CHAPTER 12

Delia

If I closed my eyes I could see him, feel him leaning forward to kiss me. I could feel his arms. I could feel his muscles twitching underneath my fingertips. Had I just let all of my rules go, I would’ve had him. I would’ve known what it felt like to have a man between my thighs. I could’ve eased my ache with his body had I just pulled him into my apartment.

But no. We had to be interrupted.

I had already had to masturbate to the thought of him. Slamming the door in his face did nothing to quell the want that had surged through my body. It was dripping down my thighs as I spread my legs for my hands, moaning his name and writhing on the couch. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough just to see him. To imagine him.

I wanted to feel him, to feel his muscles against me and underneath my tongue. I wanted him to open my eyes to the world of sex, no matter what that meant. I wanted that beautiful, broken man. I came to him twice that day. Twice to the memory of feeling of his tongue raking against the roof of my mouth.

But now I had to see him. Now, I had to talk with him. I had to follow behind his damn tour bus and stay in a hotel across the hall from him, all the while trying to deny the fact that I wanted him, even though he’d already caught me once in the act. God the look in his eyes that night. They were hungry.

He showed up in my dreams. My mind concocted all of these scenarios that left me breathless every time I jerked myself awake. I saw him taking me on that balcony, my body turned out for the world. I saw him taking me on my couch, his face planted between my thighs. I woke up moaning his name, feeling my body shaking and contracting like his cock was buried deep inside me.

But he wasn’t there. My mind was so focused on him that it was conjuring his aura around me. Like a ghost or a phantom residue I couldn’t scrub from my skin.

I got out of bed and readied myself for the day. I took as cold of a shower as I could manage, but it didn’t do anything to stop the pulsing of my clit. I flipped the water back to warm and slid my fingers between my folds, feeling myself already dripping at the thought of him. I closed my eyes as I slid to the shower floor, my conditioner dripping down my face. I bucked into my hand as my fingers pressed into my aching clit and I imagined his tongue there. His tongue that had so languidly licked my mouth.

Oh, the things that tongue could do between my legs.

My chest heaved and my toes curled. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and my body shook. I came on my hand for a third time since I’d seen him, and my chest heaved for breath. I was dripping with want for him. I felt tears rising to my eyes as I succumbed to the reality of the situation.

Despite my best intentions, I was lusting after my client.

Cleaning myself up, I tried to push the thought from my mind as best as I could, reminding myself that he was a client, a client that needed my help. I had worked on the outline of his plan to help him get sober and sent it to Hank for approval. I would need a go ahead from him before I started implementing anything.

And it started with watching him on this tour.

I got dressed after the shower and got ready for the day. I met Drake at his record label and he looked drunk. His eyes were glassy and his stance was sloppy. I could smell the alcohol coming off his breath, and his clothes were wrinkled and musty-smelling. Which meant he was drunker than he usually was.

That should’ve been enough to derail the need he elicited in me. Seeing him like my father before he drove away that day should’ve been enough. But it wasn’t. I wanted to reach out to him and help heal all it was that plagued him.

His record producer was going over some final things before they cut the last rendition of his latest album.

Hank was there paying attention, and I was grateful for it. My eyes were on Drake the entire time, studying his body and his reactions. His reaction times were especially slow. I could see his flask sticking out of his back pocket, but the cap wasn’t even screwed on. It was empty, and it made me wonder how much he’d had before coming to this meeting.

“Delia, can I speak with you for a second?”

“Sure Hank. What’s up?” I asked.

“You’re going to hate me for this, but there’s nothing I can do about that I suppose. I need you on the bus with the guys.”

“What?” I asked. “Why? You said I could follow in my truck.”

“I know, I know. But I got your sobriety plan in my inbox and I think it’s good. I agree with you that surveying him without intervention on this trip could be a good thing for you. But you won’t see that unless you’re on the bus. Plus I have a couple of meetings set up along the way and I’ll need my car for those.”

“I can gather all I need to know as we stop along our journey,” I said.

“Delia, you’re on the bus. The label said you can park your truck at the edge of the lot and keep it here. The bus is ready to roll. All we need to do is get on it.”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” I asked.

“Not if you want me to approve your sobriety plan. But here’s the deal. If you feel the need to implement the plan sooner, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“Trust me, I won’t. If things get out of hand, I’ll do whatever is necessary to get it back under control. Especially if I’m going to have to live with those idiots for the next little while,” I said.

“I knew I hired the right person for this job. Good luck.”

Great.

Just fucking great.

I walked over to my truck and moved it to the edge of the parking lot. They had a space blocked off for me and everything, which only served to help the reality sink in a lot faster. I was now on the bus with a drunken man I couldn't resist and his two idiotic cronies. I had watched the videos that surfaced of their after parties and official videos of their concerts. I knew what I was getting into, and it wasn’t good.

“Come on, I’ll show you where to put your bags,” Drake said.

I grabbed my bag and followed Drake onto the bus. Landon was already there, sleeping in his bunk with his hand hanging out into the aisle. I made my way for the bedroom in the back, but Drake’s hand came down onto my shoulder.

“You’ll sleep in Stone’s bunk until we pick him up,” Drake said.

“I’m not doing this unless I take that room. Putting a door or something between me and you guys,” I said.

“Then the front door’s that way. Enjoy trying to keep up.”

I heard Landon chuckle as he turned over in bed, his eyes peeking out at me as he tapped the bunk above him.

“This is Stone’s bunk. Hope you don’t mind having a neighbor,” Landon said.

Throwing my eyes back to Drake, all he did was shrug his shoulders. He walked back into the room and closed the door, locking himself away from the two of us. Landon was already back to snoring again, and I sighed as I stowed my bag away. There was a small compartment next to the head of my bunk and I shoved my bag in, resolving myself to the bunk as I sank down on the covers.

At least he wasn’t expecting me to share the room with him.

Fumbling around, I slid out my laptop as the bus got on the road. I opened up a final paper I was working on. A paper about Drake, in fact. It was a comparison paper between him and my father, though both were remaining nameless. It was on the theory that addiction, no matter who it struck, always followed the same path, resulted in the same side effects, and eventually ended the same way. I was titling it, ‘The Mirror of Addiction,’ and I was hoping to eventually make it my doctoral thesis, whenever I had the funds to pursue my higher degrees of education.

I sank myself into the meat of the paper as the bus rolled down the road.

Settling in, I got so engrossed in my work I didn’t pay attention to the time that passed by. A door opening caught my attention, and I saw Drake pass by my head. He went to the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips, opening it loudly as I tried to concentrate on my paper again.

But once Landon moved from his bunk, I started fumbling for my headphones.

“Can I get some of those?” Landon asked.

“Sure. You want some ketchup to dip ‘em in?” Drake asked.

“Of course. There any other way to eat chips? Hey sweet stuff, you want some chips?” Landon asked.

“It’s Delia, and no,” I said.

“Don’t bother. She’s a stick in the mud,” Drake said.

“They can be fun,” Landon said.

“Off limits. She's off-limits, man. You'll have to find someone else to have fun with.” Drake said.

“Oh, you know Stone. He always finds us the best ones. I remember that one redhead that got on here. Fuck. I'm so glad you let me have that one,” Landon said. “That was a classic night. Don’t think Stone remembers it, though.”

“Shame. It was a good night,” Drake said.

Sighing, and cussing Hank again, I plugged in my headphones and turned on my music.

I went back to typing my paper, trying to drown out the disgusting nature of their conversation. It was obvious they were just trying to get to me. I looked back and saw them chuckling, eyeing me playfully as I shook my head.

Clearly, I was going to hate every second of this fucking trip, and I couldn’t wait to get into my own hotel room and away from these juvenile jackasses.