Page 113 of Cherry Beats

Maybe the best moments of your life only exist because the timing was right.

Because you got lucky.

Were we lucky in the here and now? God, I hoped so.

My thumbnail was being chewed down to the wick as I watched him. Out there on the stage, he seemed untouchable. Then he would flash me a look from behind his drum kit—a look that told me he would devour me when his set was over, and memories of his dick in my mouth would take over to remind me that, for now, he was mine.

They performed my favourite songs: Wylde, Devil’s Doormat, Denim-Covered Lover, Project Halo, Destruction of a Gemini.

Big D was drinking neat Jack Daniels straight from the bottle as Rhett did his bit to the audience in between songs. Presley would blast out a round of applause on his kit every time Rhett thought he was being funny, not having to do anything but smirk and shrug his shoulders when the crowd went crazy and Rhett turned around to give him a well-rehearsed middle finger.

They were famous for a reason, and this was it.

All five of them were born to do this.

By the time they’d finished and were heading off stage towards me, I was a hot, horny mess, breathless and in desperate need to slam Presley up against a wall and fuck him senseless. The blowjob wasn’t enough. This was a new kind of desire. A desire amplified by respect for his talent.

He found me, a rush of heavy breaths falling from him as he made confident strides and scooped me up in his hands, his palms cupping my cheeks, and he pressed his lips to mine harder than ever before.

Presley was soaking wet, and all I could smell was beer, smoke, and testosterone that made me want to eat him alive. For once, I wouldn’t have cared who was watching if he’d asked to bend me over and screw me there and then. I’d have taken it.

“God, that was amazing,” he gasped, pulling himself away.

It took me a second to let my eyes flutter open, but when I did, he was smiling at me likehecouldn’t believeIwas real.

“You were phenomenal, king,” I told him with all the sincerity I possessed. Unexpected emotion arose in my throat, and my eyes glazed over. “Presley, I—”

“Fucking love you being here,” he pushed out, cutting me off before I could give him a declaration better suited for another time.

Or was it?

I wanted to say it there and then.

“Fucking love being here,” I said brightly.

The crowd were yelling for more, and I knew there’d be more, too. Youth Gone Wild were known for putting on a lengthy show. They wanted the crowds to get their monies worth, and they were sure as shit going to deliver what they promised.

“Get back out on the stage, rock star.”

“Come out there with me,” he said quietly.

“What?” I pulled back and stared up at him like he was crazy.

“On stage. Come and stand by my side while I play.”

“No, no, no, Presley.” I laughed nervously. “No way!”

“Come on, Cherry. Do it for me.”

“Are you insane? They’ll eat me alive out there. I don’t need that kind of attention. I don’t need those kinds of haters in my life.”

“Haters?”

“Yeah, haters.” I swallowed hard, not wanting to piss him off. “You’re adored, and you know it. Whether we like to admit it or not, I’ll always get hate for loving you.”

Presley froze, his mouth parting as he stared straight into my eyes. “Forlovingme?” he asked in a whisper, the crowd growing wilder behind him and the noise becoming unbearable.

You’ve scared him.

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