Free Diva (Ironclad Bodyguards Book 2) by Annabel Joseph, Molly Joseph

was hard when the music was jamming and the lights were flashing in perfect rhythm. Energy surged through her veins until she wanted to jump out of her skin. She wanted to dive into the crowd, but then the pills might fall out of her pocket, and besides, Ransom had told her not to. What had he said? He’d make her run five miles.
    Right now she felt like she could run twenty-five miles. Two hundred and twenty-five miles. She looked over at him. He frowned back at her. What was wrong with him, seriously? Out of the jillion bazillion people on this field in Amsterdam, he was the only one who wasn’t shaking his ass. Too bad, because he had a great ass. She hadn’t gotten laid in forever. How many days since Marty left? And Marty sucked in bed. She preferred the professionals, the gigolos, but she couldn’t always find them, and now…
    Too bad Ransom was so uptight in the fun department. He’d make a great gigolo if the bodyguard thing didn’t work out. She imagined dragging him onto the stage and making him feel the music. If only she could make him feel , they’d both be so much happier. She’d take off his clothes and dance naked with him on top of the sound console, then throw him down and fuck him in the middle of the stage, with the lights and fog machines, and the ravers dancing, and the beautiful beats rattling their souls as they found ecstasy.
    Ecstasy. Ha. She started laughing as the music built to a hammering crescendo. She wasn’t laughing because anything was funny. She was laughing because life was amazing, and people were amazing, and her bodyguard was gorgeous even if he didn’t dance. Maybe she’d ask him to fuck her when the set was over. He’d probably say yes. Men always said yes to her.
    “That’s the plan, that’s the plan,” she sang, even though no one could hear her over the music. The photographer snapped another photo as she pressed a button, killed the buildup and initiated the drop. The stage rattled so hard from the bass, it felt like it was falling apart. The crowd went apeshit and Lola jumped in manic bliss. She could have jumped forever, for five miles, easily. She felt like she was jumping ten feet in the air.
    The crowd was a blur, but the beats went on, and her mind raced to keep up with the beautiful world. The stage manager swung by, holding up two hands. Wow, ten minutes to go? What had happened to the time? She’d been playing for almost two hours, but she could have played four more hours. Forty more hours. She laughed again. Yeah, as long as the pills held out. She started building toward another massive drop, the final drop. She’d make it a masterpiece.
    She wove the beats in a new way, driven by the glittering images in her head. This beat goes here. This beat goes there. These melodies play together nice. Oh, so nice, like E minor and C. She swayed, waving her hands in the air. The crowd was an undulating mass, illuminated by a blinding light show. Yes, yes, yes, jump, jump, jump, me, me, me, me, me, you, you, you, you, yooouuu…
    When the drop came, it was crazy hot. She almost did a stage dive. She almost ran to the edge of the platform and threw herself into the beautiful sea of people, but her chest felt aflame with all her happiness, and she worried she might set the crowd on fire.
    Instead, she danced until the end of the song and took a bow. The crowd’s love rolled toward her like a neon tide. She basked in it as the ravers screamed her name. PARADISE! PARADISE! PARADIIIIIIISE!
    She loved these people. She adored them. She blew a few final kisses and ducked behind the sound console to get her water. She felt so wonderful, so happy and high. Rave Dave had the best fucking shit on the planet, the most phenomenal shit of all time. She decided to sneak another half pill before she was back in Ransom’s clutches, just to celebrate, just because she’d fucking killed that set.
    “Great show, Lady,” someone shouted.
    She swallowed and turned, and saw the