by Roni Loren
Georgia watched as Pike put his hands on Keats and adjusted his stance at the mic. The words own it drifted her and Colby’s way.
“Poor Keats looks like he’s going to puke,” Colby mused. “I remember the first time I played for record execs. I’d had the flu for a week and almost passed out onstage. Not pretty.”
“I wish there were something we could do to help him. He knows he’s good, knows Pike wouldn’t put his name on the line if he didn’t think Keats was worth it.”
Colby smirked. “I’m not sure if the nerves are all about tonight. I think Pike kind of freaks him out. The guy can be intense when he’s focused on getting something right.”
Georgia glanced up at Colby and poked him in the side. “I think Keats deals with intense guys just fine.”
“Who, me?” he asked innocently. “I’m just a big teddy bear.”
“Uh-huh. Until the bedroom door shuts.” She stretched up to kiss him. “But that’s one reason why we love you.”
He grinned down at her and gave her a look that made her wish they weren’t just in a dark corner but a place with a door to close. She pulled her gaze away and peered toward the stage again. Pike was behind Keats, hands on Keats’s shoulders, as he coached him. Keats looked to be taking in every word, a serious expression on his face.
“Damn,” she said, considering the beautiful man onstage with a touch of awe. “Look at him. You realize that if he’s successful with this music thing, women—and men—will be throwing themselves at him. We’re going to have to fight them off with sticks. Even Pike can’t keep his hands off him.”
Colby leaned back, amused. “Well, don’t worry about Pike. He’s straight. He’s just one of those people who thinks personal space is optional. But yeah, that’s the beauty and curse of being in a relationship, especially one like ours.”
“What’s that?”
“We all have to be willing to fight for it.”
She turned in his hold, taking in the way he looked at her, her gorgeous, big-hearted man. Some days she still couldn’t believe all she had. She looped her arms around his neck. “I’ll always be willing to fight for you two.”
“Glad to hear it”—he pushed her hair away from her face—“because we aren’t going to let you go either. You’re stuck with us.”
She leaned into him and pressed her face against his neck, breathing him in. A few months ago that kind of declaration would’ve sent her running. Guys who didn’t want to let her go—no thank you. But now she couldn’t imagine wanting anything more. She’d found her space in the world where she fit just right—and it happened to be between these two men.
A few minutes later, Keats wrapped up his practice onstage and headed to the back. She slid out of Colby’s hold, watching Keats’s retreating form. Everything about his stance said he was nervous as all get-out. She nodded her head toward him. “So I thought of a way we could help him out.”
Colby lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
“It’s a devious plan.”
“Well, then I’m obviously in.”
She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
—
“So he’s actually here?” Keats asked, anxiety tightening his stomach as he paced back and forth in the dressing room of the club. “Harlen Biggs, the exec from Nashville?”
Colby set his guitar case down and gave Keats’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yes. But don’t get all twisted up about it. He’s a nice guy, really laid-back. He introduced himself to me and Georgia a few minutes ago. Remember, he’s already heard your demo tape. He liked you enough to stop in tonight while he was in town.”
“I might throw up on my shoes.”
Georgia gave him a sympathetic look.
But Colby chuckled and headed over to the counter on the far wall to set the rest of his things down. “You’ll be fine. And I’ll be up there with you for a few songs at the end, so you’ll have some backup.”
“Good, you can hold my hair back for me when I puke on the front row.”
Georgia stepped over and slid her arms around Keats from behind. She set her chin on his shoulder. “You’re going to do great. And I will totally hold your hair back if needed.”
Keats turned around in Georgia’s embrace and touched his forehead to hers. “You say the sexiest things to me, George.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I try. And really, I can’t wait to hear you both perform. I’ve never seen either of you play for this big of a crowd. Well, except for the stuff I saw of Colby on YouTube from back in the day.”
Colby turned to her, surprise on his face. “You watched old footage of me?”
She stepped back from Keats and shrugged. “Before we got together, I’d see you leave with your guitar and was curious, so I Googled you.”
“See, all this time I thought you were dating me for me. Now I know you’re after me for my former dive bar fame,” he said with a sigh. “I feel so used.”
She strolled over to him and patted his chest. “Oh, babe, don’t worry. That’s not what it’s about at all. I’m using you for your killer body and your hot boyfriend.”
He laughed and hooked an arm around her waist. “I can live with that. He is pretty hot.”
They both turned and peered Keats’s way. And it was that look. He backed up and picked up his guitar case, using it to block. “Oh, hell, no. There are all kinds of people outside that door. And we don’t have time. And I need to focus. I’m too worried to—”
Georgia’s eyebrow arched. “Sounds like someone needs to relax.”
Colby’s smile was slow as he walked over to the dressing room door and locked it. “I think you’re right. Good thing I know a few tricks.”
Ah, shit. Keats knew then resistance was futile. When either of them looked at him like that—like he was the only thing they wanted in the world—he couldn’t think straight. “I’m on in fifteen minutes.”
“Unbutton your jeans, Keats,” Colby said, looming large against the door.
Keats’s dick jumped to attention like it’d never been touched in its life and this was its one and only chance ever to get off.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now he definitely couldn’t walk out onstage. He set aside his guitar and his fingers fumbled with his fly.
“Pull your jeans down and brace your hands on the edge of that counter,” Colby said, nodding toward the far wall.
Keats strode over to the counter with the long mirrored wall, his nerves about the performance morphing into something much, much more pleasant. He shoved his pants and boxers to his ankles, freeing his erection, and locked his fingers around the edge of the counter. The counter was low, so he had to bend over a bit, which he knew was Colby’s intention. The guy couldn’t resist putting Keats in a vulnerable position. And Keats couldn’t stop himself from loving the way it felt to be at his mercy. At both their mercies. Georgia had taken to switching roles back and forth pretty easily. Keats lifted his head, finding his own reflection. He almost didn’t recognize himself—flushed-faced, determined, and in full surrender.
Georgia walked over to him, meeting his gaze in the mirror. She smiled and dipped beneath his arm until she was right in front of him. She took his face in her hands and kissed him softly, the slow twining of their tongues unwinding more of his nerves. She pulled back and touched a finger to his lips. “Let’s take care of those jitters.”
She slid down his body as she lowered herself to the floor, and when she got to her knees, Keats decided he didn’t need to die to go to heaven. He’d somehow found it in the mortal world with these two amazing people. He had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky, but he wasn’t in the mood to question it. He groaned deep when Georgia wrapped her lips around him and took his cock inside her mouth.
Colby stepped up behind him and dangled a red bandanna in front of his face. “Open up. That door’s thin and no one needs to know what your
pre-performance ritual is.”
Keats opened his mouth, and Colby created a makeshift gag.
“If you need to safe out, spit out the gag or use your hand to take it out.”
Safe out? What exactly was Colby planning? It wasn’t like he had a flogger lying around. But Keats should’ve known not to doubt him. Because when Colby stepped back, Keats could see him holding a towel in one of his hands.
Keats might’ve mustered up the energy to be worried, but right at that moment, Georgia ran her tongue around the tip of his cock, and Keats suddenly didn’t care about anything at all.
Colby flicked the towel with sound-barrier-breaking speed, and the wet corner of the terry cloth snapped against Keats’s ass with a surprisingly potent sting. He bit into the gag, muffling the oomph sound that tried to escape, and a fiery burn bloomed over the spot that had taken the brunt of the impact. Holy shit.
Keats had been snapped with towels in locker rooms before. It had never been a pleasant experience. But when Colby flicked again, the loud crack reverberating in the small room, and hit the back of Keats’s thigh, Keats had to grip the edge of the counter to keep his knees from sagging. Colby continued to pepper Keats’s ass and thighs with lightning-fast pops from the towel, and Georgia continued her slow, sensual assault one lick at a time. The combination was deadly good.
Keats broke the rules, reaching for Georgia with one hand and threading his fingers in her hair as she moved. Up until this point in his life, he’d never believed girls really liked giving head. They did it to be nice or to impress a guy. But with Georgia, he believed that she really did take pleasure in giving pleasure. She never rushed things and seemed to relish the experience. He could relate. He went into the same headspace when he went down on her or Colby. Maybe it was the submissive thing. He wasn’t sure. But he’d never had any woman make him feel so comfortable, so free to enjoy the moment.
And the combination of that mind-bending pleasure mixing with the relentless blows of Colby’s evil towel had Keats on the verge in mere minutes. His entire backside was on fire in the best way possible, and he’d no doubt feel that burning all through his performance. The thought turned him on even more. No one in the audience would know that as he stood there he was wearing Colby’s marks on his ass and Georgia’s lipstick on his dick.
“Open your eyes, Adam,” Colby said, close to Keats’s ear.
Keats hadn’t even realized Colby had stopped the beating, his brain buzzing too much. But his eyes popped open immediately at the command. Colby pressed against Keats’s back and met his eyes in the mirror.
“Watch what we do to you,” Colby said quietly. “What you do to us.”
Colby slid his hand over Keats’s ass, rubbing the marks and tracking lower. He cupped Keats’s balls and ran his fingers along the base of his dick. Georgia’s mouth enveloped both Keats’s cock and Colby’s fingers, getting everything slick. Then Colby traced backward with wet fingers. He found Keats’s rim and put pressure there with his fingertips.
Keats groaned behind the gag. Spit didn’t work quite as well as lube so Colby was careful with him, but when a fingertip breached the ring of muscle, Keats rocked forward on his toes.
Georgia made an mmm sound and increased her pace and pressure. Keats tried to hold on to the image in the mirror—Georgia’s curly-haired head bobbing at his waist and Colby watching every moment, his attention bouncing between Georgia and Keats’s face as he slowly pumped one finger inside Keats—but there was no hope for Keats to keep his eyes open.
The need to come was blasting through him, pounding against his resistance. He put everything he had into holding on. But when Georgia took him to the back of her throat and Colby found Keats’s sweet spot, everything fell apart. Keats’s teeth ground into the bandanna and his release jetted out with so much force, his thighs shook. Georgia held on to him, taking everything he had to give, and Colby didn’t ease his finger out until Keats was gasping for air.
Georgia ducked out from her position, and Keats collapsed onto his elbows, panting hard. He spit out the gag. “Jesus Christ.”
Colby tugged Keats’s underwear and pants back up and patted him on the ass none too gently, right over a spot where Keats knew welts were probably rising. Fucker.
“Five minutes until you’re on, kid,” Colby said cheerfully as he went over to the sink and washed his hands.
Keats shook his head and smiled. “Well, I don’t want to throw up anymore. But now I’m not sure I can remember my name much less any songs.”
Georgia laughed. “Just know that your number one fan is out there in the audience. And I don’t care if you forget the words.”
Keats turned to her and cradled her face in his hands as he gave her a good, long kiss. He could taste himself on her tongue, and suddenly he was regretting that he had to leave her behind and not return the favor. “You are the best girlfriend ever. In case I haven’t told you today.”
She smiled. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll take one for the team and flirt with this record guy to make sure he gives you a second chance. Or with Pike since he can pull strings for you.”
“Oh, hell, no. No flirting, George. I’d rather not get the shot than have to compete with some rock-star drummer.”
She smirked and gave him another quick kiss. “There’s no competition. I don’t need some rich guy or a rock star. I make my own money. And I already have my two badass country singers. That’s all I need.”
The way she said it made warmth bloom deep in Keats’s chest because he knew she truly meant it. Like some dude who women literally fell over themselves to get to had no chance at turning her attention away from Colby and Keats. “I love you, George.”
She gave him another quick kiss. “I love you, too. Now go out there and show them how amazing you are.”
—
Georgia was buzzing with the energy from the night as the three of them made their way up the driveway. The neighborhood was quiet and still around them, making it feel like they were the only ones in the universe right now. Just them and the stars.
Keats came up behind her, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. “I feel like I could run a marathon right now.”
She laughed, trying to keep her voice down and failing. “I know what you mean.”
Keats had killed it up there onstage. The guy who’d been nervous and stiff during practice had disappeared and the performer had emerged. He’d had the club in the palm of his hand—especially the female segment of the audience. And the record executive had been enthusiastic after the performance, wanting to talk to Keats more and even interested in some duet material from the songs Colby and Keats had performed together. Nothing was inked yet, but it was a great start.
Keats set her down, and Colby wrapped his arms around her from behind, moving them into the shadow by the garage. “I don’t feel like running a marathon, but I can think of some other things we could do to burn off energy.”
“Charades?” Keats suggested.
Georgia turned her head. “Monopoly?”
Colby grunted and his hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, tracking over her belly. “Smartasses.”
Keats’s eyes followed the movement of Colby’s hand, and his teasing expression melted into something more base. “Well, there are some other games we could play.”
“Agreed,” Colby said next to her ear as he let his hand dip just a little below her waistband. “I’m thinking that How Many Times Can We Make Our Girl Lose Her Mind in One Night could work.”
Keats closed the space between them and pressed his body up against hers, his hips bumping the hand Colby had against her. “Best game ever.”
Colby kissed the back of her neck, and Keats leaned forward to take her mouth. She closed her eyes, falling into the sensations of being caught between the two of them. They could overwhelm her in an instant and she loved it, loved l
osing herself to the moments where it was all roaming hands and warm bodies and whispered words.
Both men were growing hard against her as they stood there, making out in the dark corner of the driveway. Her insides turned molten. She wasn’t sure she could ever get enough of these two. Every time they touched her, it was like her body was starved all over again, like she’d never been touched before.
Colby kissed the spot behind her ear, sending goose bumps down her neck. “Maybe we should take this inside.”
“Good idea,” Keats said, pulling back and smiling. “Wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors. They may want to join in.”
Georgia laughed, but when they took her by the hand, and she turned to look back at the house that had been her prison for so long, she saw a shaft of light fall over a face in the window. Her old hiding place.
Her breath caught for a moment, but then their new neighbor, an older lady who’d moved into the house after Georgia had vacated it, lifted her hand in a little wave as if to say, “Don’t mind me. Go on and do what makes you happy.”
And Georgia couldn’t help but smile and give a wave back.
Because she was.
Finally, she was the scene on the other side of the glass. She was one of the happy ones.
She was theirs.
Read on for a sneak peek at the next Loving on the Edge novel
CALL ON ME
Coming July 2015 from Berkley Books!
ONE
“Are you touching yourself?” The voice in Oakley’s ear sounded labored and overeager—like a Saint Bernard attempting phone sex. He was probably drooling, too. Lovely.
“Yes, you make me so hot”—she quickly checked the sticky note she’d put on the kitchen island—“Stefan.”