The Devil's Lair (3 page)

Then again, I’m such a fucking hypocrite because the sight of her doing the same often squeezes my heart with overwhelming emotions.

Hunter

Everyone takes me for fucking granted. They’re lucky I have thick skin. Do they think all we’ve achieved just miraculously happened? Behind Devil’s Lair is a real live, kick-ass wizard who controls our own
Land of
Oz
. It’s a lot of fucking work to be the brains behind this operation. It’s not all fun and good times. Sure, Jen handles all the business related tasks, but I’m the filter between her and them. I get the phone calls. I get the reprimands. I get the goddamn PMS rants on a monthly basis. Sure, the label handles all the details of being famous rock stars, but I request the little things that make our lives easier while on the road. And yeah, yeah, Jack Lair handles being the lead in our platinum selling band, but it’s me who came up with the brilliant ideas that turned DL into a household name.

I’m the one who made sure doors opened for us. It was me who decided on our image and our sound. It was me who told Jack that Danny was trouble. I warned Jack to stay away from that skank, Jessa. I’m the one who chased Trey the night we found him. I dragged them to contest upon contest, competition upon competition. The entire time they complained like a bunch of ingrates. I’m even the one responsible for the idea of adding a back-up singer.

I’m not saying they owe everything we’ve accomplished to me. I’m just saying they should sing my praises a bit more and kiss my ass. Those three ass-wipes are lucky to have me. I don’t include Leila in the mix because she appreciates me. Of course, she appreciates everyone.

It’s a tough job to be the smart one, the funny one, and the creative one. Hell, someone has to do it.

Truth is I’d do anything for them.

Truth is they know it.

Honestly, I’m not a whiner. I keep most of my gripes to myself. Mostly because they would make my life miserable if I complained. My poor wife, Mandi, gets the brunt of it. She always manages to kiss my bruised ego and make me feel better. She reminds me that they do appreciate everything I do. They just love to bust on the
Froot Loops
eating, goofy drummer that I am. She also reminds me that I am just one part of a group of talented musicians who worked our asses off to achieve what we have. She then tells me to get over it. She keeps me well grounded.

Okay, so she may have a point. We are all parts of the whole. We each bring something to the equation that, when combined, is orgasmic. The fruits of our labor are obvious on this tour. Jack may have demanded what surrounds us, such as the five-star hotels, the corporate jet, and the cushy tour buses. Leila may be responsible for our spouses joining us. However, I’m the one who got us an endless supply of
Froot Loops
.

I’m so freakin’ excited. We’re traveling the globe…Europe, Asia, freakin’ Australia. Hunter Amatto from Long Island, New York is a globe trotting rock star.

Fucking amazing.

What’s even more amazing is that we will soon have a series of books written by Trey’s wife, Tara, a reality TV show that we’re all discussing with the label, and I’m making a commercial for
Froot Loops
when we get home. How awesome is that?

Mandi and I arrived a few days earlier than the rest. She’s always wanted to go to Spain. Even though we are here for a few days, I wanted to be sure she’d see everything that she wanted to. It’s been a second honeymoon for us. The rest of the gang arrived today, so our alone time is over. She’s excited to see them all. I am, too, and can’t wait to witness the chaos that’s sure to unfold. With the twins and Trey traveling with us, there’s sure to be tons of chaos.

Mandi exits the bathroom, having just taken a bubble bath. I can smell her vanilla soap from here. Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair is long, curly, and sexy as fuck. The skimpy dress she’s wearing shows off her toned, gorgeous legs. She catches me staring and smiles shyly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She walks toward me and sits on my lap. “You have that guilty look you get when you’re up to no good.”

“It’s Saturday.”

Her brow puckers in confusion for a split second before she shakes her head. “Hunter, we’re in Spain. That was fun at home, but really?”

“All the more reason to continue while on the road. Keeps it exciting and hot.” She climbs off my lap to grab a water bottle from the mini bar. When she doesn’t agree to my request, I plead, “Come on, Baby. Please?”

My wife levels me with a patronizing glare. She’ll cave. I know it. She always does. I know just how to get to her. The first time it took a lot of convincing. She worried they could end up in the wrong hands. After our first time, I stopped using my laptop. I went old school. I bought a video camera and keep all our sessions on a SD card. I make sure they are totally secure and safe. They are solely for our enjoyment. No harm done.

We’ve made enough of them where this is now a common argument. I beg, she stalls, and then she basically doesn’t have the energy to fight me anymore. She knows that it’s such a turn on for me, and for her. I can’t describe how hot it is to record her, us. To capture the expression on her face when she watches me watching her. The tinge of her cheeks as she peels away each article of clothing she wears. The heated look in her eyes when I join her. Her noises as we make love. It’s hot as fuck to later watch what we did to each other on a large screen TV. It’s my thing. Who better to share my fetish with than my gorgeous wife?

“Babe, we always tape ourselves on Saturday nights. We’ve got to. If we stop now, it’s bad luck.”

“Bad luck?”

“Yeah. When you stop doing something suddenly, it can change the juju. Fuck things up.” I walk over to where she’s standing and wrap my arms around her waist. “Why do you think athletes wear the same underwear all season?”

Her mouth drops in disbelief.

“What?”

“You would make an awful lawyer. ‘
Why, yes, Your Honor. I had to videotape my wife giving me a blowjob to avoid messing up the juju’.”

I laugh at her analogy. “Well, I would use a more professional argument if we were in court.”

She smirks and rolls her eyes. She’s quickly losing patience with me. It’s time for the deal clincher. “Babe, the sight of your gorgeous body,” I lift a fist full of her long curly hair, “these curls hanging down your back.” I skim a fingertip across her bottom lip, “The way you part your lips as you come. Nothing…nothing is hotter to watch on this goddamn planet.” I grip her ass with both hands and further push her body into mine. “Feel that? Just from thinking about it.”

“That’s not hard to achieve,” she throws back while pointing at my bulging crotch.

“True. That’s more of a reason not to disrupt the juju. You’ve never denied me in the States. Please?”

“Hunter Amatto, you’re lucky that I love you.”

I stare into her big brown eyes for a few seconds before kissing her gently on her soft lips. “I’m very lucky. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You accept my quirks, my faults. I love you so much.”

“I know.” She kisses me back, again and again. “Okay, if we do this, you need to take me to the
Magic Fountain Show
and to the
Montserrat Monastery
before we leave.”

“Monastery?” I ask, cringing at the yawn fest that day will bring. “You’re bribing me?”

“Yes and yes. The view is spectacular. Promise.”

“Isn’t it sacrilegious to be bargaining a sex tape with a trip to a monastery?”

“Hunter!”

“Fine,” I concede reluctantly. “I’ll take you to the fountains and the monks. Happy?”

“Very. Thank you. I know how torturous that will be for you.”

“Yes it will be, but you’re worth it.” I skim my nose down her neck and inhale her scent deep into my lungs. She’s intoxicating. I love everything about her, the most important thing being her heart. She has this constant need to make me happy. This sex tape is just one stupid ass example. It’s all the other things that she does for me that constantly shows me how much she cares. Having her here with me during this tour is a priceless gift.

“Ready to get started?” I murmur against the smooth skin of her neck. Her skin prickles with goose bumps from the licks and sucks I’m placing just below her ear. She tilts her head to give me better access.

“Mmm. What?” she practically slurs as if she’s drunk.

I place my lips directly on her ear and say, “Go lay on the bed.” When I look at her face, her eyes are closed and her mouth is parted as she expels small pants of air. “Baby?”

She snaps out of her trance, looking back into my eyes. “Yes?”

“Go lay on the bed.”

“Oh, right.”

I watch her slowly remove her dress, down to her bra and panties, and center herself on the bed. She knows just how I like her seduction to begin on film.

I grab the hem of my T-shirt and pull it over my head. I retrieve the camera and pull out a tripod from my suitcase.

“A tripod?”

“Well, I can’t very well hold the camera and touch you the way I want to.”

“Good point.”

As I begin to set it up, I continue to watch her shaking her head incredulously. She should know my drive by now. Camera in hand, I ask, “Ready?” just as someone knocks on our door. She looks at me wide-eyed. Still holding the camera I say, “Don’t move.” She rolls her eyes at my stupid command. Shutting the bedroom door behind me, I call out, “What?” as I approach the door.

“Hey, fucktard. You ready?” Trey and Tara stand holding hands, and my cock deflates immediately.

“For what?”

“We’re meeting the rest of the gang in town.”

“That’s tomorrow.”

Trey laughs. “It is tomorrow. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Trey glances at my camera and laughs. “What’s the camera for?”

Fuck. I forgot I was still holding the damn thing.

“What are we interrupting? Home movies for the Amattos?”

“I…um…nothing.”

“Uh huh. You kinky fucker.”

“Trey,” Tara scolds.

Trey smiles wide. “You want to bail? I don’t want to get in the way of a good Amatto porn movie.”

“Fuck you,” I throw back, not able to hide my grin. This ass-wipe’s timing is impeccable. “We’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

“So not a full-length feature? More like a…” he motions an inch with his thumb and pointer and says, “a
short
film?”

“Let’s go,” Tara says right before I’m about to tell him to fuck off again. She yanks on his hand, dragging him down the hall. As she does, I can hear the fucker laughing his ass off.

I can handle him, but if he embarrasses Mandi, I’ll kick his ass.

Mandi appears, dressed, and arms folded.

“Hey, Babe.”

She throws me a look and says, “Really, Hunt?”

I shrug an apology. “I’m sorry. I forgot. Can we resume later?”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t have a doubt in my mind that I would allow you to convince me to jump off a bridge.”

“I would never ask you to do that.” I move toward her, taking her in my arms. “But if I could tape you pleasuring yourself on that bridge…”

“You ass,” she interrupts, shoving me away. “I married a perv.”

“Guilty.”

“Go get dressed.” She leaves me to head into the bathroom. The camera sits heavy in my hands and my cock sits heavy in my jeans. This night is going to be torturous.

Fucking Trey. He’s not going to help either.

Fifteen minutes later we are strolling through the lobby in search of the Taylors. I actually hear him before I see him.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t Martin
Short
-sese.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshat.” A quick glance at Mandi tells me she’s mortified. “You’re upsetting my wife.”

Trey follows my gaze. “Oh, sorry Mandi.”

Tara shoots daggers at Trey and takes Mandi by the arm. “Let’s go have fun, Barcelona style.”

The girls walk on ahead, giving me an opportunity to shut fuck-face up. “Do me a favor, shut it.”

“Okay, I’ll shut it. I just need to say one thing.”

An eye roll is all he gets from me.

“I’m impressed, Amatto.”

He shocks me silent. Trey and I have a very…antagonistic relationship? One of us antagonizes and the other retaliates. Rarely do either of us compliment, or shoot the breeze. It’s strange, I know. We may not act as best buds, but if he needed me, or vice versa, there would be no question we’d be there for each other.

“That impresses you?”

“Yeah. Don’t take this the wrong way. Mandi doesn’t seem the type. If you managed to talk her into making a sex tape, that’s fucking impressive.”

“Can you stop saying my wife’s name and sex tape in the same sentence? It makes me want to hurt you.”

He laughs loudly, and the girls turn to watch us. “What’s so funny?” Tara asks. They stop walking until we catch up.

“Hunter is craving
short ribs
.”

“You’re such an ass,” I mumble as his laughing drowns out my words.

We hail a cab and arrive at a small bistro type place in the center of
Las Ramblas Street
. Jack, Lei, Scott, and Patti are already there when we arrive.