Angel (Fallen Angel, #3)(39)
“Hmm. But what do they want?” I turned my attention to Viper, who gripped the mic stand in front of him. He ran his hand up and down the pole slowly, suggestively.
“I think they want something hot…something sexy…something ‘Hard.’” The noise from the crowd became deafening, and I had to tap my right ear to signal to the sound crew to turn up my in-ear monitor so I could hear the guys.
As I launched into the song Viper had written about me during a time when he thought he couldn’t have me, I was amazed at how I could sing the risqué lyrics without so much as a blush now. Now I not only sang the words, I moved my body along with them, my hips rolling and thrusting forward, which only seemed to egg everyone else on. I headed over to Killian, lining up alongside him so our backs pressed together. My head fell back on his shoulder as he played, and I slid my hand down over my chest, my abs, and then farther…
Before my fingers brushed over my covered cock, I dropped my hand and pushed off Killian, then strutted across the stage, a teasing smile on my face. All eyes were on me as I headed in Viper’s direction, and when he noticed me coming, an arrogant smirk crossed his lips. It made me want to kiss it off, but since I wasn’t about to do that right here in front of everyone, I decided I’d play with him a little instead.
Though we’d flirted in rehearsals, it was entirely different being under the lights, amped up on adrenaline, and feeling every sexy word that came out of my mouth. It made me brave, made me want to do things I shouldn’t.
A challenge lit Viper’s dark gaze, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, and that was all it took. As I walked around him, I let my hand roam over his hip and down over the curve of his ass, while whistles pierced the air. Then I moved in close behind, so that my front was flush against his backside. The heat of his body was so enticing that I was tempted to drop the mic so I could grab him with both hands. Instead, I settled for letting one get its fill, my arm rounding his waist, my palm covering his chest as I crooned his filthy words in his ear. Viper turned his face toward mine, the fire and lust swirling in his eyes making my dick throb. God, he was fucking hot. I thought so when I’d watched him perform before I even realized I was having such a physical reaction to him, and it was even truer now. Viper made for a powerful drug, and it wasn’t just his looks—it was the confident, cocky air about him, the way his talented fingers moved across his Telecaster, and it was in the way when his eyes were on you, you felt like the most powerful person in the world. And right now, that powerful person was me.
I returned Viper’s heated look and dragged my hand down his chest, and as I continued moving down, the crowd cheered me on. I wrapped my palm around the bulge he sported behind his leather, and this close, I could hear the audible groan as he let me touch him. How the hell he was able to keep playing with my hand over his cock, I had no idea, but the audience went fucking nuts. I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me, and as I removed my hand, I brushed a light kiss on the back of Viper’s neck.
It was all I could do to walk away from him, but I did it, even though I felt drunk on lust. If anyone asked later, I’d blame it on the song. After all, I couldn’t exactly sing a song like “Hard” and not make everyone in the audience—and on stage—hard too. Could I?
Twenty-Seven
Viper
THAT SEXY, TEASING angel was all I could think, as Halo’s lips brushed over the back of my neck and he squeezed a firm hand around my cock, right there on stage in front of seventy thousand Fallen Angel fans.
The ear-splitting shouts as Halo walked in my direction had clued me in quick fucking smart that this crowd was more than okay with the two of us as an item, which was a good damn thing, because nothing on the planet would’ve been able to keep me from eye-fucking the seriously sexy man commanding the stage as though he’d been born on it.
Hell, if this crowd had had their way, their rabid screams and whistles were a clear indication that they would’ve been down with us doing a hell of a lot more than what Halo had deemed appropriate for his coming-out performance. But thankfully, the angel had taken pity on my aching dick and let me go to make his way out to the center of the stage, where he continued to drive his adoring fans out of their ever-loving minds.
From the moment Halo had hit the stage in his boots, jeans, white V-neck shirt, and that sexy leather jacket of his, everyone in the crowd had been laser focused on him. A quick sweep of the fans in the VIP sections showed both the women and men with their hands in the air as they chanted out Halo’s name and sang along, and that sex-hazed look in their eyes as they sang to him as though he were their boyfriend, their god, their motherfucking everything, had nothing to do with any fancy clothes or dance moves—it had everything to do with the fuck-ton of charisma pouring off him as he tore up our first set.
Fucking hell, he was bringing it tonight. Not that any of us had ever thought he wouldn’t. But even Halo had admitted he was a little nervous after the shitshow back in Savannah. I had a feeling, however, as I looked around at the rest of the guys, that by the end of tonight, the general consensus on that whole debacle would be: there was a show in Savannah? Because as far as I was concerned, this was Halo’s debut, his maiden flight, and when we’d come back from the short set break and he took his spot behind his piano for its grand entrance, I swear you would’ve been able to hear the thundering crowd all the way in Texas.