Riot: How do you get into this argument every single time? You’re triplets. You’re all basically the same.
I can practically see their horrified expressions as each of their avatars pops onto my screen.
West: You know that’s inaccurate. I’m barely related to the two of them.
Rebel: If it isn’t baby bro chiming in finally. How did it go tonight?
Riot: It was packed. We slayed.
Rogue: He’s giving egotistical jerk wad vibes. Rebel, do that dad thing you always did.
That stopped working when I was seventeen. They were twenty-two, and that was a long time ago. I’d like to see him try and dad me these days.
Rebel: Proud of you kid. When do you get here?
Riot: In the morning. There are a few things I need to get done before Kelsey and I fly out, but we’ll leave as soon as possible.
He did dad me after all. That proud of me shtick makes my chest swell. Can’t wait to see his face when I tell them all about Kelsey and me.
Another message comes through.
Rogue: Did the package arrive yet?
Riot: I’ll let you know as soon as I get eyes on it.
Rogue: I can’t get married without it.
Sometimes he is so dramatic. I pocket my phone.
Neil, Bronx, and Golden are already checking out the line of women outside. They tell our security team who to let into our dressing rooms, gesturing at the women they want to wind down and fuck around with.
“Do they need mothering tonight? Or can I leave them to look after themselves?” Kelsey whispers in my ear from behind me as I snag a bottle of scotch from the rows of alcohol.
I wrap my arm around her waist where she stands behind me, holding her close without pulling her in front of me. “If we’re quiet and you’re still we can probably back out of here beforeanyone notices I’m about ten seconds away from ripping that tiny skirt up, tugging your panties to the side, and sinking my cock into you.”
“Charming.” She slips away from my touch, popping out from behind me and perusing the spread of pizza, Twizzlers, and copious amounts of alcohol on the long table. Snagging a red rope, she pops the tip between her teeth and bites into it with a grin. “Your best line yet. No wonder I keep having sex with you.”
“You’re into me.” Putting the booze down, I grab her before she can get any further away. I drag her out the door and down the hall until I find a darkened room. I’ve been waiting all night. I’m not going to let any of my jackass bandmates distract her. “Because we’re damn good together, Kelsey Peterson. You, the sexy as hell rock chick with a brain for business and a body for fucking.”
“You, the sexy rock star with a voice that turns women to mush.” Hers grows husky as I grip her ass and bring her closer.
“Sure.” There’s more to L.A. Riot’s fame and fortune than the talents I bring. Neil’s a phenomenal bassist. Bronx plays so hard and fast he loses ten pounds in sweat a night. The way Golden plays his guitar... it’s no surprise women want to know what else those digits can strum. “But I haven’t heard you sing yet tonight. You’re going to put me to shame.”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait a bit longer.” She captures my face between both hands and licks inside my mouth. She’s aggressive sometimes. Takes what she wants and takes no prisoners. It’s an attractive quality. Sexy. “You still have the meet and greet with your pass holders before we can get the hell out of here.”
As she starts to walk off, I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her back. My fingers dig into the band of her skirt and slide inside her panties.
“Riot.” She has that tone—the one she usually has when I’m acting like a tool, but a cute one—but it twists into a whimper when she feels how hard I am against her ass. “Did you stuff tube socks in your leather pants again?”
“You think you’re funny, but you’re adorable, candy head. Giving me compliments that stroke my ego the way I’m going to stroke your—”
“Okay. Okay.” She squeals when I push two fingers inside her to tease her. She’s already wet. She wraps both hands around my forearm, attempting to push me away. Or hold me closer. It’s almost always the latter. “We need to deal with the meet and greet.”
“How long?”
“Thirty minutes. An hour tops.”
“No.” I breathe against her ear. “How long will it take you to cry out my name? Because I’m not doing anything until I hear your pretty voice as I make you come.”
