Behind the Silver Curtain PART III

Ryan and Adrian finally have some time alone …

PART III

⚠️ Indented for mature readers 18+, this story contains explicit sex.

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The meet-and-greet dragged on for what felt like an eternity. I stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, watching Ryan flash that million-dollar smile at a line of starry-eyed fans. He signed posters, took selfies, and tossed out effortless charm like it was second nature. But every so often, his eyes flicked to me … an unspoken promise in the way they lingered. My skin buzzed with it, and I had to keep forcing my focus back to the schedule, the logistics, anything but the heat that had been building between us all day.

Finally, the last fan squealed her goodbyes, and the venue staff started clearing out. Ryan lingered by the table, pretending to fiddle with a marker while the room emptied. I could feel his gaze without even looking up.

“Ready?” he muttered under his breath as I approached, not even trying to hide the edge in his voice.

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral for anyone still milling around. “Let’s go.”

The ride over was torture. We kept it professional in the back of the car, small talk about the day’s events with the driver up front, but the tension was thick enough to choke on. His knee pressed against mine just slightly, a deliberate nudge, and I had to grip my phone to keep from doing something stupid right there in the backseat.

By the time we got to my room on the 14th floor, the air between us was electric. I fumbled with the keycard, the damn thing not scanning right the first time, and Ryan just chuckled behind me, his breath hot on my neck.

“C’mon, Adrian, don’t keep me waiting,” he teased, voice low and rough, his hand brushing my lower back as the door finally clicked open.

I pushed it wide and stepped inside, not trusting myself to look at him until the door shut with a heavy thud. The room was standard. King bed, generic art on the walls, a minibar I hadn’t touched, but it might as well have been a damn stage with how my nerves were firing. I turned to face him, and there he was, all six-foot-something of him, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

“Been a long fucking day,” he said, kicking off his sneakers without breaking eye contact. “Thought it’d never end.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not over yet,” I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady even as my pulse hammered. I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it on the chair, feeling way too exposed under his stare.

He grinned, stepping closer, tugging his graphic tee over his head in one smooth motion. His chest was all lean muscle, the kind that’d been sculpted by personal trainers and tour schedules, and I couldn’t help but stare. I’d seen it a thousand times backstage and in fittings, but never like this. Never with intent.

“You gonna just stand there gawking, or you gonna do something about it?” he taunted, closing the distance until I could feel the heat off him.

I swallowed hard, hands itching to touch. “Shut up, Ryan. I’m getting there.”

His laugh was soft, almost fond, as he reached out, fingers hooking into the collar of my shirt to pull me closer. “You’re always so damn bossy. Let’s see if that holds up now.”

Our lips crashed together, and it was messy at first—too eager, too much pent-up want after years of dancing around this. My glasses fogged up, and I had to yank them off, tossing them somewhere on the desk while his hands roamed my sides, tugging at fabric. I pushed back just as hard, one hand in his hair, the other gripping his shoulder like I’d lose him if I let go.

“Fuck, you’re pushy,” he mumbled against my mouth, but there was no ire in it … just a grin I could feel as he kissed me again, slower this time, figuring out the rhythm.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my forehead pressed to his. “Been holding this in too long. Don’t blame me if I’m a little desperate.”

His eyes softened, the cocky pop star gone. “Me too,” he admitted, voice quieter. “Way too fucking long.”

That did something to me, cracked open a part I’d kept locked down tight. I shoved him back toward the bed, not hard, just enough to get him moving, and he went willingly, flopping onto the mattress with a laugh. I climbed on after him, straddling his hips, feeling clumsy as hell but not caring. His hands settled on my thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles that made me shiver.

“You’re heavier than I thought,” he teased, smirking up at me, but his hands squeezed tighter, like he didn’t mind one bit.

“Fuck you,” I shot back, grinning despite myself as I leaned down to kiss him again. My hands slid over his chest, mapping out every ridge and dip, still half-convinced this was some fever dream. He groaned under me, arching up just enough to press our hips together, and the friction sent a jolt straight through me.

“Keep doing that, and I’m not gonna last long,” he muttered, voice rough, one hand sliding up my back to pull my shirt over my head. I let him, tossing it aside, suddenly hyper-aware of how I looked compared to him—soft where he was hard, nowhere near magazine-cover ready. But his eyes raked over me like I was something worth wanting, and it shut down every insecure thought in my head.

“You’re hot, you know that?” he said, matter-of-fact, fingers tracing down my sides. “Always thought so. Even when you’re yelling at me.”

I snorted, cheeks burning, but I didn’t argue. “Yeah? You’re not bad yourself. Guess that’s why you’re the star.”

He rolled us over in one quick move, pinning me under him, his weight solid and warm. “Not tonight,” he said, voice low, lips brushing my jaw. “Tonight, you’re the one I’m looking at.”

My breath hitched as he kissed down my neck, teeth grazing just enough to make me squirm. My hands fumbled with his jeans, popping the button, and he helped me shove them down, kicking them off with an impatient grunt. We were a tangle of limbs and half-laughs, bumping elbows and cursing under our breath as we figured it out, but it felt right. Real in a way nothing had in years.

“Shit, hang on,” I mumbled, rolling to the side to dig through the nightstand. I found what I was looking for—a small bottle and a couple of condoms, leftovers from god-knows-when—and tossed them between us. He raised a brow, grinning.

“Prepared, huh? Should I be jealous?”

“Shut up,” I said again, but I was laughing as I pulled him back down, kissing him hard. His hands worked at my pants now, yanking them down with less finesse than he usually had, and I didn’t care. We were both too far gone for grace.

We fumbled at first, hands slipping, movements not quite in sync, but every awkward moment came with a breathy laugh or a quiet “You good?” that made it raw, real, better than any fantasy I’d ever conjured.

I pushed Ryan back onto the bed, his legs hanging over the edge as I knelt between them. His chest heaved, eyes dark and hungry as he watched me. My hands slid down his thighs, feeling the hard muscle beneath, until I reached his hips. I hesitated for just a second, taking in the sight of him … his cock already hard, perfectly shaped, large and cut, with a neat trim of dark pubic hair framing it. It was almost too beautiful to look at, but I couldn’t stop.

“Damn, Adrian, you just gonna stare all night?” Ryan’s voice was rough, teasing, but there was an edge of need in it.

“Hush,” I muttered, smirking as I leaned in, hands sliding to cup his balls. They were smooth, heavy in my palms, and I rolled them gently, watching his hips twitch. A low groan escaped him, his head tilting back against the mattress.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed, one hand fisting the sheets as I played with him, massaging slowly, feeling the heat of his skin. I lowered my head, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh, then another, working my way closer until my breath ghosted over his cock.

I took him into my mouth without warning, just the tip at first, swirling my tongue around the head. The taste of him—salty, musky, raw—hit me hard, and I groaned around him, the sound vibrating through my lips. Ryan’s hips jerked, a sharp curse falling from his mouth.

“Shit, Adrian,” he growled, his hand finding my hair, not pushing but just holding on. I took him deeper, inch by inch, relaxing my throat until I had as much of him as I could manage. My lips stretched around his girth, and I hummed low, the wet, sloppy sounds of my mouth on him filling the room. Each noise seemed to drive him crazier, his grip tightening in my hair.

“Goddamn, that’s it,” he panted, voice wrecked. “Take it, just like that.”

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, spit trailing from my lips to his cock, then dove back in, bobbing my head with more intent. My hands kept working his balls, rolling them in time with the rhythm of my mouth, and the moans pouring from him were the best fucking music I’d ever heard. I let him hit the back of my throat, gagging just a little, the sound raw and desperate, and his hips bucked harder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna lose it if you keep that up,” he warned, tugging lightly at my hair to pull me off.

I looked up at him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, grinning despite the ache in my jaw.

“Good,” I said, voice hoarse. “That’s the point.”

Ryan laughed, breathless, sitting up to grab me by the shoulders and yank me up for a rough, hungry kiss. His tongue pushed into my mouth, tasting himself on me, and I groaned into it. Then he was moving, strong hands flipping our positions.

“Turn over,” he ordered, voice low, and I did, bending over the edge of the mattress, ass up as he knelt behind me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but the heat of his breath on my skin shut down any nerves. His hands spread me open, and then his tongue was on me, licking a hot, wet stripe over my hole.

“Fuck, Ryan,” I gasped, hands clawing at the sheets as he worked me over. He ate me out like a fucking pro, tongue circling, pushing in just enough to make me shake. The wet sounds, the way he groaned into me like he was starving for it, had my cock throbbing against the mattress.

“You taste so good,” he muttered against my skin, pulling back just to bite lightly at the curve of my ass before diving back in. His hands gripped my hips, holding me still as he licked and sucked, opening me up with every pass of his tongue until I was a trembling mess.

“Ryan, please,” I begged, voice breaking. “I need you. Now.”