“Shh…” he utters.
“I can’t,” I manage. “I need… Shit, I’m going to come.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he says.
“—three minutes!” I hear someone call out.
We both freeze at the sound of someone letting everyone know to be back in position for the show to go on.
“—the fuck is Mads?” Zeb says, and I know they’re leaving the dressing room. “He must be taking a long shit.”
“Probably smoking out back,” Reed replies.
Maddox smiles against my throat as he resumes his prolonged, filling motions. His lips land fleetingly on my skin, his hand moving from beneath my thigh, and he reaches for something in his pocket.
A pick.
“Bite this,” he says.
I inhale a short breath as he places the thick pick between my teeth, and that smile lingers beneath his beard.
“Don’t lose it,” he adds.
I nod, my teeth gritting hard around that piece of plastic, and as I feel the glisten rise in my eyes from denying my release, he rails inside me again. It’s deep, satiating, and positively unlike anything I thought possible.
I swear I’m leaving teeth marks on this fucking plastic.
He curses into the crook of my neck. I can feel his hands getting tighter and tighter, and with every squeeze, I drown further. I’m on my last edge. I need to scream. My orgasm swells. It feels as if my entire body will implode. I can’t breathe. A tear stretches down my cheek. I shut my eyes tight and fist his jacket so hard I can’t even feel my hands. I strain to keep my composure together, yet it’s too much—
My orgasm topples over. It sends me clenching my entire body around Maddox, squeezing and crying and nearly fainting as it pours over me. I’m shaking and withering in his arms. Maddox slams inside me three more times, and on the third, I sob at the feeling of him coming inside me.
“Two minutes!”
Maddox groans into my neck, and I sink my head against the wall. He takes a second to kiss my collar, my neck, my jaw, and when he reaches my mouth, a deep chuckle sounds from him. He leans forward and takes the pick out of my teeth with his own, the smile rising in his eyes.
“I couldn’t wait,” he says after stuffing it in his pocket. “Not after…” He pauses to catch his breath, his words trailing as he slides out of me.
My feet hit the ground, my heart fluttering at the way he’s watching us come apart. I have to hold onto his arm as he helps me straighten my clothes.
I can’t feel my legs.
Maddox takes a step back to adjust himself and bring his pants back up once I'm presentable. He pulls his mask up and fluffs his hair, giving it that freshly-fucked look he somehow keeps without much effort. I gulp when his eyes lift to mine, and then, he flicks that damn pick beneath my chin in a playful manner.
“What do you want to do after the show?” he asks.
I don’t know.
I’m pretty sure he just fucked me into next week.
I don’t even know if I’m still alive and breathing.
“Ah… That? Again?” I suggest.
He chuckles. “I mean, before we get to that. There’s no party after. Legal thought it best to lay low tonight. We’re going to hang out with the opening band instead. What do you think?”
I feel myself soften at the notion. “That sounds nice.”
“ONE MINUTE!”
