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Adam

I’d stripped off my shirt two songs ago,and still, sweat dripped beneath my Santa hat and down my neck. When I was on stage, I never stopped moving. It wasn’t much different from the rest of my life, except the bright lights and adrenaline pumping through my veins.

The jumping girl in front of the stage only made my heart beat faster. Adelaide made for an incredible audience. I jumped with her, plucking my guitar and grinning like a madman. It couldn’t be stopped. She’d been singing and dancing with June throughout TSC’s set, and I’d been watching them. But mostly her.

We were at the end of a six-city Jingle All the Balls tour, last stop in NYC. I hadn’t seen Adelaide in person for two weeks, and she was a sight for sore fucking eyes. I had to hold myself back from leaping off the stage and scooping her up. Although, I didn’t think any of our fans would have minded seeing her jump around on stage with us.

That thought made my vision go cloudy. No. No sharing Baddie with the pervs who came to our shows. The way some of them ogled Iris was bad enough.

My lead singer prowled over to me, capturing my attention. Her eyebrow was hitched as she sang about shattering glass. She got in my face, the mic between us, and I joined her, giving a little smooth to her rough. She hadthevoice, but I wasn’t a slouch, and our fans got a kick out of hearing me sing too.

Iris cupped the back of my neck, her eyes flaring, then her head jerked to the side. I knew her well enough to understand her nonverbal cues. That was herWTF, why are you looking at Adelaide Goodman like a creeper and not engaging the thousands of other people in the room?motion.

I shrugged and winked.

I got the sense from her scowl she would have kneed my balls if she hadn’t needed me to keep playing guitar. Then again, with Iris, I was always on the cusp of getting my balls eviscerated.

Good thing I liked living on the edge.

When we got off stage, I strode directly to my dressing room, snatched up my phone, and closed myself in my private bathroom.

The text I’d been hoping for was waiting for me, and fuck if my dick didn’t almost punch through my jeans when I opened it.

Adelaide:A treat for you because I know you’re going to give me an amazing show.

The picture attached was a shot up her short skirt. Her panties were pushed aside, and her hand was there, covering almost everything. She was such a fucking tease. It didn’t even matter, though. My dick saw enough to weep in my jeans.

Unzipping, I flicked the piercing through the head of my cock and squeezed the shaft. I held my phone out, filming myself sliding my fist up and down my length. Then I sent it to Adelaide Zala Goodman without a damn word. My brain was stuck on the picture she’d sent me.

We’d been playing this game since the first time around. We’d both given it a few days to settle, and when it’d become obvious nothing between us had changed, we did it again. And again. Pictures, short videos, listening to each other come through the paper-thin wall. It wasn’t daily, but it happened regularly. I’d spent more time with my hand over the last couple months than I had since I first discovered the gift of jacking off.

It wasn’t just the pictures that sent the blood rushing south so fast I couldn’t think straight. It was that Adelaide was getting off just as hard from seeing mine and knowing I was seeing hers. She’d never even shown me more than a shadow of a glimpse of what was between her thighs, but fuck if her hand cupping her core and her tummy tightening when she brought herself over wasn’t the hottest thing I’d seen in my life.

I jerked myself rough and fast. People were waiting for me. My band, manager, press, and most importantly, Adelaide. But she knew what she’d done, the little fucking menace. I couldn’t walk around the green room with a raging hard-on, and the only way I was going to get rid of it was to come.

I was close, so close, when there was a tap on the door. “Just a second,” I gritted out.

“Adam.” Oh shit, it was Adelaide. My cock jerked at the sound of her breathy voice. “I’m right here.”

“Keep talking,” I ordered thickly.

“There are people right outside your dressing room. Anyone could come in. They’ll want to know why I’m talking to you through your door. They’ll want to know what you’re doing in there. They might even open the door.”

“Fuck.” My teeth gnashed to keep myself from letting loose the thunderstorm growing in my chest. “Keep talking.”

I was close. So fucking close. She knew what to say to bring me over. She told me someone was coming in. She even put a tremble in her voice to make herself sound afraid. My fist moved up and down, pumping in a frenzy. I was there,rightthere, when the sound of her pressing against the door and whispering my name shot straight to my core.

“I’m so wet from that video you sent me. What if I take off my panties right now and make myself come? People will see. I’ll be so embarrassed.”

“What if you’re not?” I asked. “What if you like it?”

She gasped. “What if I do? I think I might.”

That did it. Imagining her in front of a faceless crowd, pushing her lacy underwear aside to get to her clit, pleasuring her pussy while we watched, sent me into a spiral of mindless need. Bending in half over the sink, I came in long, messy spurts all over my hand and the porcelain, and I didn’t even try to hold back my groans.

It took me a minute to catch my breath. When I looked at myself in the mirror, a goofy-as-hell grin reflected back at me. How had that been so damn satisfying? I didn’t have the answer, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. What Adelaide and I had stumbled into worked in a big, huge way.

After I cleaned up and got myself together, I swung open the door. Adelaide was perched on a high stool, her long legs crossed, a sassy little smirk on her rainbow lips.


Tags: Julia Wolf Romance