SEVENTEEN

"Holy crap! You really did get us a limo?" Jamie skidded to a halt at the side door.


"It's a celebration, James. Of course we did."

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes unreadable. "Thanks."

Jon's bones ached as surely as the hard on he was sporting. Thanks to some creative wardrobe options, he flipped out the tails of a white silk dress shirt. The belt added to the discomfort, but hid the evidence. Watching her come apart in his arms had nearly killed him. It took everything inside him not to bend her over that counter and bury himself deep. He could actually hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears as she crawled into the stretch limo.

Panties that didn't deserve the definition panties were under the stretchy material she'd decided to call a skirt. The slinky black material slid up another inch as she swung her legs inside and he officially unlocked the gates to his personal hell. James' legs were already killer in jeans, but just acres of tanned, smooth flesh that he had to stare at all night long? That was just cruel.

And now he knew just how warm and liquid she could be in his arms. He was double fucked, and yet high and dry at the same time.

He followed her into the car, making sure he was on the opposite side of the bench seats, and as far away as possible. James dropped between Steph and Veronica, kitty corner to him and crossed her legs.

Fuck me.

Jon mashed his molars together and smiled tightly at Tico. One dark eyebrow quirked, he looked from James to him, then his eyes flattened. Well, fuck me again. He just shook his head and Teek glowered in response. He handed Tico a plastic cup and poured the JD. For once in Jon's life, he prayed for a night minus memories for Tico. Normally, he avoided pushing liquor on the man--he could be a damn mean drunk, but no one could know about him and James.

No one.

The party started in the limo. Drinks were abundant, the music was loud, and Ashley ended up on David's lap before they even made it to the restaurant. They piled out of the limo and in the back door to a private party room. Purple and pink streamers decorated the end of the room with a table full of ziti, meatballs, salads, and a nice big rubbermaid tub of icy beer.

Ashley jumped onto Tico's shoulders, riding him into the room. Steph and Richie seemed to circle each other, moving away and toward each other like magnets. Mike, the girls' bus driver, came in before the first hour passed. Honorary bodyguard and all around herding responsibilities aside, he was getting close to Veronica as the tour progressed. Love and lust was in the air, and he was going a little crazy with it himself.

"So, tell me, Slick...how's the fit of your jeans tonight?"

James' voice was dark and playful in his ear, her ring tapping on a bottle of Miller's High Life. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, made every effort to not let her know she got to him, but even her voice was enough to stiffen his cock again. As if it had ever truly eased up since the bathroom, anyway. He smiled when Steph waved at him across the room, a bowl of pasta in one hand and a bouncing Taz hanging on her arm. "Slick is what you were with my fingers pushed deep inside you, James. Let's not use nicknames that don't apply tonight."

The tapping stopped, and her quick indrawn breath sizzled a few of the braincells he had left. He'd been with plenty of women since he'd hit his teen years. He loved women--loved them for their bodies, for their personalities, even a few for their brains. With James he got all three, and that was a dangerous combination. Watching her in that mirror, her whisky colored eyes go blind, and feeling her vice around his fingers, soak his hand...Right then and there, she'd become impossible to walk away from. Even now, he wanted her taste in his mouth again...wanted to watch her fall apart with him inside her this time.

He wouldn't...couldn't walk away until he'd had her.

She stepped closer to his back. She lifted his shirt and her neat, short nails dug into his back. "Slick is what you'll be when I get my mouth around your cock." His smile slipped away. It was a dangerous game they were playing--this push and pull. Anyone could have heard them, anyone could have seen them. Richie was barely twenty feet away for fuck's sake. She scraped her way down his spine then walked away without a backward glance. He'd bet twenty that the marks would still be there in the morning.

He wandered over to David and Doc who'd just arrived. David gave him a look, one eyebrow disappearing into his overlong bangs and headed over to the food. David had always been intuitive when it came to him. One of the best things about him was that he knew when to crack a joke, and knew when to disappear. "Where's Alec?"

"Jonny, you didn't need to be so hard on him."

"He's lucky I didn't bounce him from the fucking band. It's one thing to have a little fun, it's another to attack a woman. We're in the middle of building a reputation here. No part of that is going to include him fucking things up for us."

"I've always kept that kind of thing quiet, you know that."

He folded his arms. "Just what kind of shit are you keeping quiet, Doc?"

"Nothing, nothing, Jonny. You know how some of the boys get...with girls willing to do just about anything to get backstage, things can get out of hand."

He cracked his knuckles, his ring biting into his arm as he thought about some of the crazier parties, the backstage shit that he coudln't watch at all times. He trusted Doc to keep a handle on those things. Maybe that was his first mistake. He'd lost a night or two on his own when the parties got really going. Just how much whisky could you hold before your brain gave up some nights? But there had never been a question of an unwilling woman. Least of all someone that was so close to the inner circle.

The girls were as close to family as you could get without being in the band itself. And the fact that James was Richie's sister made her all the more important to keep safe. He looked over his shoulder. The wild red and near black hair, the mile long legs and come fuck me attitude, the kindness she couldn't help but let bleed through, the talent that radiated off of her on the stage--all of it made her more than just 'some girl' on the tour. She was part Richie and part gypsy--and all James. Was it any wonder he couldn't stay away from her?

The minute he'd sat down with Richie he'd known there was magic. Hell, just with a few albums under their belt, his own writing had improved ten-fold just because of how they gelled. Jamison had that same fire, that same talent--just in her own way, in her own unique combination that could have been created to lure him in. Keeping himself away from her was getting harder. And now that he'd tasted just a piece of her, he wanted more. God help him.

He looked back at Doc. "Keep an eye on Alec. If there's a problem there--"

"There's not," Doc quickly interrupted.

Jon lifted his chin. "If there's a problem, I want to know about it. He's already missed several cues on stage and a few of the interviews we're all supposed to go to. I know he's digging deeper into the stash, Doc. Is he using more than just the usual stuff?"

Doc lifted his shoulder in a half hearted shrug. "You know how it goes, Jonny. People are passing around shit at these parties. We can't keep track of it all. And he's a big boy. I'm not his babysitter."

"No, you're right." It felt weird not to have Al at the party, but he couldn't expect Jamison to enjoy herself with him there. It was Devotion's celebration.

He wandered over to the tub of beer and hooked his arm over Richie's shoulder. "Your girl's done good."

Richie's smile was wide. "Can you believe it? My baby sister a number one single selling superstar!"

He grinned. "We knew they were going to be big."

"That's right, man."

Richie's eyes rested on James for a minute, then slid to Stephanie, a totally different flavor there. He wasn't sure what the hell his friend was waiting for. This life didn't hand you too many sure things, but something was holding him back. It was very un-Richie to have a woman twist him up. "So, tell me...why are you not scooping that up and kicking me out of the hotel room every night?"

Richie's attention slid back to him, his face blank. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

His lips twitched. "Right, whatever you say."

"Want a drink?" Richie lifted his empty bottle and backed up to the table.

Jon looked down at his own sweating bottle then back to his friend. Amused, he stifled a laugh. He didn't think Richie would appreciate him laughing right in his face. "I'm good."

"Right." Richie turned around, almost slammed into Doc and then around to the tables. Steph was there with James, but he veered off to Tico and David when he spotted her. Jon couldn't stop the laugh this time. Instead, he took the time to talk to each of the girls to make sure they knew how proud of them he was. When it came to firsts, this one was one of the better memories he'd had as a young musician. They had to work a little harder for that number one, but he couldn't fault any of them. This was the time for their music. Everything that had to do with fun music was climbing up the charts. Add in a few women with just as much talent as looks and it was a lethal combination.

Stephanie wandered his way. Her curves were enough to make even him sweat. A floaty little skirt swayed from her killer hips and the rest of her was packed into a sparkly push up thing that did amazing things for her tits. The slick red lips and equally shiny lollipop in her mouth didn't help keep the libido down, that was for sure. Christ, no wonder Richie was so twisted over her. She was comfortable in her skin, smart enough to know when to play it up and when to just trust her own worth. He wished more women were as self assured as the girls of Devotion. "Hey Brick House, are you trying to kill my guitarist?"

Hand propped on her hip, she gave him a measuring look before she pointed at him with the sliver of tootsie roll and candy left on the stick. "I would kill him completely if he stood still long enough. I feel like I'm chasing him around the room."

"You are," he said with a laugh and pulled her into a hug. "Of course the boy can't even look at you without thinking about sex. Hell, I can't look at you and that fucking lollipop without thinking about it."

Her eyebrows shot up, then she popped it back in her mouth and smiled around the stained stick. "You don't want to get in my pants though."

"Another life, another time I'd have been all over you, Steph."

"Liar," she said with a laugh, but the compliment was enough to make her relax a little. "Thanks for doing this for us though, it wasn't necessary to go all out."

He hooked his arm over her shoulder and led her over to the food. "C'mon, it's just a little food and drink."

"We're all busy and tired, but this is really awesome--Seriously, Jon."

He kissed her temple. She smelled like sweet cherries and a fresh shower. She didn't wear all the cloying perfume that some women did. Again, she trusted in herself to be enough. In another life, he probably would have gone for someone like Steph. Self-assured and independent, gorgeous and smart. She was the brass ring for almost any man on the planet.

He caught red streaks and a waterfall of hair out of the corner of his eye. Her throaty laugh snagged his attention. James stood at the doorway with a tall guy with broad shoulders and a sleeve of tattoos to match. She fingered the fringe of the biker's Harley vest, but her eyes were focused on Jon. Nope, fate had to make it this woman.

One slim eyebrow rose as if to dare him to come over. What? Did she expect him to march over there and tell the bohemouth of a man to back off? He forced himself to fill a plate, swap out a beer, and keep up a stream of conversation with Steph. He could feel Jamison's eyes on his back, but he ignored her. He smiled engagingly at Steph. They chatted over plates of ziti, traded a few stage stories, and the entire time he knew where James was in the room. Even as Tiny put his hands on her hips and walked her out to the bar, he promised himself he'd stay calm.

"Jon?"

Snapping back into focus, he smiled. "Yeah?"

"See something you like?"

Spit lodged in his throat as he coughed, covering it up with a sip of his beer that had gone warm. "What?"

"You keep looking out into the bar. You don't have to keep me occupied if you see something you'd rather play with."

He laughed, downing another swallow of piss warm beer. "No, of course not."

Steph looked over her shoulder just in time to see a busty blonde and equally Friday Night Special brunette fill the doorway. The blonde zeroed in on him, dragging her friend behind her. "Oh, here we go."

"Shit," Jon muttered, but lifted his mouth into a smile. "Hello, ladies."

"I didn't believe my friend...she's the bartender here, but oh my God, it really is you." The blonde looked around, her eyes widening. "You're all here." She turned to Steph, thrusting her camera in her hands. "Can you take a picture?"

Steph pressed her lips together. "Why of course, we weren't having a conversation or anything. But of course I can take a picture."

"What?" The blonde barely registered the sarcasm and Steph just shook her head. "I'm Cindy, and this is my friend Angela."

Jon smiled. He wouldn't remember their names in a second, but he knew just how to make them think he would. "Of course you are." The blonde, er...Cindy, slid her arm around his back and her hand dropped right down to his ass and held on. Angela went to his other side, making sure to press her breasts into his arm until he lifted it and draped it over her shoulder. She had damn nice tits, too bad her eyes were vacant with that starstruck sheen. He really hated that. "Okay ladies, this is a private party. Just a picture." He smiled, blinking at the flash--giving Steph a growling look as she snapped two more.

"Just making sure they get a good one," Steph said, chewing on the mangled stick.

Cindy twined her arms around his waist and looked up at him. Her forearm slid over his zipper and his much abused and neglected cock came to abrupt attention. A calculating gleam came into her rather ordinary blue eyes. "Are you sure we have to leave?" Her thigh hugged his hip as she pressed her breasts into his chest. Her shirt was low enough that the pink tips of her nipples were visible.

Again, his cock knocked on his zipper. And for a second he thought about taking this woman up on her offer. He shouldn't dip into the dangerous waters that included Jamison Sambora and the eyecrossing pleasure he knew he'd find, but pay for countless days after...hell, possibly his entire life. It would be smarter to search out the easier lay--to enjoy the lifestyle he'd loved for years now. It would be so easy to just take what Cindy offered and forget her by morning.

Instead a throaty laugh spiked through his brain, his chest, and finally his cock. That dark and body stirring voice that could twist him up whether it was coming out of an amplifier or that long, lovely throat...it just didn't matter. Across the room, her body flattened against the biker, their gazes locked. Shit.

Her eyes went from amused to sly as her focus slid to the obvious Cindy and back to him. One eyebrow arched before she adjusted her attention to Tiny. Fucking A, the woman drove him crazy. Instead of shuffling Cindy and her friend off like he'd intended, he pulled them deeper into the ever increasing party. Stephanie gave him a knowing look and melted into the crowd. He wasn't sure where she went, but it didn't matter. His eyes were for James.

She danced, she drank, she flirted with everyone. And each time he saw a man's hand on her hip, on her ass, on her thigh, he wanted to shred, rip, and beat them to a bloody pulp. He knew just what she felt like now. The game was on, and he was ready to make her feel every last bit of helpless need like he did. No one woman should be able to tangle him up like this. He dragged Cindy and...whatever her name was, onto the dance floor, one at the front of him, one at the back. Angela reached around him, her hand sliding into his jeans. Cool hands that knew just what to do to stroke a man into readiness. Cindy's hand over the zipper, cupping him from the front. How many times had he enjoyed a couple of girlfriends with the sole purpose in pleasing him? Too many to count.

The room had filled. The intimate and small party had hemmoraged into a living, breathing thing. They ignored each other, but every movement was there to entice, he didn't need to watch every move to remember what it felt like to hold her, to watch her fall apart, to feel her slick and hot around his fingers. Everytime she licked her fingers, everytime she sipped from her beer, all of it was to drive him crazy. Suddenly he felt suffocated, he slipped away from the women. They weren't happy about it, but they found new partners with little complaint.

Heading to the side door, he veered away from the smiling faces, the laughter and the smoke that hung in the air like a grey film. No one noticed him. All of them too liquored up and high to notice that the room had grown too small for him and the memories too vivid. He thought about turning back, about dragging Cindy out there. Driving himself into her against the wall until she took all the frustration into her body--the body that wasn't James. That wasn't what he wanted. He looked back, but the blonde was already wound around Doc reaching for the his stash in his pocket. What's the lead singer when Doc had a vial of blow in his pocket? Nothing, that's what.

The night air slapped him in the face like a wall of stifling heat, nearly as thick as the air inside. Nearly as cloying, except it wasn't. It was missing one vital thing that would let him think. Collapsing against the wall, he took a steadying breath, and then another. He could practically feel the pulse of the party behind the brick. Closing his eyes, it took a few minutes but he finally felt his muscles loosen and his heartbeat settle.

The rattle of a chain link fence broke into his throbbing cocoon, making him look up.

"Let me in."

He closed his eyes even as his body stiffened and his cock climbed up the zipper of his pants trying to get out. It knew what it wanted, no matter how careful he tried to be. Through the shadows he could see the flame strips of her hair in the dim security light. Where the hell had she come from? "What the fuck are you doing?"

Metal scraped against metal as she shook the chain holding the fence together. "It's padlocked and I can't climb the damn fence without cutting the hell out of my legs. This is why I don't wear skirts. Being a girl is stupid and annoying."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. As hard and frustrated and crazed as he was, that snide and snarky humor got him. "The lock is to keep the undesirables out."

Her eyes glittered in the dark, her chin up. "Undesireable my ass." She pushed the metal bars open as far as the chains would allow. Just enough for her to get her head and shoulders through.

"Jesus." Jon hurried forward to hold the metal frame open. It was hot to the touch, still holding onto the heat from the ninety degree day. Sweat slipped down his back, pooled in the waistband of his jeans. She wiggled through, her arms around his neck before he could let go. Her lips were hot as the bars, her tongue fishing and finding his as her fingers fisted into his hair. He twisted her flowy little silk shirt until he could find the flesh of her back. And still all he could see was Tiny's hands on her. And that throaty laugh up at the much larger guy. "What? Get that guy to rev you up and then come find me?"

She scraped her short nails into the base of his skull, angling him to kiss her. "I wanted it to be your hands," she said against his mouth, her teeth scraping down his lower lip and over his chin. The rasp of his stubble sounded like sandpaper under her teeth in the quiet alley. "I always want it to be your hands."

The blood roared in his ears. Christ, she was going to drive him insane. Hell, she'd already done it. He hadn't been this randy since high school. She pushed him back into the alley, into the shadows until it was only a sliver of light on them. The rough hewn brick dug into his shoulderblades as she slammed him back. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, then his hips, then around his wrists, holding him against the brick. With her chest heaving, and her hair little more than a shadow he struggled to get to her. He wanted all that hair around his fingers, on his fucking thighs. He wanted to be balls deep into her until he could think again.

She sipped from his neck, the flat of her tongue scooping up the sweat that had formed from the steamy July air. Still holding his hands she backed up, her eyes shaded by the limited light. When she squated in front of him, he groaned. "God, James."

She looked up at him, that shaft of light a strip of reality in the shadows. Her lower lip, swollen from his kisses, her nose flared with arousal and one golden eye flashed. She let go of his hands and went for his belt.

"Shit," he muttered and tried to stop her, but it was a halfhearted attempt. How many nights had this happened in his mind? Just this way?

She just brushed his hands away. "I'm going to get some part of me around that cock, even if it's just my mouth tonight."

"Sweet Jesus," he sucked a breath in as her long fingers wrapped around him. Her other hand peeled back the denim and the overlong shirt, freeing him to that pale shaft of light. His light skin to her darker honeyed tones only revved him more. She clamped him tight and the blood rushed back until he was so hard he could have cheerfully killed her. "Jamison."

She grinned up at him, her tongue sliding across her top lip. With one long pull of her fingers she drew out a drop of cum, her thumb brushed it around and under the sensitive rim of his head before she wrapped her lips around him. She drew him deep, sucking strongly and his head smacked against the brick. Instead of stopping, she just hummed around him in a strangled laugh, her fingers working him even as his head and shaft were slick with the wet warmth from her mouth.

There was wild laughter in her eyes even as she destroyed him. She knew the power she weilded and it killed him to be at her mercy, but he watched the entire time. Those full lips latched onto him and took him deep, the tissues at the back of her throat hugged him as she took him deeper. His fingers twisted into her hair and he couldn't stop himself from pumping into her mouth, but she took it and he could see the satisfaction swirling in the pale gold lamplight.

She was crouched low, her long legs opened wide. The shadows were too heavy to let him see her, but he knew what was under that skirt. Was she wet from making him crazy? Was she slick and ready? Was it dripping down her thigh with how much she wanted him inside her? God, he wanted to lick that heat off of her. And suddenly there wasn't any room for thought. He didn't even pretend that he wanted her to pull back. He wanted her to take him all. To swallow every drop. He held her hair tighter, strangling down the shout that wanted to explode from his chest.

She clamped her hand down around the base of his cock and held him off. His fingers twisted harder, her name a feral sound but then she freed him and the release was mind bending. Distantly, he cursed in his head. Even here, she had far too much control on him. But it was forgotten when she stood, her mouth clamped to his neck as thoroughly as his cock just a moment ago. No tender moments between them right now.

She practically crawled into him, her knee hooked on his hip, her hips tight to his as her teeth moved to his ear. "You tasted as delicious as I knew you would. Warm and thick down my throat." Her hips banged into his recovering cock. "I want to fuck you so bad I can't even think."

His fingers plowed into all that rich, dark chocolate silk. With his other hand he held her tighter, his grip possessive on her ass. He just had to slide down a little more and he could have his fingers inside her again. The curve bled into thigh and the stretchy skirt bunched under his palm. Just one more taste. His mouth latched onto hers, swallowing the desperate whispers she'd dumped in his ear. Gloriously hot, every part of her was vibrating to get him inside her.

The lace of her panties was damp and there...finally he found the slit and pushed his middle two fingers beyond the lace and lips and inside her. She moaned against his mouth, but it wasn't enough. He could taste himself wrapped around her tongue as he pushed for a deeper kiss. And there, her smoky heat. He plunged his fingers deeper, his forearm cramping at the position, but he didn't care.

The quick flash of light as the door bounced open startled them too much for them to break apart.

"Oh man, sorry."

Jon shoved her behind him, his fucking dick still flapping in the goddamn breeze of the night, hard as iron again, even after being caught. For fuck's sake he should be shriveled like a fourteen year old getting caught spaking it to Playboy. "T--close the door man."

Tico backed up, swaying a little, his baritone laugh echoed along the alley. "Got yourself a hot one, hey brother? I'll let you finish up."

The door slammed again and they both collapsed against the wall. "Son of a bitch," he said and plowed his hands into his hair. Her scent clung to his hand--again. The alley came into focus. Dirty and wet, shadows hid the bins of garbage but not the scent now that he could almost think again. What the fuck was he doing? It wasn't like he hadn't fucked a groupie or ten behind a building or stage in his career, but this was James. And Richie was right behind him--inside there.

Her rich laughter only pissed him off. Her hand slid across his belly to the hard on tight against his belly. "Do you like people to watch, Slick?"

He pushed her hand away and stuffed himself back into his jeans. "For Christ's sake, James."

Instead of being insulted she just laughed harder. The snick of a lighter, a quick pop of flame, and the cherry red end of a cigarette flared as smoke twined into the air. "I think that's a yes. I don't even mind the interrupted orgasm now that I know that."

"Fuck you, Jamison."

"Well, that was what I was trying to do."

He pushed away from the wall, stealing her cig for a quick drag. When she lit another one, he kept it. He needed the nicotine kick to engage his damn brain. "We almost got caught."

"Good thing you're a slut puppy because Teek didn't even bother looking at me."

"You're goddamn lucky that he's probably got a pint of whisky in him."

She stayed in the shadows, just the burning embers highlighting her face. "I'd have been luckier if he'd stayed inside for another ten minutes."

"This isn't a fucking game!"

Instantly her laughter was gone. "Isn't it?" She dropped her cigarette crushing it under her boot. "This is all a game."

The next thing he heard was the rattle of the chains and gate as she slid back through to head inside from the front. He curled his hand into a fist, but stopped himself an inch away from the brick.