asher grins at her.
"Stop fucking smiling at her."
"Oh, my god!" She pokes me in the ribs. "Stop telling everyone to stop smiling at me! It's rude."
"Then they should stop smiling at you," I grumble, annoyed as fuck because Asher's still smiling at her.
She scowls at me and then shakes her head, her scowl fading to a smile as she pushes her way into my arms, flinging hers around me. "You're impossible, you know that, rockstar?"
"Yeah. You made me this way, Ireland." I tip my head down, kissing her hard on the mouth. "Go get beautiful for the concert before I decide not to let you leave." She starts to slip out of my arms, but I halt her. "Be careful, sweet girl. It's crazy out there."
"I will," she promises.