First Chance Book 4
Автор
Andrea Wood
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Chapter 72
Abagail
Tonight marks my first night off a tour bus in over half a year, except for that one emergency night off—which, let’s just say, didn’t turn out so great for me.
I ended up flying back to the city where my band was performing that very night.
I’ve been on the road as a tour manager with a rising band called Fighting Death. I’ve just flown into Boston to catch up with friends and family before I start hunting for my next gig.
Fighting Death is heading back to the studio to record a new album, and their record company isn’t exactly a household name yet, so another tour isn’t on the cards for at least a year.
Sadly, being jobless doesn’t pay the bills.
“Abby, are you done in there yet?” Selena bangs on the bathroom door, her voice impatient.
“Almost there, hold your horses, babe,” I call back.
Selena insisted that I wear an outfit she picked out from her closet. My own wardrobe is pretty much just business suits and heels.
It’s not that I always want to dress like that, but as a tour manager, I have to look professional all the time.
I deal with the manager of every venue, every hotel, sponsors, and I can’t exactly show up in my preferred jeans and t-shirt when I’m representing a recording studio and record label.
So, needless to say, what I’m wearing tonight is a far cry from my usual attire.
Selena chose a silky pink blouse with a deep plunging neckline and a black skirt that stops just above my knees and clings to every curve I have.
The heels are mine though, and they’re comfy enough to dance in all night.
I run my fingers through my hair, teasing it into a casual, tousled look. I swipe on a light coat of mascara and a touch of lip gloss before opening the door to let Selena in.
“You look smoking hot. You’re totally going to snag a guy tonight.”
“I thought we were going out to dance, not to hunt for men. If I’d known that was your plan, I would have said no. I don’t need a man,” I retort, dead serious.
“Chill. I’m not planning on setting you up with anyone, I was just saying—you could do with a good lay.
“Six months on a bus with guys and not once did you get laid? You must be parched by now.”
“Sex isn’t a necessity, Selena, I’m fine, trust me.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Abagail? The road clearly isn’t doing you any favors,” she laughs.
“Let’s move on from the topic of me getting laid, who’s meeting us out tonight?”
“Raven’s already there waiting for us, Sage is on her way, and I think that’s it. So let’s get a move on.”
The cab pulls up outside a bar that looks like it could use a serious facelift.
“This is where we’re ‘partying’?” I ask Selena, skepticism dripping from my words.
“Wait till we get inside, then you can eat your words,” she laughs, pulling me out of the cab after her.
She tosses some cash to the driver and leads me to the entrance, bypassing the long line that’s snaking around the building.
“Hey Terrance, my girl’s back in town, don’t make us wait outside,” she flirts, leaning into him.
“Alright, but no trouble,” he relents, letting us slip past him.
Selena guides me to the bar where Raven and Sage are already knocking back shots.
They both down their drinks and smother me with hugs.
“It’s been too long, sister,” Sage says.
At the same time, Raven chimes in, “I thought you’d sold out on us. Getting all successful and running off.”
Her veiled jab at my job brings me crashing back to reality. The reality of the last time we spoke, how abandoned I felt when she left.
The guilt starts to creep back under my skin, coursing through my veins.
Drink.
I flag down the bartender and order three shots of Southern Comfort and lime. He’s back in no time, I knock them back one after another and leave the money on the counter.
“Anyone up for dancing?” I ask, keen to steer clear of any further discussion about my job with Raven.
Selena and Sage leap up at my suggestion, while Raven stays put at the bar nursing her drink. I lead the way to the dance floor as Usher’s Love In The Club starts playing.
I throw my hands in the air and start swaying my hips. Selena, Sage, and I are dancing in a circle when suddenly my hand is yanked back. I crash into someone’s chest.
“Hey babe, wanna dance?” a husky whisper tickles my ear.
“Looks like you didn’t really care about my answer,” I retort without turning around.
“Aw, don’t be like that. Of course, I care.”
I extricate myself from him and return to dancing with Selena and Sage. Song after song plays and we keep dancing in our circle. My buzz gradually peaks and I start to sweat.
I tell the girls I’m going to grab another drink and take a breather. As soon as I reach the bar, a bartender is ready to take my order. I ask for a screwdriver.
Raven sidles up to me, “I see you really did sell out on us, huh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? How exactly did I sell out?” I snap. I’m so over this topic; it’s been done to death. I’m beyond tired of arguing with her about this.
Ever since I got the job with Fighting Death, even before leaving on tour, Raven’s whole attitude has changed.
It’s like I don’t even know her anymore. She’s not the same person, and nothing I do seems to change her perspective on it.
We’ve been friends for years, since high school. I was always the band groupie.
My walls were plastered with posters of the bands I idolized. My dream was to be a musician, a producer, anything that involved music.
Being a tour manager was my last shot, and I made it. I had four months to plan a six-month tour with at least thirty stops and three two-week breaks in between.
This was my test. If I passed, I’d become a full-time employee at Hard Wired Studios.
Was it a big, famous company? No. But it was a stepping stone to the career I wanted—so I grabbed the opportunity.
Raven has been mad about it ever since. She can’t stop complaining, and whenever I ask her why she’s so against my job, she changes the subject.
Until now.
“You were all over him on the dance floor. I bet he’s just another person opening doors for you in the business,” Raven says, her words dripping with disdain.
“Who are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“Don’t play dumb. You were practically dry-humping him. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—you’ve been obsessed with him since we were teenagers,” Raven says, looking at me like I’m a stranger.
“And who would ‘him’ be exactly?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.
I know she’s talking about the guy who pulled me into him on the dance floor. He’s the only one she could be referring to.
“Gage Rykers.”
The drink I was trying to swallow comes spraying out of my mouth and all over the bar. I grab a napkin and wipe my face before asking her if she’s lost her mind.
“What? Are you high?
“Raven, I know you smoke weed, but couldn’t you have taken a break for one night?” I ask, looking into her eyes, searching for the telltale redness.
“I haven’t smoked. But if you don’t believe me, maybe you should look to your left.”
I slowly turn my head to the left, and there he is. He’s walking towards me.
Me.
“There you are, you ran away from me. If you wanted a drink, all you had to do was ask. No need to be so rude,” he says, laughing.
“Gage Rykers?” I ask, disbelief in my voice.
“I thought the beanie would be a good disguise. What are you drinking? Want another one?”
I stand there, frozen, my mouth hanging open.
Gage, from Steele’s Army, a band I’ve been following for years.
A band whose songs got me through high school and all the drama with my parents. Songs that helped me survive life, day by day.
The first band I ever saw in concert, the same concert where I had my first kiss. The band that made me fall head over heels in love with music.
Gage, the man who made me fall in love with tattoos and bass. The man who inspired me to chase my dreams. The one who made me want to be a part of the music industry.
Gage Rykers is offering me a drink, and even with Raven’s scowl burning into me, I can’t say no.
“Sure. Malibu with pineapple juice.”
He leans over the bar to order our drinks. The bartender quickly comes over, and he orders my drink and a shot of vodka for himself. In no time, the drinks are slid in front of us.
I slowly sip on mine while Gage downs his and slams the glass on the counter.
“Dance with me.”
Rule number one at a bar: never leave your drink unattended. Raven has since wandered off somewhere, probably to vent her anger on some unsuspecting guy.
Or maybe she’s trying to get laid, which I fully support. She could use some relaxation. I finish my drink in a few quick gulps.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my excitement in check.
Gage pulls me onto the dance floor and immediately starts twirling me around. I start laughing as he does a silly two-step dance.
He spins me into him, our noses touching, and I stop laughing. My breath catches in my throat. He’s absolutely gorgeous. His soft brown eyes meet mine, and the attraction between us is palpable.
But he’s a stranger, no matter how long I’ve admired him from afar. I don’t know him, and I’m not ready to settle down with just anyone.
The person who could make me consider that would have a lot of convincing to do.
Who am I kidding? This attraction could just be a desperate need for human contact, fueled by alcohol.
I’m tempted to walk away, from Gage, from this strange attraction.
He’s a rock star, for God’s sake. I doubt he’s interested in a long-term relationship, let alone a casual fling.
I travel for a living, and so does he. I know that a long-term relationship would be challenging, something I’d be willing to try for the right person. But if he’s been in this business for as long as he has and hasn’t found the one yet, I doubt he’s planning on finding her.
As I pull away to go find the girls, he stops me. “It’s just dancing.”
Something that should be so simple and innocent isn’t anymore, at least not for me. He can pretend it’s still simple if he wants to, but I won’t.
I can feel it, the attraction, the sexual tension, all of it.
“It’s not just dancing, and you know it,” I say, then continue to leave the dance floor. I don’t have to look back to know he’s following me.
A quick scan of the bar tells me where to go. Lily and Raven are on the dance floor, both with guys. I head back to the bar to get another drink.
Gage takes a seat next to me.
“Okay, so maybe it’s not just dancing. You’re not the first person I’ve been attracted to, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.
“I don’t mean to sound harsh, but it is what it is. I don’t believe in leading people on.
“I don’t usually proposition women. They usually come to me. So bear with me if it’s a bit awkward.
“Just one night of fun, you and me. No strings attached, no promises. We part ways in the morning, friends. What do you think?”
Oh, my God. I nearly trip in my six-inch heels, shocked by his audacity to ask so bluntly.
I signal the bartender for another shot of Southern Comfort. Actually, make that three.
I slap the money down on the bar for the shots and then knock them back one after the other. I know I’m about to agree.
This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, to sleep with someone I’ve been crushing on since my teenage years. An opportunity I never thought I’d have.
What’s the worst that could happen if I say yes?
“Okay.”
“What?” he asks.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“I need to tell the guys I’m leaving. Want to come with me?” he asks.
“Sure.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves at the thought of not only sleeping with Gage but also meeting the rest of Steele’s Army.
Gage guides me to a secluded table tucked into a corner near the stage. Two other guys are already there, each with a woman.
As we get closer, I recognize the girls as Selena and Raven. So that’s where they disappeared to. Oh, shit.
The guys who are currently cozying up to my friends are Jason and Zepp. And here I was, getting accused by Raven of trying to sleep my way into the industry.
Gage introduces me. They both seem nice. I have to keep reminding myself to stay cool and not start bouncing around like an excited fangirl.
They’re just people who happen to be in a band I love. Just people. I take a deep breath. Just regular, everyday people.
“Want a drink before we head out?” Gage asks me.
“Yeah, I could use one more. You pick.”
Gage orders me some random shot, while Raven and Selena start talking to me.
“You’re really going to leave with him?” Raven frowns.
“Yeah, I am. Is that okay, mom?” I snap back. I’ve had enough of her attitude tonight.
She’s been giving me nothing but attitude all night, and even the alcohol hasn’t toned it down.
She goes back to talking to Jason and pretends I didn’t say anything. Fine by me. I notice the shot Gage ordered is in front of me and I down it.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
As he looks at me, I see his gaze shift over my shoulder. I turn around and see Liam approaching the table with a woman. I take the initiative to introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Abigail. My friends call me Abby,” I say, extending my hand with a smile.
“I’m Layla,” she replies, shaking my hand.
“I just came over to let the guys know Abby and I are heading out. You good?” I hear Gage say to Liam.
I don’t catch his response, but I assume it’s fine because Gage pulls me to his side and whispers in my ear, “Ready, babe?”
His voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Yeah,” I manage to say, barely above a whisper.
“I’ll see you girls in the morning,” I call out to Selena and Raven.
“Is a hotel okay with you?” Gage asks as he closes the cab door behind him.
“Yeah, that works for me.”
Gage gives the driver directions to a hotel a few blocks away. When we get there, he hands the driver some money and pulls me out of the cab after him.
“I’ll wait out here while you get a key,” I say, my nerves starting to show.
“You’re not going to run off, are you?”
“I promise, I’ll be right here.”
He nods and walks into the hotel. The longer I wait for him, the more my nerves start to fray.
I’ve never been the type for one-night stands. Sure, it feels like forever since I last had sex. But that’s because I was in a committed relationship while on tour.
I didn’t expect to come home a few days early from my first tour as a manager, due to a family emergency that forced one of the band members to cancel the last show.
I certainly didn’t plan on walking into my then-boyfriend’s apartment to surprise him, only to find him in bed with another woman.
I made a scene, then I swore off relationships. I didn’t need to commit to anyone, and I didn’t need sex to survive. But having sex with Gage has been on my bucket list since I turned eighteen.
He was the one I swore I’d meet and make fall head over heels for me.
That plan is long gone now. I don’t need love to live a happy life. But sex? That I can do.
Gage comes back outside after getting a room. “Are you sure you want to do this? If you don’t, I can get a cab to take you home,” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
“I do want to do this, I’m just nervous because I don’t usually meet guys and agree to a one-night stand.”
“We’ll take it slow,” he reassures me.
He places his hand on my lower back and leads me into the hotel. We get into the elevator, and he presses the button for our floor.
I keep telling myself to stay calm, but his hand on my back isn’t helping.
Don’t freak out.
I’m sure this is a dream come true for many girls, spending a night with Gage Rykers.
The elevator doors open, and he leads me to our room. Gage unlocks the door, and I follow him in.
The room is stunning and clearly expensive. It’s not a suite, but it’s just as luxurious.
In the middle of the room is a plush king-size bed piled high with pillows. To the left, in a corner, is a Jacuzzi tub surrounded by mirrored tiles.
This room is designed for sex. I’m standing at the edge, mouth agape, as Gage saunters over to the tub and turns on the faucet.
“A bath will help you relax,” he says, pouring in some bubble bath. It seems this hotel thinks of everything.
“Why don’t you strip down and get in while I fix us some drinks?” he suggests.
I inch closer to the tub as he moves to the other side of the room. A bar stretches along the wall, stocked with glasses for every kind of drink and a filled ice bucket.
Beneath the counter is a mini fridge that he opens. It’s packed with alcohol. He pulls out a bottle, but I can’t see the label.
Instead, I start to undress while he’s busy pouring. I quickly shed my clothes and step into the tub before he’s done.
I make sure all my intimate parts are hidden beneath the bubbles before he turns my way.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The water is warm, the jets soothing. I’m so lost in relaxation that I don’t hear him approach.
“Ready for your drink?” he whispers in my ear. His breath is warm on my neck, sending shivers straight to my core.
I slowly open my eyes and respond. “I’ll take it now,” I say in a ragged, breathless tone that I don’t recognize as my own. No man has ever affected me this quickly.
I reach out to take the glass from him. As I wrap my fingers around the stem, his fingers lightly brush over mine.
Once again, he takes my breath away. My arm freezes, glass in hand, stretched out between us. If our eyes were hands, we’d be touching each other all over.
His long eyelashes flutter with each blink, and for a moment, I think I see deeper into his soul—that there’s someone in there yearning for escape, for warmth, for love.
But as quickly as it came, he hides it. His eyes return to their usual state, staring at me with hunger and desire. I can’t help but fall deeper in lust with him.
I down the champagne he gave me and set the glass on the edge of the tub. “Why don’t you join me?” I ask in a seductive whisper, casting my nervous thoughts aside.
Gage finishes his drink and sets it back on the counter before returning to the tub. He tosses his hat on the floor and slowly pulls his shirt over his head.
I gasp—his chest is hairless, and his nipples are pierced. He has a thin trail of hair starting at his belly button and leading to the V of his hips.
His abs are defined in an eight-pack, and all I can think about is how much I want to run my tongue over every line of his body. He catches me staring in awe.
“Like what you see?” he boldly asks.
“Mmmm,” is all I manage to say.
He kicks off his shoes, then slowly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down. I can see the rigid outline of his erection through his boxer briefs; my breath comes out in short gasps.
He pulls down his boxer briefs, revealing a gloriously thick and long cock.
“Sit up,” he commands as he approaches the tub.
I do as he says. He slides in behind me and pulls me back against him so my ass is on his lap, and I can feel the pressure of him where I need him most.
It twitches, and I moan out loud. I cover my mouth with my soapy hand.
“Don’t hide that from me. I want to hear it all. I’ll take it slow, though, because I want to hear you all night,” he says, pulling my hand away from my mouth.
“Relax against me. I can feel how tense you are,” he whispers, his breath hot on my neck.
I let myself relax against him as he suggested. My body fits perfectly against his. I close my eyes as his fingers start swirling bubbles along my arms.
He starts at my fingers and ends at my collarbone. Back and forth, he gently glides his fingers against my skin.
This man is barely touching me, yet I feel like I’m about to explode. How is this possible?
With each stroke, I can feel his heart pounding against my back, and his breathing getting more ragged.
His fingers stroke my back up to my shoulders, then my neck, and instead of going back down my arms, he slides his hands over my nipples.
He gently pinches, then massages, as if to apologize for the slight sting.
I begin to slowly grind against him as he starts to place rushed kisses on my neck.
One hand stays on my breast, and the other slowly glides over my other breast and my stomach, leaving tingles in its wake.
He finds the spot I want him at the most.
My clit.
I reach my free hand behind me and clutch at his neck, holding his lips to my shoulder while pressing myself into him. He rubs my clit feverishly, while occasionally dipping a finger into my entrance.
“Turn around,” he demands in a ragged breath.
I place each leg on the outside of his, slowly positioning myself over his hard member. I have to resist the urge to just shove him inside of me.
Instead, he focuses on my lips. He wraps his hand around my neck and brings my lips to his, but stops just before they meet.
I look into his eyes, about to ask why he stopped. That look, the look of feeling, is back. The more-than-lust look, and I give in.
I meet his lips roughly, demanding he open for me and I thrust my tongue in. Tasting him, savoring his scent.
My hands grope the back of his head, pulling him closer to me as if I can’t get enough. He grasps his hands in my hair and pulls me closer to him as well.
I start moving my hips against his massive cock. Rubbing my clit over him back and forth.
Gage untangles his fingers from my hair to roughly grab at my ass, matching the rhythm of my hips.
The more I rub against him, the harder I feel him grow beneath me, something I didn’t think was possible.
“Let’s get out of the tub,” he groans.
As much as I don’t want to separate from him, the water’s already starting to cool. So I slide off his lap and stand up, in all my naked glory.
I step out of the bath, not minding the water I’m trailing onto the hotel room’s carpet. Gage follows me.
“Lay down on the bed,” he instructs, his voice low and husky.
I do as he says, positioning myself in the middle of the bed. I feel a bit awkward, my hands resting at my sides, my legs pressed together.
As I wait for him, doubts start to creep in.
You won’t regret this in the morning, I reassure myself.
There are countless bars in Boston, and Gage Rykers just happens to walk into mine.
Regrets are pointless.
“You with me?” Gage’s voice pulls me back to the present.
Just focus on the here and now.
“I’m here,” I manage to say, my voice shaky.
He lies down next to me, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin. His tongue follows the path his fingers just made.
As he sucks on my nipples, he gently parts my thighs with his hand, his fingers finding their way between my lower lips. His first thrust makes me moan.
He captures the sound with a kiss, continuing his tantalizing exploration with his fingers.
His cock is hard against my hip, his lips are everywhere—my mouth, my nipples, my neck.
Slowly, I lift my hand and wrap my fingers around him. I stroke him, my thumb brushing over the tip that’s slick with pre-cum.
“I need you, right now,” he says, his eyes searching mine for confirmation.
“Yes,” I respond.
Gage gets up from the bed, retrieves a condom from his wallet, and quickly rolls it onto his cock.
He climbs back onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs.
I wouldn’t have pegged Gage as a missionary kind of guy.
He lies on top of me, one arm supporting his weight, the other hand brushing my jaw. His fingers linger on my parted lips.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze intense.
There’s that unnameable emotion again—it’s more than lust. Our eyes stay locked as he leans in for a kiss.
This kiss is different. It’s slow, sensual, like he’s savoring every taste, every touch. And I’m doing the same.
I can taste the champagne on his tongue, mingled with a hint of wintergreen. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, our bodies melding together.
He breaks the kiss briefly to look into my eyes. Then, while holding my gaze, he positions his cock at my entrance.
He slides one arm under my shoulders, pulling me closer. His other hand cups my jaw, and he kisses me just as he thrusts into me.
I cry out at the sudden intrusion, but he silences me with his lips, setting a slow, steady rhythm.
He kisses me again, his free hand sliding down to pinch my nipple. I bite his lip in response, and he quickens his pace.
I can feel myself getting wetter with every deep thrust. The pleasure builds, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. It’s probably the fastest I’ve ever gotten there.
“I can feel your pussy clenching my cock. You’re close, aren’t you?”
“Yes, fuck yes, I am.”
He wraps his free hand around my neck, using my body for leverage as he starts to pound into me. I grab his ass, pulling him deeper into me.
I can feel his breath, ragged and hot, against my neck. He’s close too.
I pull his face to mine, craving the touch of his lips as my climax builds. When he finally kisses me, I come undone. He continues to kiss me, riding out my orgasm before succumbing to his own.
He stays inside me for a few minutes before pulling out. I lie there in silence, savoring the moment.
Any minute now, I expect him to ask me to leave, or maybe he’ll leave himself.
But that’s not what happens.
“Want to stay the night with me?”
I must look surprised, because he quickly adds, “I did say one night, right? I promise it won’t be so bad, and I’ll let you sleep.”
“I’ll stay, if you’re sure that’s what you want.” Please, please say that it’s what you want.
“I want you to stay.”
“Okay, I won’t leave until you tell me to.”
We spend the next few hours talking, keeping the conversation light.
We don’t delve into deep topics, we don’t discuss the past or the future, or our dreams. He doesn’t propose love and marriage.
We do have sex two more times before exhaustion finally claims us.
That’s when everything goes wrong, when I experience my first and only regret. I should have just stayed in bed.
Then, maybe, we could have had a friendly goodbye.
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