Page 42 of Don't Fall For A Rockstar

“But I wanted to?—”

“Later,” I bit out, my climax already building. “Jerk me off.”

He took me in hand and stroked my hard cock with those talented fucking hands of his. I spat again and slid my slick hand up and down his dick, over and over, then teased his cockhead with the palm of my hand on the upstroke. Both of us were panting hard, stealing fevered kisses, and moaning so loud I was sure everyone in this bathroom, hell, this entire bar, could hear us.

“Tommy.”

Nate’s husky voice calling out my name was the sweetest fucking sound.

“Nate, baby, don’t stop.”

A few more strokes and I was flying, jerking hard and spilling my load all over Nate’s hand. I was so caught up in my release that my grip on his dick faltered for a second. Until Nate shuddered and came undone.

Watching the pleasure wash over his face, his eyes never leaving mine, I was mesmerized by Nate’s beauty. Not just the way he looked. But the way he made me feel. His kindness. His laughter. And yes, his love. I was head over heels in love with this man.

I called him beautiful, and that was no line. Inside and out, it was the goddamn truth.

CHAPTER 16

NATE

“What was that?” I whispered, too depleted from that monster orgasm to move a muscle.

Tommy licked his lips and leaned in closer.

“That was the hottest fucking hand job in the history of ever,” he panted.

It didn’t matter if it was sex in a hotel, or his bedroom, or a bathroom in a bar. Every time with Tommy was better than the last.

But it was more than that. I’d fallen in love with him, day after day, for the past two months. It was like stepping out on stage. I was giddy. Every fucking time.

Grabbing the roll of toilet paper, Tommy wiped off his hand, his cock, then mine. I was still too fucked out to do anything but let him. Once we were both zipped up, he took my hand and pulled me away from the stall door. His phone buzzed in his back pocket. Mine did too.

“Let’s wash up fast. Our friends are probably en route or already here.”

We stepped out of the stall on shaky legs and quickly headed for the sinks. Both of us smelled like sweat and cum, but so what? It’s not like our friends didn’t know what was going on.And I was too damn happy to care what anyone else thought. I was proud as fuck to be with this man.

He gently guided me out of the washroom, his arm around my waist, protective as always. We sauntered back into the busy bar and started for the corner table again, but it was already taken. No surprises. The place was jam-packed with patrons. Looking around, I spotted a group leaving a high-top table near the bar.

“Over there.”

We cut through the crowd and nabbed the table before anyone else could. We slipped off our jackets and settled in.

By the time we’d ordered our first beers, Brodie, Holloway, Ronin, and Faise arrived. Along with Van, Brodie’s husband and co-writer, as well as Payton, the band’s hairstylist.

The boys of Wayward Lane had the room buzzing, people taking out their phones to snap pics and ask for selfies. The guys stopped and posed for some pictures, but then their security team made a path that led directly to us.

“It’s our favorite roadie and his rockstar boyfriend!” Brodie shouted. “Can I say that? I assume that’s what’s going on here, right? Are you ‘boyfriend official?’ Or should we keep this quiet?”

Given the loudness of Brodie’s voice, quiet was hilarious. No matter where Brodie was or what he was doing, the lead singer always drew attention. He was wearing his trademark leather kilt and biker jacket. Heads turned as they always did when he walked into a room.

Tommy nodded, sliding his arm around my waist. I did the same.

“We are,” Tommy grinned and squeezed me tighter.

“Congrats guys!” Brodie clapped his hands, then motioned to the bartender. “The drinks are on us.”

More interested patrons started to crowd around our table, vying for a chance to talk to the band, and surprisingly, to me. I was still getting used to being recognized. It was surreal. All the while, the bodyguards were a wall around us, allowing only a few people at a time into our circle.

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