All Fired Up (2 page)

Of course, slipping away unnoticed proved a little trickier than he’d hoped. By the time they’d reached the end of the bar, they were surrounded by the other band members and associated hangers-on.

Most nights Ash was happy to hang out with them and do some post-gig chilling, but they were about to spend six months on a tour bus together. He’d see plenty of them, and not nearly enough of Ginny. After weeks of having her around whenever he needed her, not being able to hold her in his arms was going to be absolute murder.

Also, things were still kind of tense within the band, following their temporary split a little while back. Ash wasn’t going to even pretend those wounds were fully healed.

‘Ash. Come and have a beer.’ Iain Willows clubbed him across the back before handing him a bottle. ‘I think that went well. They’re still loving us outside.’ The general hum of backstage activity was regularly punctuated by the roar of the fans waiting outside for a glimpse of the band as they left. ‘I see you haven’t lost your talents.’ Iain’s attention abruptly shifted to Ginny. ‘Let me say good evening to the prettiest girl in the room.’ He grasped Ginny’s hand and raised it in order to kiss her fingers.

Around them several female onlookers sighed, while Ash experienced an overwhelming desire to tear Iain’s head off. He did not need to be touching Ginny, or looking at Ginny, or breathing in the same space as Ginny. And he definitely didn’t need to be flashing his ‘come to bed’ eyes at her.

‘You don’t want to hang out with this waster, do you?’ Iain drawled, cosying up to her side. ‘You should really consider checking out the new talent in the band.’

‘Where’d you recommend I look?’

Iain briefly pouted, which made him look decidedly constipated. Then he pressed his hands to his heart in a theatrical fashion and claimed, ‘I’m wounded. So cruel.’

The bastard completely overcooked it and ought to have crashed and burned; instead he managed to raise a smile out of Ginny.

‘Seriously, though,’ Iain said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. ‘You do realise he’s been everywhere?’

‘Which beats having been nowhere,’ Elspeth Shriik, Black Halo’s diminutive keyboardist, remarked, interrupting Ash’s mental picture of Iain being bloodily beheaded. ‘At least Ash comes with a satisfaction guarantee. What do you come with?’

‘Minimal effort,’ someone quipped, instantly freezing Iain’s smile.

‘God, yeah. Very droll,’ he complained. ‘You’re all so funny. That’s right, pick on the new guy.’

‘Have another beer, Iain.’ Ash thrust the bottle Iain had given him back at him again, hoping to prevent an argument. He might be somewhat pissed at Iain at the minute, but if possible he wanted to avoid another feud brewing within the band. It was bad enough that Xane and Elspeth were barely speaking to one another, without a third war zone being drawn up.

He got it. He understood why Elspeth didn’t want Iain on board. For the same reason that Xane didn’t, because the vacancy only existed because of Steve Matlock’s death and neither of them was ready to move on yet.

‘At least you’re drinking something less girly now,’ Rock Giant, Black Halo’s bassist, remarked of the beer, ‘and not that pink nonsense you had earlier.’

‘Cosmo?’ the bartender enquired.

‘Dirty Shirley,’ Iain corrected him. ‘And I’ll take another now.’

Ash shook his head. ‘You’re supposed to be a badass rock star. Don’t you think cocktails are a little bit fluffy?’

‘What can I say?’ Iain raised his hands and shrugged. ‘I happen to love cherries.’

‘First-timers only,’ Elspeth mocked. ‘Is that so they don’t realise how rubbish you are?’

Ash watched Iain’s skin turn purple beneath his artfully constructed five o’clock shadow, and prayed he managed to inure himself to Elspeth’s jibes fast, else he was going to be doing a lot of mediating on this tour, and, if there was one thing he truly sucked at, it was calming situations. Creating them – now that was a different matter.

Xane came over looking for his girlfriend Dani and drifted off again when he realised she wasn’t present, which in turn prompted Ash to make a second attempt at escaping.

‘Where are you going?’ Iain asked.

Ash cuddled Ginny closer. ‘I’ve something I need to attend to.’ He saw a particular thought burst through Iain’s expression and deliberately turned away before his friend chose to express it. If the word ‘threesome’ left Iain’s mouth, or in fact anything else suggestive involving him and Ginny, then Elspeth wouldn’t be Iain’s major problem, because he’d have two broken legs and a bust nose to deal with. The only reason Ash was considering leaving his arms intact was that they needed a drummer.

‘Catch you later,’ he said pointedly. Then he led Ginny calmly to the exit, just as he’d led hundreds of women before her. ‘Nothing’s changed, nothing’s different,’ he recited mantra-like beneath his breath for the benefit of anyone watching. ‘I’m just doing the same thing I always do, going to enjoy a little post-show wind-down with a pretty lady I recently met.’

His audience seemed to buy it. Leastways, no one appeared to be taking any notice of them, not even the snoops from the Daily Sleaze.

G
inny hadn’t anticipated that seeing Ash on stage would leave her feeling quite so supercharged. She’d seen Black Halo play before and never felt like this. Of course, back then she hadn’t been intimately involved with one of them. Right now, there were riotous bubbles fizzing through her insides. She just prayed she didn’t go ‘pop’ at any moment and embarrass herself.

Fact: watching Ash, being near him, made her want to scream and sing and leap about. Maybe all three together. She wanted to tear off his clothes and fuck him naked right on the stage for everyone to see, which she guessed made her just the same as any other fan girl. The difference of course was that if she put her hands all over him and said the right words, he might just make all her fantasies reality, rather than have her removed or arrested by his posse of security guards.

‘Where are we headed?’ she asked, when he led her away from the backstage area.

‘Dressing room.’

The deserted stage might have proved to be a better option, given that his dressing room and the corridor leading to it were both full of people.

Ash immediately about-turned. ‘Why the fuck is it so difficult to find a bit of solitude around here?’ he groaned, and muttered a string of curses under his breath.

‘Who are they all?’ Ginny asked, peeping backwards over her shoulder to see them. ‘Is your dressing room normally this crowded?’

‘No … Maybe … I guess.’ Rather than attempt an eviction, he crossed the corridor and barged straight into the dressing room opposite. ‘Thank you, God.’ He raised his hands in praise as the lights around the mirror flickered into life and bathed the space in a gentle orange glow. ‘Spook, you’re the best.’

‘Won’t he mind us being in here?’ Ginny wondered about the band’s rhythm guitarist.

‘Nope.’

Actually, besides a camera and a few magazines there wasn’t a whole lot in here that identified the room as Spook’s. His trademark purple Washburn guitar was obviously in the care of the roadies, and was probably being loaded onto the tour bus right now, ready for departure. She found a good-luck card from a woman wedged between two magazines, and read the message. It was kind of sweet, and not nearly as crude or suggestive as the stuff that was delivered to Ash. His fanmail was enough to make the average porn star cross their legs.

Ash pushed the door to and locked it. ‘On the other hand, he might object to you going through his stuff.’

‘What stuff?’ She replaced the card where she’d found it. ‘How did you know he wasn’t in here entertaining someone?’

‘Because –’ Ash grabbed her hands and pulled her towards him ‘– Spook doesn’t bring ladies back to his room … or men,’ he added, anticipating her next question. ‘Didn’t we have this conversation already?’

‘Yeah, you tried to convince me he’s celibate.’ Like she was genuinely going to believe that. Spook Mortensen was far too sensual a package to not be a seething mass of warring passions beneath his cool exterior. She figured he was just a lot more circumspect about things than the rest of the band.

Ash rubbed the line of piercings in his ear. ‘It’s the truth. You’re the only person I’ve known him to get even vaguely intimate with, and we’ve spent a lot of time together. He just doesn’t …’

‘Doesn’t what? Fuck? Get turned on? Everyone gets turned on by something.’ She perched on the sofa arm. ‘You said he likes taking photographs, right? So, maybe he, you know … gets off that way.’ She made an up-and-down motion with her loosely closed fist. ‘While he’s looking through them.’

Ash just shook his head. ‘Trust me. He sticks them in a scrapbook and shows about as much interest in them as you would in a stamp collection. If there’s something that does it for Spook, I dunno what it is, because he’s keeping really quiet about it.’

Given they were best mates, that statement ought to have been more convincing. Except she knew what blokes were like. ‘Ever asked him why he doesn’t?’

‘Why would I?’

Whether that was the truth or not, it was certainly the answer she expected. Ash did avoid anything that smacked of emotional depth. Or he had until he’d met her. Occasionally she managed to lever open little trapdoors in his mind, and, in all fairness, he was at least as willing to talk about his past as she was hers.

‘So, now we’ve gatecrashed Spook’s place, what happens?’

‘No idea.’ Ash faked a yawn and stretch that caused his T-shirt to rise, giving her a beautiful glimpse of his abs and the little snake tattoo that slithered across them. ‘Any thoughts?’

Plenty, given she was also eye level with the very glorious and pronounced bulge in his jeans. ‘You. Here,’ she demanded, pointing to the spot right in front of her.

‘Right here?’

As soon as Ash was standing there, she wrapped her arms around his body, then flopped backwards onto the sofa, tugging him with her.

The springs groaned in complaint as they landed on the buttery soft leather. Ash sought her mouth, possessed her with his tongue and kisses, making her a little drunk from the lack of air and the whoosh of emotions he provoked. She was sure the curl of his tongue shouldn’t make her so giddy, but it did. Every time, it did.

‘And now you’ve got me here, what do you envisage happening?’

‘Bad things,’ she murmured, still grazing his lips with hers. ‘Real bad things.’ She slid her hands down his back, to his butt and gave his cheeks a squeeze that made him jump. Something else jumped too, and made a hummock against her thigh. ‘Hm, I think someone is a teeny bit turned on.’

‘Is it you?’ he asked, his eyes all wide and innocent. ‘Because you’re awful wriggly, and you’re making a whole lot of cute little groans.’

She was not! OK, maybe she was making a few, but that’s what he did to her. He kissed her and she turned into a desperate, horny mess, and that was without taking into consideration what he did to her emotions. She’d been so sure before she met him that she was done with serious relationships. He’d changed that with one night of saucy fun. She couldn’t think about him without her heart getting squishy, and a rush of air leaving her lungs like she was about to expire.

‘I was thinking it might be you, given what you’re sporting down here.’ She slid one hand between them and ran it down his chest to the bulge in his jeans. Ash hissed sharply when she touched him, and his eyelids snapped closed.

She stroked him, watching pleasure rise through his expression, and then his jaw lock tight when it all got a little too pleasant.

For someone who’d apparently spent years fucking like crazy and failing to come, he was awful sensitive sometimes. ‘How about I give you a little breathing space?’

It only took a few seconds to unbuckle his belt and release his fly. Then he was hot and hard in her hand.

Ash made a noise in the back of his throat as her fingers lightly brushed his skin. Ginny traced the outline of his cock. He was eager all right. All worked up and ready for her. His cock lying flat against his stomach. When she’d laid down, she’d meant to have him come right inside of her, go in deep and fuck her into oblivion or until the sofa collapsed, one of the two. Now they were here and his cock was right there in front of her, she couldn’t resist touching him. Her fingers danced over his skin. She still found it hard to believe he was real. Not because she was starstruck or any of that nonsense, just because he was perfect for her. Sensitive and kind, and loyal, though she realised that only those closest to him had any inkling about that. He was supposed to be this wild man of metal, an arrogant, posturing fiend, but he was a pussycat, really. And all those women – it wasn’t about machismo or proving himself. He just wanted someone to care enough to make him feel good.

She touched his cock and felt him jerk in response, his sensitivity turned ultra-high. The shiver reached as far as his arms, which he locked tight to support himself over her.

‘Wanna come all over me?’ she asked.

He made a goldfish face in response, like he could barely comprehend what she was saying.

‘I want to see you come, and then I want to suck you until you’re hard again so you can bend me over this here sofa and do me like the world’s about to end.’

She made a fist around his shaft and pumped him slowly until he was weeping his arousal onto her fingertips.

‘Ginny,’ he sighed, as her thumb stroked over his glans. ‘Why?’

‘I like watching you. I like seeing the expressions on your face when you come. I can’t appreciate them in the same way when you’re doing things to me. I guess it’s kind of like watching you play your guitar, only better, because nobody else gets to see.’

He gave her a shy smile, one that lit up his pretty blue eyes. ‘I like doing things to you too. I like the sounds you make, all those squeaky little groans in the back of your throat.’

‘Mm, hm,’ she replied, while kissing him in a place that made him make exactly those sorts of noises. ‘And what else do you like?’ She wriggled further down the sofa, so that she was beneath him, her head level with his hips.