Page 2 of Beyond the Stix

“No, Dad. Those tickets are for you and Mom,only. The last person I want to see in a crowd is that asshole.” It has been almost twenty years since I last saw my uncle. After that incident when I was ten years old, not once did he show up for any activities I had. My baseball games when I was in middle school, or any gigs with my band during high school. So why now? Why, after all this time, does my father want him back in our lives—my life?

“Connor.” The force of my name out of my father’s mouth has me snapping my spine straight. “I know he hurt you, but he apologized for slapping you across the face. I don’t understand why are you still holding a grudge against him after all this time. I forgave him. You should too. Besides, he’s my only brother,and it is my wish for him to see you in concert at least once. Your mother and I are so proud of what you have accomplished that we want to share the joy.”

The truth about what really happened between my uncle and me, when I was a kid, teeters on the edge of my lips, and my throat is tight with the strain in from holding back. I never told my folks the truth and I don’t plan to. It would hurt them as much as it’s hurting me now to keep this secret.

I swallow down my prickly pride and say, “If you want to use those tickets and go withhim, then so be it. I can’t stop you. But if you want to keep that man in your life, then I won’t be.” I tap to end the call, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. My head begins to ache, and I rub at my temples as I stride toward the room where my friends are.

I gave my father an ultimatum, which I have never done before. But he never put me in a position where I needed to. As much as it hurts me that my dad asked about sharing those tickets, giving my father the ultimatum is so much worse.

I look around and find John absent.Good. I don’t need his shit tonight either.

The second I walk inside the dressing room, Danny opens his mouth to say something, but I glare at him. He clamps his lips shut, and without a word, I grab my shit and head out to the bus that’s been waiting for us behind the building. The band follows behind me with quiet murmurs, but I ignore them.

After dropping my duffle on the sofa, I grab my Dopp kit and rush into the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower,” I shout over my shoulder. No one stops me, or asks why I’m in such a pissy-ass mood. My friends know not to approach—especially when I’m acting like a dick.

Needing the space from Danny and the guys, and the security team, I close the door, but wait to start the shower. With therumble of the engine and then the gentle jostling, I realize the bus is moving.

As much as I want to partake in the celebration of another successful concert on our tour, I can’t clear my head of the phone call I had with my dad.

I sit in the bathroom for a good long while. When the bus stops moving, Danny knocks on the bathroom door. “We’re heading out to get something to eat. Want to join us, Con?”

I get up and turn on the shower, not bothering to answer my friend. I’m in too much of a bad mood to be good company.

“Okay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be at Stewie’s.”

I lean my forehead against the door and bite my lip to keep from answering. Footsteps echo back to me, and moments later, I know I’m alone on the bus. I open the bathroom door all the way, and sneak a peek out. Sure enough, it seems everyone is gone.

I’m able to breathe a little easier. However, the aggression I feel toward Jessup is like an internal abscess that’s about to burst. Maybe if I call Dad back and apologize, this nasty mood will go away. But I drop that thought. I’m not the one that drew the line between us.

I get into the shower, grab the bodywash, and slather it all over my body.

Each stroke over my sudsy skin gets increasingly firmer and faster as my irritation rises higher to the point I’m about to blow. There’s only one way to defuse this frenzy.

I rinse off, then pour more of my body wash into my hand and rub it all over my dick. My mind pivots to the only person that can get my dick hard as granite.John.

His aloof but oddly magnetic personality has drawn me in from the moment I saw the bodyguard over a year ago. I know for damn sure we are attracted to each other. But the tug of war between our personalities means we are going nowhere. Hewon’t relent—even after several of my attempts. It’s not like I’m asking for a commitment of marriage.

However, I’ve decided I’m too damn horny to wait for him to make up his mind.

It doesn’t take much to imagine John’s six-two height towering over me, while I have a choke hold on my cock. Tilting my head back, I close my eyes, and pretend it’s my bodyguard’s hand that is jerking me off.

John. Just his name sends a rush of lust through my body. My balls begin to draw up, and I jack faster. “Yes, fuck.”

There’s a noise outside the bathroom that has me popping my eyes open and looking through the clear glass shower door in the direction of the doorway. Standing at the threshold is John, the very person I’m thinking about.

John’s breathing hard like he’s ready to do battle. His fisted hands are at his sides, his eyes zeroed in on my cock. His lips are slightly parted and the tip of his tongue peeks out.

One thing about me? I play dirty. After diverting the shower head, I slide open the glass door and turn, exposing my front to John, while stroking my dick as an invitation for him to join me. Maybe a little fucking can knock the anger out of me.

A full ten seconds go by and I assume he’s going to walk away. But to my surprise, John doesn’t, and instead strides toward me like a bull that is seeing red.

Fully clothed, in tight blue jeans and a black Warrior Black tee, he leans in and takes possession of my mouth in a hungry kiss. As I move toward him, John covers my hand, intertwines his fingers with mine, and strokes my length like it’s his own.

I moan against his lips as he makes my body soar higher. Wrapping my free hand at the back of John’s neck, I slide my fingers through his black hair and grip it tight. He grunts in approval, which makes my dick harder.

“I need your cock,” I demand against his lips.

John doesn’t say a word, but steps back, unzips his jeans and shoves them down. The jock he’s wearing barely covers the large erection he’s sporting. The head is peeking out from the waistband and my mouth instantly waters for a taste.