“Did you turn on your video camera?” he asked.
“It’s rolling,” she said, adjusting the headband she wore so that the borrowed headcam was at the side of her head and would see what she saw. Or couldn’t see in the case of the darkened area beneath the stage.
Logan helped her step up onto his platform and moved to stand behind her. She jumped when his guitar bumped against her rear and produced a low tone. His amplifier wasn’t on yet, so at least the sound didn’t radiate out into the arena.
He couldn’t seem to stop his hands from sliding up her body to cup her huge tits and give them an appreciative squeeze.
She slapped at his hands. “You can’t do that here,” she said in a loud whisper.
“Why not?” he murmured in her ear. “No one can see us.”
Her shyness fueled his brazenness, and he ran his hands down her sides just so he could slide them up under her shirt and touch the bare skin of her smooth belly.
“Logan, I’m here to work, not play,” she admonished.
“But the show is our playtime,” Logan said.
“What?”
“The band. We work damned hard at interviews and signings and meet and greets.”
“That’s working hard?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. We always work hard at all that bullshit, so we can play hard on stage.”
“So you don’t take the stage performance seriously?” With that question, Toni sounded like any number of reporters who’d interviewed him throughout his career.
“We take our playtime very seriously. If we aren’t having a good time, the crowd easily picks up on that and they don’t have as good a time either.”
“I can understand how that would be true for you, but Dare and Max seem pretty serious about every aspect of Exodus End.”
Logan scowled. Was she insinuating what he thought she was insinuating? “So you don’t think I take the band seriously?”
“Not as seriously as the others do.”
He supposed he had been slacking off most of the day, but it was because Toni kept distracting him with her wit and her smile and her sweetness and her glorious tits—he gave them another appreciative squeeze beneath her shirt.
“That’s your fault,” he said.
“My fault?” Her exasperated tone made him grin.
“Yep,” he said. “You’re hell on my concentration, baby. Even now I’m thinking of what your tight pussy feels like around my dick.”
“Logan! The camera is rolling.”
He chuckled. “You don’t think the world wants to know what a fantastic little pussy you have?”
“I don’t care what the world wants, I don’t want them to know,” she said, squirming out of his grip.
He allowed her a few inches of space and moved his hands to his bass, fearing she’d take a tumble off the edge of his platform if she got too wiggly.
“Come to think of it,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to know that but me. So I ask that you delete the footage of me praising your perfect pussy.”
She bopped him in the nose as she tried to cover his mouth and missed in the darkness. “Stop talking about it.”
“For now,” he said. “But later, when I have you bent over the arm of the sofa and I’m buried inside that hot, slick piece of heaven, I’m going to tell you all about it.”
Her shuddering intake of breath made him grin. He didn’t know why it was so much fun to get her flustered, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“Will you tell me how it feels to have my dick inside you?”
“No,” she squeaked.
His grin widened. He’d have her singing his praises by the time he finished with her. It was a challenge he couldn’t resist.
“Are you already under here, Lo?” Max said from Logan’s right.
“Yeah. Just waiting for you guys.”
“He’s under the stage,” Max called to someone. To Logan he said, “We thought you’d wandered off to get some pussy again.”
Toni gasped, and Logan cringed.
“I have all the pussy I want right here,” he said.
His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that he could make out Max standing under the center of the stage on his platform, but he couldn’t see his expression.
“You brought Toni under here?” Max asked.
“She’s filming.”
“Hi, Max,” she said quietly. She squeezed Logan’s arm at the same time. He wasn’t sure if the gesture meant she was nervous or appreciative. Damn this darkness.
“Toni’s under here too!” Max called to someone. “Reagan was looking for you,” Max said. “She thought you might want to ride up to the stage with her.”
“She’s riding me,” Logan said, his slip not the least Freudian. He’d meant it to sound sexual. Especially since now he knew how good she was at riding him. If they’d had more time, he’d have let her ride him all slow and sensually for hours. He couldn’t wait to sequester her in his hotel room.
“You’re way in the back, Lo,” Reagan said from the darkness on the other side of the stage. “She won’t get good footage back there.”
“Maybe I can ride with you next time, Reagan,” Toni said. “I’m not sure what to expect.”
Her tight grip on Logan’s forearm made him feel like she wanted his protection, and he was proud to offer it willingly.
“Stand behind me,” he said, “and hold on. Steve will go first. My platform jerks a bit when it first starts to rise, so brace yourself.” He was already used to the stage setup since they’d performed about a dozen shows with the new hydraulics. He’d almost fallen on his ass the first time he’d ridden the platform up to the stage.
“Okay,” Toni said, her voice small, her grip tight.
“About halfway up, we’ll be completely surrounded. Like we’re in a metal tunnel. So if you’re claustrophobic—”
“I’m not.”
He was. But just a little.
One of the stagehands appeared beside him with a flashlight so he could turn on Logan’s amp and connect his ear feed. “You’re live,” he said. He gave him an earplug for his other ear and even provided Toni with a pair.
“One minute,” he heard Mad Dog, their front of house sound engineer, say through his earpiece.
“One minute,” he whispered to Toni, who couldn’t hear Mad Dog’s raspy instructions.