Page 128 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
I take in all of it, proud as hell as the clock in my head runs the numbers. Barcelona, 4:30 p.m. Seattle, 7:30 a.m. Perfect.
A quick shower later, I’m in our trailer wearing a fresh hoodie and jeans. My night’s not over, it stretches on for a few more hours with interviews, meet-and-greets, and various sponsor crap.
Before any of it, I find a quiet corner behind the hospitality tent and hit Mara’s number. She answers with Rafferty in her arms, the camera jostling as he reaches for the phone.
“Da-da-da-da,” he babbles, cheeks flushed from breakfast.
“Hey, wee lad.” I smile so hard it hurts.
He bangs a toy against the tray of his highchair, determined to be louder than the noise in my background. Mara rolls her eyes and adjusts him so I get a better view. Ten minutes of peekaboo, a blown kiss, and a promise to call tomorrow before she heads to the park.
Next, Stevie.
“Hold on,” she says before I can speak, “they’ve been waiting.”
She turns the camera, and Jude waves with half a waffle in his mouth, Lila blows kisses like she’s on TV, Isla pretends not to be excited but her fidgeting gives her away. We talk about breakfast, school drop-off, and how the girls’ fairy light fort is now a “permanent structure.” They give me a full virtual tour, spinning the phone until I’m dizzy. It’s chaotic and perfect.
By the time I hang up, I’m lighter. The noise of the festival fades under the sound of their voices in my head.
The next morning, I’m in my hotel room. It’s dark except for the glow of the phone and the table lamp. I have the curtains drawn and the air is pretty stale and dry. I’ve been lying here since five, half-awake, waiting.
Stevie’s call comes through, video immediately angled so I see her in bed, hair loose, voice low.
She’s excited because her first event is booked. It’s nothing huge, but a good way to get her feet wet. I tell her about all of the after-party shenanigans and how I’ve been hanging out mostly with my drum tech, Vince. Liam, Avonna, and Linus are in their own world, and I’m not part of it.
As usual, our conversation turns quiet, slower. We’re able to stare at each other through the screen in the kind of space we only get when the kids are out cold and miles of ocean make the wanting sharper.
“God, I miss you. I wish you were here.” She settles back against her pillows. Her tank strap slips halfway down her arm, showing me a slight bit of cleavage.
I smile into the dark. “I’m working on it.”
“So…do you have something for me, drummer boy?” She bites her finger.
My eyes track the neckline of her tank, how it shifts with her breath. “Maybe. What’re you wearing under there?”
“Guess.” She doesn’t hide the heat in her eyes.
“Nothing,” I say as I yank the blankets down and expose my hardening cock.
She tips the camera down, angling it so I can see straight down her shirt. The neckline gapes enough to reveal the curve of her breasts, nipples peaked and straining against thin cotton. “You know me too well.”
“Take it all off.”
Her chin dips, eyes locked on mine through the screen. One hand slides under the hem of her shirt, peeling it up and over her head in one smooth lift. Her breasts sway free, full and perfect, nipples tight and flushed. Next, she grabs the elastic of her sleep shorts and slides them over her hips, baring the smooth swell of her belly, then lower, revealing the soft, tempting curve between her thighs covered in soft, blonde hair.
My cock thickens to full attention instantly.
“Christ, Stevie.” My hand closes around the base, giving it one slow stroke. “Spread your legs for me.”
She allows her knees to fall open and moves the camera down to catch every glint of wetness. My mouth waters and every muscle is tight with the need to taste her. To have her shuddering under my tongue.
“What’re you thinking?” She cups her tit and pinches her nipple.
“I’d give anything to be there, tasting you.” My hand moves over my cock again, slow enough to make my teeth clench. “Let me see you touch yourself.”
Her fingers drag through her folds, unhurried, gathering every trace of moisture. She brings them to her mouth, lips parting as her tongue curls around the tips, sucking until her cheeks hollow. The wet sound punches straight through me, heatripping down my spine. My hips twitch, cock straining for her, for the taste she’s teasing me with from half a world away.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” she warns as her fingers circle lazily over her clit. “I want to see you.”
