Olivia Cunning - Double Time

“Are you kidding, doll? We’re going to work this from every angle. The band thinks you have star potential, both as a musician and a performer.”

Reagan rubbed her eyebrow with one finger. “They’ve never seen me perform.”

“Something about band practice. Anyway, doll, you need to get back as soon as you can. I’ll set up some appointments. Fashion consultant. Hair designer. Makeup artist.”

“I’m not really the kind of woman who likes that kind of thing,” she said.

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to pay for any of it.”

“I won’t be back to L.A. for thirteen days,” she said, “and then I’ll be rehearsing with the band for the shows. I don’t think this will fit into my schedule.”

“You’ll make it fit, Reagan.” His carefree tone suddenly turned hard. “It’s in the contract you signed.”

She probably should have consulted a lawyer before she’d signed that contract. For all she knew it might say she had to have her brain transplanted into a cyborg body. “Well, you’ll have to wait until I get back to L.A. Technically, my contract doesn’t start until then anyway.”

He paused for a long moment. “Suit yourself. I’ll have your itinerary prepared for when you’re back. You’d better clear your schedule.”

“I should thank you for coming up with that contest. I’m not sure how you got the band to agree to something like that.”

“I can be very persuasive.”

Reagan wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Well, in any case, thanks.”

“No thanks necessary. Just don’t disappoint us.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Your best plus ten percent,” he said. “Call if you need anything to prepare for the tour or if you decide to come back to L.A. early.”

After they disconnected, she sat there for a long moment, her heart hammering. How could anyone give ten percent more than their best? Unless they were holding back to begin with. She never held back. She’d be okay. This was her dream. It would all work out. Her best would be good enough. And if it wasn’t, she could always find a new job. She made a mean cup of coffee.

She sat there for a long time, wondering if she’d made the best decision in signing with Exodus End and in joining Sinners on tour. This was all a huge change for her. Maybe she’d jumped in a bit too fast. She wasn’t sure if she was mentally prepared for this.

A knock at the door startled her out of her musings.

She stood up immediately and slid the door open. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hog the bathroom.” Trey stood on the threshold with a devilish grin on his handsome face.

Instead of letting her exit, Trey urged her back inside the small bathroom and slid the door shut.

“What did he say?” Trey asked. His voice sounded a little off, though she couldn’t figure out why. Maybe the acoustics in the bathroom?

She leaned back against the sink vanity and looked up at him. “That when I get back to L.A. they’re going to try to turn me into a sex object.”

“Does that bother you?”

She lowered her gaze. “I don’t know.”

“If Sam pressures you into doing something you don’t want to do, talk to Dare about it. He knows how to handle Sam. And if Dare won’t listen to you, I know he’ll listen to me.”

He stripped her T-shirt off over her head. She wasn’t really in the mood for sex. At least she wasn’t until Trey lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Something hard flicked over the sensitive tip until she moaned and clung to his hair in surrender. That explained why his voice sounded a little off. He’d put a stud in his tongue for her.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered.

He lifted his head, releasing her breast with a loud sucking sound. “I thought you might need a distraction.”

Reagan was convinced that Distraction was Trey’s middle name. He lowered his head to her other breast and she watched him rub the delightful metal ball near the tip of his tongue over her rapidly hardening nipples. “Trey. Trey,” she murmured. “What’s your middle name?” She suddenly wanted to know everything about him. His favorite color. His shoe size. Who he took to prom.

Trey lifted his head and grinned at her. “I’m not telling you that. You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t. I promise. I want to know more about you.” But not so much that he should stop what he was doing. She clung to his head with both hands and directed his mouth to her breast. He sucked and stroked her tender nipple as his hands moved to the waistband of her pants. Oh God, what would that stud feel like against her clit? She pushed his hands aside impatiently and unfastened her pants, shoving them down over her hips to her ankles and kicking them and her boots aside in one hurried motion.

He lifted her to sit on the edge of the cold vanity. A hard tremor shook her entire body. He began his descent, his mouth moving down the center of her chest. His lips, tongue, and that hard metal ball blazed a trail of pleasure across her skin. Her belly clenched as he suckled and licked his way down her stomach.

“It’s Sol,” he whispered.

“Soul?” She felt a spiritual connection with Trey. There was no questioning that, but she didn’t have any idea what he meant.

“My middle name is Sol. Like the sun.”

Reagan giggled.

“I told you that you’d laugh. My dad is incredibly clean-cut and my mom was a flower child. Dad picked out my and Darren’s horrible first names, and Mom picked out our ridiculous middle names.”

“Darren?”

“Dare,” he clarified.

“Oh. But Trey isn’t a horrible name.”

“Terrance is.”

“Nah, it’s not bad. At least you weren’t named after two presidents.”

“If you tell me your middle name is Bush, I’m not sure I’ll be able to continue.”

“Nope, it’s worse than Bush.”

“Most things are worse than bush.” He drew his fingers through the small triangle of pubic hair on her mound.

She slapped him while stifling a grin. “Naughty.”

“So tell me what it is or I won’t be able to concentrate. I’ll be too busy trying to think of presidents’ names. Is it Kennedy? Reagan Kennedy is kind of cute.”

“I wish.”

“Johnson? That’s almost as good as bush.” He glanced up at her and actually flushed. “I mean if you like cock. Which I don’t. But you probably do.”

She covered his mouth with one hand. “It’s Eisenhower.”

Trey sniggered. “You don’t expect me to actually believe that,” he said, his words muffled by her hand.

“I’ll show you my birth certificate sometime. My father is the quintessential Republican, and my mother couldn’t care less what he named me. Can we not talk about our parents? It’s a major mood killer.”

She moved her hand and pushed his head down gently, wanting to know what magic that tongue jewelry of his was capable of inflicting. This was not the sexiest conversation they’d ever had.

“I will never complain about my name again, Reagan Eisenhower Elliot.”

“You have no reason to, Terrance Sol Mills.”

Trey shuddered. “Now that you know all my secrets you have to stay with me forever.”

Reagan laughed and threaded her fingers through his silky hair. “I don’t think I could learn all of your secrets in a lifetime, Trey Mills.”

“Another reason to stick around.” His lips brushed her belly and goose bumps rose to the surface of her skin. “I have some good ones.”

He suckled a trail down her lower belly, occasionally drawing the metallic ball in a circle as he made his way to the rapidly swelling flesh between her thighs. When the tip of his tongue flicked her clit, she sucked a ragged breath through her teeth. The anticipation was killing her. He seemed intent on increasing her need rather than alleviating it. His lips moved up to her belly again, sucking a spot just beneath her navel that drove her absolutely insane.

“Trey. Trey,” she chanted.

“Hmm?” he murmured against her belly. He traced the rim of her belly button with his tongue, catching the stud on her skin and tugging it in a way that made her head swim. Now if only he’d take that circular tracing a little lower.

Fingers tangled in his hair, she pressed his head downward. He allowed her to direct him where she wanted him, his delightful tongue working against her swollen lips and then between them to her throbbing clit. He latched on with a hard suction and flicked his stud against the sensitive bit of flesh. Orgasm rapidly approached. She fought it, wanting more. It felt so good that she wasn’t ready for it to end. She wondered what his tongue would feel like a few inches lower. She pressed his head down again and he released her clit. He changed the way he moved his tongue, tracing the rim of her opening repeatedly and then pressed a bit deeper. Deeper still. The contrast between his softer tongue and that hard little ball had Reagan writhing against his face. He moved a few inches down without her prompting, catching the ball in his tongue on the rim of her anus and tugging repeatedly. No penetration. Just teasing the surface. She shuddered.

Reagan wasn’t much into anal play, but even that felt amazing. He nibbled on one swollen labium and sucked it into his mouth, rubbing that wondrous stud along the slick surface slowly at first and then faster, increasing her building excitement with each stroke. He repeated this on the other side and then latched onto her clit again. The flick of tongue sent her over the edge. He slammed two fingers into her pussy as she came, rotating them in wide arcs, working against her clenching muscles.

As her tremors stilled she became aware of her hands gripping his hair and the steady stream of swear words she was shouting into the small room. Her body relaxed against the counter and the mirror at her back. She released his hair and smoothed it with both hands.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I got carried away.”

He licked a trail up her belly, his face tilted so he could look at her as he made his way upward. “That’s the whole point,” he said. He latched onto her nipple, sucking and flicking her favorite bit of metal in the world against the sensitive peak. His fingers began to glide in and out of her body in the same rhythm.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“I’ve never had sex without a condom.”

She smiled. “That’s good. Very responsible.”

“Have you?”

She could feel the heat of embarrassment rise up her face. “Well, yeah, but only with steady boyfriends. After we both got checked out at the clinic, of course. Does that thought bother you?”

He shook his head. “Do you consider me your steady boyfriend?”

Oh, that’s what this was about. “Yeah. I suppose I do.”

“Do you want to make an appointment at the clinic with me?”

She nodded.

He grinned. “Good, because I forgot to bring a condom again. If this keeps happening, I’m going to end up with a permanent stiffy.”

She laughed and hugged him. “I don’t think that would be so bad.”

Reagan couldn’t keep her hands off Trey. She had watched him from the crowd at numerous Sinners concerts so she knew what to expect, but watching him get ready for the show gave a whole new meaning to the man’s stage persona. He inserted hoops and studs into all of his piercings, but removed that glorious one from his tongue that he’d shared with her earlier. He gelled his hair so his bangs covered his eye as usual, but a shorter strip down the center of his head stood on end. She watched him button up a worn plaid shirt and slide into his baggy jeans. She helped him fasten leather cuffs around his wrists and several chains around his neck. He added another pair of silver chains to hang in loops along one hip. Hell, even his white socks in tacky contrast with his black canvas shoes were trademark and reminded her who her boyfriend really was—the Trey Mills. A hole in his jeans just inches from his crotch continually drew Reagan’s attention. If she stuck her finger in that hole—and she had several times—she could slide her fingers over the black silk of his boxers. Standing backstage, sucking on a cherry sucker, and rocking up on his toes with nervous energy, Trey Mills was a walking aphrodisiac.

“I want you again,” she murmured in his ear, grabbing his black leather belt in both hands. It had silver eyelets down its entire length, which gave her ideas. “I want to use this belt to tie you to the bed and tease you for hours.”

He popped his sucker out of his mouth and asked, “Which part are you going to tease?”