Moment of Fate (Moments In Time #5)
Moment of Fate (Moments In Time #5)
Author: Karen Stivali
Chapter One
IT'S BEEN 259 days since I've had sex.
Not that I'm counting.
Don't think that fact means I had a dry spell. This wasn't lack of opportunity or even desire. It was willpower. A purposeful goal. A test. And when I'd decided to take a yearlong break from sex, it had felt like a necessity.
Nine months ago, still buzzing from a killer show we'd just rocked at one of the biggest venues we'd ever played, I headed backstage with the beautiful blond from the front row. The one with the sexy bangs that covered one eye just enough to intensify the "I want to blow you till your knees buckle" look he gave me the entire show. He'd hopped on stage as soon as the set ended.
It didn't require small talk or introductions. He hadn't even reached for my hand. We'd just wordlessly disappeared behind the thick velvet curtain, down one of the small darkened corridors. I'd barely even stopped walking when he reached for my cock, stroking through my jeans, smiling as he dropped to his knees.
Fuck yes was the only thought on my mind until my phone buzzed in my pocket. I generally ignore texts if I'm busy, and this certainly seemed to qualify as otherwise occupied, but something told me to check the message. Intuition? Divine intervention? Fate? Whatever it was, it made me reach into my pocket. My friend Frankie's avatar appeared on the screen along with three words that made my blood run cold. I tested positive.
There weren't a lot of things that could deflate a postshow boner mid-blowjob, but that text did the trick.
"Sorry. Emergency." I pulled away from the guy, who looked more stunned than pissed off, and attempted to keep my hands from shaking as I zipped up and tried to figure out what the fuck to text back.
Shit. It wasn't elegant or profound, but it was all I could come up with, so I typed it.
Can you come over?
Of course.
I headed back onto the stage, my brain buzzing. Tommy, our drummer, was busy packing up his kit. David, the bass player, was over by the bar chatting up both of the girls I'd seen him flirting with before we went on. At first I didn't see Milo anywhere, and I wondered if maybe he'd gone off with someone or if, like me, he'd gotten a text that required a little privacy to answer.
My stomach churned.
"That was quick," Milo purred in my ear, making me jump. "Oooh, awfully jittery for someone who just got the world's fastest blowjob."
"What?"
He rolled his eyes. "Please. I saw the guy you went off with. He's hot. I didn't expect to see you for a while."
I hadn't expected to be back for a while. "Something came up."
Milo caught the edge in my voice because his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"
Fuck. This most definitely was not my news to share. He clearly hadn't gotten a text from Frankie, or if he had, he hadn't read it. "Nothing. Hey, can I borrow your phone? I've got that big shoot tomorrow morning and I need to check my e-mail, but my battery's almost dead."
Lying to Milo was not an easy task. The guy could practically read minds, or at least my mind, probably because we'd known each other since we were seventeen, and back then I didn't have much of a filter on anything I said. But this time, thank God, he bought it and handed over his phone.
"Now I get why you're still stressed out. Dude, you're gonna get it all done. You always get everything done. You'll graduate with honors and have people throwing job offers at you because you're Bryan Dane and that's what happens for you."
He booped my nose, something that normally drove me insane, but I ignored him because I was too busy trying to be casual about using his phone. Snooping was not something I condoned or normally did, but I thought if there was any time to make an exception to that rule, this might be it.
His stupid Android screen looked so unfamiliar it took me a second to find the right icon. My thumb hovered over it, and I made myself tap. This lists of texts popped up. Nothing from Frankie. I didn't know whether or not to be relieved, and I must have looked confused because Milo leaned over my shoulder. Shit. "Sorry, I-"
"Give me that." He grabbed the phone from my hand and swiped around on the screen while I tried to think up a good reason to have been trolling his texts. "Here."
Author: Karen Stivali
Chapter One
IT'S BEEN 259 days since I've had sex.
Not that I'm counting.
Don't think that fact means I had a dry spell. This wasn't lack of opportunity or even desire. It was willpower. A purposeful goal. A test. And when I'd decided to take a yearlong break from sex, it had felt like a necessity.
Nine months ago, still buzzing from a killer show we'd just rocked at one of the biggest venues we'd ever played, I headed backstage with the beautiful blond from the front row. The one with the sexy bangs that covered one eye just enough to intensify the "I want to blow you till your knees buckle" look he gave me the entire show. He'd hopped on stage as soon as the set ended.
It didn't require small talk or introductions. He hadn't even reached for my hand. We'd just wordlessly disappeared behind the thick velvet curtain, down one of the small darkened corridors. I'd barely even stopped walking when he reached for my cock, stroking through my jeans, smiling as he dropped to his knees.
Fuck yes was the only thought on my mind until my phone buzzed in my pocket. I generally ignore texts if I'm busy, and this certainly seemed to qualify as otherwise occupied, but something told me to check the message. Intuition? Divine intervention? Fate? Whatever it was, it made me reach into my pocket. My friend Frankie's avatar appeared on the screen along with three words that made my blood run cold. I tested positive.
There weren't a lot of things that could deflate a postshow boner mid-blowjob, but that text did the trick.
"Sorry. Emergency." I pulled away from the guy, who looked more stunned than pissed off, and attempted to keep my hands from shaking as I zipped up and tried to figure out what the fuck to text back.
Shit. It wasn't elegant or profound, but it was all I could come up with, so I typed it.
Can you come over?
Of course.
I headed back onto the stage, my brain buzzing. Tommy, our drummer, was busy packing up his kit. David, the bass player, was over by the bar chatting up both of the girls I'd seen him flirting with before we went on. At first I didn't see Milo anywhere, and I wondered if maybe he'd gone off with someone or if, like me, he'd gotten a text that required a little privacy to answer.
My stomach churned.
"That was quick," Milo purred in my ear, making me jump. "Oooh, awfully jittery for someone who just got the world's fastest blowjob."
"What?"
He rolled his eyes. "Please. I saw the guy you went off with. He's hot. I didn't expect to see you for a while."
I hadn't expected to be back for a while. "Something came up."
Milo caught the edge in my voice because his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"
Fuck. This most definitely was not my news to share. He clearly hadn't gotten a text from Frankie, or if he had, he hadn't read it. "Nothing. Hey, can I borrow your phone? I've got that big shoot tomorrow morning and I need to check my e-mail, but my battery's almost dead."
Lying to Milo was not an easy task. The guy could practically read minds, or at least my mind, probably because we'd known each other since we were seventeen, and back then I didn't have much of a filter on anything I said. But this time, thank God, he bought it and handed over his phone.
"Now I get why you're still stressed out. Dude, you're gonna get it all done. You always get everything done. You'll graduate with honors and have people throwing job offers at you because you're Bryan Dane and that's what happens for you."
He booped my nose, something that normally drove me insane, but I ignored him because I was too busy trying to be casual about using his phone. Snooping was not something I condoned or normally did, but I thought if there was any time to make an exception to that rule, this might be it.
His stupid Android screen looked so unfamiliar it took me a second to find the right icon. My thumb hovered over it, and I made myself tap. This lists of texts popped up. Nothing from Frankie. I didn't know whether or not to be relieved, and I must have looked confused because Milo leaned over my shoulder. Shit. "Sorry, I-"
"Give me that." He grabbed the phone from my hand and swiped around on the screen while I tried to think up a good reason to have been trolling his texts. "Here."
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