Free Play Me (Love on Tour #2) by Kay Harris

doors opened, her mouth found my neck.
    There was really no way to move her away from me. I was carrying her with her head at my shoulder, her legs draped over my other arm. I was going to have endure her moist, warm mouth against my neck until I got her to her room.
    It was an eternity, the walk down that hallway. She didn’t stop kissing me. In fact, her tongue started swirling around my earlobe. I was in deep shit by the time I reached her door.
    “Bell, where’s your room key?”
    She stopped what she doing just long enough to whisper, “in my back pocket.”
    “Hold on.”
    She tightened her grip on my neck with both arms. I moved my hand from her back to her ass and felt the sharp square plastic. I pulled it out and managed to get the door open.
    “Here you go, sweetheart,” I said, laying her gently on the bed.
    She rolled onto her side and let out a little groan.
    “Don’t pass out on me yet. You need to drink some water and take a couple aspirin.” I walked to the sink.
    “Don’t want to,” she pouted.
    I filled a glass of water and located a bottle of over-the-counter pain killers in her toiletries bag that was sitting next to the sink.
    “Believe me honey, I know all about how to reduce a hang-over. This won’t kill it altogether.” I sat on the bed next to her. “You drank too much for that. But it will take the edge off.”
    She groaned, but sat up.
    “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
    She took the pills and water and handed me back the empty glass.
    “Good girl.”
    Then she flopped back onto the bed.
    “Okay, sleep tight, Bell,” I said, getting up.
    “Wait, take off my pants Henry, please.”
    She was wearing a very well fitting pair of designer jeans.
    “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
    “Ugh, please,” she pushed at the waistband uselessly. “They’re bugging me,” she whined.
    Fuck my life.
    I tried to be as quick and efficient as possible. I rolled her onto her back, deftly worked the button and zipper on her jeans, and tugged.
    Unlike her good friend Baby, this girl had a bit of a fashion sense, that went all the way to her underwear. Like the bra I saw the other night, her panties were small and lacy. Her legs were short, but smooth and muscular, and gorgeous. She started to roll over, so before I could get a good look at her ass, I pulled the sheets down, right out from under her, and threw them over the top of her.
    She sighed, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes. “Thanks, Henry.”
    “Night, Bell,” I said, turning off the light and heading to the door.
    ****
    I was having a shitty night. My drummer, Tommy, was sick as a dog and he’d called in some buddy to sit in for him. The guy sucked, and it threw it me off my game. The concert was shit. I was lucky I didn’t get booed off the stage.
    Sean did better, once he got on stage, that is. For some reason he was almost ten minutes late. His band was sitting there doing instrumental shit and dicking around the whole time. I had to go out there and stall. Even the encore went badly, because we lost power halfway through the second-to-last song.
    By the time I left the venue I was tired, pissed, and I really wanted a damn drink. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, so I’d taken a cab back to the hotel. The cabbie was a fan. He talked my damn ear off the whole ride. When he dropped me off at the back door I practically raced inside.
    I wasn’t in the mood to wait for the elevator, or deal with whoever might be on it, so I took the stairs. The quickened breath and slight ache in my legs from running up the seven flights of stairs felt good. I was feeling a little better by the time I pushed out into the hallway. I stalked down the corridor toward the opposite end, where my room was, and came to a dead stop in front of room 756.
    Bell was pressed up against the door, her hand fumbling with the keycard. It must have been tough to operate, since her face was being swallowed by the infamous roadie Jon.
    I