Page 75 of Filthy Rock Stars

The Catwoman costume must have made the men think Nico was a woman. That doesn’t mean it’s smart to hold his hand, though.

But our fingers are laced together. He’s squeezing back, tight, and I can’t let go as we bound down a flight of stairs, around a corner, and into another corridor, fluorescent lights flickering above us. Nico spots a massive stack of old cardboard boxes, and we duck behind to take cover.

The hallways are silent. We’re pressed close, hearts beating, and when our eyes lock, the tension breaks with a laugh.

“Did they follow us?” he asks.

I glance down the empty corridor. “I don’t think so. Are you okay? I know you hate the idea of us getting caught.”

That’s when I notice his cock, hard and throbbing against my hip, heat that I can feel through the black leather of his catsuit.

Nico lets out a shuddering laugh. “Yeah. I’m okay. I actually feel kind of exhilarated. Maybe I needed something cathartic like this.”

I press my palm to his erection. “I’d say.”

He pants. “Shadow,” he begs.

“Is that Shadow, please, let’s go back?” I ask, then treat his cock to a slow, hard rub. “Or Shadow, please fuck me in this weird industrial corridor?”

He drops his backpack and pushes me against the wall. After a quick glance down the corridor, Nico pulls my hard cock out. “That’s Shadow’s little secret,” he whimpers and grips me as he goes to his knees. “Keep a look out.”

My thighs tense, and I jerk involuntarily from my hips, my cock throbbing in his fist. His hands are all over my stomach and around to my ass, groping my glutes as he huffs, his breath hot on my shaft and balls. I turn to check down the hall, and with Nico’s hands on my thighs and hips, I end up facing the wall.

I haven’t had a rimjob in years, and his impossibly soft tongue and warm lips send me straight to heaven.

He’s so amazing. There’s total chaos waiting for us around every turn, and I know he’s struggled with anxiety in the past. But Nico keeps pushing through. He keeps surprising me, like every time we run, hand in hand, we arrive at another exhilarating, perfect moment together.

He’s everything. Surprising and smart and kind. Brave. One of the most talented musicians I’ve ever heard and fucking hot as hell.

I don’t deserve him, but I love him.

The thought hits me out of nowhere. It sends me spiraling, plastered against the hard wall.

I love Nico.

Fuck. I love him.

“Shadow,” he moans, pumping me with his wet fist, his mouth still at my rim. I glance down the halls and then down to him. He tilts his eyes up to me, circled by the black fabric of the mask, and pleasure weakens my knees. “Can I—”

Before he can finish, distant voices echo. Nico and I both yank my pants up, and as he stands, a couple people from the janitorial staff emerge around the far corner.

I pull him against my chest, hiding behind the boxes, still humming with horny need.

“Shit,” he whispers, rubbing his hand over his face. “That was close.”

I shrug, grinning through my adrenaline rush as Nico’s excitement buzzes. “Not too close,” I whisper and grab his hand. “Follow me.”

Darting off down the hall, I pull Nico along. He’s laughing and happy, and my heart pounds like a jackhammer, the sudden realization from earlier thundering through me.

I’m in love with Nico.

It’s like the sound of a cheering arena, the flash of a million bulbs, the electric charge of a blistering guitar solo.

It’s like the future has finally arrived.

And it’s at least a little bit terrifying.

We dart by trash bins, past a room with the sound of metal clanging inside it, and finally stumble into a huge garage, only a few big trucks at one end.

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