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As soon as she stepped off the plane, James wanted her.
He suddenly thanked God that the rest of the band had prodded him in to meeting the support act as they landed- there was no greater reward he could’ve imagined than seeing that flame haired beauty coming down the steps towards him.
He also had to thank whatever divine force had made her decide to wear short shorts despite the relentless onslaught of snow. Although they were imprisoned in jet black tights, those long, lithe legs of hers could never disappoint.
She had a body straight off a poster- a poster he himself had secretly studied. He knew every inch of that image- her, with her back to the camera, her sculpted ass squeezed into a pair of cut-off Daisy Duke’s. And now that poster- the girl, the Goddess, the rockstar- was walking straight towards him.
As soon as she stepped off the plane, Elly blushed.
There they were, standing only a few feet below her- they were obscured by the snowstorm, but the heady thudding of her heartbeat told her it was them.
Them- The Bloody Knuckles. The band that had got her into rock and roll. She could still distinctly recollect her friend playing their most famous song to her for the first time- the thrashing of the guitars, the slow and steady grinding beat, the frenetic drums, and finally, the rasping voice of the lead singer. It was love at first listen.
Night after night Elly had stayed up alone in her room, listening to their songs of teenage rebellion, her eyes skyward. Each note let her know that there was a better life for her out there- that once the pettiness of being a teenager was over and done with, she would have the courage to pursue her dreams. Each syllable they shouted assured her that she too could take her bass guitar and see the world. She too had songs in her heart that she had to sing to the world. And, by some divine force of nature, she was now going to get the chance to sing side by side with her idols.
Recollections of teenage fantasies escaped as the bitingly cold wind hit her full force. She silently cursed her manager for forcing her to wear her ‘signature’ hotpants in case the press were waiting to greet them. Of course, the press weren’t there- but four of her idols were standing a few feet away, and probably wondering what on Earth had possessed her. Fuck, it was cold…
James was only wearing a sweater, but he could feel himself burning up. It felt as if his heart was pumping out pure fire, the heavy throb of his pulse electric.
His head was screaming- get a grip! You’re acting as if you’re star struck- you’ve met practically every band you’ve ever listened to, visited more countries than you could name, had dozens of women begging for your attention- and you’re getting hot and bothered over ataşehir escort some kid barely out of school.
Besides, she’s too young for you, he warned. He knew alarm bells should’ve been ringing- even the nervous way which she brushed a wavy tendril of her scarlet hair behind her ear screamed of youthful awkwardness. And yet- though he hated himself for thinking it- even the thick jacket she was wearing betrayed curves- curves of a woman. A woman who knows what she wants; a woman with desires; a woman whose desires he craved to satisfy…
Besides, he reasoned, trying to calm the tempest of his heartbeat, if she’s made it onto an international tour, she’s got to at least have her head screwed on right.
He was barely aware of his band mate, Tom, introducing them all: ‘and this is Dan, Ed…’
Looking around, he noticed all of the other guys were shuffling from foot to foot, the same blush on all of their faces. They were clearly crushing just as hard as he was- what the Hell was with this girl?
‘… and James.’ He was taken aback by the brute force that was her handshake- it was firm, assertive; he doubted anyone on the receiving end of such a handshake could doubt that this tiny firecracker meant business.
Suddenly, his trousers felt even tighter- little girl indeed…
‘Hi,’ Elly declared, staring him straight in the eye, and praying to God she didn’t blush.
She felt her guitarist Jack digging her in the back- she could hear their snickers. It was a truth universally acknowledged that since the age of fifteen, Elly had crushed on James Montford, and crushed on him hard. The bassist always- in her experience- got less attention than the other guys, but as soon as she heard that dirty bass line, thoughts about those fingers leaving the fret board behind and going to work on her were never too far away.
It startled to her notice that they were all intimidated by her- surely, it should be the other way around? Yet, she’d found out early that a front woman had an amazing capacity to turn everyone around her to putty. Particularly one such as herself-a girl who was brash, confident and capable of perfectly toeing the line between tomboy and sex kitten.
It would take a couple of weeks, she knew, but they’d get used to having a girl on the tour. Unfortunately, acclimatising these fine young gentlemen would mean no flirting, no dating, and no sex. Even the faintest whiff of seduction would mean a friendly working atmosphere would be impossible. She’d tried it once before- very briefly- and once in was done, having to open the show for a guy who’d ditched her night after night after night became a recurring nightmare.
To avoid that nightmare, she had to put her fantasies to bed- as much as it pained her to do so. Particularly kadıköy escort when Tom appeared to have what could only be described as a throbbing and urgent erection…
Was she staring at his dick?
No, she couldn’t have been- it was all in his head. He just wanted her to notice- the fall to her knees, unzip his flies, wrap her hands firmly around his shaft, and give him the attention he so desperately required.
Wait- yes! She was staring straight at his cock! And- biting her lip!
Oh God, this was either going to be the best, or the longest, tour ever…
It was 3am when James felt the bus stop.
Ed poked his head through James’ compartment door: ‘Dude, wake up. Get out here.’
Dan and Tom were already in the gangway, still half asleep.
‘Sorry for waking you guys up,’ Ernie, the driver, began, ‘But the other bus has broken down’.
‘So?’ Dan asked.
‘So, it’s a snowstorm- we shouldn’t even be driving. We can’t get anyone out to fix it. I’d still quite like to get paid for delivering all you guys safe and sound to Vancouver, so… everyone from that bus is sleeping here tonight.’
And just like that, they were all wide awake. They hadn’t shared a tour bus for years- and never with a woman. And never, ever with a woman as inherently sexual as Elly Specter.
‘Cool.’ Dan answered, trying to maintain his air of nonchalance, ‘Let’s go back to bed, shall we?’
They all followed his lead. But, for James, sleep just wouldn’t come- he couldn’t put his finger on why. Sure, Elly had got him feeling a little hot blooded, but sex was never something he lost sleep over. His inner monologue seemed unbearably loud, thudding in his ears- worrying about the storm, the first show of the season tomorrow- and, if he was honest with himself, occasional thoughts of Elly.
Just as his eyes were beginning to feel heavy, he heard the door clink again, followed by footsteps. Four pairs of distinctly male feet, and there- bright red toenails.
She was officially on the bus, about to fall asleep only a few feet away from him, probably in some form of lingerie…
Probably not. He kept forgetting that she was now his colleague, and deserved more than these adolescent, pornographic fantasies. He needed sleep- a good night’s rest would help him see things more rationally. But, no top of the incessant nagging of his internal monologue, the snow was thundering down relentlessly on the tour bus roof, only inches above him.
Thud, thud, thud…
4am, and sleep was still evading him. He decided food was the answer- nothing made him sleepier than a good meal. 4am was a random time to cook, but he knew none of his band mates would think twice of it- he’d earned himself a bit of bostancı escort bayan a reputation as the madman of the group.
The contents of the fridge left him uninspired- maybe just some scrambled eggs?
He got out the pan, mixed in the eggs with a little milk…
‘Mmm,’ he heard a faint purr, ‘Smells delicious.’
He jumped out of his skin as he noticed Elly sitting on the table. She burst out laughing.
‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist!’ she chuckled. ‘What are you making?’
‘Umm, scrambled eggs. Can’t sleep either?’
‘Nah. I’m a little worried about the snow. Should I be?’
‘Nah, we get it here all the time. It’s no big deal’, he reassured her, masking his own concern.
‘We don’t really get snow all that often, back home in Devon.’
His hand clenched around the pan’s handle. He’d managed to ignore the fact her boxers left those legs on display, but the ‘back home’ line? He’d read a little bit about her past- a sleepy English town and an all-girl boarding school- and the associated fantasies were rearing their ugly heads. The siren he’d previously envisioned was rapidly transforming into a naughty little schoolgirl, a tiny plaid skirt barely covering that ripe, round ass. She was bent over an old oak desk, a tiny strip of lace thong visible between those creamy white thighs…
‘Eggs are ready,’ he declared, trying to shake off that most decadent and debauched reverie, ‘Want some?’
They sat at the table, eating the eggs from one plate with two forks.
‘So, I should probably tell you,’ she began, her icy blue eyes captivating him, ‘I’m a bit of a fan.’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘Of course. Who isn’t? You guys are huge!’ She stretched her arms wide to emphasise her point- there was something kind of endearing about her gesticulation and slight goofiness.
He laughed. ‘Y’know, I’m a bit of a fan of yours, too.’
She snorted- ‘Really?’
‘Yes- you guys are good!’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know- we’re playing some really big gigs now and all, but- I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling a little bit out of my depth.’
‘You shouldn’t- you’re really talented.’
She smiles, modestly. It slowly dawns on James that they’ve been staring straight into each others’ eyes for this entire conversation. Before he knows what he’s doing- and there isn’t a whole lot of blood going to his head at this point- he’s leaning into her.
His eyes close, his head tilts- the electricity rises once again- the lust, the heat, the slight fear of rejection, the promise of what might happen…
His lips touch hers.
He’s kissing Elly Specter.
She’s kissing James Montford.
His lips are infinitely soft- the kiss is gentle, tentatively testing the waters. Her hands entangle instinctively in his hair, and his slide around her back and neck, cradling her, caressing her, making her very wet very quickly. Their breath grows heavier as their mouths contract in perfect unison.
Until she pulls away suddenly.
To be continued…
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