God, the kid moved like a wet dream. Ray had to admit that. To himself at least, because there was no way he was admitting it out loud to anyone else. Least of all to management, or the brat singing lead for them.
That brat with the sleek lines and the hips that moved like he was fucking. Or being fucked, which was right where Ray wanted him. He could clearly picture that ass framed by his hands as he plowed into it. Christ, he was an old horndog.
But there was just something about Ricky that screamed out to him. That milky white skin beneath the dark hair and the dark clothes begged to be bruised. The dark pink lips were made to be kiss-swollen and wet, and those dark bedroom eyes needed nothing more than to be glazed over with want.
An old horndog destined to spend the next four months with a permanent hard-on and no release in sight aside from own hand, that's what he was. Ricky, in the meantime, was going to have the groupies eating out of his hands, or whatever else he wanted. The girls were already gathering around the staff door of the practice venue, screaming anytime one of them caught a glimpse of the new lead singer for Axel Grind.
It was like Jeff all over again.
When they'd formed the band ten years ago, Jeff had been the prettiest thing Ray'd ever seen. The man hadn't been averse to letting his band mates suck him off, either, if there weren't any pretty girls hanging around to do the job. Sexy little fucker. Ray'd been in lust from word one. Then Jeff had started partying too hard, doing drugs, and having unprotected sex. Ray'd given up giving Jeff blow jobs long before Jeff's looks had gone, the drugs and hard living stealing them, sure as shit sliding downhill.
The fun, decent human being had disappeared about the same time Jeff had lost his voice. Almost five years ago they'd stopped touring, because without the studio touch-ups, Jeff just couldn't cut it anymore. Two years ago Jeff had been found in his rat-bag hotel room with a needle still stuck in one arm, already three days dead.
It was a fucking cliche, and Jeff had been an asshole for more years he'd been a good guy with the band, but it still hurt a little, to think of the man who'd been his friend going out like that. Ray'd always thought there was more between them than just adrenaline-fueled lust and he'd always hoped Jeff would clean up his act and things would turn around. That wasn't ever going to happen now.
What there was now was a new hot number shaking his stuff like it was history repeating itself all over again. Except this time the label had put Ray in charge of Ricky. It was his job to make sure the kid didn't go down the same route as Jeff. Fuck a duck backward, sideways, and six times to Sunday.