Page 14 of Naughty Dreams
“If there’s a Book of Best Moms in a heavenly library, her name’s at the top.”
The teasing note dropped out of DJ’s voice. “Marjorie would be right there with her. How about your dad?”
Roy had learned to push past the slight hesitation so it wasn’t noticeable. Again, he wasn’t sure he’d managed it with DJ. “Hewas a very good father. Workaholic. Lost him to a heart attack a few years back.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to know some personal stuff.” Then, letting the serious stuff go, DJ gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. “So should I use ‘Sir’ asyournickname?”
Roy opened his mouth to say a variety of inadvisable things, but Lolly was gesturing to DJ and he pushed away from the wall, giving Roy a wink.
“Talk to you later.”
CHAPTER THREE
While Tal was gone, a question came up about one of the drum sequences. DJ took a seat at the kit to work it out with Steve and Pete.
DJ was proficient on a number of instruments, not just the electric guitar. Seeing DJ do the drums, coordinating with Pete and Steve, calling out to one another as they fine-tuned it, wasn’t hard to watch. As he ran through the sequence, he showed a smooth grace and power in the shift of his shoulders. The line of hip and thigh muscles drew the eye as he worked the foot pedal for the main drum.
Tal returned shortly after that, and put in enough rehearsal time to satisfy the band they were ready for the next show. His drumming was on the mark, probably because he’d gotten his score and evened out. A mostly functioning addict. For now.
They worked out the music for a new song DJ had written, and then, since some other big name group members were in the building, using the isolation and vocal booths to lay down tracks, they finished out by inviting them in for a jam session.
In between songs, they shared playing techniques and anecdotes. When Warren arrived, they were recalling how thepianist on BTO’s “Takin’ Care of Business” had been a random pizza delivery guy with classic piano background.
“How about Dave Grohl?” Steve laughed. “Nineteen years old, sleeping in his crappy van with his Scream bandmates before their next gig. A bang on the door, and he’s asked to play drums for Iggy Pop, because he needed a fill-in drummer for that same show.”
Watching rock icons make music and share stories of the life they and others like them led was a dream come true for any music fan. Roy wanted to stay and listen, but he had things to handle. After he turned things over to Warren, he headed for the control room door to make a quiet exit.
DJ had seemed fully involved in the conversation, but he looked Roy’s way and raised a hand in farewell. Roy gave him a cordial nod.
DJ had wanted him to know he was aware of him. Jesus.
The kid was direct, he gave him that. And too trusting. When Roy reached his hotel room, he thought about the conversation they’d had in DJ’s dressing room. No sub should offer it up to a Dom like that, one he’d barely met.
But DJ’s track record said he protected his private life and kept firm control of his talent in a business that targeted the too-trusting like hawks going after chickens. Since DJ had made the decision to put his life in Roy’s hands, how big a difference was there between that and the trust level required for a consensual BDSM session?
Moss had sent Roy the concert footage. After he took a shower and changed into his sleep shorts, he got a beer from the mini-fridge and sat down in front of his laptop to review it. His mouth tightened as he watched the fan grab DJ’s arm, but he couldn’t fault the readiness of Henry’s team member or DJ’s handling of it.
Despite Roy’s strong temptation to stop the crowd-pleasing contact during shows, there was a legitimate reason to keep doing it. The stalker didn’t want to kill DJ in an opportunistic stabbing or shooting. But he might put himself in the front rows to get closer to his obsession. Roy had told Moss to have continuous camera coverage there going forward. They could scan the footage for repeat appearances or anyone who sent up flags.
While the stalker’s stated goal wasn’t to kill DJ, that didn’t relax Roy’s vigilance. If he was able to take him, it would end in DJ’s death, because the reality couldn’t live up to his twisted fantasies.
Roy would have preferred that kind of certainty in his own imaginings about the rockstar. He was already cataloging moments that had nothing to do with security. How DJ had eased closer when Roy put his hand on the edge of the dressing room door, preventing him from shutting it. That last look before he left the studio tonight. All the teasing comments.
But just because he liked looking at the dessert menu didn’t mean he had to order from it. Roy shifted his attention to the reports from G and Warren and typed out some further direction for them.
At the Miami show, all three teams would be in play, with one accompanying DJ to his aftershow commitments and then back to the hotel to get him tucked in for the night.
Roy imagined pulling the covers over that long body after using him up, making him serve Roy until he was spent. DJ’s thick lashes would fan his cheeks, his talented voice hoarse from begging for the orgasm Roy would allow only when he heard that strain reach a breaking point.
He might have to figure out a way around that. DJ needed his voice in working condition.
He was just fantasizing, but DJ had straight out offered. Roy acknowledged there was a certain kind of sense to it. But desires could rationalize what was foolish. He needed an objective opinion.
He sent a text, and a minute later the phone rang. When he hit pause on the concert footage he’d resumed, his unhelpful laptop froze on a close up of DJ working the guitar like an extension of his body. His head was tipped back, eyes half closed, neck and chest gleaming with light perspiration, curls damp against his sculpted cheek.
“Yeah, boss?” G’s voice was crisp and sharp. He’d never heard it otherwise. She’d told him sleep was a weakness of the unmotivated.
“I’m not calling as your boss. This is a Dom to Domme question.”
