Page 9 of Stuck With My Rockstar Boss
“Promise, I’ll take care of it. You won’t have to worry.”
Our eyes meet. I think the alcohol is hitting me a little too hard because I feel like his eyes are swirling in beautiful patterns of verdant green. Perhaps I’m just getting lost. I can’t get lost. Quite literally can’t afford to. It’s my job on the line, after all.
We finish our drink and call it a day. Before we retreat to our respective buses, Lucas murmurs to me, “Please just keep this between us, Mika.”
“Of course,” I say.
Lucas smiles softly at me. “I’m glad you’re back.”
I giggle and smack him on the arm with the back of my hand. “Sleep well. Big travel day tomorrow,” I say and then turn on my heel toward the bus. Yeah, I’m glad I’m back too.
5
Lucas
I wake up in my claustrophobic bunk, my whole body coated in a sheen of sweat. Fucking Florida. We drove all night to make it to Miami. Wish we were just fucking flying but tour buses make more sense and are overall more cost-effective. They’re just a pain in the ass when I can hear Dylan snoring like a puppy and Jay facetiming with a girl in Florida he fucked last tour.
Concert tonight in Miami. Day off in Miami. Concert next night in Orlando and then no time to chill, just straight on to Nashville. New Orleans was a hit, Atlanta went off without a hitch, and a small impromptu gig in Tampa made Entertainment Tonight. I’m dreading Miami, though. Last tour, Miami was the setting for one of our most infamous nights of partying. Two days of partying nonstop, lots of drinking, and girls. This was before everything… before my anxieties. I’ve been hearing rumblings of the guys wanting to recreate that debauchery and I just hope I can finagle my way out of it.
Otherwise, these first two weeks have been incredible. I’ve been so at ease with Mika always at my side. She is just able to work her magic regardless of the situation and make sure I’m not trapped. Not to mention whenever we’re not obligated to the tour, I get to actually see the cities, see the sights. I’ve got a whole stack of postcards already for my collection from all the different things I’ve seen.
To be honest, though, Mika and I don’t have to do anything to enjoy ourselves. We get on really well. We can shoot the shit, laugh like crazy. She’s a fun girl. A crazy girl, but not in the way I’ve come to known them. She’s just totally herself. It’s awesome.
I check my phone to see the time, but I’m distracted by a text from Mika.
Beach day tomorrow! Get your speedo! ;)
I smile to myself. Bigger than I should for being alone and staring at my phone. She’s just a friend. A pal. A chum. A buddy.
Then why am I hard thinking about her?
Morning wood is a blessing and a curse. Blessing when you’ve got someone to enjoy it, curse when you’re waking up and thinking about someone you shouldn’t be.
Objectively, she’s a good-looking girl. Just because I can acknowledge that doesn’t mean anything. But the longer I think about her, the more I can bend her into a fantasy. I close my eyes and imagine what she’d do if she was here with me now. Her pouty lips would curl into a mischievous smile. She’d reach under the covers and…
Aw, fuck. I’m touching myself now. I have to get this off my mind.
She’d probably whisper something dirty. She’s always got a dirty joke in her back pocket. And I’d laugh but wouldn’t quite be able to because her hand is working me so nicely that I already feel the pressure of pleasure inside my gut.
And I can picture her mouth around me. Swallowing me whole, taking me deep. Hungry and fast.
Shit. I try to steady my breathing so I don’t wake anyone up. It’s just so hard when I imagine her gripping my hips and moaning with my cock in her mouth. I come fast and hard when I imagine how it would feel to release my load into her mouth. She’d swallow it and smile.
I bury my head in the pillow next to me and gasp. Fuck, I’m gonna have to do laundry. Can’t have cum all over my sheets.
How old am I? Feels like I’m thirteen rather than thirty-three.
I try and wave off the thought of Mika in bed with me like it’s a cloud of cigarette smoke blurring my vision. However, I can’t get enough of her out of my head. She’s always at the edges.
Suddenly, the curtain next to my bed screeches open, revealing Jay, grinning at me like the fucking Joker.
I twist away from him toward the wall of my bunk. “Jay, what the fuck!”
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Are you just being an asshole or are you waking me up for a reason?” I groan, trying to adjust the sheets so it’s not at all obvious I’ve just been jacking off.
“Hmm… just being an asshole,” he answers. “You’re the last one up, king. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”
