I’m climbing, reaching the peak, when all of a sudden, the creak of my hotel door opening echoes in my quiet room. My head snaps toward the sound, and in walks Travis—creeping through the dark, like a thief in the night—coming to steal my orgasm.
I shriek, scrambling to hide my vagina, even though he’s already seen it. Up close and personal. The bullet goes flying. “What are you doing!?”
He strolls to the chair in the corner and drops down, ignoring my question. My hand slips under the blanket, manically searching for the vibrator. I know he hears the low buzzing. I can see the smile curving his mouth in the moonlight streaming through the window.
“How’d you get in here?” I demand. When he continues to ignore me, I flip the lamp next to my bed on. “Hello!?”
His grin grows more smug—if that’s even possible. “You dropped something.”
I huff and climb off the mattress. He watches with amused pale blue eyes as I round the bed and drop to my knees. I toss the blanket up, checking underneath, but it’s not there. Travis shuffles next to me and yanks on the blanket. We both watch as the purple vibrator flies in the air, then rolls right to us. He snatches it before it can fall to the floor.
“I don’t remember this,” he muses, inspecting it like it’s foreign.
Grabbing it, I click it off and toss it on my pillow. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “It’s new.”
I bought it specifically for this trip. Travis and I never used toys. Not because I was embarrassed, we just never needed them. Our fling was short-lived, but it was hot and heavy. We were too busy exploring each other to consider bringing toys into the mix.
He simply hums.
“How the hell did you get a key to my room?” I yell, fed up now that my orgasm has slipped away.
“Someone is snappy. It’s not so nice being cockblocked, is it, May?”
I poke my finger into his chest, and he falls back on the bed, laughing. “I didn’t do that on purpose, and you know it. You broke into my room in the middle of the night! How?” What would he have done if I had someone in here?
“I told the front desk I forgot the key to our room. Told her we were on our honeymoon.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Of course. Sweet-talking asshole.
I throw my hands up. “You’re infuriating. You can go now.” I flick my hand in a shoo motion, but he doesn’t budge.
Instead, he makes a show of sprawling out across my mattress. “Damn, your bed is comfy. Fuck.”
A pinch of guilt hits me due to the simple fact that I get a decent bed nearly every night. Especially knowing how tired he is.
His eyes close with a deep breath. “I just need a little nap.” He scoots himself to the edge and lays his head on the pillow next to mine. “You can finish what you started. I won’t look.”
My face contorts; he’s such a liar.
Snagging the blanket from the floor, I toss it over him, and he kicks off his shoes. My teeth dig into my bottom lip, as I stare at the bed from the other side.
I shouldn’t.
Sleeping next to him could be dangerous. It might be breaking a rule in my contract. I wouldn’t know because I didn’t bother reading it. I know I should have, but I wasn’t going to turn them down, so I signed my name and went about my day. I think I got my nails done after.
“Get in the bed, Ellie,” he sighs.
I place my toy on the table, and Travis pulls the blankets back for me to get in. He’s lying flat on his back, his eyes still closed. I stay as close to the edge as possible, not wanting to feel his body heat. My nerves are on high alert. I was dangerously close to coming a few minutes ago, and I still want to. He’s tempting me by just lying there, and he doesn’t even realize it.
Within minutes, his breathing turns even. I nudge him with my foot, but he doesn’t stir. He’s out cold. I roll to my side, away from him, and turn the lamp off. My eyes fall shut, trying to summon sleep, but it never comes. I still want to get off. It’s been months since I’ve had any action down there. I’ve gotten myself off several times since we’ve been on tour, but it’s not the same as having a man’s touch.
After a while, I give up on sleeping and grab my phone. I log in to the band’s socials and check on the latest posts. Engagement has been solid the last couple of months. They have tons of positive comments from fans, and their inboxes are full of thirsty girls that I leave unopened.
A notification pops up as I’m scrolling. Travis has been tagged in a photo. I click on it. It’s a close-up, whoever took it had to be in the front row. His shirt is pulled up and he’s wiping his neck with it, skin glistening with sweat, showing off his tattooed stomach and a peek of the snake that coils up his chest.
He’s staring right at the camera with a flirty smile, as if he knew they were taking his picture.
He’s so fine, it’s actually unfair.
