Looking At Forever (The Rock Gods Book 4) (13 page)

Wheland left for the band meeting without saying much to Rooster. They’d gone about their daily routine until Wheland had to get dressed to leave, and that’s when Rooster did his best to look busy. After giving Rooster a quick kiss, Wheland left the house. They both knew what was riding on this band meeting and what might come out of it. Both had been honest and stated their concerns and opinions earlier. All that was left now was to hear the verdict and decide the best way to handle the debris field left behind.

When the meeting concluded two hours later, Wheland left their band manager’s office with about the same amount of fanfare. None. Not even a backward glance at Jerry Magnus, their manager, or the guys in the band. It wouldn’t change anything and he was too pissed off right now to discuss it.

The facts were clear. The tour was kicking off on January seventh with Dagger Drummond’s band Black Ice double billing, and there wasn’t a thing Wheland could say that was going to change that. As soon as Wheland heard the news, he stood up and quietly left the room. It wasn’t even the start date that bothered him the most. It was the fact they’d be on the road for nine agonizing months... not to mention the endless hours of practicing they’d be doing prior to the tour. The timing of this sucked for Wheland. His life finally seemed to be falling in to place with Rooster being a major part of it and now he was leaving.

Wheland couldn’t believe Alex was cutting his honeymoon short to come back to prepare for this tour. What did that say about them if they were willing to cast away the important things in life to live the life of their alter ego? Wheland and his band would be giving up their real lives for nine fucking months to live a fake existence. What kind of person would put themselves through something like this on a regular basis?

Rock stars.

When you scraped away all the glitz and glamor, they were nothing more than a traveling band of gypsies. And, if they weren’t careful or emotionally strong enough to handle that lifestyle, the alter ego became what was real and they’d find themselves living in some sort of twisted parallel universe. Wheland had seen it happen far too many times with musicians he knew and he didn’t want to become a statistic himself.

He made his way to the parking garage below their band manager’s office and unlocked the door to his Maserati, then slid in to the leather seat and started up the engine. The anger at his reality was burning his insides. He wanted to scream – punch something; even the thought of quitting the band briefly crossed his mind, but mostly he just wanted to go home and hold Rooster. How ironic he’d finally found someone interesting he wanted to spend time with and he was being yanked away to hit the road with his band?

By the time he reached his house, his fury over this predicament had reached its limit. He parked his car sideways in the driveway and stormed to the front door. He punched in the security code and blasted into the foyer, letting the door swing wide and crash into the wall.

“Sonny!” Wheland screamed. His voice echoed around the lofty rooms of his house. “Sonny! Where the fuck are you?” Wheland yelled again. He stomped through all the first floor rooms calling out Rooster’s name at every corner he turned and the man was nowhere to be seen. He ran down the basement stairs toward the sound studio rooms and stopped before the glass panels of the studio, setting his hands on his hips.

“Sonnnyyyy!” he shouted at the empty rooms. In anger he turned around to the coffee table in the sitting area and tipped it over making a loud roaring sound, as he spilled the contents of music magazines and sheet music from the coffee table all over the carpeted floor.

“Fucking son of a fucking bitch, you fucker!” Wheland screamed.

Wheland was holding a chair over his head ready to heave it at the wall when Rooster’s voice sounded behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rooster asked, pulling the headphones off his ears.

Wheland dropped the chair and spun around; his fists clenching at his sides. “Were you in there the whole time?”

“Yeah, I was laying on the floor listening to the playback,” Rooster said.

In two steps Wheland was in front of him. His eyes hungrily appraised Rooster from head to toe, then landed on Rooster’s mouth. He took several deep breaths and calmed himself. There was no way he would take Rooster until he had control of himself.

“I need to fuck. You cool with that?” Wheland asked in a smooth, controlled voice.

Maybe it was the raspy sound Wheland used or the annunciation of each word he delivered, but he felt Rooster’s body temperature spike with arousal just as surely as he felt his own. The crackle of heat between them was tangible, something Wheland could taste and feel. Like static electricity igniting a pan of gasoline, Wheland was about to spark the flame and there’d be no coming back from this unscathed the same as before.

Somehow for the last several weeks Wheland had managed to show a modest amount of self-control and had given Rooster “tender and easy” and suppressed his dominant side. Right now, Wheland needed to fuck and he wanted to own Rooster. He was about to unleash the power top in him and he wouldn’t be holding back this time. He didn’t think he could, and that posed the very real question: would Rooster be able to handle his dominant side?

Wheland watched Rooster’s Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the skin of his throat, and fuck if he didn’t want to bite it and leave a mark on Rooster to make him truly his. Wheland’s gaze lifted up to Rooster’s eyes and held; waiting for the green light he was nearly out of his mind to see. When the nod of agreement finally came from the man, it was so subtle Wheland wasn’t positive he’d seen it.

Wheland’s big hand latched on to Rooster’s throat. “This won’t be gentle,” he said.

“I know.”

Wheland licked at Rooster’s bottom lip, then sunk his teeth into the plump flesh until he tasted blood. “If you safe word I’ll stop. We clear?”

Rooster nodded and Wheland’s hand tightened on his throat.

“Say it out loud, you fucker!”

“Yes, I understand.”

“What’s your safe word?” Wheland asked.

“Pizza.”

Wheland stepped back and shrugged out of his leather coat leaving him wearing nothing but a black tank top and jeans. He rolled his shoulders to try and lessen the tension in them, then tossed the coat onto a chair and his attention returned to Rooster.

“Get on your knees and open your mouth,” Wheland said.

“Oh, fuck... “ Rooster sighed.

“No more talking,” Wheland commanded. “From now on, I do all the talking.”

Wheland watched Rooster drop to the floor and move into position in front of him. He undid his belt and slowly drew down the zipper of his jeans, never losing eye contact with Rooster. Rooster blinked quickly when Wheland’s cock sprang free and tapped against his cheek. Wheland held his throbbing length in his hand and pressed the weeping head to Rooster’s lips.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Wheland repeated with a hiss.

Rooster complied, parting his lips and sliding out his tongue. It took every ounce of willpower on Wheland’s part not to plunge his cock to the back of Rooster’s throat, but watching the man lapping at the pre-come at his tip was too hot to miss. Rooster swirled his tongue through the pooling fluid, collecting it on his tongue, until Wheland thought he’d lose his mind.

“Wider!” Wheland demanded.

Rooster tipped his head back, elongating his throat and Wheland clamped his hand around his neck to hold Rooster in place. A second later, Wheland slammed into Rooster’s mouth sinking all the way to the back. He stayed there, just short of the point of blocking Rooster’s airway and enjoyed the heat wrapped around his shaft.

“If you want to stop, tap three times on my thigh,” Wheland said. “Squeeze my leg once if you understand.”

Rooster did as instructed and Wheland rocked his hips, bringing his pelvis so close to Rooster’s face, his nose was nuzzling his trimmed pubic hair. Wheland felt himself swell and knew he was stretching Rooster’s mouth to capacity and it had to be stinging the corners of his lips, but unless he felt Rooster tap his leg three times, he wasn’t stopping.

Wheland withdrew to his tip and heard Rooster draw in a huge gulp of air, but a second later, Wheland was thrusting into the back of Rooster’s throat again. Wheland twisted Rooster’s hair around his fingers and held Rooster still, while he continued to pump his cock into Rooster’s mouth and down his throat. Rooster’s eyes were beginning to water from the onslaught.

“Wanna use your safe word?” Wheland asked.

Rooster shook his head no.

Wheland’s hips snapped again and again and Rooster took it all. Sooner than he wanted, Rooster had Wheland right at the edge of release and Wheland needed to step away before this game ended far too soon.

“Stop!” Wheland said, and shoved Rooster’s shoulder.

Rooster swayed on his knees then sat back on his haunches. His eyes were glued to Wheland’s cock, pulsing right in front of his face.

“Look at me,” Wheland said. He waited for Rooster’s eyes to lift, then ran his thumb through the wetness on Rooster’s lips. He had the desperate need to see Rooster bound for him, but there was nothing down in the studio he could use for that purpose and walking all the way up to his bedroom for his ropes was not an option.

The expectant look on Rooster’s face was a total fucking turn-on that was for sure. Wheland could tell by the gleam in Rooster’s eyes the waiting was driving the man bat shit crazy, but Wheland was also happy to see the trust floating in Rooster’s gaze, too. Trust was key with games like this, and seeing he had Rooster’s trust stirred up a whole new batch feelings Wheland would have to sort through later. But right now, he was getting off on the fact Rooster was nearly holding his breath waiting for Wheland’s next move and that had Wheland ready to explode. The sooner he had Rooster’s body begging for release, the better.

Without his ropes to use as restraints, Wheland would have to improvise. He reached for the hem of his tank top and with every bit of strength he had in him, he ripped a jagged line up through the center of the garment covering his chest. Another hard tug and he was holding two separate pieces of cloth in his hands. He realized he must look like the Hulk shedding his clothes, but he didn’t care. The flare of lust in Rooster’s eyes from Wheland’s action was priceless. Wheland walked around behind Rooster and toyed with the fabric pieces in his hands, rubbing them between his fingertips like he were holding expensive silk remnants.

“Stand up,” Wheland finally instructed.

Rooster did as he was told and started to turn to Wheland.

“I didn’t tell you to face me,” Wheland said. He waited for Rooster to look away and stepped closer, resting his chin on Rooster’s shoulder; his body only inches from touching Rooster’s. The heat radiating from Rooster was enough to turn him inside out. “Still want to play?”

Rooster nodded in agreement and Wheland smiled. He was thrilled Rooster remembered his rule not to speak.

“That’s good,” Wheland said. “I want you naked. Strip.”

Wheland remained behind Rooster and watched the man remove his t-shirt and slip out of his jeans and boxer briefs and then stood gloriously naked with his back to Wheland. Wheland’s eyes tracked the length of Rooster’s back. He studied another tattoo inked between Rooster’s shoulder blades that looked to be tribal in nature. The thought of licking it came to mind, but then his eyes dropped from the wide expanse of Rooster’s shoulders all the way down to his narrow hips and those perfectly muscled ass cheeks. Sonny Roostarelli was fucking gorgeous and Wheland couldn’t wait to get inside the man.

“Face me,” Wheland said. Rooster spun around and their eyes met briefly before Wheland’s eyes were pulled lower to Rooster’s jutting cock. “Looks like you’re enjoying our little game,” Wheland said, and ran his fingers along the underside of Rooster’s shaft.

Rooster opened his mouth to speak and Wheland covered his lips with his mouth for a smoldering kiss. “No talking,” Wheland reiterated his order. “And if I hear one word slip through these lips, you won’t be getting your happy ending.” Wheland’s tongue flicked at Rooster’s bottom lip. “I’ll be sure to have mine... courtesy of your tight ass, but you’ll get nothing except a serious case of blue balls. Understood?”

Rooster nodded and Wheland gifted him with a mischievous grin. “I’m glad we’re clear, now finish undressing me.”

Rooster fell to his knees again and tugged Wheland’s jeans down as he went. His tongue stole a taste of Wheland’s long shaft and Wheland gripped his chin.