Olivia Cunning - Hot Ticket

Eric’s cock lengthened and thickened as Jace began to move. Jace’s finger slid into her ass, and her legs buckled. “Yeah, Jace, that’s good. Tease my ass. Eric, rub my clit. Rub it.”

Eric rubbed her clit with one hand, and his other went to his hard-on. She loved watching Eric stroke himself while Jace filled her and dipped his fingertips into her ass. A single bead of precum glistened at the head of Eric’s dick. Unable to resist his offering, she lowered her head and licked it. Salty. Sweet.

“Oh sweet heaven,” Eric gasped.

Encouraged, she sucked the head of his cock into her mouth. His entire body convulsed. Jace picked up his tempo, his thrusts deep and steady. He buried two fingers in her ass and curled them down to stimulate the head of his cock as he thrust into her. Aggie cried out, gasping brokenly on the wet head of Eric’s cock. Eric stroked her clit faster—himself twice as fast. Jace vocalized his pleasure louder with each thrust.

“Make her come, Eric. Make her come.”

Eric wasn’t making her come, Jace was. His thickness. Filling her. Rubbing her. His fingers filling her further.

While her body convulsed with release, Jace slowly slid his fingers from her ass.

She lost track of the number of times she came. She sucked Eric’s cock when she thought of it, but most of the time she was too delirious to pay any attention to what he was doing beneath her. Jace’s tempo increased, his breath hitching in the back of his throat. He pulled out at the last moment and came on Aggie’s back with a startled, sputtering cry of release.

“Did I just miss the money shot?” Eric asked. “Ah, fuck.”

Jace collapsed onto the bed beside her, still breathing hard. “Let me catch my breath, and we’ll start over. I’ll do better next time. I didn’t mean to come that fast.”

“Better? That was amazing,” Aggie said, still trembling in the aftermath of multiple orgasms. “Amazing.”

Jace lay beside her, unmoving, his eyes closed.

“Okay, okay.” Eric shuddered, spurting all over his belly. He groaned as he pumped his fluids out with a tight fist. “God, I needed that.”

When Eric went still, breaths still coming in trembling gasps, Jace forced his eyes open. He smiled gently at Aggie and tried to get up. He managed to lift himself on one arm before crumpling to the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Aggie asked.

“I think I need some breakfast.”

He’d overdone it again. “No more sex until you’re fully healed,” Aggie insisted.

“I’ll be okay. I’m just hungry.”

“I’ll go make some scrambled eggs,” Eric said. He wiped the cum off his belly and stuffed his softening cock into his blue boxer briefs before heading for the door in his underwear. Eric should always walk around in his underwear. Dear lord, that long, lean body was some serious eye candy.

“Wait!” Jace called desperately.

Eric paused at the door and looked over his shoulder in question. “What?”

“Don’t get creative with the spices this time—salt and pepper only.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Eric grinned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“Aggie, you have to stop him,” Jace whispered as if Eric were on a murder mission. “Last time he mixed cayenne, cinnamon, garlic, and basil.”

Aggie’s nose wrinkled. “In eggs?”

“And I’m starving. I need to eat.”

Aggie kissed his lips and rose from the bed. “I’ve got you, baby. You rest.” She reached for her clothes.

While Eric pretended to be the Swedish Chef from the Muppet Show, Aggie monitored his progress and cooked the bacon. Whenever he reached for a spice to sprinkle in the huge pan of eggs, Aggie smacked it out of his hand. Eric cooked like he did everything else: to the beat of a different drummer with all the heart and enthusiasm he could muster. And while she expected things to be weird between them now (she’d just washed his cum off her belly, after all), he didn’t act differently around her at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed and friendlier than before.

Aggie spread strips of bacon over a paper towel to collect the grease and dumped frozen hash browns into the bacon pan. She put a lid on the top to stop the grease from spattering.

“Why don’t you make some toast? The bread’s in that cabinet there.” He pointed with his spatula.

While she was occupied with opening the bread wrapper, Eric reached for the allspice.

“No,” she said, grabbing the bottle from his hand.

“It’s called allspice,” he said. “Doesn’t that mean it should be used to spice all?”

“Eric, add that crap to your own eggs after everyone gets their safe serving.”

“Safe? Boring, you mean.”

“Eggs are supposed to be boring.”

Jace opened the bedroom door and hobbled to the table. Wearing nothing but jeans and his sling (which he’d been using less, so its appearance must mean his shoulder was bothering him), he slid into the booth. Resting his left elbow on the table, he propped his forehead up with his hand.

“You wore his ass out, Aggie. Look at him.”

Oh, she was looking at him, all right.

“Shut up, Sticks,” Jace murmured.

The toast popped, and Aggie buttered a slice. She handed it to Jace. “Eat this while you wait for your eggs.”

Jace lifted his head from his hand, patted her butt affectionately, and accepted the piece. “Thanks.”

“I smell food,” Brian said, leaning out of his bunk. “Smells good. Who’s cooking?” He blinked his eyes in the light of the cabin until they focused on Eric at the stove. “Sticks? Never mind. I’ll starve.” He closed his curtain again.

“Good,” Jace called, his mouth full of toast. “Leaves more for me.”

“Aggie’s got him under control,” Trey said, hopping out of his bunk and stealing bacon from the counter.

Trey sat across from Jace and handed him a piece of his bacon. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah.”

Sed climbed out of his bunk and slid next to Trey, his big body taking up more than its share of the booth. “I’m in,” he said. When he tried to help himself to Trey’s bacon, he got his hand slapped.

Brian hopped down from his bunk. “I guess if the rest of you die of food poisoning, there’s no reason for me to go on alone.”

“Think of Myrna,” Trey said.

“I’m mostly thinking of my stomach.” Brian scooted in next to Jace. “Man, you sure you should be out of the hospital? You look like death warmed over.”

Now Aggie felt guilty. She exchanged glances with Eric. “We should have let him sleep in this morning,” she whispered as she turned the hash browns.

“He usually doesn’t get out of bed until noon. He always looks like shit in the morning.”

Aggie went to the refrigerator and shoved the beer aside until she found a bottle of orange juice. She unscrewed the top and set it in front of Jace. “Here, baby, drink this.”

He blushed at her sentiment, and it did not go unnoticed by the other guys. “Yeah, baby, dwink your juice all up,” Trey said. “Be a good widdle man.”

Brian pinched Jace’s cheek. “Such a cute widdle baby, isn’t he? He needs to dwink his juice from his sippy cup.”

Scowling, Jace slapped Brian’s hand away.

Aggie grinned. The guys loved him. That’s why they teased him relentlessly. He was like their adored little brother. Why couldn’t Jace see that? Maybe Aggie needed to help him see what was already there.

Jace stood behind the stage watching the roadies set up for the concert in Edmonton. He could hang out here until they were done. Then he’d have to leave because Jon would start rehearsing with the band for their show. He couldn’t force himself to watch that.

The next night there’d be a symphony playing in this venue, and the orchestra’s instruments had already been delivered. They were lined up along the back wall behind the stage area which made it challenging for the roadies to maneuver their stage sections into place. Feeling woozy from looking at the rigging, Jace meandered to the bench in front of the symphony’s grand piano. He sat heavily and took a deep breath. Maybe he should check himself into a hospital. He couldn’t regain his strength. That probably had to do with keeping Aggie satisfied. It was impossible to keep his hands off her. He didn’t bother trying.

Jace leaned against the keyboard of the piano, and it pinged discordantly. Someone had forgotten to cover the keys. He turned on the bench, tossed back the heavy canvas covering the instrument, and reached for the little knob connected to the wooden lid. His wrist hit the keys. He paused, instantly transported back in time. He could almost feel his mother sitting beside him, her arm pressed against his shoulder, her leg against his. During those times, he pretended she cared about him.

Jace shrugged his sling aside and allowed his fingers to settle on the keys, his feet on the pedals. He definitely felt Mother as his fingers found a familiar melody. He could hear her, speaking in that barely perceptible whisper of hers. Don’t play the music, Jason. Let the music play you. Give yourself over to it. Let it inside. It’s alive. Do you feel it?

Music was alive. He did feel it. He always had. It was more real than his own existence.

Jace let the melody take him, giving his fingers free rein. The keys beside him, where his mother’s fingers should have rested, remained still, but he heard her playing with him as surely as if she’d been sitting beside him. When he reached the end of the song, the final note rang and his mother faded away.

“I didn’t know you played piano,” Aggie said. “That was beautiful.” She slid onto the bench beside him. “Play something else.”