Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“No?”
“They enjoy the show for who they imagine us to be, not who we really are,” he says.
“You mean they’re disappointed when you’re not a cowboy sheriff one night and an astronaut the next?” I ask, aiming to bring some lightness into what has turned into a heavy conversation.
Colin grins. “Something like that.”
“It can be hard to trust people,” Jordan says, his gaze focused on a spot in the distance. “You’re never quite sure what their motives are.”
I’m filled with curiosity, but it’s clear this is a sore topic for him. He obviously had a bad experience with a fan, maybe a few, and it sounds like Colin did, too. I wonder if those bad experiences led to the cocky, off-putting attitudes they first showed me. Maybe it’s easier to keep everyone at arm’s length.
It’s been easier for me.
“You didn’t finish your story,” I say. “How did you handle the woman who exposed herself?”
He blinks and gives his head a shake, as if clearing his thoughts. “I whispered a compliment in her ear while I wrapped a shirt around her. She seemed excited to get a souvenir.”
“Gotta keep ‘em happy,” Colin says.
I watch their show that night with different eyes, and I realize what they mean about the superficiality of it all. They’re not real people to the women watching them, but they’ve become very real to me.
I know things about them now. They’re not simply irritations for me to deal with; they have depth and personality traits that I’ve come to like so much over this short but intense period of time together. I see how they treat others, and how they treat me now that we’ve come to understand each other.
When they come on stage together for their final act, the one where they look most like themselves, not like other women’s fantasies, a realization hits me hard in the center of my chest.
I’m falling for them.
In fact, it may be more accurate to say that I have already fallen, and I can’t believe I let it happen.
Something I know about myself that I try hard to ignore is that I have a big gooey soft center, one that I keep buried under layers of hard shell. But spending so much time with these four men, not to mention having the best sex of my life with them, has broken a hole straight through to my tender spot. I’m falling hard for them, and it’s completely wrong and impractical.
In fact, it feels like a problem that needs to be solved, but I don’t want to think about it right now. Things between us will need to end when the tour’s over after one more show, so I can’t allow myself to feel this way.
The music draws to a dramatic conclusion, the lights fall, and the audience goes wild.
When the lights come back up, all four men are looking at me, in my spot in the back of the room.
What if this doesn’t need to end? What if there’s a way we can continue this?
After post-show pictures, I hurry to their dressing room again, because my need to see them and touch them can’t be denied. They’re excited to see me, too, and I’m passed around between them for hugs and kisses in a way that makes me ridiculously impatient for the night to come. My body aches for them, even while I’m in their arms.
Zane and Owen sit side by side on a bench that’s in front of a mirror, and pull me down onto their laps, facing them, my legs straddling one of each of theirs.
“We missed you while we were on stage,” Owen says, stealing a kiss before making room for Zane to do the same.
“I loved your show.”
“Yeah? What was your favorite part?” Owen asks.
“When it was over, so I could see you and touch you.” Their chests are still bare, and I let my hands take full advantage of the fact.
Owen’s lips claim mine again, and it’s the kind of kiss that makes my panties smolder. His hand presses into my back, while Zane cups my breast.
It’s not the time or the place, but I can’t help it when my hips start to sway, grinding my pussy down onto their legs. It’s not the same as having one of their big cocks inside me, but I’m so worked up, it all feels good.
Zane tips my head in his direction and kisses me, while Owen’s fingers slide down the side of my body, making me squirm even more. My hands find their cocks, both of them straining against the stretchy fabric of their shorts, and I give them a stroke and a squeeze.
“You’re ruining me for other men,” I tell them, and maybe they think I’m talking about the size of their equipment, but I’m not. It’s everything about them.