Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Blake’s confidence grows as the music goes on and the heat turns up. He relaxes in my arms, and this is the first time I’ve seen him embrace his role fully without overthinking. I pull back slightly to look at his face for any hint of hesitation but can’t see any.
His cheeks are slightly flushed, his lips are parted, and his eyes are hooded. He’s either really getting into this, or acting mode has kicked in.
I’d make a joke about my dick being that talented, but I don’t want to scare him away.
Blake’s gaze roams my face and then drops to my lips. Then he gets a wicked gleam in his blue eyes, and he turns, putting his ass to my front, and rubs all up on my cock.
I have to take a deep breath to calm myself, but when he crooks a finger to a random guy near us and sandwiches himself in between us, I’m taken by surprise.
He’s really getting into this.
Mission accomplished?
Chapter Five
Blake
This is actually fun.
When I’m not so in my head about how the public will perceive me, what it will do to my career, and worrying about offending every single one of my bandmates by misrepresenting them, I’m able to just feel and get into the head of my character.
It’s freeing, almost, letting down my guard. The rumors can start about me, but like Jordan says, if I say it’s for a movie role, people will believe me. That blanket of security helps me let go.
The guy in front of me works his hands all over my body, and I’m not self-conscious about it. Jordan’s still behind me, his hands on my hips. I like the feel of hands on my body, but who wouldn’t? I’m getting more out of this by not being Blake Monroe for five minutes.
On the outside, I might look like I have the perfect life, but like with every other member of Eleven, the media has skewed everything to the point where the real me isn’t me anymore.
And when I scale everything back to “the real me,” I’m … plain. Which is hard to comprehend with my lifestyle, but it’s true.
I grew up with a stable mom and dad who supported me through everything. Fame was addictive, and I wanted it, but I never hit the same level of stardom as my bandmates. Even when Eleven’s original label gave me the “quiet” persona, it was a little too close to home for comfort. I was always the one people forgot was in the band. “The other guy,” as I got used to seeing in comments on social media—one of the reasons why I stopped looking and let a team of PR people pretend to be me.
Then I became Coby Godspeed. I’m more recognized for my acting now than Eleven, and I’m okay with that.
Jordan lowers his mouth to my ear. “You’re really getting into this.”
I lean back against his chest, moving my hips against the random guy in front of me. Turning my head, I say to Jordan, “Madden is getting into this.”
The three of us dance and grind until my skin warms. I assume because of all the body heat radiating off both of them.
The rando in front of me moves his hands up to my shoulders. I widen my legs, and he moves his knee in between them. Apparently, my cock likes the feeling of warm bodies and intertwined limbs.
Jordan presses in behind me, the same hardness digging into my back.
My heart rate kicks up. I lick my lips because my mouth is dry, the movement catching the eye of the guy in front of me.
He watches as my tongue darts out, and he mirrors the movement before flicking his gaze up to meet mine. I can’t tell if he has recognized me for who I am or not because his expression is filled with so much tension and lust it makes the room stifling.
He’s a good-looking guy, shorter than my five-ten frame by a good few inches, but he’s muscular, and between him and Jordan, I’m boxed in but in a secure way.
With Jordan’s hot breath on my neck and this guy’s intense stare, I can’t help the arousal stirring in my gut. It’s interesting and new, and as this guy moves his mouth closer to mine, my lips tingle in anticipation.
There’s a clear moment where he pauses, just an inch away, as if he’s asking permission or waiting for me to take this opportunity.
I can’t think of a single reason not to. I press forward and touch my mouth to his. He weaves his hand into my hair while his tongue pushes past my lips. It’s … different, but at the same time, it’s not.
It doesn’t last long, only enough to whet my appetite for more when he pulls away. His bright teeth blind me as he smiles, but his gaze focuses off to the side, and then his face falls.