Chapter 131: Angela
"Do you pay someone to put the holes in your jeans?" I was looking at his ass, covered by the second skin of his ripped jeans. His black wife-beater completed the look of sex god, mega rock star. If another woman touched him, I'd break her fingers, slowly. The euphoria of Krispin Righteous, sex on a big hard stick, continued to throb through my tender pussy. It was like having repeated mini orgasms but he didn't need to know that.
He stuck his fingers into one of the threaded holes in his jeans. "They come this way." He gave me a quirky grin because he noticed my eyes moving up and down his body. "How are you feeling?"
I give him honesty. "Scared, excited, nervous."
"You'll stay with me until I start playing, then you'll be standing off to the side with Wade. He'll take care of you."
"Thank you. I like Wade."
"He likes you too. Maybe too much. His eyes follow you constantly."
A shiver went through me. "Jealous, Sir?"
He drew me up against his scrumptious body and I smoothed my hand over the front of his shirt. "You and your pussy are mine."
They are. "Yes, Sir."
"So is your ass."
I started to feel giddy. "All yours."
His eyes flashed without turning away, his concern real. "Are you really okay with this?"
"The concert?" I ask.
"Yes."
"I promise to have fun." No one would ruin this for me. "I want to see your legendary performance."
Now his eyes twinkled with mirth. "Hmm, I have a nice strap picked out for your delectable ass when we get home."
I gave him an answering gaze filled with longing. "Promise?"
"Yes."
***
Unlike the earlier trip to the venue, it now felt like all hell was breaking loose. A black limo picked us up from Krispin's home. Wade joined us in the back and exited first when we stopped at the back entrance, which was now crowded with screaming women. Leather, boas, chainmail, and bare skin seemed to be the flavor of the evening. There was no rhyme or reason to the clothing styles. Screaming and pushing fans jostled for a close-up picture or quick touch to the protective man by my side. His arm wrapped around me as we made our way through what seemed like a human obstacle course.
Wade and the driver helped to clear a path and finally we crossed inside. The screams were loud, and I felt momentary relief once the door closed and the cries became muted. I tried to hide my shaking fingers but Krispin lifted my hand to his lips and nibbled each knuckle as he kissed them and then rubbed my hand along his sexily stubbled cheek.
"You okay?"
I gulp in air and try to contain my fear. "I think so."
"Wade's on your other side. It won't be that bad again until we leave."
"Okay."
He loosened his grip slightly but didn't release my hand. I needed our skin to skin contact even if it was my sweaty palm to his hard callused one. I needed the reassurance, which he seemed to understand.
Backstage was double chaos. People flew about their jobs, somehow knowing what to do in all the turmoil. This was Krispin's world and there was no doubt in my mind that he gloried in it. But could I control my own inner turmoil and make it through a night surrounded by thousands of people? When at last we stood still, I closed my eyes and counted silently to ten, getting myself under control.
I felt rough hands press to either side of my cheeks and I opened my eyes to see the brown depths of Krispin's so close it almost made me cross my eyes. His lips took mine. He wasn't gentle, but devoured my mouth like he starved for its taste.
I needed his breath in my lungs. He seemed to know, because he breathed out through his mouth and gave me enough air to focus only on him.
Pulling away, his soft words made me yearn for privacy. "I love you." His forehead rested against mine and I drew strength from his declaration.
I. Could. Do. This.
When I noticed my surroundings again, the band circled us. Krispin kissed my fingers one last time, and then pressed my hand into Wade's.
"Don't let go of her." He looked at Wade and then quickly kissed my cheek before turning to his band. "Let's fucking get this done boys. Kill 'em."
And Blood Rights took the stage for the screaming fans.
It was nothing like the earlier practice. Krispin and his band mates filled the auditorium with high-voltage power and unstoppable energy. I had no earplugs this time and the sound was loud and electric. Krispin commanded the stage, using every inch to draw the crowd into his music. They sang with him, screamed for all they were worth, and waved their arms back and forth perfectly in sync during the softer side of the show.
I could actually feel starbursts in my eyes. I beheld the god of rock in all his majestic glory. He lived for his audience and I realized during our short time together, I'd seen only a small part of him.
I was close enough to see sweat stream down his face and then he ripped his shirt, pulling it from his body and wiped his face. For just a short instant, our eyes met and he gave me his devil's grin before tossing the shirt to the screaming fans pressed up against the stage. I had to smile but, at the same time, my heart tightened. I was too fucked-up to deserve this man.
In that moment, I knew I would only bring him down. Tonight, I was holding my own but my anxiety, depression, and need for constants could rush forward at any time. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason. God, I loved him. Somehow, I had to let him go.
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