I’d never seen one so huge. Seriously. Like how did he walk around with that thing?
With his face between my legs, he continued to work on my clit while he slipped one, then two fingers inside me. He gently worked them around the inside of my pussy.
Then, he stood, positioning his cock head where his fingers had just been, and entered me just a bit.
But that tiny bit was still huge, and I caught my breath.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, running his hands all over my ass and hips.
I took a deep breath. “More. I want more,” I mumbled.
So he pushed further inside me, stretching me to my limits, but so slowly that the initial discomfort passed in seconds.
Fuck, he felt good.
Shaking my ass, I pushed back on him until he was nearly all the way inside me. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but the second time he drove into me, there was no holding back. I moaned and screamed with the pleasure he was giving me, arching my back to put my ass higher in the air.
God, I loved his cock.
I rocked back and forth as he slammed into me, the lounge chair beneath me tested to its limits. The sun had dried the pool water off me, and I was beginning to sweat. The result was a mixture of my perfume, chlorine, and sex.
With one final push that nearly threw me off the chair, Stone found his own release with a loud growl-groan.
I collapsed on the lounge chair, and Stone joined me, wrapping his arms around me to spoon.
“Holy fuck, that was hot,” he said, kissing the back of my neck.
“Jesus. You’re not kidding,” Ennis said, grabbing a seat on the chair across from us.
“Oh my god, guys. You are so amazing.” Once I’d caught my breath, I pushed myself up from the chair and squinted in the sun. “I’m sorry. I’m just completely out of gas.”
Stone leaned down and kissed my forehead. “C’mon. I’ll take you to bed.”
The last thing I remembered was Stone pulling a fluffy comforter over me in his room.
“I’ll wake you in an hour for dinner, baby,” he said, closing the door behind himself while I fell asleep wearing a smile. There would be time later for worrying about all the crap swirling around Dirty Bandit’s life.
And my life, as well.
Chapter 39
HUGH
The moment of truth. We were on our way to meet with the record label. Today was the day they’d tell us what was up.
Could be good news. Could be bad news.
We’d know in a few minutes. In the meantime, it felt like little ants were crawling under my skin, trying to find a way out, and my mouth was so damn dry that no amount of the bottled water I sucked down was touching it. If we got dumped by the label, fine, we’d contract with another. They might not be as prestigious or have as many resources, but who knew, maybe we’d be happier with the change.
On the other hand, the label might have come to their senses and realized that, even with all our crazy baggage, Dirty Bandit was a fucking music machine that was making their fat-ass execs a shit-ton of money.
Who walks away from a shit-ton of money?
I’m not going to lie. I was edgy as fuck. And I could tell Stone and Ennis were, too. They weren’t saying a word, just staring out the limousine windows as we neared downtown LA.
I hadn’t been so wound up since the first stadium concert we’d played way back when. The first time you do it, well, it’s pretty fucking intense, staring out at literally thousands of people stretching so far into the distance you couldn’t even make out their faces. You know how you want good seats at a concert because otherwise you can’t see the band? Well, we can’t see you, either. And I didn’t like that.
When we’d left Ennis’s house, I’d grabbed the seat right next to Coral in the car. The other guys could just get over it. I needed her calm confidence, even if she were faking it. I took her hand and held it tight. Bryan, with Pixie in tow, saw and smiled.
I didn’t give a shit.
I was hooked. We didn’t know yet whether Coral would accept us three guys. It was entirely up to her, and we had no plans to pressure her. But wondering what choice she’d make, and what was up with the record label, was enough to make a grown man want to cry.
Want to cry. I didn’t actually cry.
After an agonizing ride through hellacious LA traffic, we arrived and were ushered into a fancy conference room with floor to ceiling windows offering some of the most expensive views in all of downtown LA. Which I’m sure was paid for to a great extent by the hard work of Dirty Bandit.
A pretty admin came by offering fancy pastries and high-end coffee. She was followed by two men and one woman, all dressed in suits that even my rock ’n roll ass could tell were pretty fucking high end.
Bryan cleared his throat. “Good to see you.”
What a set-up. I mean, how is it that we had to answer to a bunch of suits who didn’t know a goddamn thing about music except that it could make them money? Who the hell appointed them gatekeepers?
My resentment simmered. These people didn’t have a creative bone in their bodies, and their only passion was for making as much money as they possibly could. They produced nothing but their own wealth.
What a boring life that must be. Christ, I could be homeless on the street one day, but I could always play a song on my guitar. Without their bank accounts, these people had nothing and were nothing.
To calm myself, I took a peek at Coral, who sat with a beatific smile, as composed as she’d ever been with her red hair twisted into a knot on top of her head and her pink dress bringing the only color into the room.
I took a deep breath and let my mind wander back to our session by the pool just the day before.
Focus, asshole.
The first Suit cleared his throat, signaling that he was about to speak and that he expected everyone’s attention.
Imperious douche.
He smiled with his overly whitened teeth. “We wanted to let you know we appreciate the efforts you’ve been making to be more public-facing. We know it has been a lot of work and hasn’t been without its ups and downs”—he paused to look at Stone, and then Ennis—“but we believe you are on the right track. We are interested in continuing our working relationship if we can get these couple issues resolved.”
How kind of them.
We three guys just sat looking at The Suits. What a contrast we were to them, in our faded concert T-shirts, scruffy blue jeans, and in my case, tattered old flip-flops and a surplus army jacket.
I wasn’t getting dressed up for anyone who thought they could throw us away so easily.
“Big of you guys,” Stone snarled.
Used to his snarky remarks, they just smiled while one of the other Suits leaned onto the table with an elbow. “We have an additional proposition for you,” he said, looking directly at Coral.
She sat regally in her chair, ready for anything they could throw her way. She was not of their world, but she sure knew how to maneuver through it.
Another reason to love her.
Shit. Did I just say love?
“What would that be?” she asked sweetly.
The Suit cleared his throat. “This isn’t something we’d normally discuss in a group. But since your firm is retained by Dirty Bandit, we need them to be in on the conversation.”