A Filthy Christmas (Filthy Line #6) - Jaxson Kidman Page 0,20

what I wanted to do next. I was hoping the band would recommend me to someone else in need of a singer. Or maybe Toby would pass information along to the big executives about me.

Or nothing would happen at all.

Which was usually the case.

Then I’d slowly slip into a panic.

Then the phone would ring with more work.

The same old cycle.

I crashed down to my bed and took a deep breath as the room tried to spin.

I kicked my blankets to get under them and turned off the light.

The second I shut my eyes, my phone buzzed.

It was Shane texting me.

Question. Did you need that oven mitt back?

I rolled my eyes.

Why? Are you lonely tonight?

I held my phone over my face, waiting for him to text me back.

I’m never lonely, beauty. I have two women in my bed. And the oven mitt on my cock. Want to see?

As I sighed, I replied, knowing it was probably stupid to do.

I feel bad for my oven mitt. At least the whores you’re with can get antibiotics.

When I read the sent message, I cringed.

That sounded like pure jealousy.

I could picture Shane smiling.

Don’t be jealous, Lita. I’m actually alone right now. No oven mitt either. Last I heard, Toby took it home. He liked the way it smelled. ;) So… are you alone right now?

That made me laugh.

And it was kind of gross.

I wasn’t sure if I felt bad for Toby or not.

I have a guy in bed with me. He’s sleeping. I wore him out. He was so much bigger and better than you.

Again… pure jealousy.

And bitchiness.

And being horny and alone.

Which Shane called me on.

All lies, Lita. You’re alone. Thinking of me. You can touch yourself. I’ll wait.

I scoffed.

He’s giving me permission to touch myself?

Fuck you, Shane. My body. I’ll do what I want when I want. Goodnight.

I put my phone down and smiled.

There.

My phone buzzed again.

The text read - A little inspiration.

Under that - a picture.

Of… Shane.

I blinked a few times and then groaned.

I wasn’t going to do that though.

I was not going to use a dick pic as inspiration to pleasure myself.

Even if I was alone in bed. And I was tired but in the mood. And it didn’t matter that between my thighs I was jittery and ready. And even though Shane was…

I turned over, grabbed the phone and propped it up.

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.

I pictured his hands covering my breasts. His fingers rolling over my tender nipples. I opened my eyes to look at his cock again. I shut my eyes and pictured that beautiful thing inside me.

As I exhaled a deep breath, I groaned.

My right hand gently inched into the front of my panties and down…

When my fingertips touched my wetness, I sighed.

I hooked my middle finger and thrust forward as I brushed against my clit.

I kept my eyes shut and started moving my fingers faster. And harder.

There was only one thing I was able to whisper as the wine kept me drunk and my fingers kept me pleasured.

“I fucking hate you, Shane…”

11

SHANE

She was kind of driving me crazy.

She stopped responding and I had no idea if she fell asleep or went to town double tapping her mouse.

I smoked cigarette after cigarette and drank whiskey like it was water.

I stood on the balcony and looked out at the city. All I needed to do was send one quick text to any of the numbers in my phone and I could easily settle my mind and urge.

But I didn’t want to do that.

I finally ended up in the bathroom, alone, in the dark, a cigarette between my lips, the cherry tip glowing as I pulled my dick out of my jeans and went to town on myself.

Shooting a fresh load into the sink and turning on the water before turning on the lights.

I watched the last few milk strands spin around the drain and felt disappointed.

That load should have been in Lita’s mouth, on her tits, overflowing her belly button, or just filling up her sweet body.

I went to bed annoyed.

Half drunk.

Coughing from smoking too many cigarettes.

And still half hard as I couldn’t stop picturing Lita touching herself.

I walked into the studio pissed off.

Until I saw Lita.

She was in the vocal booth, singing her heart out.

Her vocals were turned up and I looked at the speakers.

She was a damn good singer. Far better than being hidden on some track for Filthy Line.

Hands grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

“What’s happening, wild man?” Jay asked. “Staring at