Page 28 of Bitter Beats

Not thinking about that tonight, either.

“Will you make my husband jealous?” she purrs, her nails scraping down my left pec.

I peer at her, trying to sharpen my gaze on her features. She also looks vaguely familiar but…fuck, doesn’t everyone? At some point, faces and features blend together, and I feel like I’ve donethis dance, watched this show, and met these people too many times.

The fact that she’s married should be a complication, but as I look around the room again, I don’t see a jealous husband headed our way.

“Is your husband here?” I ask, wanting to be sure.

She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip. “Not tonight.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot,” I tell her.

She smiles as though I’ve validated her.

Not wanting to talk about her lame marriage anymore, I drop my mouth to hers again, kissing and groping her until Flip passes by.

“Get a fucking room,” he hollers, hitting me on the back.

Shit, he’s right. The last thing I need is pictures of me leaking that I hooked up with some dude’s wife. Stepping back from her, I take her hand and tug her toward the elevators.

“Where are we going?” she giggles.

“Someplace no one will look for us,” I murmur, stepping inside the elevator.

I tap out a message on my phone, relieved when Drew messages back. When we leave the building through the back entrance, the black Escalade I ride around in is parked, the back door already open.

Knowing Drew and Alfred will keep an eye out, I pull the woman—what the hell is her name?—into the back seat and close the door behind us.

As I paw at her dress, working the straps down her thin arms, she grasps my chin and angles my face toward hers. “I’m Angela.”

“Good for you,” I murmur.

I don’t give a shit what her name is. I don’t care about this woman at all. I just want to get inside her and lose myself, quiet my fucking head, and feel something good.

“Give me your mouth and spread your legs,” I demand, roughly shoving her dress up around her hips.

She does what I ask, and I kiss her hard, sucking her bottom lip between my teeth as I yank down my pants and roll on a condom.

She draws in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. “Shit, Mav. You’re huge.”

I smirk, dragging my cock through her slick folds. “Stars, Angela,” I remind her before plunging inside.

She cries out, arching her back, and I suck one of her pert nipples into my mouth. I give her half a second to adjust to my size before I pound into her. My eyes drop closed, and my mind quiets.

Right now, it’s just the sound of our breathing and the feel of her heat gripping me, bringing me closer to the release I crave.

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Mav,” she cries out, dragging one heel up to the back of the driver’s seat and letting me in deeper.

I groan, fisting her hair as I thrust into her.

The angle is awkward. My bare ass is blinding anyone who walks past the windshield. The rocking of the SUV isn’t hiding jack shit. And I don’t fucking care.

Because right now, I’m not confused or twisted up over my reluctant roommate. I’m not wondering about band dynamics and the found family that’s outgrowing me more each year. I’m not troubled about the music, sorting out recording dates, or shaking off the constant, stagnant silence that kills me on a cellular level.

“I’m gonna come, Mav,” Angela announces.

I nod, waiting for her to come down from her orgasm before I move faster, harder, chasing my release.

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