The camera was good about switching the view around to show all the members of the band. Everyone looked great. I admired the way Cash plucked at his bass and smirked out at the crowd, while Riot held the microphone out to the front row and let a fan get a few lyrics in.
Milo was especially sexy on the drums, shirtless under the molten gold wash of the stage lights. Sweat slicked his skin, tracing the hard lines of his shoulders and running down the deep grooves of his muscles every time he swung his drumsticks. His deep brown hair clung to his forehead, and his jaw was set in that chaotic, but dangerous focus that made it look like he wasn’t performing for anyone but himself. He looked less like a musician and more like a storm of energy that had taken human shape.
As I watched his arms moving in a blur on the drums, I thought to myself: was this really my life right now? This video had over a million views, and I intimately knew the entire band. Such a wild thing to think about compared to where I was two months ago.
I stretched out in my bunk, feeling all the muscles I hadn’t used in the past few days. I really did feel better now. Probably ninety or ninety-five percent healthy.
I hadn’t had much alone time since joining the tour. And our hotel stop in Chicago felt wasted since I was sick the whole time.
The solitude was nice.
Milo was doing a drum solo on my iPad, grinning out at the crowd as the pace of his drumming got faster and faster. He stood up when he was done and held up his drumsticks to the crowd, who screamed their adoration at him.
He lookedgood. A six-pack of abs, absolutely shredded with lean muscle. One drumstick twirled in his deft fingers, and then he brought it down on the drums as they resumed the song.
I glanced at my watch. The other show, theliveshow, was still going on. The band wouldn’t be back for at least half an hour.
I relaxed in my bunk, parting my legs while watching the Chicago show.
The camera panned between Riot, Cash, and Milo. Each man different, but all of them sexy and gorgeous and fun in their own way. Slowly, my fingers drifted down into the elastic of my sweatpants.
Sighing, I touched myself.
I’d been so ridiculouslyhornyfor the past week. I hadn’t been able to have sex with Riot, and then I couldn’t hook up with Cash either because it was my turn to get sick. All of that energy had been building up inside of me. The moment my index and middle finger slid to either side of my clit, I was groaning with pleasure.
I drank in the sight of the Cherry Midnight men on my screen while rubbing myself, faster and faster.
Eventually, I reached into my backpack and came out with the lipstick vibrator I’d brought with me on tour. It hadn’t gottenanyuse thanks to the lack of privacy on the bus, but now it was a welcome addition to my packed things.
Riot hit the high note in a song and I closed my eyes and groaned with ecstasy.
With my headphones on, I never heard the bus door open.
35
Roxie
It wasn’t the same as a hotel room, but it was sodelightfulto have the tour bus to myself. My own little bunk cocoon, with the curtain drawn, the lights off, and my own private Cherry Midnight show playing on the screen and singing in my ears. Even though I’d seen plenty of their shows live and in person, it was always from the wings of the stage—with the exception of the first show when they opened for Rainknife.
The show on my screen used professional camera work, zooming in on each individual member of the band. I could see their expressions, the passion in their eyes as they played their instruments and gave the crowd what they want.
It was incredibly attractive.
With the help of the vibrator, I came quickly—and then a second time, even more intense than the first. I shook and shuddered with release as the camera zoomed in on Milo, twirling one drumstick while pounding with the other.
And then, as the orgasm faded like the last note of a song, the privacy curtain of my bunk snapped open.
Milo’s grin hit me immediately.
“Well,” he said, eyes flicking once, quick and appreciative, then looking back to my face. “You scared me for a second, but I guess I was worrying about nothing.”
“Shit!” I hissed, lunging for the curtain, but Milo was faster, slipping inside and sliding it shut again like he’d done this a hundred times.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He was already climbing into the bunk, all long limbs and easy confidence, like this was exactly where he’d meant to end up. “I heard you making noises, but I was afraid you were dying or something. I didn’t realize you were…”
I swallowed back a hasty admission before it could give me away more than the throbbing between my legs.
The space shrank instantly, the narrow mattress dipping under his weight, the curtain brushing my shoulder. Milo leaned in, close enough that I could smell his sweat from the show, feel the heat of him, see the spark in his eyes that meant he was enjoying this far too much.
