The buses pulled up to the hotel that everyone would be meeting up at over the next few days. Johnny had flown home again, because we had a solid four days before he needed to be in town for our show and one of his kids had the flu, so he wanted to help his wife out. Mike and Carmen, and the rest of our little entourage, were all checking in at some point that day, but I wasn’t. Ryan wanted to take me to his house. He said it’s because I’d be the safest there, but since he came out as my security, I’d honestly never felt safer just having him around. But I had to admit that spending some time together, in a home instead of a hotel, was something I’d been looking forward to all week.

I had already packed a bag to take with me, and my guitar, because I wasn’t leaving it behind for three days, when Ryan popped up behind me. “You ready, babe? I’m pretty excited to get home for a bit, and I have lots of places I want to show you.”

“I am. Let me just go say goodbye to my sister.” I rose on my toes, planting a small kiss on his lips before running off to see Carmen, who was checking in to her hotel room.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out. Are you sure this is cool?” I asked her.

“Of course it is,” she smiled back at me. “To be completely honest, I’m going to go back to sleep for what will likely be most of the day, and then Mike and I are going trolling for some play this evening, down at the pier.”

“Oh my God, Carmen, be careful,” I laughed.

“I’m always careful, and that’s why I have Mike with me. He’s my wingman, and I’m his.” She took a small bow.

“You guys crack me up.” I gave her a hug.

“Now, you have fun fucking in a real bed, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Which leaves you pretty wide open for whatever kind of nasty shenanigans you’re planning on with that boyfriend of yours,” she smirked.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, giggling.

“Oh, he’s holding all of your shit over there, waiting for you to come home with him. He’s most certainly your boyfriend. Give him a blowie for his troubles when you get there.” She smacked me on the ass, sending me on my way.

“You’re incorrigible, Carmen!” I yelled back at her, slightly mortified by her comment, but far more embarrassed when I turned around to see her making the international hand sign for a blow job.

I laughed ridiculously hard as I walked back to Ryan, and weaving my hand into his, said, “Let’s go.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, tugging me behind him with my bag slung over his shoulder, and my guitar in his other hand.

“I can carry some of my own shit,” I said.

“Not necessary, babe, I’ve got it,” he stated, as we stepped back out front. He was looking around, presumably for a cab, when he spotted a black SUV and began pulling me in that direction. He let go of my hand to wave at the driver, who whipped around all the other cars to park in front of us.

“Ryan! Man, it’s good to see you.” A tall, handsome and extremely well built man stepped out of the driver’s seat.

“Ah, Caleb, thanks so much for coming to get us. Really appreciate it, bro,” They shook giant hands as I looked on. They had to know each other from the Army; Caleb had similar tattoos that peeked out of his t-shirt, running along one of his arms. He was the opposite in features to Ryan though, with groomed dark hair, and dark eyes.

“What’s all that shit on your face, man? You growing a freedom beard now?” Caleb teased Ryan as he grabbed my stuff, and Ryan’s backpack, and put them in the back of the truck while I stood by silently.

“My lady loves my beard, so fuck off,” he replied, making me blush at being called his lady.

“And this must be Miranda.” Caleb approached me, extending his hand out. “I’m a huge fan, Miss Royal. I have to admit I have all of your music.”

“Oh my. Well thank you so much. It’s lovely to meet you.” I shook his hand politely.

“Alright man, let’s get the hell out of here. I haven’t been home in an eternity, and I’m dying to chill out for a bit. We’ll probably go out to dinner tomorrow night, down at the pier, if you want to join us. Maybe meet some of the other players on tour?” Ryan asked him.

“Yea man, I’m free as a bird from now until the end of the tour, so whatever works for me,” he answered as we hopped in and took off. Ryan sat in the backseat with me, which was awfully sweet, but unnecessary. I expected him to sit up front with his friend, but he was next to me, fingers intertwined with me the entire time.

It wasn’t a long ride, and the boys had caught up while I enjoyed the view. He gently ran his thumb along my hand the entire trip, igniting my desire to get my hands on him. The smallest touches from him sent me into a tizzy, and this was no exception. I needed him, in a bad way. I ran my hand along his thigh, so he’d know what I was thinking, just grazing his jeans next to his growing cock. He was definitely picking up my signals, and stopped my hand before I full on ran my hand over the top of his jeans in my favorite spot.

As I watched him pretend I wasn’t turning him on in the backseat of his friend’s SUV, he continued to make small talk with Caleb, while I tried to quietly fight his grip on my hand so I could rub his cock. He shot me a glance quickly, widening his eyes, and chuckling, holding my hand tighter, which really just egged me on, turning it into a game of How can Miranda grab Ryan’s cock right now.

Not long after the game began, we pulled up in front of a traditional San Francisco brownstone, much like you’d see on TV, and he finally let go of my hand. He’d held it so tightly to stop my shenanigans that it almost hurt, but it was totally worth playing.

“Thanks so much, man. I’ll hit you up about tomorrow,” Ryan said, grabbing our things from the back of the SUV, and handing me my guitar, likely to keep my hands busy.

“It was nice to meet you, Miranda. I look forward to seeing you again soon,” Caleb said to me politely.

“Same here. Thanks so much for the ride,” I replied, as I followed after Ryan to the front door, where he already had a key in the lock.

Kicking the door open since his hands were full, he quickly dropped his bag and punched in the code to the alarm that was at the front door. Waving me to come in, he tossed my bag next to his and took my guitar from me, gently placing it down next to everything, and slamming the door behind me.

Backing me into the door, and swiftly caging me against it with his arms, he said with a low and husky voice, “You’re so fucking bad, Miranda. And I fucking love it.”