Page 21

Jace presses me closer to the door, and we both let out a groan as our groins make contact, foreheads resting against each other while I grab his bare ass for support.

We look down at the same time, and a shiver racks through me as he wraps his talented hand—which writes those amazing songs and makes the most phenomenal music—around us both.

“Yes, of course I’m able to switch,” he answers with a squeeze, making us both shudder. “I love it when you take me. Fuck, I crave it. I know I’m a teeny tiny bit obsessed with your ass, but shit,” he lets out a low chuckle, “I can’t wait for you to fill me up again.”

The corner of my mouth pulls up, and I lift my head, nudging his nose with mine—which earns me a breathy gasp—before pressing a soft kiss against his wonderful lips. “Good. Because I can’t wait to get reacquainted either.”

Jace lets out a low growl at my admission and pushes his tongue back into my mouth in a heady, steamy kiss as he gives us a couple of slow strokes.

The click of a lock turning registers, and when I unlatch from my boyfriend’s mouth, he smirks at me before letting go of both our dicks and the door.

He steps back from me and the door, kicks his shoes and pants off, and grins broadly before turning around and bending over the big vanity that spans the wall, pressing his hands on the mirror, splaying his fingers wide and pushing his ass out.

“Well, get on with it, then. We don’t have a lot of time. If I’m hearing it right—they only have three or four songs left.”

He practically growls at me when I delve in the pocket of my jeans and throw a packet of lube on the top of the vanity. “I thought you said your ass was closed for business tonight?”

“Hmm,” I muse, lifting his sweaty shirt with one hand while my other roams over the tightly corded muscles of his back—less tanned nowadays, but still just as incredible.

“I’ll always want you inside me. But yeah, maybe I had the same intentions as you when I grabbed this before we came here.

..” I trail off, my voice dropping lower as I give his ass a firm, possessive squeeze, and fucking enjoy how perfectly it fits in my palm.

He chuckles and grabs the packet of lube, rips the corner off with his teeth, before handing it to me over his shoulder, winking at me in the mirror.

As he meets my gaze, there’s a spark in his eyes, blazing hot and defiant.

“Good. I was almost afraid I wasn’t gonna get any this week. You still like my ass, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that, since I think love is the better term,” I mutter as I let go of his ass, take the lube, and let it drip down his crack, coating my straining dick while I’m at it.

He flinches sharply. “Oh, shit. That’s cold as—” His words dissolve into a deep groan when my fingers slide between his cheeks after I toss the packet aside, pressing the tip of my index finger gently against him before it gives way.

Like he said, we’re on a schedule here, and even though it has been the other way around since I got here, now that he’s in front of me like this, I need to have him, stat.

His breath hitches audibly when my finger presses harder, breaching him in one steady push. “Oh, fuck yes,” he moans, dropping his forehead against the mirror.

“Shit,” I mutter, loving the warmth of him, the heat, as I watch him engulf my entire digit effortlessly, a shudder racking my body because fuck me…

That’s one hell of a sight.

I can’t help but press myself against his hip while I work him over, in rhythm with my strokes, getting some much needed friction on my aching dick. I add in a second one, which earns me another low growl from the love of my life, who now tilts his head backward, neck arching in ecstasy, eyes shut.

And that’s another sight to behold. He’s so fucking sexy. So fucking gorgeous.

So fucking mine. All mine. Only mine.

I let go of his shirt, but slide my hand beneath it. Roaming over his warm, clammy skin, I let my hand wander over those delicious clenched abs, before sliding over his chest and popping out of his collar to grip his throat firmly. His pulse beats heavy against my palm.

He swallows, mouth parting slightly, eyes fluttering open to meet mine in the mirror with so much fucking longing it’s almost too damn overwhelming before he lets his forehead fall against it again. Like the feeling of my fingers in his ass is too much to hold him upright.

He never breaks his stare though, his expressive gray eyes on mine, filled with countless specks of silver, like tiny stars scattered through an endless stormy sky, and I couldn’t look away even if I fucking tried.

The love reflected there matches my own in every damn way.

But it’s not only his eyes that captivate me, ensnare me—it’s every-fucking-thing about him, about this .

The way his muscles clench and unclench against me in desperate need, the little puffs of air fogging the mirror where he’s pressed against it, the stark contrast between his coloring and mine where my head nestles against his.

We match, him and I, yet I do wish he would look after himself a bit more…

“You need to work on your tan,” I murmur against his neck, lips brushing gently over his feverish skin as my fingers pump and scissor inside him, opening him further until he takes the third finger easily.

He growls again, a deep, rumbling sound that’s like fucking heaven against my lips.

“Yeah, well…” he exhales, voice tight and strained with anticipation. “I can’t exactly fit a tanning salon on the tour bus, now can I?”

I chuckle against his skin—fucking brat—before removing my fingers, positioning myself, lining up perfectly and sinking into him with one firm, steady thrust.

He claws at the mirror, pushing himself up onto his toes, a breathless gasp tearing from his throat as he adjusts to my intrusion.

“Oh, holy fucking shit. I forgot how fucking good you stretch me. Jesus. ” He lets out a groan as I grip his throat tighter, pressing my open mouth against his cheek with a gasping breath of my own.

“You won’t forget anymore,” I grunt, sliding slowly out of him before thrusting back in deep, getting fucking high on the languid moan that leaves him. “Because we’re going to make those Clone-a-Willys this week. So you can feel me anytime you’re missing me.”

“Fuck, yes. At least it’s something , right?”

I can only agree. It would never—ever—compare to the real thing, to this, but shit, it would at least feel like I’d have a part of him. A silicone, cold, inanimate part—but still. Yes, it’s something.

“Come on, babe,” he grunts, voice thick with need when I keep thrusting lazily, savoring how he feels, how perfectly he fits around me. “Harder. Faster. Show me what my quarterback can do.”

I give a low chuckle and carry out his command without hesitation.

I release his throat, and grip his hand against the mirror as I let my hips fly, ramming into him without holding back, exactly like he asked.

My other hand digs into his hip, fingers gripping hard as I kick his legs further apart, getting the angle just fucking right to take him straight to the moon.

“Oh shit, Ty— I’m gonna—” His voice breaks, breath ragged.

His cheek smashes against the mirror, mouth falling open, eyes rolling back. Oh shit—I fucking love this look on him.

No one else gets to see him like this but me. Ever. Not Mick. Not any of his fucking fans. Just me.

“Ty… Ty—” He gasps my name when I thrust even harder, angling up to hit his prostate.

And when the pressure builds, when heat rakes up my spine, I surge forward and capture his mouth with my own, spearing my tongue inside just as my hand slides forward, gripping his thick, straining dick, and the deep growl Jace lets out at that contact tells me the poor buddy was just dying for some attention.

All it takes is a couple of strokes before he trembles beneath me as he falls over the edge. I swallow up his cries, his gasps when he comes, painting the vanity in his cum, clenching his ass so hard I can only follow my man right after.

I snap. He unravels me. Unbinds me. Unwinds me. And I bite down on his neck, on the hickey I put there earlier today, as I brand his insides with my cum.

Mine, is what that little possessive voice in the back of my head says.

He’s fucking mine.

I press lazy kisses against his mouth, cheek, neck, basking in the little tremors that escape him in his aftermath, in mine. Until he suddenly jerks his head up.

“Oh, shit. This is the last song.”

I strain my ears and fuck—he’s right.

Looking down as I slowly pull out of him, I can’t help but fucking shudder on a groan when a trickle of cum leaks from him, trailing down his thigh. It’s filthy. It’s perfect. It’s mine.

There is a box of tissues on the vanity, and I reach for it to help clean him up, but he smacks my hand out of the way.

“Leave it.”

My gaze snaps up, and when I find his again, I gasp at the heat, the hunger still burning in his expression—despite the spent, trembling mess we both are.

“Really?” My spent dick twitches in renewed interest as I tuck it back in my boxers before pulling up my jeans. Fuck, that’s hot. “You want to sing to a full stadium with an ass full of cum?”

He gives me a grin that’s borderline filthy as he steps into his boxers and pulls them back over his ass. “I do. It might get a bit uncomfortable… But I kinda like you there.”

Something deeply possessive grips my heart as I picture him on stage, with Mick, with his ass full of my cum.

“Good,” I murmur. “I kinda like being there.”