Page 1

Chapter 1

Will

I awoke in my own bed for the first time in four months and debated whether to roll over and go back to sleep, go downstairs and work out, or go see what Angie, my house manager, had stocked in the kitchen.

We often take a break during long tours, and I intended to make the most of the seven weeks of downtime before we started the second half of the tour. The first half had been in Europe, and the second half would be in North America.

The European portion had been a rousing success, thankfully, selling out the biggest venues in Europe’s largest metropolises, twenty-six cities in sixteen weeks, and there was every reason to believe the shows in the U.S. and Canada would be just as successful. All the experts had told me I was taking too big of a risk, going from Lord Byron who performed alone with random people behind me, to becoming the front man for Mythic Beast, and maybe I had, but it’d been totally worth it.

I have a team now, a band who helps me create the songs and the visuals to go with them. We travel together, we play together. We’re a family. Or at least, we spend more time together than most families.

I adore my bandmates, but weallneeded some time apart.

And I needed to get laid in the worst kind of way. Not just someone to fuck, because there’s plenty of that on the road, but someone to dominate.

ButLord Byronhas to be careful about that kind of thing. I could call the Rolling Thunder guys and order one of their pro-sub girls, but I was in the mood for a little gay twink, and the bikers don’t have those on the menu.

I’d been around people twenty-four/seven for months, hardly any time alone at all, and now I was home and my bed was fuckingempty. One way or another, that needed to be rectified.

But first, I needed food.

I slid some shorts on and made my way to the kitchen, where I saw a note on the fridge I hadn’t noticed at one in the morning when I’d arrived home. A reminder of what Angie had sent me via email, but I focused on the fact my car was ready to be picked up. I’d bought a 1967 Corvette Stingray convertible before we left on our tour, and I’d had it taken it to the RTMC’s classic car shop to have the upholstery redone, everything under the hood tuned up or replaced or whatever was necessary so it would be dependable, modern brakes and suspension, and Bluetooth installed in such a way it still looked original, but I could make and receive calls through the speaker system. They called it a resto-mod, updating an old car with modern shit, but I wanted the modern stuff mostly hidden.

I looked at the clock and noted it was nearly three o’clock, which didn’t surprise me because I’d needed to catch up on sleep. Okay, so a shower and then go pick up my car, and I’d get food while I was out. I hadn’t driven in months, and I looked forward to having some fun in the Stingray.

Security had brought me home the night before, checked the house, and left. No one knew I was home, and I wasn’t planning to go anywhere, so at my request, my home-based team wasn’t scheduled to arrive until the following day. I should be fine to drive to the biker’s classic car shop and back by myself, though.

* * * *

Davy

The MC had finally hired someone else to help handle their upholstery work, so I wasn’t working seven days a week morning till night anymore, but they hadn’t found someone capable of handling the front desk since Pixie left. So, while I was no longer working super-long hours and barely staying caught up, I found myself helping out the mostly useless new girl late in the day when people came to pick up their cars and bikes.

I saw him walk in the door, and my dick nearly went hard. Long hair, eyes that made me want to melt, and a hand I immediately envisioned around my throat. He walked like liquid sex, and then he smiled.

“Sir? What can I do for you?” I meant to sound professional, but it came out as if I was his submissive.

One of his eyebrows cocked and he gave me a crooked, knowing smile. Up close, I could see how startlingly blue his eyes were, and my dick throbbed, threatening to go hard, but I’ve been trained to keep that from happening, so I managed.

“So many ways I could answer. I understand my car’s ready? Sixty-seven Stingray?”

“Oh, I did the upholstery on her and she issweet. The cars are listed by name though, so I’ll need your name to get the paperwork and keys.”

“You don’t…” he stopped, gave another considering look, and said, “Will Bryant.”

I pulled his name up, discovered someone had already paid what was due, and turned to the board behind me to retrieve his key, then remembered it would be in the key box, since it was locked up in the yard.

“Looks like you’re already paid up, Mister Bryant.” The useless temp stepped back in, and I told her, “Mister Bryant paid for some extras, and there’s a note to walk him through everything. It’s all yours until I get back.”

She didn’t even look at me, just at the next guy in line, and I walked around the counter and motioned for the sexy rich guy to come with me.

“The patch says your name is Davy,” he noted.

“Yeah. How long have you had the Stingray?”

“A buyer bought it at auction for me a few days before it was delivered here. I’ve only seen pictures of it. What time do you get off work, Davy?”

My cocktwitchedin my jeans this time. “We close at six, Sir.”