Strings (25 page)

“
Oh my fucking Christ!” I
yell. His fingers fall to my clit—probing, smearing, rubbing in
slow, torturous circles. His cock in my ass is the bass line. His
hand works the guitar melody that makes me sing.

Yes. I literally sing while he butt-fucks me
and paddles my pink canoe. He moves me that much.

“
Todd Armstrong, you pull
my strings and make me sing. You tie me in knots with your balls
and cock. You keep on diddling, and I’ll soon be piddling. Spraying
this stage with my love rage. Make me come, you gorgeous fuck
bum.”

His laughter beside my ear warms me. “Got my
dick in your ass, an opportunity I couldn’t pass,” he sings back
while he pumps away. “I love tweaking your clit when your legs are
split. You got the sweetest cunt. The taste of her makes me grunt.
Hose me down with your love mound.”

Our eyes meet through the pounding, racing,
and heavy breathing. I blur the line of sweat trickling down his
face. “If you come with me, I’ll say the words you want to hear,
Shades.”

He quirks his head but doesn’t lose track of
the beat. “Right on. That might be worth losing this bet over if
you decide to fake me out at the last second.”

I grind my hips up and down to the split
rhythms of dick and fingers. Our music surfs the waves of my
pulsing blood, skates through my veins. “No fake-outs. I’m about to
blow, and I want your man chowder inside me when I do.”

His adjusts his hold so his thumb rubs my
nub, and he tightens his grip on my pussy. The two fingers fucking
my cunt pick up speed and curl to meet the head-on pressure of the
dick banging my ass on the inside. His body lunges and retreats to
the complementary pump of his thrashing arm. God, he’s playing me
like he plays his bass. What a fucking turn-on.

Tension builds, pressure forces liquid lust
upward, and the lid blows off the top, spraying clear fluid to the
tune of a brain-stabbing orgasm. My legs quake, my back arches,
brutal moans rattle out of me as I buck like a dying animal against
the wave of Todd Armstrong. He’s trying to kill me. He must be.

Teeth crash my shoulder and dig into my
shirt. His deep, gritty voice grinds through my muscles and bones
as he cuts his cum loose inside my ass. I milk that fucker for
every last drop, and I’m still spraying twat broth. Fuck, what the
hell?

I grab onto the only steady thing left in my
spinning world: his lips.

He saves me with the kiss of Prince Charming
scaling the walls for his princess. Jesus Johnny Christ, while my
physical body whirls out of control into a vortex of pain and
wonder, my heart beats steady as a Swiss clock.

Like the music I adore, Shades has a way of
keeping me stable and sane. His kiss, his intense stare, and his
love blaring through our private airwaves are his secret
weapons.

Our arms and legs and uglies twitch through
the final throes of the ass blast, but the kiss rambles on.

In this moment, I feel like I could split
the cost of a lifetime with him.

Lips fall away, eyes open, and breaths slow.
We stare at each other for a full minute before I make my
confession. “You were right. I do love you, Shades. And not because
you fucked my ass so good, I hosed the stage.”

“
I thought you might. I
just had to prove it to you.” Another kiss, and I’m officially a
puddle. Literally and figuratively.

“
Yo, Shades.” A familiar
voice from backstage ruins our moment of communion. Heavy boot
falls follow.

Shades and I sit. His cock slips out of my
ass. I could weep. Instead, I scramble to yank up my jeans and
fasten them back together. At least we kept our clothes mostly on.
Behind me, Shades reassembles himself, muttering, “Just once I’d
like to fuck you without an audience.”

I smile and stand.

Shit, I really did christen the stage. Vag
juice dots the wooden planks underfoot. I track the droplets for a
good three feet. “Damn, I’ve got awesome range.”

“
You can thank my fingers
for that.” He licks them and grins.

Toombs and Jinx appear in the doorway and
walk over. They stop on the line of cunt splatter. I start to warn
them, but nah. Serves ’em right for busting up our fun.

Shades beats me to the punch. “Watch your
step. Letty spilled my drink.”

Gawd.

Toombs beans us with a suspicious scowl.
“Were you two planning to rehearse before the gig tonight? I don’t
see any instruments.”

“
We got a little
distracted.” I avoid Shades’s goofy grin. He gooses my ass as I
walk past. So much for keeping our “relationship” secret. Not that
it was much of a secret after Kate went atomic. “I’ll help Jinx set
up her drums while you guys warm up.”

Toombs sighs. “What the fuck were you
doing?”

“
Settling a bet,” I
reply.

“
Technically, I won the
bet.” Shades seems rather pleased with himself. “So, when are we
hitting the tattoo parlor?”

“
Next time you swing
through Athens.”

“
I’m holding you to it.”
He lifts a brow and says softly, “I told you I’d win.”

I laugh. “Yep. You the man.”

I planned to lose all along.

Strings

It’s ten o’clock. The stage is set. Jinx and
I are wearing our slut outfits. Shades and Toombs look like our
pimp daddies in their ridiculous zoot suits. Nursing a sudden case
of cold feet, I survey my temporary bandmates and wonder what the
fuck we were thinking. Did we actually believe we could pull this
shit off?

The stomping feet and chants from the
roaring crowd on the other side of the world assure me our fans
believe in us.

I can’t let them down.

“
Jinx, you ready to give
your drums what for?” I play with her long blond hair.

Eyes round and face pale, she looks scared
shitless, but she nods. Nervous sticks tap on her naked legs, and
her breaths rush in fast whooshes. I’m not worried about her.
She’ll be fine. She’s awesome under pressure.

Toombs, I’m not so sure about. He’s pacing.
Has been for an hour. Shades tried talking to him earlier, but he’s
not in a chatting mood. It’s gotta be hard for him. This may be the
first time he’s ever performed without Rax. I offer him a
reassuring smile, complete with devil-horn finger gestures and
wagging tongue. He shakes his head at me and continues his
directionless path.

Sigh. I guess there’s only Shades and me
left with most of our brains intact.

Who am I kidding? My brain hasn’t worked
right since I fucked him up the ass.

“
Don’t forget the key
change at the bridge of ‘Strings,’” I tell him. He missed it on our
last run-through of that song.

Man, giving up the bass for most of this set
is a hell of a sacrifice for me. Though not as much of a change as
it is for Toombs. That guy is seriously talented, but I can tell by
the way he eyes Jinx on her throne that he’d rather play drums.

Or maybe he’d rather play Jinx. Hard to
say.

Jillian flits backstage. She’s been talking
to a guy for a long time. Wonder what that’s about.

She lays a hand on my shoulder and dons a
serious expression. “You’ve got the set list taped down,
right?”

“
Yes, Mother.”

“
And you’ll remember the
lyrics for the new songs? You screwed up ‘Stun Gun’ about twelve
times this afternoon.”

“
Yes, Mother.” I tap my
temple. “All up here.”

“
I took the beer bottles
off the stage and replaced them with water.”

“
What? I need some alcohol
to loosen me up, you fucking dictator.” I was looking forward to
those beers. My only chance for free drinks in the near
future.

Jillian shakes her head. “Nope. Not risking
a replay of last night. This gig is too important.”

What the hell is she going on about?
“Whatever. I want beer when we’re done, then.”

“
Give me the best gig
you’ve ever played, and I’ll buy you a keg.”

“
Fine, you mean old
mommy.”

The stomping beyond the stage increases.
“Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzz,” the people chant.

I smile.

Shades sidles up to me. “Let’s give ’em what
they want, pussycat.”

“
Hot Letty injection.
Coming right up.” I stretch my neck and lay a quick kiss on his
lips.

“
That’s my girl.” He slaps
my thonged ass under the miniskirt.

Shades’s girl. For one more night. I’m gonna
make it the one he never forgets.

I smile at Jinx, and the two of us mount the
stage. She twirls her sticks and settles behind her kit. I grab my
bass from its stand and strap it on. I’ll only have a few songs
with my beautiful Fender baby, but it’s better than none. My voice
will command the spotlight tonight.

I sway up to the mic. The crowd goes
nuts.

Swinging my hips back and forth, I scan the
sea of bodies. The place is packed. Bare-chested guys in the front
swing T-shirts around their heads. A couple of girls sit on dudes’
shoulders, whistling between their fingers. The vibe is contagious.
These people are here for one thing: badass music. I hope they like
the Cherry Buzz Float-Killer Dixon cocktail of modern ’70s rock
fusion.

“
Jacksonville, you’re
beautiful!” I shout into the microphone.

The noise intensifies.

“
How many of you are here
to have your dicks rocked off by Cherry Buzz Float?”

The guys whoop and holler.

“
I see. I see. And how
many came to flash their tits for the boys in Killer
Dixon?”

The women scream. One chick in front whips
off her shirt and hefts the copious contents of her bra.

I point at her. “That’s dedication. I like
it.”

The men surrounding the flailing groupie nod
appreciatively.

I adjust the mic stand and rest my foot on
the monitor, giving the guys at my feet a peek at the thong
underneath. One of them quirks his head at an uncomfortable-looking
angle. Pervert.

“
You may have heard, we
had a little change of plans for tonight. Cherry Buzz Float and
Killer Dixon lost their guitarists to some unfortunate series of
events. They’re not dead, mind you. Just otherwise occupied for the
evening. So, Jinx and I, we’re gonna get this party started with a
treat from the rhythm section.”

Jinx stomps the high hat
pedal to a slow, steady beat. Bass drum falls in line. I nod my
head in sync. My fingers join the fray and fly over the frets while
my right hand thumps strings. Jinx and I cruise into our own little
world of cadence and pulse, rise and fall, rock and roll. After a
minute of improvised grooving, Toombs and Shades take the stage,
instruments in hands,
Dorkus
erectus
clothes on bodies. I keep playing
and pretend to be surprised by their appearance. I shake my ass at
them. The crowd’s wails become deafening.

The boys walk casually
over and flank me on either side. Jinx and I keep the foundations
rolling, and then Toombs crashes our party with a searing guitar
riff. He faces me and smiles.
Smiles
. Maybe playing guitar isn’t
as bad as he thought it would be.

The fans are half-shitting themselves,
bouncing, screaming, moshing at our feet. I laugh at their shocked
expressions.

Toombs’s improv steals the show. Jinx and I
fade into the background to give him center stage for a while. He
closes his eyes. I feel him flowing with us in the arms of The
Rock.

Kate was a great guitarist. Toombs is
better.

The living, breathing mass of humanity
swells as people jump, twist, and shout. Fuck, this is amazing.
Shit gets totally fucking real when Shades steps behind me, leans
over my shoulder and picks some notes on my bass. I lay my hands on
top of his, take in the sweet flow, and we play together like we’ve
been doing it since birth.

The heat of his chest against my back, his
breath ruffling the hair next to my ear, his expert fingers guiding
mine. God, this moment couldn’t be more perfect. He takes control
of the frets on the bass’s neck, and I man the strings. I swear to
fucking Christ, we share a brain. His fingers anticipate exactly
where my mind is going. Every note strikes perfectly. We couldn’t
have done this better if we’d planned it. We are one.

This
is the power of The Rock. Fusing souls. The tendrils of music
twine Shades and me together, just like the strings binding our
hearts.

When you think about it, strings exist
everywhere. Not just between those we’re connected to long
term—lovers, families, friends—but also between bandmates and
fans.

So I embrace the strings while I can—the
ones between Shades and me, Jinx and me, and Toombs and me. I tie
myself up in them. Enjoy the feel of four minds and hearts bound
into one collective ball of Rock.

As our jam session evolves, Shades slips
away to launch into his own bass line, but our music and love holds
us steady. The walls quake, the floor vibrates. I smile at the
now-dried cum stain he and I left behind a few hours ago.

Head down, Toombs breaks into a solo that
rips holes through the fabric of reality and time and space. God,
imagine what living in his brain is like. Between the rhythms and
melodies, it’s probably a constant symphony in there.

“
Guys, give it up for
Toombs Badcock, strumming the six string in Rax’s absence. He’s
fucking amazing, no?” I point to him and clap with the
fans.

He keeps playing like he doesn’t even notice
the attention. Shades steps up while I hold court with the audience
and throws down for a few measures.