Page 2 of Bassist With Benefits
“You’re way off, Cam.” At least Brandon thought it was ridiculous. “They just love to bust each other’s balls.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed. “We’re just busting each other’s balls.” He stood up quickly, annoyed and agitated, unsure why he was having such a strong reaction to the remark. “We fuck in the same bed, but we don’t fuck each other.”
“Sorry,” Cam said. “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
“You didn’t hit a nerve.” Cam did more than hit a nerve. He hit the nail on the fucking head. Jeremy marched into the kitchen, dropped the paper towel in the trash and tossed the bottle of cleaner on the counter, where it fell over with a loud thud. He grabbed another beer and marched into the bedroom, intent on fucking that groupie until the entire bus shook.
When their little group bang was over, Jeremy instructed the bus driver to pull into the nearest gas station so the groupies could exit the bus. It was after 2:00 a.m., but unless there were special circumstances, strangers didn’t spend unnecessary time on the tour bus or in their hotel suite. Bulletproof’s high-strung manager, Felix Osbourne, implemented that rule. It also served as a great excuse when sex was over and conversation turned painful.
The brakes screeched as the bus pulled into a Citgo off I-90. Jeremy handed a wad of cash to one of the groupies for a taxi back to Minneapolis and breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes groupies wanted to hang around and it got uncomfortable, but these three couldn’t get back to their friends fast enough to brag about participating in one of Alan and Jeremy’s famous group bangs. The doors closed with a whoosh, and Jeremy settled into his favorite chair. “That was fun,” he commented.
“Wait!” Derek MacAlister, Bulletproof’s lead guitar player, jumped from one of the top bunks in the sleeping section and called to the bus driver. “Hang on a second. We’ve got another one to drop off.”
A guy slid down from the bunk and pulled on a pair of jeans. He bent Derek back with a kiss that almost knocked him off his feet, and strutted off the bus.
“Is that it?” The driver leaned over his seat and looked down the center corridor. “Anyone else hiding back there?”
“That’s all I’ve got,” Derek said, taking a seat next to Alan on the couch. “We’re good to head out.” The bus started up again and they continued toward Chicago.
“It’s snowing.” Cam pointed to the window, an excited lilt in his voice. “I can’t believe it. I actually miss the snow.”
A native New Yorker, Cam was used to seeing the white stuff on a regular basis, but the rest of them grew up in Southern California, so snow was rarely seen. It had been 60 degrees in Minneapolis this afternoon, but a significant drop in temperature was to thank for tonight’s flurries. The softly falling snowflakes melted as soon as they hit the ground or the windshield, but their descent from the sky was a beautiful shower of white. Jeremy climbed over Derek and Alan’s feet to get to the front of the bus so he could get a better view of the snowfall. “Look at the way it twinkles in the lights.”
“Sit back down,” Mike, the driver, ordered. “If I stop short you’ll hit the windshield.”
A hand grabbed the back of Jeremy’s T-shirt and pulled him into the living area. He fell onto the couch, with Alan underneath him, and ended up with a knee wedged in his ball sac. “Uh!” He grabbed his crotch and doubled over. Warm saliva sliced across his cheek while dog breath invaded his nostrils.
Cam’s voice overpowered the rest of the guys’ snickering. “Aw. She’s just making sure you’re OK.”
If it didn’t feel like a brick hit him in his lower abs, Jeremy might have found it cute. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and recovered enough to sit up. “What the fuck was that about, Alan?”
“I didn’t want you to crack your head open on the windshield. I’m just looking out for ya, bruh.”
“So you socked me in the nuts?”
“It was an accident.” Alan leaned forward and presented exaggerated puckered lips toward Jeremy’s groin. “Want me to kiss the boo-boo?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy turned his butt toward Alan. “You can start with my asshole.”
Alan punched Jeremy in the butt. To everyone else, including Alan, it was just another bout of roughhousing, something that stemmed over from their teenage years that they had never outgrown. But to Jeremy, it was a touch he craved more and more as the years went by. Alan’s hand, so close to Jeremy’s genitals, sent a chill up his spine, and Jeremy’s dick came to life with a jolt. The familiar mixture of adrenaline and nervous tension fluttered through his belly and steadily rose to his throat. He could feel his blood pumping through his body at an accelerated rate. A laugh released some of the bottled-up excitement brought on by the physical contact with his best friend, which was getting harder and harder to conceal.
The guys were laughing and playing with the dog, unaware that Jeremy was wrestling with inappropriate thoughts about Alan. It was Cam’s first tour with Bulletproof, and they were entertained by having the dog on board. Each of the guys was taking turns tossing her small dog biscuits, which she promptly caught and ate. She turned to Jeremy, wondering why he wasn’t offering her any treats, and he smiled at the dog. Her antics were a much-needed distraction, and he welcomed something to get his mind off deciding whether or not to finally make a move on his best friend.
CHAPTER TWO
The bus pulled into Chicago shortly after six in the morning. It was ridiculous that they had to wake up in order to check into the hotel, just to go back to sleep. Maybe other people woke for the day at that hour, but not rock stars. They had only gone to sleep a few hours ago.
Brandon, hidden behind dark sunglasses, and Cam, who was way too chipper so early in the morning, veered off to their own hotel suite with the dog. Derek, Alan, and Jeremy went to their suite and crashed.
Around noon, Jeremy emerged from the bedroom as hungry as a horse. “Where’s breakfast?”
Alan was sitting on the couch, bobbing his head to Korn’sRotting in Vainwhich was bellowing from the giant home theater speakers. “It should be here any minute. I ordered everything from pancakes to steak and eggs.” He gave Jeremy a sly smile. “Are you as hungry as I am after last night?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy was hungry alright, but for so much more than just food. Dressed only in sweatpants, Alan’s hard pecs were on display like a tanned buffet of muscle. His shoulders and arms, taut from years of pounding on the drums, were curved with definition. A sexy trail of dark hair started from Alan’s navel and traveled southbound until it disappeared underneath the low-slung, loosely tied waistband of those sexy sweatpants, and it made Jeremy’s mouth water.
Jeremy forced himself to look away before movement in his shorts exposed the lust he was trying so hard to hide. He sniffed the air and started toward the kitchen. “Do I smell coffee?”
“Freshly brewed.” Sitting at the kitchen island, Derek had a mug at his lips.
