The Rockstar''s Virgin

  “Oh, Sean. Yes, yes...”

  He twisted the finger, stroking at some hidden part of me that acted like a button for my release.

  “Yes!” I screamed, coming apart at the seams. The pleasure barreled through me, and I came undone in time and space. I was floating somewhere far, far away.

  I shuddered over and over again, riding high on the ecstasy of the moment.

  Sean kissed up my thighs, scraping them with his stubbled chin. My breathing normalized by the time he reached my breasts, and by the time he reached my lips, I realized what I had done.

  Oh god. How could I let myself fall victim to the whims of my body like this?

  Sean kissed me, and I could taste my sweetness on his tongue. I wanted to keep kissing him, perhaps even to see what other kinds of mind-blowing pleasure he could show me, but I'd already started to panic.

  “I need to go,” I said, breaking off the kiss. “We'll be back on the road soon.”

  Sean didn't try to stop me from getting up, but he didn't verbalize his agreement either. Instead, he sat down on the couch and watched as I dressed. My knees felt weak, and I worried that he could see them shake.

  I made record time getting my clothes on and checked my hair in the mirror quickly before I went. My thick mane was impossible to keep tangle-free on the best of days, but when I'd been rubbing it against the back of the sofa in ecstasy, it had gotten to new heights of frizzy. I did the best that I could to fix it and then turned to face Sean again. He had a contented smile on his face. It wasn't like the cat who ate the canary, but there was at least the suggestion in his smile that he'd gotten his way.

  “Uh, see you later,” I said lamely, turning and walking to the door. He didn't try to stop me.

  The whole way to my trailer in the back lot, I worried that everyone around me could tell what I'd just been doing. It felt like I had a sign strapped to me that said, “Just got eaten out by Sean Morris.”

  Luckily, I made it to my trailer without anyone stopping to talk to me. I didn't know what I'd do if I had to try to be social under these circumstances. The force of my orgasm and the heaviness of my guilt had boggled my brain.

  I walked into my trailer and slammed the door behind me, practically jogging over to my bed. Only when I collapsed down on top of it did I finally allow myself to ask the question that had been fretting at the edge of my consciousness since the panic began to set in.

  What the hell just happened?

  Twenty-Two

  Sean

  I was still sitting on the couch, shirtless, when somebody knocked on the green room door. I sat up, hoping it was Hazel coming back for me.

  “Come in!” I called

  Unfortunately, the face attached to the bush of hair that walked through the door wasn't Hazel's at all. It was Justin.

  I didn't dislike Justin by any means. We weren't necessarily friends, but we'd formed a strong alliance over the past ten years of working together. A partnership. Though most of our interactions were very surface in nature, he'd been there for some of my rawer moments, just as I had for him. But I'd never opened up to him. It seemed like out of respect he never opened up to me either. And it suited both of us just fine.

  “Hey, man,” he said, stepping into the room. “How'd it go? Did you score?”

  “Not this time.” I settled back against the couch.

  Justin was oblivious to the other meaning of my answer. He pulled out a little bag of tablets from his back pocket and shook it enticingly. “I did. I've got coke in the other room too. Party night?”

  Normally, I would have agreed before he even had a chance to ask. Hell, I would've been high off my ass already. But as soon as I considered his proposal, something tugged at me. Dave flashed through my mind. And Hazel. And the desire to fog up my brain with the chemicals just wasn't there.

  “Not tonight,” I said. “Think I'm going to turn in early.”

  Justin's smile dropped to the floor. “What?”

  I stretched and rose from the couch. “I said not tonight. I just want to go to bed.”

  I didn't care if it was the single lamest thing I'd ever done. It was late. I was tired. And even though I hadn't felt raw earlier when I was talking to Hazel, I did now. I dreamed of the cool sheets of my bed and peaceful solitude of the empty trailer. If all the other guys were out partying, I'd have the place completely to myself. And that was exactly what I needed.

  “You okay?” Justin asked. He shoved the bag back into his pocket and looked at me appraisingly, like there would be some injury for him to observe.

  “I'm just exhausted, man.” I ran a hand through my hair, scratching at my skull. “I need to dry out for a bit. Don't want to get burnt out before we're even halfway through the tour.”

  Justin's serious expression gave way to a light, understanding smile. If he had any suspicions about my answer, he didn't show it. “Sure. I get it.” Flashing me a smile, he headed for the door. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

  When Justin was gone, I let out a sigh that felt like I'd been holding in for years. A flash of pink out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. The cheap panties.

  I walked over to them, a few feet away from the trash can. They sat on the ground so innocently, unaware of everything they represented and how that had changed. I bent down to pick them up, feeling the smooth material glide over my fingers as I did. Then I tossed them into the trash.

  I couldn't tell whether I wanted to scream and kick something or laugh. Maybe a combination of all three.

  What the hell had gotten into me?

  Twenty-Three

  Hazel

  It was a new city, with new sights and sounds and people, yet it felt like some celestial being had just hit rewind on the remote and we were back to the first show all over again. Everything had changed, but nothing had changed. The fans screamed in adulation. The road crew ran around in zigzagging patterns that only they seemed to understand. And I, with my camera in hand, was there to document yet another tornado and the calamity it would soon leave behind.

  I was hanging backstage while the guys got ready for the show. It was a brief break in what would be a long, exhausting day of work. I welcomed the work though. I hadn't seen Sean much since our...moment back in Chicago. When I did see him, he was always around other people, and always his usual self. His Rock Star self.

  I wondered if I would ever see the Sean from the green room again. Perhaps he was still there, still smiling that contented little smile. Or maybe he was still inside Sean, but he'd been shoved so deep inside that it would take a full archeological team to find him.

  I wondered. I worried. I waited.

  It was hard enough feeling guilty for what had happened between us without him pretending like it never happened. It wasn't like I'd tried to bring it up or anything, but there was nothing different in his eyes when he looked at me. And it hurt a little.

  I tried not to let it get to me. I tried to see the experience as it was – nothing more than a soul-shattering orgasm from a world-famous rock star. In short, something most people would dream of. A fantasy. Who was I to complain?

  Brad came down the hallway, face a mottled red. “Have you seen Sean?”

  I frowned. “Isn't he getting ready with the rest of the guys?”

  “He's fucking missing!” Brad looked like all it would take to pop him was one pinprick. His fists were curled so tightly at his sides that I wasn't sure he'd be able to open them again.

  “There's lots of time, isn't there?” I asked. “They haven't even opened the doors yet.”

  Brad was not comforted by this fact. Truth be told, neither was I. My heart rate had picked up the moment Brad said Sean was missing, and I was trying to reassure him just as much as I was trying to reassure myself. But while Brad was worried about having to cancel the show because of an errant lead singer, I was more worried about why that lead singer was errant in the first place.

  “I swear to fucking god...I
'm going to kill that son of a bitch.”

  Brad stalked off. I wasn't even sure he heard me in the first place. He clearly just needed a vent for his frustrations.

  As soon as he'd disappeared around the corner, I sprang out of my chair and hurried down the way he came. I knew Brad had already scoured this area, but I checked behind every door and curtain anyway, calling out for Sean like he was a lost puppy and not a gigantic, fully-grown man.

  I finished checking the green room and supply closets backstage and was about to go out to the trailers when a thought hit me. Sean was a rock god. A king of sorts. He wasn't the type to hide or hunker down. Wherever he was, there would be a purpose to it. I didn't believe he was off doing drugs somewhere because he wouldn't have to go anywhere to do that.

  I made a sharp about face and headed up to the stage, trying to muffle my steps. Just like I suspected, there he was.

  Sean was standing on stage, staring out at the endless rows of empty seats. Surveying his kingdom. I watched him for a while, waiting to see if he'd move. I could see half of his face from where I stood, and not even his eyebrow twitched. He was perfectly still.

  Moving slowly, hoping not to draw attention to myself, I pulled my camera up to my face and took a couple photos without flash. His motionless form was riddled with shadows. Someone else might have thought the look on his face was one of serenity, but I soon realized it wasn't that at all. He was far away from here. With his brother? I wondered.

  I wanted to peel open his head like an orange and look inside, see what kinds of thoughts inspired the soul-wrenching lyrics of his music. His gaze was one bottomless pit. I knew if he looked over at me now, I'd get lost in it.

  “You found him.”

  The whispered voice at my side startled me. Even though Brad hadn't disturbed Sean from his reverie, the moment had been splintered irreparably.

  Shaking myself back to focus, I forced a smile. “Yeah, I did.” I pulled up the photos I took on my camera and angled the screen over at Brad. “Look at these photos I got. Aren't they incredible?”

  Brad's expression was anything but impressed. He frowned, eyebrows surging down like angry caterpillars.

  “You need to delete those,” he said.

  “Delete them?” Appalled, I pulled the camera back against my chest. Those photos weren't just photos to me. They were little pieces of Sean's soul. I'd captured something that few people had ever seen. How could I just get rid of that?

  “Read your contract,” was all Brad said as he turned on his heel. “It says right in there that any photos not approved by me must be deleted. Completely.”

  Shocked, I hugged the camera tighter. “Sure,” I said. “Yeah. Of course.” Then, when Brad went to walk away, I grabbed his arm. “Aren't you going to go get him?”

  Brad glanced back at Sean, still standing on stage. Still lost in his own world. He shrugged.

  “He's not up to his forehead in cocaine, so I don't care.”

  I let go of him, and he walked away. I didn't call him out on his lie, though I wanted to. The reason Brad wasn't going to disturb Sean was the exact same reason I wasn't going to disturb him either. It would be like waking a sleepwalker, dragging them kicking and screaming back into bitter reality. Except Sean wasn't in a dream world. More likely than not, he was in his own brand of nightmare.

  All the same, I left him there with his demons. I had a feeling that the more the real Sean shone through, the less the Rock Star would.

  I left the after-party early. I'd gotten a ton of great shots, and I worried that Brad would come up to me at any moment and demand to see if I'd deleted those photos of Sean on stage yet. Probably a stupid fear, but one I harbored all the same.

  In the safety of my trailer, I uploaded the photos from the day onto my computer. Then, I slipped all the ones I thought Brad wouldn't approve of onto the thumb drive I kept on my keys. I couldn't delete them. I just couldn't. And even if it lost me my job, I would never allow myself to regret capturing the side of Sean that was a human being.

  Twenty-Four

  Sean

  The after-party was bumping. Someone had brought laser lights and a whole DJ booth set up, and everyone was dancing. I was dancing too, though my mind was only half in it. I was on the lookout for Hazel, craning my neck to scan the crowd from every direction.

  Where the hell was she?

  “Hey,” I said, prodding Justin.

  He swiveled his head, a dopey and unmistakably drug-addled grin on his face. “What's up, bro?”

  “Do you know where Hazel went?”

  “Who?”

  I gritted my teeth. “The tour photographer.”

  Justin furrowed his brow in thought. I was just about to go find someone else to ask when he smiled. “Oh, yeah, that chick. Yeah, I think I saw her head out about an hour ago or something. I dunno.”

  “Thanks.”

  Hazel had already gone to bed? No way. Not on my watch. I'd been craving her worse than I'd ever craved any drug since the moment our lips first touched. Every fiber of my being buzzed with electricity just at the thought of her. I needed to see her.

  I slid through the crowd, ignoring the hands that grabbed, trying to pull me back. It felt like a sea of disembodied hands. Always wanting. Always grabbing.

  I finally broke free at the perimeter of the room. People kept coming up to me and trying to talk to me, dance with me, fuck me, and I ignored them. I was on a mission.

  The air outside was cool. The trailers were set up in the back of the hotel parking lot. I kept offering to get Hazel a room when we stopped at places like this, but she said she liked her little trailer. But that wasn't entirely the truth. She liked the separation the trailer provided her. When she shut her door, she was officially clear of the night's revelry. If she stayed in the hotel, she'd just be a few doors, a few floors, away.

  I was glad she was out here, because right now, I wanted a little separation too. And I wanted her.

  I found Hazel's trailer and knocked on the door. She answered a moment later, looking surprised. Her little cotton pajama shorts and tank top were mouthwatering. It was all I could do not to pounce on her there, slide my hand into her wetness and make her mine.

  “S-Sean,” she stuttered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Is this not the Detroit Institute of Arts?” I looked behind me, then back to her with a scowl. “I swear to god, Google Maps does this everytime.”

  Hazel rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I suppose I should let you in before somebody sees you.”

  “That would be preferable.” I stepped up into the trailer and past her.

  Hazel closed the door behind her and crossed her arms over her chest. She was clearly on edge about me being here, and I couldn't blame her. We hadn't talked since that day in Chicago. Part of that was just because we were both so busy, but there was a hefty chunk of it that could be attributed to me not knowing what to say.

  “You left the party just to come to my trailer and stare at me?” Hazel asked.

  “I came to do much more than stare at you.”

  Her eyes widened a little. I allowed my gaze to drop from the tits that bulged against the front of her tank top to her long, lean legs, then back up to the blush rising on her neck.

  “Well.” Hazel cleared her throat. “Would you like a drink or something?”

  I nodded and watched appreciatively as she grabbed a couple beers from the mini-fridge. I especially enjoyed how she had to bend over to reach in, and she tried to make this movement demurer by bending her legs and facing her ass away from me.

  Hazel popped the caps off the bottles and handed me one. “To Flagship Inferno,” she said.

  I clinked bottles with her. “Sure.”

  We both drank. Afterward, Hazel looked unsure as to what she was supposed to be doing.

  “I've always wanted to ask,” she said. “I guess it's in some magazine interview or something somewhere...but why Flagship Inferno?”

  Hadn't been
expecting that. I quirked a brow.

  “The name, I mean. Why'd you name the band Flagship Inferno?”

  I took a step toward her and brushed a strand of honey-colored hair away from her eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, but just this one strand had escaped.

  “The flagship leads the fleet,” I murmured. “All the commands originate there. All the structure. If the flagship goes down in flames, it creates anxiety. Uncertainty.” I leaned in closer, enjoying how still she went as I brushed my lips against the shell of her ear. “Chaos.”

  Hazel shivered. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  I chuckled and ran a finger up her arm, feeling gooseflesh rise as I did. “Well, you could stand to learn a lot from me, baby.”

  My trailing hand drew up her neck, then to her chin. I gently turned her face to mine and brought our lips together. After a long time waiting, I was finally getting another hit of the drug I craved the most. And it was euphoric.

  My hands dug into her skin, pulling her flush against my chest, and holding her there. Hazel's fists bunched in the front of my shirt. Our mouths danced and our tongues tangled, and the distant sound of people partying and screaming faded away. All I could hear was my heartbeat, pounding in my ears like a drum. I could feel my blood simmering in my veins, heating me from the inside out as my need for her grew and grew.

  Tonight, I would have her. Finally. And then maybe this insatiable hunger would subside, and I'd be able to go back to the way things were before I met her. It was simple then. Then again, life was simplest for the dead, and I'd been closer to dead than alive before she tossed a drink into my face and woke me up.

  My cock throbbed with desire. I ground it against her, letting her know just how fucking hot she got me. Hazel sighed and sank deeper against me.

  But then she pulled away. She forced herself back a few steps and held her hands out from her sides like she was afraid of what would happen if she touched me.