Page 2 of The Long Refrain (Sweet Southern #4)

2

NOLAN

OCTOBER 2026

W retched noise. Claps. Screams. Drums. The loud sounds strike me as if I’m sand and they’re lightning. A perfect storm that sends my brain into a rolling fit of anxiety until air is hard to come by. Until my fingers twitch, mouth goes dry, and the world blurs. In the earlier years of touring, the cure-all for this was to get blackout drunk after a show. But I can’t do that anymore because of sobriety . Most days I feel like I’m sober against my will, just sober to keep my team happy, to keep the shows coming. A cash cow.

So I have to settle for the next best thing.

Fucking my brains out until the world slips away, until everything is quiet, until I’m no longer Nolan. Just any other man on this miserable floating rock of pain.

My team quietly hustles me back to the hotel nestled just a few blocks from the arena. The bodyguards rotate so often that I don’t even know their names. Only Chris remains a constant in my life. The perfect manager who has no other clients and gets to spend his life babysitting me.

What a joy for him.

Chris types away on his phone as he guides me to the hotel elevators. All of the lights are too bright. I just barely resist the urge to rub at my temples, knowing that if I do, it’ll send Chris on high alert. Everyone’s just always waiting for me to fuck up. The odds are always high, so I don’t blame them.

The elevator doors slide closed, but Chris keeps his attention off me. Probably because he knows if he asks me one single, solitary question, this entire house of cards is going to collapse. I’ll never get used to the ostentatious hotels I get to stay in now that I’m filthy rich. So different from my modest childhood in a double-wide with my grandma.

It takes fifteen steps to get from the elevator to the doors of the penthouse. Chris knocks once, swipes the card over the card reader, then tucks it into the back pocket of my too-expensive jeans. He disappears down the hall with a wave over his shoulder. The perfect manager.

Darkness permeates the hotel room, only the light from the hallway cutting through it. The night skyline of Chicago shimmers outside the hotel windows. My eyes glance around for Trevor, the escort I’ve been contracting with for the past few months. But instead, my eyes land on an unfamiliar shape standing at the hotel windows. The man has his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his pressed pants. At the sound of my sharp inhale, the man turns around to appraise me with piercing eyes.

He’s beautiful in a way that kind of hurts. My lip instantly curls at the sight of him. This man is so beautiful, there’s no way I can cause him pain like I need to. The way that’ll shut off all the fucking noise in my brain. The merciless noise that whispers words to me, that makes me want to shrink into myself, curl into a tight ball until I disappear off the face of this miserable planet. This wretched, haunting place.

The man blinks light blue eyes at me in the unlit room. He swallows loudly, throat bobbing with the movement.

“Where’s Trevor?” I ask abruptly, shattering the perfect silence of the hotel room.

“Busy. I’m your new boyfriend.”

I snort and take a few steps towards him. “You’ve already lost the plot, dude. I hire escorts, not the fake boyfriend shit Claire offers. We’re here to fuck. I assume Claire told you what I like?”

The man tilts his head to the side as he takes me in from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I cross my arms over my chest, knowing that I look the picture of a rockstar after a grueling concert.

“I know what you like, but do you know what you like?”

What the hell kind of psychoanalyzing shit is that? “I know exactly what I like. Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”

The man doesn’t even bristle, I’ll give him that. Instead, he stands there and slowly begins to undress. Over the years I’ve perfected my poker face, mostly for interviews when they ask benign, annoying questions that make me want to punch something. Preferably the person asking the question. Every inch of tanned skin that is slowly revealed makes me question my ability to keep that poker face, though.

Where does this fucking agency get these men? Because they’re all hot to the point of absurdity. This one is no different. Trevor was hot as sin and willing to put up with whatever I threw at him. A fun time. But this one, he’s radiating hostility, which is oddly kind of a turn-on. He carefully slips off his button-up, folds it, and then sets it on the chair in the corner of the room.

“My name is Benji, by the way,” Benji says as he slowly unbuttons his pants.

The name takes a few moments to register in my brain since I’m too focused on the inches of skin that are slowly being revealed. He has a swimmer's build. Broad shoulders that taper to a thin waist, a splash of freckles across his cheeks, and disheveled light brown hair. My fingers twitch with the need to touch him, bruise him, toss him around like a rag doll despite him having more weight on me. We’re almost evenly matched, but I’m just slightly shorter.

“I don’t care about your name,” I snarl.

Benji laughs once he’s in only his boxer briefs. He gestures towards his body, lips twitching with a barely constrained smirk. So it’s like that.

“I believe for us to fuck you need to get undressed as well.”

I gesture at my own body, clearly mocking him. “That’s your job.”

Benji steps closer, smelling like aftershave and expensive sweet cologne. I try to keep my breathing even as he works his fingers under my shirt, slowly trailing it up over my head until I’m shirtless. Instead of moving on to my pants, Benji splays his hot hands over my chest, then curves them around to grip my ribs. The noises in my head slowly quiet under his touch, until I can only hear the gentle inhale-exhale of his slow breathing.

He tugs me to him, until I can feel the hardness of his cock against my hip. My eyes dip to his mouth, the gentle curve of his plush lips. His top lip is a little plumper than the bottom, and a freckle sitting at the corner of his mouth stands out from the rest dotting his cheeks.

“Is kissing allowed?” Benji asks quietly.

“If you’re a good kisser,” I reply.

Benji’s lips twitch again in obvious amusement. “I’m a great kisser.”

Before I can reply with something caustic and bitingly sarcastic, his lips come down on mine. My brain shuts off under the onslaught of his kiss. It’s too gentle though, so the quiet doesn’t last long. I curl my fingers in the hairs at the nape of his neck, using the hair to tilt his head to the side so I can kiss him harder, shoving my tongue into his mouth so he gets the idea of how tonight is going to go.

He’s a good boy because he doesn’t fight me. Just lets me kiss him like I’m fucking him. Licking into his mouth, biting at his lip, everything and anything until my cock is so hard that I’m afraid I’ll lose my practiced stamina and come right in my pants. I back him up towards the bed until he falls, and I follow him down with our mouths still fused together. His hands never leave my torso, holding on tight, fingers digging into the spaces between my ribs.

I pull away from his mouth to bite at his neck. When my teeth press into his skin, his fingers curl painfully into my sides. Nails bite at my skin and I grin into the crook of his neck. One of Benji’s hands tangles in my hair, tugging my head back until he can aim his narrow-eyed gaze at me.

“That hurts, asshole.”

I blink slowly at him in the darkness. “That’s the point.”

“Your turn,” Benji says slowly before flipping us over.

Benji takes my wrists in a tight grip, holding them over my head against the mattress. My pulse thunders at the touch, like I’m a rabbit caught by a wolf in a shadowy forest. His gaze is dark even in the pitch black of the bedroom. His fingers squeeze my wrist once, making my brain focus on the pressure of his grip instead of the sudden flip in the dynamic.

“What are you doing?” I ask quietly but firmly.

Benji’s grin is infectious with its beauty. Like pure fucking sunshine.

“Giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

And then Benji dips down to bite my shoulder. The pain slides through me, slowly, like lava inching down the side of a volcano. His bite isn’t remotely gentle, just like mine wasn’t. No doubt there will be a bite mark on my skin for days to come. No one has ever bitten me back. Who the fuck is this guy? I struggle against his grip, but he doesn’t let go, he just glides his lips along my shoulder, to the crook of my neck, then up my cheek so he can press his mouth against my ear.

“What’s the ruling?” Benji asks, his breath hot against the shell of my ear.

I struggle against his grip again, but only half-heartedly this time. His weight presses me into the bed, his cock hard against mine. I’m not going to answer him with words. I roll my hips up until our cocks slide together through his boxers and my pants.

“Thought so,” Benji whispers against my skin with a sinful chuckle. He lifts his head up to press the tip of his nose against mine, making my eyes blur as I try to keep my gaze on him. “I’ve been told what you like, but I clocked you the minute you walked through that door.” Benji untangles his hand from my hair to pat my cheek in an infuriatingly mocking manner. “How about I run the show tonight? Turn off that brain of yours?”

I swallow loudly, fear sluicing through me. “You won’t tell anyone?”

Benji cocks his head in confusion. “Tell anyone what?”

“That you… that I let you…”

Benji stops me with a bone-melting kiss. When he pulls away, my body is liquid gold, my brain quiet as he swirls his fingers against my still overheated skin.

“I signed an NDA, but even if I didn’t, tonight would be just ours, hmmm?”

Okay, yeah, that makes sense. What’s the difference between giving pain and receiving anyway? It’s all the same receptors in the brain. At least that’s what I try to convince myself as Benji kisses down my chest, lips leaving fire in their wake. Pain is all I know, pleasure is a less common experience. Benji carefully undresses me, fingers touching any spare skin he can find, lips lingering on the skin of my thighs, even the scarred pieces that are hidden by tattoos.

His fingers dip to the back of my knees, carefully pressing up until my feet are flat against the bed, knees bent. Everything is too slow, too sweet. The anxiety is welling up inside me, I can’t take it. Just when I’m about to kick him, shove him the fuck away, his teeth press into my inner thigh. A low moan escapes me at the sweet pleasure of the pain. His teeth stay there long enough for me to feel my heartbeat pounding under my skin, the decadent promise of a bruise tomorrow.

Benji proceeds to bite the hell out of my thighs. The feeling is so indescribable, so perfect. I stare up at the unlit chandelier hanging above us. The glass is dull in the dark, no sparkle left in it. Sometimes that’s how I feel when I perform. The only time I mean anything is when I’m on stage, when I’m performing for my fans, for the fucking label. Like a damn chandelier that’s only worth anything when lit up.

I toss my arm over my eyes to stop the thoughts wanting to invade this moment I’ve paid a lot of money for. Benji stops biting and smacks my thigh hard, the slap ringing through the silence of the room. Removing my arm from my face, I turn my gaze back towards him.

“Did you take a shower at the arena?” Benji asks, voice firm, but low.

I swallow hard. “Yes.”

“On your hands and knees.”

“No.”

Benji rises up to his knees on the bed and places his hands on either side of my head. His gaze is dark, fathomless, even in the dim of the hotel room. God, his eyes are so light blue. Like a fucking husky. Who even has eyes like that?

Lifting one hand, Benji pinches my chin between his fingers. “Get on your hands and knees, Nolan. I won’t ask twice. Don’t you want my cock?”

My entire body goes liquid. “Yes.”

Benji sits back on his haunches, watching me like a hawk with those damn impossible eyes. I let my gaze linger over his taut abs, his hard cock hanging heavy between his thighs in a small patch of light brown hair. I roll over onto my hands and knees with a quiet exhale. Benji runs his hands over my back, tips of his fingers skipping up the curve of my spine.

Folding my arms, I bury my face in the silky soft comforter. My breath puffs against the material, rebounding back up against my face with each heavy exhale. Benji is quiet behind me until I hear the telltale sound of a lube bottle. This part I know, this part is easy. Giving myself over to someone until my body is no longer my own, belonging only to them. After all, I always belong to someone else, never myself.

Instead of feeling lube-slick fingers pressing inside me, the soft touch of Benji’s tongue jerks me out of my thoughts.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim, voice high-pitched as fear rolls through me.

Benji presses down on my lower back until I curve back towards the bed. His skin is so hot against my own chilled body.

“Who’s in charge tonight?” Benji whispers against the skin at the small of my back.

I kick at him hard, my heel connecting with his thigh. “I’ll let you think you’re in charge, but we all know it’s me. Get on with it, motherfucker.”

Benji rewards my attitude with a stinging slap to my ass. I dig my fingers into the thick comforter as Benji returns his attention to my ass. His fingers bite into my thighs as he holds me still, holds me so that I can’t squirm away from his seeking mouth. When he presses his tongue into my hole, I clench my thighs hard to keep from crying out. My vision goes black for one solid second as he moans softly. He turns his head away, resting his face against one ass cheek. I have no idea why that’s so fucking endearing like he has to keep touching me even as he catches his breath.

“It’s a trip having a tattooed rockstar at my mercy,” Benji admits quietly, words uttered so softly I don’t think he intended me to hear them.

“Stop saying cute shit and just fuck me.”

Benji’s sigh is long and loud, but he listens. He stops trying to fuck me with his tongue and crawls back up my body.

“Put your hands on the headboard, Nolan,” Benji orders, breath fanning across my back with each word.

Against my better judgment, I do as Benji says. I stare listlessly at my tattooed knuckles wrapped around the wrought iron headboard. The metal is freezing under my palms. I use the cold to anchor me to the now, in the moment, so I don’t float away on a spiral of overthinking.

Benji’s lube-covered fingers reach underneath me to touch my cock, and I slap his hand away. “No.”

Benji is scarily still behind me. “What are you saying no to?”

“Don’t touch my dick, dude. Just fuck me.”

Fingers bite into my hips as Benji breathes heavily behind me. For one taut second, he drops his forehead over my shoulder blades, breath puffing hot against my chilled skin. Benji’s warmth disappears, making my skin prickle with the cool air around us.

One, two, three, four.

Benji returns before I can reach five. His large palm presses against the small of my back, steadying himself as he pushes his condom-covered cock into me. The burn is familiar and I grit my teeth through it. Something about being fucked centers all the emotions inside me going a million different ways.

Once Benji bottoms out inside me, he curves his upper body against my back, his fingers wrapping around my wrists. He presses his face against mine, the heat of him bringing me back to life after weeks of feeling detached from my own body.

“Next time, we fuck with you on your back so I can watch you,” Benji whispers against the shell of my ear.

I shake my head to make him go away. “Come on.”

Benji chuckles darkly and rises up, his hands finding a home on my hips. “Fine, Nolan. Have it your way.”

He pulls out all the way, only the tip of his cock still inside me. When he slams back into me, he knocks all the wind out of my lungs. Seconds go by before I can gulp in a breath of air, just in time for him to do it all over again. Benji is relentless, pummeling into me until all the air inside me has evaporated. My vision darkens, just in time for him to bend over, pace not faltering for a second. His fingers curl over my throat, squeezing so tightly that any ounce of air making its slow way down my throat is frozen in its tracks.

“Lift up,” Benji orders. His breath comes in low pants against the side of my neck.

I lift up slightly and gasp at the change in angle. Benji presses his pleased grin into the sweaty crook of my neck. He dips his fingers between mine on the headboard, anchoring me in the exact position he wants to take my body for himself. My eyes roll back in my head as he seeks his own pleasure inside of me, as the heat of him seeps into me, giving me life after so many months on the edge of destruction.

“Are you going to come?” Benji pants against my shoulder, teeth biting down so hard I lose my breath all over again.

“No.”

Benji squeezes my neck again, harder, tighter, perfect. “Come.”

My brain is a traitor of epic proportions. Teeth buried in my skin, fingers curled over mine on the headboard, my brain turns right off, and the pleasure dials up to one thousand. Lightning zips down my spine, curling my toes into the soft, plush comforter. With a quiet scream, I come untouched as Benji relentlessly fucks me. The moan that rattles around us as he stills inside me almost has me ready to go again.

This is when I usually kick Trevor away, make him go order room service, anything but touch me when I’m most vulnerable. But Benji doesn’t even give me a chance. He pulls out of me slowly, either ignoring my hiss or noting it to remember for the next time. Instead of plopping on the bed, Benji lifts me from it, standing me on my shaky feet at its edge.

He cups my face in his palms, lifting my chin, imploring me to meet his gaze head-on. His smile is shaky, his eyes warm as he curls his fingers behind my ears.

“Good? Tell me, Nolan.”

“Good,” I say woodenly, not sure if I really mean it.

Benji nods quickly as if he takes my words at face value. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

Benji’s fingers tangle with mine as he leads me towards the en suite bathroom. He carefully positions me against the vanity, my back against the cool granite so I don’t have to look at myself in the mirror. Does he know? There’s no way. Not even Trevor knows I hate the sight of myself in the mirror. Even a glimpse of my reflection disgusts me.

I warily watch Benji move around the bathroom. Sweat glistens over his muscles. His hair is mussed from fucking, and there’s an angry bite mark on his neck that’ll be there for days. Some weird satisfaction rolls through me that I’ll leave a mark on him. I always liked it with Trevor too. As if these men might leave me behind but I leave them with an indelible impression, one that can only be removed with time.

Benji finishes preparing a bath, then climbs into the tub, all long limbs and a gentle smile. Curling his fingers in invitation, he wordlessly waits for me to join him in the warm, amber- scented water. Every instinct in me says to run, says to flee, says to cut my losses before the weekend can progress any further.

But I don’t.

I let him tug me into the water, and position me between his warm thighs. His hands trail over my arms, my chest, and any inch of skin he can find as he gently washes me of its sins.