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Excerpt

The bus was parked behind the commissary tent. It’s not like they really needed it here, Coventry Park was in their backyard after all. Taylor insisted they needed a place to escape to, and while overzealous fans and the stealthy paparazzi followed the bus after the gig was over, they’d sneak into the town car that waited to take them back to their houses behind the locked gate on Park Place.

Bo tipped the bottle back, emptying the beer down his throat. The rigger had been eyeing him all afternoon and he needed to take the edge off. He canted his chin in the direction of the bus. Dude followed him.

Without saying a word, the rigger unzipped Bo’s jeans and pulled his cock out. Already hard, he hissed at the contact of someone besides himself touching his flesh. He needed this. He needed the cum sucked out of his dick and he needed to get the girl out of his head.

“Want your mouth fucked?”

“I wanna drink your cum.”

“Yeah?” He shoved his fingers in the man’s mouth. “Get ’em nice and wet for me.”

If the dude sucked cock like he was sucking on his fingers, this wouldn’t take long at all.

Bo lowered his pants to his thighs as the rigger lowered his face to his dick. A groan escaped at the first pull of the man’s mouth. Ava came to his mind. He could picture her on her knees for him, long blonde hair fisted in his hand. He could hear her gasping, choking on his length. He could smell her. Raspberries and jasmine petals.

Fuck.

Pushing two fingers inside his ass, Bo fucked the rigger’s face. He opened his eyes, but it was still Ava that he saw. Drinking him in with her big Bambi eyes. Mascara staining her cheeks. So fucking beautiful.

This wasn’t working.

He squeezed his eyes shut, frantically rubbing at the sweet spot inside him. Just. Feels. So. Fucking. Good. Bo railed the man’s mouth until he erupted inside it. Then after, relieved it was finished, he fell back against the sofa. His dick, coated with cum and saliva, bobbed between his thighs. And the door to the bus squeaked open.

“Fucking Christ, man.” Sloan leaned against the banquette. “You know there’s no fucking on the bus.”

The rigger wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand.

“Wasn’t fucking.” Bo snickered, looking for a towel. “Got my dick sucked.”

“Whatever.”

Bo tipped his chin toward the dude, dismissing him. “Thanks, man.”

Sloan watched the rigger get off the bus without a backward glance and tossed him a towel. “Clean yourself up, asshole. The girls are here.”

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About the Author

Dyan Layne is a nurse boss by day and the writer of edgy sensual tales by night--and on weekends. Serenity, the first book in the Red Door series, is her debut novel. She's never without her Kindle, and can usually be found tapping away at her keyboard with a hot latte and a cold Dasani Lime--and sometimes champagne. She can't sing a note, but often answers in song because isn't there a song for just about everything? Born and raised a Chicago girl, she currently lives in Tampa, Florida, and is the mother of four handsome sons and a beautiful daughter, who are all grown up now, but can still make her crazy--and she loves it that way! Because normal is just so boring.

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