So I Married a Rockstar

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ch.24: Putting on a Show

I'd known that the show would be good, but I wasn't prepared for how good. Angels & Demons were known for their wild, energetic performances, but I'd only ever seen live shows through a screen. Seeing it in the flesh was a whole different experience.

I watched from the wings, behind the pillars where the curtains hung, as the band launched straight into Lick Me, one of my favourites.

The crowd roared.

The thunder of the drums and the bass pounded deep in my bones, a throbbing undercurrent to the wail of Franky Clark's guitar.

Coloured lights swept the area, and dry ice poured from machines at the edges of the stage, wreathing everything in mist. I was close enough to smell the chemicals, feel the burning heat of those lights and the boom of the speakers as they vibrated through me, and the intensity of it was almost too much, especially combined with the screams of hundreds of fans. No wonder Jude got nervous. There was something exhilarating about all this, but it was terrifying too.

Not that anyone would have guessed at Jude's nerves.

He was in full rockstar mode, swaggering up and down the stage, his hair wild, his hips gyrating against the microphone stand in a way that made my face hot because I knew exactly how those hips felt gyrating against me.

God, he was gorgeous.

And that voice.

It was raw and sexy and powerful, belting out the huge notes and dropping to a husky growl for the lower notes, and I couldn't help rubbing my thighs together, because that was the same husky growl that Jude sometimes made when he was plunging deep inside me. It was a growl of pure sex.

There probably wasn't a dry pair of panties in the crowd.

Or backstage, either.

Girls screamed his name, stretching across the metal security barriers in a desperate attempt to touch him, and Jude dazzled them with his panty-dropping smile, but I knew him well enough now to recognise that that was a show smile. It was a performance. His real smile was still devastating, but it was softer and warmer, and he rarely showed it on stage.

My heart fluttered.

I'd started seeing that smile more and more often at the loft, usually when he woke up, right before we had amazing morning sex.

In the middle of one song, All Night, Jude fell to his knees, his hips thrusting at the air, and ripped his black vest down the middle, muscles flexing in his arms. The girls crammed at the front of the crowd looked like they were about to faint.

Jude threw the vest into the crowd, and a sea of hands shot up, fans shrieking and clamouring. I didn't see who caught it, but I imagined they'd treasure it for the rest of their life.

I'd really missed out by not being able to attend any of their shows in the past.

Halfway through the set, a stagehand scuttled onstage and handed Jude a bottle of Jack Daniels. Jude ripped out the cork with his teeth and chugged a few swallows, before sloshing whisky over the shrieking crowd, the droplets catching the lights like tiny sparkling rainbows. Then he poured the rest of the bottle over his own head. The sight of the whisky streaming down his chest took my breath away.

The music thundered through me. It was beneath my skin and in my bones, throbbing in my blood, electrifying me, and I sang along with every song, shouting out the words until my throat was raw.

Why had Jude ever needed to get high for this? It was like being high in its own right.

All too soon, it was over.