Page 7 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Seven

Kaiser "Kai" Michealson

I look to the others, waiting for some kind of sign that they’re ready to leave this place and head back to the hotel.

It’s different this time. This tour feels like my last. Every opportunity I’ve had lately feels wasted—burned up trying to keep the band from falling apart when, truthfully, we need space.

We’re not close anymore. It’s so bad we barely say two words to each other on the bus.

I’m not even sure when the magic disappeared, but it’s been draining trying to find it again.

“Kai... baby boy, where are you right now?” Bash murmurs, his breath brushing my ear as his hand slides slowly up my thigh under the tablecloth. “Your eyes glazed over for a second.”

The others are too caught up in whatever this new guy is saying to notice.

I lift my eyes to his and give him a small, tired smile. “I’m fine. But if your hand keeps creeping toward my cock, I’ll have no choice but to make you take care of it right here and now. Do we need that?”

He raises an eyebrow, amused, but I push his hand away and stand, drawing the others’ attention—and lighting Bash’s face bright red.

“Are we ready to head out?” I ask, faking a yawn. “I need to sleep before tomorrow’s concert, or I’ll play like utter shit—and I refuse to humiliate myself in front of our fans.”

Not that I’m tired. Far from it. I just want to leave.

Unfortunately, I can’t bail solo—not with company policy demanding we stay together in public.

Apparently, they think we’ll get mobbed by obsessive fans or shot by someone with something to prove.

I wouldn’t even blame them. Killing us would guarantee fame for someone desperate enough to try.

“Uh, yeah,” Wren jumps in quickly. “I need to get home and tell Dreya the good news... and make sure we’ve got everything ready. We’ll be at the concert tomorrow. You’ll meet her then.”

He’s blushing hard, and I swear Grey’s eyes flick toward him like a reflex.

“Well, on that note,” I say, stretching with a groan, “let’s move.”

Bash meets my gaze with a knowing smirk, grabs my hand, and tugs us forward. Of course.

“Bash,” I mutter low, “you know we can’t be seen leaving together like this. The tabloids will go feral, and your mother will definitely see it.”

The mention of her wipes the smile from his face.

She’s a devout Christian who despises everything we are. She claims to pray for his soul every night—right before she berates him for his “sinful choices.” If only she knew how truly wicked her son could be... she might just burst into flames.

Homophobic psycho. Honestly, I think she’s the reason he started sleeping with me in the first place—maybe I’m the safest place for him to rebel, to let off steam without risking who he really is.

We fuck to forget. Lately, it’s all we can do.

“Fuck her. And all of them,” Bash snaps as we push through the doors into the dark night. “I’m sick of living by their rules. I swear, I’ve half a mind to bend you over the truck and fuck your sweet ass in front of them all—give the tabloids something real to write about.”

“No paparazzi yet,” Takoa says, sidling up with a crooked grin. “I called in a false lead on where we’d be. We’ve got about twenty minutes before they realize it was bullshit.”

He heads straight for the blacked-out SUV Grey drove us in and hops into the passenger seat like he owns it.

“You two better not start fucking in the backseat,” Alix groans, dragging his tired body toward the SUV. “It’s been a long week. I’m not in the mood for a front-row seat to whatever depravity y’all are into.”

Grey brushes past us, making a beeline for the driver’s seat with a little too much energy in his step.

“Better hope Grey drives fast,” I tease, tugging Bash toward the backseat. “We don’t have much time tonight. The tour starts tomorrow. We all need rest.”

Alix reluctantly climbs in after us, giving us a side-eye like we’re contagious. He stares out the window at the glittering skyline while I settle in beside Bash.

“Alix,” Bash asks, voice soft and almost casual, “when Wren mentioned Dreya earlier, you reacted a bit. Do you know her?”

I take the opportunity to press my lips against Bash’s neck, sliding my tongue down to his shoulder, and give him a soft bite that makes him shiver.

“We’ve crossed paths,” Alix replies, avoiding eye contact. “She’s a good fit. She needs a break. Her ex was like Vanessa 2.0.”

A visible shudder rolls through him as he mentions her name. That woman left scars—mental and probably physical.

My hand dips lower, tracing Bash’s waistband, sliding beneath until my fingers find what I’m looking for. His cock is already hard, the metal under the skin cold against my touch. I wrap my hand around him, stroking just enough to make him whimper, tweaking the tip with practiced ease.

“Mmm... leaking already, pretty boy?” I whisper against his skin. “You want me to taste it, don’t you? Want to show them what a good boy you are for me?”

“Fuck, I need to get laid,” Alix groans beside us. “I’m screwing a groupie tomorrow. It’s been too damn long. My hand’s about to file a restraining order.”

A dark laugh comes from the front. Takoa tosses a look back, cigarette between his lips.

“Groupies are low maintenance,” he says. “You get off, you leave, no strings. No morning-after guilt.”

He lights the cigarette, smoke curling out the cracked window.

Such a filthy habit for a man that pretty.

Bash thrusts gently into my hand, precum slicking my fingers as I squeeze tighter.

“Do that again,” I growl, “and I’ll have Grey pull over so I can fuck you in the backseat. Understand me?”

“Yes... sir,” Bash whimpers, panting through clenched teeth.

“Jesus fuck,” Grey mutters from the front, taking the last turn toward our hotel.

Thank God. My cock’s practically throbbing.

“Five more minutes,” Takoa says, sounding bored as he flicks the cigarette out the window. “Keep it in your pants.”

“Yes, Daddy Koa,” I reply with a teasing grin, pulling my hand free from Bash’s pants. He whines softly, but I give him a look that says, patience .

“I swear, you guys are gonna be the death of me,” Grey mutters.

“Wren might,” Alix shoots back. “We all saw how you eye-fucked him during the interview.”

Grey cuts his eyes at him in the rearview mirror. “Jealous I wasn’t eye-fucking you , Alix?”

“You wish, pretty boy,” Alix fires back. “We all know you couldn’t handle me.”

His fingers are flying across his phone screen, too fast, too focused. He’s trying to hide something.

Interesting.

Before I can push him on it, the SUV slows to a stop in front of the hotel—and I’m yanked from the vehicle by Bash, heading straight for the room we’ve been assigned.

The moment we step inside the elevator, the doors glide shut behind us, sealing us inside with dim gold lighting that shimmers off the metal walls like a stage spotlight.

Bash presses the button for our floor, but the second his finger leaves the panel, it’s on me—gripping my waistband and yanking me flush against his body like he’s starved for something only I can give him.

“You’re seriously going to act like that in front of everyone?” I hiss against the shell of his ear, but my hand still finds its way to the nape of his neck, fingers threading into his curls, tugging just enough to make him groan.

Alix groans dramatically from the corner. “You two are walking sex crimes.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Koa mutters, unbothered, flicking ash into an empty water bottle. “Let them fuck it out. Might shut them up for a night.”

Grey remains stone-faced, but I see the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth in the elevator mirror—he’s amused, even if he won't say it.

Bash turns his head and licks the corner of my mouth, deliberately, as if marking me in front of them. “They’re just mad they don’t get to watch,” he whispers, voice dipped in heat and arrogance.

I grip his chin and force his eyes to mine. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep talking like that and I’ll make you come untouched before these doors open.”

The elevator dings, but no one moves.

“Move,” I growl. “Or stay and get a free show. I don't really give a fuck.”

They shuffle out quickly.

The second the door shuts to the bedroom, I slam him against it. Our mouths collide—hot, wet, angry. All the restraint we faked in front of the others shatters.

“You’ve been asking for this all damn night,” I growl, gripping his wrists and pinning them above his head. “You thought I wouldn’t make good on my threat?”

Bash arches against me, panting. “I was hoping you’d make good on it.”

I drop to my knees, yanking down his jeans with one swift tug. His cock springs free, swollen and glistening with need. I lick a stripe up the underside, slow and deliberate, watching his head fall back and hit the door with a soft thud.

“Fuck—Kai.”

My name sounds like a prayer and a curse on his tongue. I wrap my lips around the head, swirling once, before taking him deeper, my tongue tracing every vein, every piercing. His thighs tremble.

I pull off with a pop. “Get on the bed. Now.”

He stumbles toward it, stripping his shirt and tossing it somewhere I don’t care to track. I shed my own clothes in a trail, stalking toward him with nothing but hunger in my eyes.

He lays back, spread out like a fucking feast, one hand wrapped around his cock lazily stroking, tempting. “You gonna stare or fuck me, rockstar?”

I grab his ankles and yank him down the bed, flipping him over and dragging my nails down the curve of his ass, watching him arch into it.

“You want it raw?” I ask, voice gravel.

He looks over his shoulder, eyes blazing. “I want it to hurt.”

And fuck, I give it to him.

I slick him up quick, not caring for softness tonight. We’re both too far gone. The second I push in, he chokes on a moan—loud, desperate, filthy.

“God, you’re tight,” I pant, gripping his hips, slamming into him again and again.

“Don’t stop—fuck, don’t stop —”

I wrap my hand around his cock, jerking him in time with every deep thrust, feeling him pulse in my palm.

“Look at you,” I whisper against the back of his neck. “Falling apart like this. What would your precious mother say?”

“She’d cry—fuck—she’d cry herself to sleep.”

I slam harder. “Good.”

His moans go higher, raw and uncontrolled. I bite his shoulder hard enough to bruise, my other hand squeezing his throat as I pound into him with punishing rhythm.

He comes first—legs shaking, cock spurting across the sheets, crying out my name like it’s the only word he knows.

I’m not far behind, groaning into his neck as I spill deep inside him, collapsing on top of him with a trembling exhale.

For a long beat, it’s just breathing. Sweat. Skin. Silence.

Then Bash whispers, breathless, “Still mad at me?”

I chuckle against his shoulder. “Not until tomorrow.”