Creative differences, my ass. I wanted to beat his face in. He did nothing for the creative side of the band, and messing with Kenny for no fucking reason was more than I could stand.
I took a direct swig from a bottle of Jack, still glaring away. On top of all of his other bullshit, he’d shown up to the house with a van full of groupies, and I’d ended up lying to Danika about the noise.
Cory was out with our new guitarist, and Kenny had escaped to his room. Smart man. I’d have done the same, but after the naked groupie jumping on me in my sleep that I knew had been Dean’s idea, I didn’t trust him, and I certainly didn’t trust any of the strange women that had invaded our place.
What a fucking mess, I thought, taking another swig of whiskey.
Dean caught my glare. He smiled like it had made his day. “What’s up, my friend? Why the bad attitude? There’s plenty of pussy to go around.”
“You know what’s up,” I growled, fists clenched. “No groupies at the house. Those are the rules.”
The women in the room that didn’t want to admit to being groupies loudly protested that. I didn’t care. They were groupies.
I looked around at them. “Out,” I said rudely. I had no more patience.
A few started to leave, muttering ‘asshole’ and ‘jerk’ on their way out.
A few didn’t budge, which just made Dean laugh harder. “What are you gonna do, man, carry them all out?”
“They go or I go, and if I walk out that door, I’m not coming back. You can do this deal without me. I don’t give a shit anymore. I didn’t sign on for any of this.”
That, finally, got him moving, shuffling girls out, and being bad-tempered about it.
I wasn’t bluffing, not even close, and he knew it.
The next morning I woke up hungover and pissed off.
I got dressed and shook Kenny awake. He started, nearly falling out of the tiny twin bed situated on his side of the room. He was the only one I bothered, since we shared the room.
“I’m leaving. Heading back to Vegas for a few days. I’m done with this working through the weekend bullshit. I’ve got a girl back home.”
Kenny didn’t try to stop me. He was good like that, good at reading people, and knowing when they meant what they said. “I’ll tell the producer. Just call me when you’re on your way back to L.A.”
“I will.”
I called Danika once before I started driving. She didn’t answer, which was pretty normal for her. She left her phone all over the place, her ringer turned off most of the time because of school. I settled for sending her one clear-cut text.
Tristan: Heading back to Vegas. Try to get the afternoon off. I’d like to take you out.
I was filling up my tank in Barstow when she finally responded.
Danika: Good. I’ve been missing you bad. Jerry says he’ll watch the kids whenever you get here. What should I wear?
I grinned, happier than I’d been since I’d last said goodbye to her, weeks ago.
Tristan: The tiniest bikini you own. Dental floss would work, too.
Danika: LOL. You are a pervert…Were you serious about the bikini?
Tristan: Yes. Frankie got us a pool cabana for the afternoon at the Cavendish resort.
Danika: Wow.
She was ready and waiting when I pulled up to Bev’s house.
She wore her tiny bronze bikini, my favorite, with a transparent gold cover-up that didn’t manage to cover up a thing. She wore sexy high-heeled metallic sandals that matched numerous gold chains around her neck and wrists, gold sunglasses and large hoop earrings. Her hair hung long and straight down her back.
I was hard as a rock before she’d taken two steps out the front door.
I met her halfway, catching her to me for a short kiss. I couldn’t get into it with her on the front lawn, or I’d lose my mind and traumatize the neighborhood children.
I grabbed the small bag she had in her hand, leading her to the car, and ushering her in.
“Where are your swim trunks?” she asked me as I was settling back into the driver’s seat.
“I have a bag in back. I’ll change when we get to the pool. I came straight here.”
“I thought you were working through the weekend again. How’d you get time off?”
“I took it. I just left. I’m not doing that shit anymore. They can fire me if they don’t like it. I didn’t sign on to move there.”
She stroked my arm as I drove. I kept my hands to myself. It’d been too long for me. My self-control was hanging on by a thread just sitting next to her. I was so horny I felt violent with it.
The cabanas were set up nearly on top of the swimming pool, on platforms set along an aisle that ran down the middle of the main pool.
They were designed like a four-sided tent, one side open to the water. It was large enough for about four people, set up like one huge bed with a dozen pillows thrown everywhere.
It was hot out for fall in Vegas, perfect for a day at the pool. I changed into swim trunks and slipped on some shades, my movements clumsy in my rush.
Since Danika had come in a bikini, she was waiting for me when I came outside. Music was blasting. It was the middle of the day, but parties started early and ended never in Vegas.
Danika was moving her hips and snapping her fingers to the heavy beat, her lips mouthing the words to the song, her eyes on the pool. It was impossible for her to hold still when music was playing.
She was as adorable as she was sexy.
I hooked my arm around her waist as we were led to our cabana. Danika’s mouth dropped open in surprise as she took in the opulent setup. Her reaction alone had made the whole thing worth it. I’d had to make about a dozen phone calls to set this up.
Our waiter met us with frozen daiquiris already in hand, the order having been placed hours ago.
I lasted maybe five minutes before I got up and shut the curtain.
“Can you do that?” she asked me.
I turned back and smiled at her. She was sprawled out on the cushioned lounge wearing nothing but strings and tiny triangles, looking good enough to eat. And fuck until I passed out. “I’d like to see them stop me.”
I sprawled out beside her, my hand resting on her stomach. I felt her muscles spasm under my hand.
My cock jerked in reaction. I rubbed the soft skin just below her belly button, running a finger idly to one of her knotted strings, and then the other. I had her tiny string bottoms off and tossed aside before she realized what I was doing. Her hands shot down, covering her sex and inadvertently touching herself in the process. I about came just watching her. I held back, if only barely, my hand covering hers.
“You already started. Don’t stop now. Touch yourself. And open your legs wide. I want to watch you.”
“The waiter could walk in at any moment!”
“So you’d best hurry.” As I spoke, I was moving my hand again, this time to her neck. She had the strings knotted tightly, but I’d had a lot of training undoing knots much harder than this, and I had her topless with a few quick twists.
“Tristan! What are you doing?!”
Her affronted tone only turned me on even more. I loved it when she got prissy. It made it that much more satisfying to have her moaning my name mere minutes later.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You want to have sex in public?”
I didn’t bother to point out that it would hardly be the first time.
Instead, I stroked her with one finger, teasing her own hands into rubbing at her folds. I was glued to the sight. She had the prettiest little cunt on the planet.
“You little exhibitionist,” I teased her. “You’re completely naked in public, and you are loving it. There’s nothing but one tiny sheet of fabric between us and the rowdy crowd outside, and you are sopping wet from it.” I rubbed at the wet core of her to illustrate my point. “Maybe the waiter will walk in on us. Do you think he’d like to see you touching your wet pussy?”
I knew she hated that word, but I got a kick out of the way she glared at me when I said it. She completely ruined the glare when she moaned as my fingers pushed inside of her. Her walls clenched on me like a vise. I was just about past my breaking point. If I didn’t get inside of her in the next minute, I knew I was going to embarrass myself.
“That’s not an answer,” I started up on her again. “Should I take your silence to mean you want our waiter to see you like this? You want him to watch you with my fingers buried deep inside of you?”
“No!” she cried, but there was no heat in it, as her moans of pleasure, her clenching walls, quickly followed.
“Not very convincing, Danika. I get the idea you enjoy being watched. No one dances the way you dance and doesn’t like an audience. Maybe I should call for our waiter.”
“No, don’t!” she sounded genuinely alarmed now, as though I’d ever fucking dream of sharing even the sight of her like this.
“You have to do better than that, sweetheart. Say please.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Please.”
“Good. Good. Now tell me, do you want me to make you come with my hands? Like this?” As I spoke, I dragged my fingers out of her slowly, and began to rub her clit, stroking her until her hips were jerking in agitations, her breath coming out in needy little pants.
She shook her head, her eyes falling closed as I struck a nerve. The nerve.
“No?” I questioned. “You don’t want it like this? Tell me how you do want it, then.”
Her voice came out in a breathless whisper, her lips trembling on the words. “I want you inside of me.”
I obliged her, though not the way she’d intended, shoving two fingers back inside of her and starting up a smooth rhythm.
She arched her back, barely stifling a loud moan as my other hand took up that invitation, cupping a rounded breast softly in my palm.
“This what you wanted?” I asked her, my breath ragged.
“Nooo,” she answered, the word drawn out with a frustrated moan.
“Tell me what you do want then.” Making her talk dirty to me was one of my personal favorites.
“I want your cock inside of me.” She said each word through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to come until I feel you buried deep.”
I barely muffled a groan, rolling onto my back. I plucked her up by her hips easily. She didn’t weigh a thing.
I arranged her long legs to straddle me, facing away. It was an ambitious position for someone my size, but she was whimpering and so wet and ready that I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Painstakingly, I pushed just the tip of me inside of her. She covered her own mouth to try to stifle a scream of pleasure.
“It feels so fucking good, Danika,” I told her in a rough whisper as I worked myself into her tight sheath, relishing every inch as I worked my way in, stretching her.
It felt in-fucking-credible.
Her head fell back as I worked my way in. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen in my life.
My grip on her hips tightened as I thrust my hips up, driving in savagely while I pulled her down, forcing her to take every inch of me.
She barely stifled her scream.