Page 14 of Room Ten: Put on a Show

“I’m returning to my post,” I muttered under my breath.

Marching out of the room, I didn’t stop when the door closed behind me. I kept moving down the hallway.

“Where are you off to?” Baron called after me.

“Taking a five minute break,” I tossed back over my shoulder.

Rounding the corner, I slapped my palm against the door of the public restroom and shoved it open. I flipped the lock with one hand and unzipped my pants with the other. Closing my eyes, I pressed my forehead to the polished, cool wood of the door and wrapped my fingers around my achingly stiff cock.

Damn near every day with Kenna ended this way. I jerked off alone, in private, wishing I could slide into her and watch the ecstasy play across her face. Instead, I spilled over my own hand, knowing I could never have her.

Chapter Five

Kenna

The thing I loved most about New Orleans was the fact that every day was a party.

And that’s exactly why my father hated it, claiming I needed to be a good girl and stay away from such a vile, sinful place.

So, as soon as I had financial independence, I bought the biggest house on the market and moved in. That was four years ago and my father hasn’t spoken to me since. The sting of that estrangement never really faded, and I suppose I made up for it by partying harder, enjoying my life to the fullest without my father calling me every degrading name known to man.

After a long week of endless recording sessions, multiple fittings and alterations at Asia’s studio, and last-minute prep work for my next concert in a week, I was more than ready to let loose, have fun, and unwind, especially on a Friday night. The last thing I wanted was to get dragged down with thoughts of my disapproving, tyrannical father who had disowned me. Or my mother, who walked out when I was a baby.

I rummaged around in my closet until I found an outfit that I liked—a lacy white top with slim-fitting black jeans. Then I sent a text to Troy. Tonight was about distractions.

Jazz festival. Bourbon Street. Ten o’clock. Meet me?

Immediately, the three dots appeared to indicate he was typing a response.

Sounds great. I’ll be there.

An hour later, I was on Bourbon Street with a drink in hand. The glow of neon lights cast electric hues over the crowd. Merrick and Baron flanked me on either side, plowing a clear path with their muscular bodies like guard dogs on the prowl.

I was tempted to buy them a drink, too, in the hopes they might relax, but I’d already learned from previous experience that they never touched a single drop of alcohol while they were on duty.

Music filled the air in a magnificent crescendo—wailing trumpets, crashing drums, husky saxophones, and the sultry tones of bass. The doors to every bar and business were propped open, allowing the crowd to flow easily in and out of buildings.

“There you are, darling.”

Troy slid his arm around my waist, his mouth at my ear. A pleasant shiver melted down my back at being near him again. I barely had a chance to take a breath, let alone form a reply, when his mouth was on mine, tongue sweeping past my lips.

He gave a pleased hum as he pulled away.

“Tequila already, sweetheart? Without me?”

“You were taking too long,” I replied lightly. “But you can buy me another.”

Troy’s gaze shifted past my shoulder to the bar behind us—Dizzy Pop Hall, the glowing blue sign read. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, tugging me toward the door.

“An excellent idea.”

It was standing room only inside Dizzy Pop, but I didn’t care. Troy pressed another glass into my hand as we swayed to the music around us. With his mouth at my neck and his palms smoothing up and down my body, I forgot how exhausting the week had been, losing myself in his touch. The memory of his proposition returned to the forefront of my mind again.

Why don’t you take more than one lover?

My gaze found Merrick and Baron on the outskirts of the room, backs against the wall, hands folded in front of them. They looked so still, stoic, and silent that they could have been carved from stone and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

My mind started to wander, imagining Merrick’s big, strong hands on my hips with a firm grip. Baron’s mouth on my tits with sweet, heavenly heat, and the stinging pinch of his teeth. And Troy, whispering filthy things in my ear the whole time.

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