Page 17 of Filthy Rock Stars
“Not exactly. Most of my hookups have been no-strings-attached, but not entirely anonymous. And I’ve never gotten my cock sucked in a park.” I glance around. “I have managed to mess around in a couple of bars, though.”
His pretty mouth falls slightly open, the blunt, white edge of his teeth flashing. Prince glances over his shoulder, into the dimly lit lounge. “A bar?”
I lean across the table, putting my face close to his. “It’s fun just so long as you know you won’t get caught, isn’t that what you said? Controlled risks? Calculated thrills?”
His breath catches.
There are two little curtains at either end of the booth, and I nod at one. “Do me a favor. Give that a tug.”
Hesitant, Prince pulls on the velvet curtain, which falls down, rich purple fabric cascading across the front of the booth. They’re set up to give celebrities like me more discretion, although I’m sure we aren’t the first ones to consider the curtains for other purposes.
“Oh wow…” Prince trails off, then darts his eyes to me. “Right here?”
He sounds so hopeful and nervous at the same time, I practically groan with anticipation.
“Tell me you’re not as hard as I am,” I challenge him.
He laughs, turning his brown eyes down. “Yeah. I am,” Prince whispers.
“Then show me.”
The sounds of the lounge continues behind the curtain. I hear footsteps as someone walks near, and music hums over the speakers.
I can feel Prince’s nervous energy. It vibrates his body, pulsating through the booth. It’s hot as hell, and it feeds my thrill. This bar is designed for people like me and our privacy, but there’s still plenty of risk for me in doing this.
There’s plenty on the line, and I’m burning to double down.
“Need some encouragement?” I ask and shove my hand down my jeans. I fish my erection out, my fist wrapped around my base, and show it to him. “See how hard I am, just thinking about you and your dirty little secrets?”
Prince sits up to get a good view. His eyes are locked on my cock, hard as steel, and the attention feeds my desire.
I drag my loose fist up my shaft and back down, corkscrewing nice and slow as pleasure coils. “Now show me,” I tell him. “Show me that cock I’ve been thinking about all week.”
He only hesitates for a minute, fingers twitching as he listens for anyone passing, then pulls his cock out, too. It fits perfectly in his delicate hand. Prince’s dick is probably seven inches, thick and cut, meaty on his slim body.
He gasps, then looks nervously toward the lounge. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“It’s what we met up for, right?” I stroke myself. “You think you can keep quiet while I blow you?”
His eyebrows pop up. “You want to blow me right here?” he whispers.
“I want to see if you can make it all the way to your orgasm without screaming my made-up name.”
His eyes get watery. “Fuck.”
I take that as affirmation and slide beneath the table. I hear Prince’s soft gasp as my hands land on his knees. In front of my face, I can see the dark, curly hairs that grow at the base of his cock, his heavy sack, and the glistening precum at his slit.
It’s cramped and hot, and the floor is hard on my knees, but I don’t care. I never let myself risk a scandal by doing something like this, but right now, all bets are off. I’ve been waiting all week for Prince. After putting up with the band’s crap and writing guitar riffs for songs I don’t like, this is my reward.
A secret only Prince and I know. An escape from my life.
I wrap my hand around his cock, and Prince whimpers under his breath. His skin is soft as the velvet curtains, and his scent is sweet and musky. All of his muscles go taut, and when I breathe on his sensitive crown, a shudder convulses through his body.
“Oh shit,” he moans, strangling his voice to keep quiet. He grabs at my head and shoulders, feeling me, and when I kiss his crown, he quivers again.
“Solo…”
I chuckle at the fake name. I want to swallow him whole, work him like I’m greedy, starving for his cock. But I know that drawing this out is going to be far more satisfying.