Random on Tour: Las Vegas by Julia Kent is a FUN, hot and sexy tale that will make you laugh page after page! Read a SNEAK PEEK & Download your copy of this NEW ROCK STAR ROMANCE!
Stuck his tongue out.
And started licking the glass, furiously.
Trevor, Amy, Sam, Joe, and I all formed the same exact look on our wildly different faces. If What the fuck? had a singular expression, we were all making it.
“What are you doing?” Sam belted out, loud and horrified.
Liam held up one finger while he licked his phone screen up and down. The phone beeped. He stopped.
“Not bad! Thirty-six light switch flicks!”
All our eyebrows went up.
“It’s a licking app,” he said, as if that explained it all.
“For...?” Trevor drew out the word, his voice somewhere between a purr and a tremor. I could feel the vibration come out through his shaft, my fingers still embracing the hot heaviness of his tight, erect cock.
“Oral sex.” Liam held two fingers to his mouth in a V and waggled his tongue between them.
Then put his phone up to his tongue.
“You need help in that arena?” Joe’s question was pure judgment.
“Hey, man. I lift weights to keep my body strong. And the tongue is a muscle, after all.” Liam wasn’t taking the bait. He pressed a button (with his tongue) and started rotating in circles. It was hypnotic, his tongue’s frenulum rubbing against his lower teeth, the bulging veins under his tongue a tapestry of shades of pink and purple, like a rag rug.
“Thcore!” he shouted, tip still touching his screen, as a bell dinged from his phone.
Amy pulled out her phone and clearly started downloading the app from the store.
“The last thing you need is another sex app on your phone,” I whispered to her. A few years ago, she’d downloaded a vibrator app that turned her phone into a joystick (if you know what I mean) and managed to overlube and undernavigate, until her cellphone got stuck in her hoo haw.
She kicked my ankle. Hard.
By the time I looked up, everyone in the room but me was installing the licking app.
“Are you people insane? You’re gonna lick your phones… for fun?” I was starting to feel like someone from a Dan Savage sex column letter.
“Go!” Liam shouted, the guys licking furiously.
“Cellphones are covered in germs!” I exclaimed. “Someone needs to make a dental dam for phones.” Given that I knew my men loved to eat pussy like I was an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet, and Liam obviously enjoyed dining at the Y, the germ argument didn’t make them stop. When you think about it, if someone’s willing to stick their face in a woman’s snatch and start licking for the pure sake of giving her pleasure, they’re probably not the type to run around wiping their phones with hand sanitizer.
“You realize you’re the beneficiary of whatever they learn, right?” Amy hissed, nudging her head toward Joe and Trevor, who were in quiet conversation, huddled together over their blue screens. “Don’t discourage this.”
I caught Joe’s eye, our gazes locked in an ever-deepening look as my breath slowed, my pulse taking off. Trevor’s cock was hard and hot against my wrist, his balls a treasure I was assigned to guard, my fingers weighing the soft, heavy pressure of him like my only job in the world was to do this.
What had started out as a joke turned serious as the seconds ticked by, stark arousal filling the air among us like an elixir, a potion, like oxygen. We couldn’t breathe without being together, and suddenly I needed to be as close as possible to my men, naked and raw, taken to places only they could make me visit.
With tongues, cocks, hands, and hearts.
“Darla?” Trevor asked, looking down pointedly.
Oh. I was still choking his chicken, minus the choking part. I eased my hand off him. Those bright blue eyes went dark, his hand not holding his phone pinning mine just as it reached his waistband.
Jealousy never looked good on Joe, who was GQ-model hot but also looking pretty pissed right about now. Me, Trevor, and Joe had been together for three years now, and while our arrangement was unorthodox, our emotional bond was pretty damn normal. It wasn’t that Joe didn’t want me touching Trevor’s penis. That was fine.
It was the absence of my hand on Joe’s cock that was the problem. He expected one hundred percent of what Trevor got. I’m only one woman, you know? When I have to give one hundred percent to two different men, you know what that’s called?
Paradise. It’s called paradise.
Trevor started back-walking me down the hallway as I protested, but within three steps I realized where we were going and why. Before I could say a word, his hot mouth covered mine, shutting me up in an instant with a tongue that said my hand had committed my entire body to a very specific experience that we were about to embark on.
Joe must have shut the door behind us, because all I know is that Trevor went down on the bed back first, pulling me on top of him, his mouth on my ear, biting hard as he whispered through clenched teeth, “You don’t grab my cock in public and expect to walk away.”
I squeezed him gently, then stroked his hand, loosening my grip at the just-right moment so his tip got all the friction that made him shiver. “Who said I was plannin’ on walking away?”
“And what about me?” Joe demanded, in a voice that made it tough to tell whether he was joking or truly angry.
“You guys decide. One at a time, or all three of us together?”
Joe cocked his head and looked at us with a half grin, then said, “I’ll wait. Save the best for last.”
“Seriously?” Trevor’s voice betrayed his shock. Not shock at the sarcasm. Pure shock that Joe would accept going second.
“One rule: Darla can only come for me.” Trevor gave Joe one of those looks I’ve never understood. The two of them have a language when it comes to sharing me, one I don’t speak.
“But I have more than one orgasm to give, Joe!” I protested.
“And they’re all mine.” That half grin turned wicked.
“You expect me to have sex with Trevor and not come?” Now I wasn’t just protesting. I was resisting.
“I expect you to have sex with Trevor. I’m saying that when you do, you save your orgasms for me. Understood?”
“I’m not deaf. I heard you. What if I don’t agree?”
A sudden smack on my ass, hard enough to sting and bring a brushfire of heat between my legs, was my answer. “There’s only one way to answer me, Darla.”
Ah. We were playing that game, huh?
I rolled off Trevor, dropped to my knees, put my hands behind me at the small of my back, and looked up at him through my eyelashes, blood pounding through me, all my skin on fire.
“Yes, sir.” My modesty was fake, because I knew Trevor wouldn’t actually make me suffer. He’d just pretend along with Joe. I’d be taken care of just fine.
Joe left. I turned around, started to step up, and found Trevor’s cock staring me in the face, thick with expectation.
So I licked it, pulling him in deep, one hand cupping his balls as the other encased the shaft, my throat opening to give him all the wet warmth he needed.
Well, most of the wet warmth he needed. I did have some needs of my own, too, you know.
His hips arched toward me as his fingers combed through my hair, tangling fast as I deep-throated him, his cock so hot against my tongue.
My hand at the base of his shaft slid up slowly as my mouth did its work, until suddenly his cock popped out of my mouth and I found myself up in the air, then on my back, Trevor’s pants shucked off to the side and his naked body on top of me, my pussy a pulsing, begging heartbeat.
I squirmed under him, taking him in. “Please, Trev. Please,” I asked, my voice plaintive, almost a whimper. He grinned down at me, eyes triangled from a smile I wouldn’t quite call loving, closer to commanding, a teasing challenge that thrilled me. Nimble fingers suddenly undid my pants, my body clenching with a restlessness that was building.
All my skin heated with a ripple of excitement, hairs standing on end as Trevor manhandled me, a little rough in a familiar way. He knew what I needed. Those hands, so masterful on a guitar, pulled my legs apart, cool air hitting my wet lips with an expectation that made the pulsing take over. I felt like one big, slick, live wire.
Waiting to be plugged in.
Not one finger, though. I got nothing as Trevor stripped off my shirt, undressing me so fast, it was like he did that for a living. I was naked, the soft scratch of the bedspread against my ass nearly enough sensation to make me come. Exquisitely sensitive, all I needed was a few strokes. A handful of licks.
Even a strong thigh to rub against would do the job.
“Trev,” I whispered, reaching out to him.
I finally got one finger.
Except it was in my face, wagging at me, his eyebrows up with the chiding, dominant look of a man correcting his woman.
“No,” he whispered as he nudged his cock between my breasts, pulling them close, encasing him. The inside of his knees pushed against my ribs and I gasped, the feel of his skin so intimate. “Remember the rules, Darla. You have to wait for Joe.” He let out a little chuckle, thrusting into the valley of my breasts a few times, thumbs gliding over my nipples as I moaned, his touch like pouring hot lava down my belly and between my legs.
“But you never made me wait before!” I protested. I made a sound of gratitude, the tremor in my throat surprising me in its ferocity. I needed him to touch me, to delve into my raging arousal, to unleash all the eroticism trapped in my blood until all we could smell, taste, see, and touch was our combined pleasure.
“Your tits are fucking amazing,” he said as he let them go and moved his cock into my mouth, my own hands stuck at my side, not touching him, paralyzed by the realization that this was all part of a new game, one I was going to have to ride out.
“Please,” I begged, the word muted by the obvious, but I had to try. Maybe that was part of the game? Waiting was torture. It was also fucking titillating as hell, making me overcome with an anticipation that turned my familiar guys into near strangers, dangerous men who had my body as a plaything.
He let out a deep, quiet laugh that made my body go into a full-blown tingle all at once. I moaned against his shaft, feeling his thighs tense around me, my hand involuntarily stretching down between my legs to let loose some of the pressure that had built in me. I had no control now. I was a living, breathing nerve without thought, an animal driven by pure need.
He swatted my hand away, pulled out, and kissed me, hard and sweet, thoroughly devouring me while pinning my hand. I bucked up against him, out of my mind, seeking a spot to rub against, seeking a part of him that would let me climax, even as I was so fucking aroused by his control over my body.
And then it hit me.
Trevor really wasn’t going to let me finish. Here I was, naked and wet, throbbing like a bass drum, aching for release, and –
They were serious.
I really would have to wait for Joe.
Now, you know my mama’s a gambler (sweeper, whatever...), so I guess I got to blame her for a little of this.
When the band got invited to do a big gig here in Las Vegas, I was so excited. Really excited. And when we got here, I was dazzled.
A little too dazzled. I blame the lights and the money and does Vegas pump a scent through the entire town that makes you think you’re a winner, or what?
Because I gambled all our money away. And by “our,” I mean the band’s money. All of it. Every dang cent.
Only no one knows. They’d kill me. So I have to find a way to make all that money back.
I have an idea. I got a good body and a smart mind.
I can do this. I can fix this.
It’s just gonna get a little weird for a while.
Random on Tour: Las Vegas is the ninth book in Julia Kent’s New York Times-bestselling Random series. When the band performs in Vegas, anything goes – including Darla’s dignity and all of the band’s savings. When a savior appears, though, there’s a trade-off for being rescued. A big one. How far is Darla willing to go?
Oh, please. It’s Darla. Like you even have to wonder...
This book is told from the point of view of Darla, Trevor, and Joe.
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From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire).
She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at firstname.lastname@example.org, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor . Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com.