Page 28 of Veiled

“That’s what you want to talk about now?” he asks breathlessly, gazing down at me.

I lick and tease his hard shaft, stroking it with my hand at the same time. “I’m going crazy.”

“Jeez, way to make a guy feel special,” he deadpans, but it’s said jokingly. It’s been surprisingly easy and simple these past two weeks. We hook up, we hang out, then we go back to our separate cabins.

But I’m still losing my mind. “Don’t be like that.” I lick the head of his cock and stroke it in my hand, my other hand holding myself up by grasping his hip hard. It’s too small of a space, and I’m starting to cramp up, but still, no regrets. “You know, I can’t seem to get enough of this cock.” I lick the tip again for emphasis and then suck the head into my mouth, making him groan.

“Come here.” I do what he says because yeah, it’s cramped. When I stand up, we barely fit, but I don’t mind being this close to him, chest to chest. Cock against cock.

“Hi,” I say as he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me into a kiss.

He reaches between us, grasping both of our dicks together and stroking, moving his hips in perfect rhythm. “Hi.” He kisses me softly, panting lightly against my lips as he brings us both intense pleasure. “It’s only been two weeks.”

“I need a gig,” I say desperately. I do. I wrote a new song, but it’s not quite right. I need to play it in front of a live audience. Test it out.

“I know.” The silky flesh of his cock slides against mine, and it feels so damn good, I tilt my head back, breathing heavily. He licks my throat and makes me groan. “I’ll book one for next week. We just need to be careful.”

I nod my head, happy he’s on board but protecting me. I’ve always felt safe with Waylon. Truth be told, leaving him behind was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I thought—I wanted to believe—I could do it on my own. That I didn’t need him or anyone.

Clearly, I was wrong. And there’s a part of me that really does like being taken care of. I come on a gasp, my cum making a mess between us. He uses it to slick up his own cock, stroking until his orgasm hits him, and then he presses his lips against mine.

I kiss him through it as he strokes and milks every bit of pleasure from us both. We dry off and then get dressed before going into the living room, sitting on the comfy couch. Waylon grabs his phone. I can only assume he’s working because Waylon always works.

Despite putting Dalton in charge of a lot of his clients, he checks in and makes sure everything is running well. He can’t help it. I get it. His job truly defines him, and he’s damn good at it.

“Everything okay?” I ask when he sighs deeply and then clasps the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger.

“Yeah, musicians are just idiots,” he says with a wink my way.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t disagree. “Who did what this time?”

He snorts, sends a message quickly on his phone, and tosses it next to him on the couch. “A rockstar spouting off political views that are abysmal.”

I cringe. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, fun times. Poor Dalton, but it’s sink or swim time. My bet is on the kid.”

I smile at that, liking that Waylon seems to be letting go of some of the control lately. “Who is better to work for? Rockstars or athletes?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows at him, and he laughs.

“Thank God, I was never interested in sports. Jenny has her goddamn hands full every day.”

I laugh. “Not shocked.”

He puts his bare feet in my lap, and I absently massage them with my hands. “Were you a jock?” he asks, and I laugh.

“Hell no. Scrawny as fuck and loved music class and art.”

He grins. “I can see that.” His eyes roam hungrily over my body. “Except the scrawny part.”

“Yeah, I hit my growth spurt later. What was high school like for you?” I ask carefully, realizing I don’t know much about him, despite knowing him for so damn long.

“Oh God, I also loved music but wasn’t very artistic. I was shy and awkward. Couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.”

“I can’t picture you shy.” He owns every single room he walks into with a quiet, understated authority, but still, he’s not shy.

“Oh, it was painful. I was so damn shy.”

“So what made you become a manager?” I should have asked him this years ago, I realize. But it seemed like every time we were around each other, it wasn’t like this. Not ever. Everyone was always busy. It was always chaotic shuffling.

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