by Kendall Grey
On a lark, I pick through his hair to see how far the needle went. Holy shit! I always assumed it stopped at his nape, but the ink extends into his scalp. I keep digging, searching for the end.
“Damn, Shades. I had no idea this tattoo covered your head too. Those are some serious balls you got.”
He shrugs. “I’m nothing, if not committed. Once I start something, I can’t rest till I finish it.”
“Is that why you’ve stuck with me for so long? Still trying to fix me?” I tease.
He turns over to face me. “Not at all. You’re the one who fixed me.”
“Don’t bullshit me, babe. We both know I’m better at breaking things than fixing them.”
“Not this time. I’m only whole when I’m with you.”
“What about when I’m with you and four other people?” I venture.
“As long as I’m the one you love when you’re with them, I’m okay with it.”
God, how I adore this man. “Does that mean I get my wish on my birthday?” After watching Rax fuck the living hell out of Toombs, I’ve decided I enjoy a good peen jamboree a little more than I probably should.
Shades. Toombs. Rax. Together. He has no clue how bad I want to see the three of them going at it. Any combination works for me.
“It does.” Fucking squee! “But don’t forget, my birthday is right after yours.”
I swallow the glut of spit flooding my mouth. “Goddamn it, you turn me on with your promises. If you make my wish come true, I’ll do any fucking thing you ask.” I snatch his hand and swipe it between my legs. I’m fixin’ to stage an emergency evacuation of female bodily fluids. Battle stations!
“Oh yeah?” He shoves his slippery fingers between my teeth and curls his palm under my chin like I’m a horse, and he’s the bit controlling me. I bite down hard enough to let him know who’s really in charge. He doesn’t flinch.
Okay, so maybe the power exchange is mutual.
No more wasting time. I yank his hand out. “I’m hurtin’ for a squirtin’ and need your cock in my pussy. Now.”
“Fuck the doctor’s orders,” he mumbles and spears me with no warning.
I’m so loosened up and ready for him, his dick’s about as useful as a sausage in an alleyway. He falls right out amidst an overabundance of natural lube. I giggle. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little excited.”
He cocks a brow. “A little?”
“Aside from the Killer Buzz Float orgy and angry hotel fucking, it’s been a long couple of abstinence-filled weeks. Can’t blame a girl for being a nymphomaniac after an extended dry spell.” I glance between us. “Why don’t you put this front lube to good use on the back end and let me squirt out my sexual frustrations?”
“I’m gonna fucking meat-hammer you, pussycat. You ready for me? ’Cause I ain’t gonna be gentle.” He shoves his fingers into my twat, gathering some liquid love, and slathers it from the head of his cock, down his shaft, to the heavy, low slung balls eager to slap my clit into a frenzy.
I lick my lips. Yes. Balls. Hitting clit. Please and thank you.
“I’m gonna need more space. Come on.” I roll into the aisle and drag Shades behind me to the couch in back. Man, this leather has seen a lot of fucking in the last year. And I’m about to add some wear and tear to the cushions in the form of a ’gina jizz-nami.
I shove him into the seat. His erection springs straight up as if saluting God himself. I spit on my fingers and rub the wetness into my asshole. Assuming the reverse cowgirl pose, I mount his lightning rod with my thundercunt long enough to get him really good and greased up. Then I pop him out and let my starving ass devour his length.
Normally, I’d take him in one big bite, but it’s been a while, so I absorb each inch in slow increments, throwing in a few seconds of adjustment until his balls kiss my clit, just as I planned. His legs are spread under me with my bare feet planted on his thighs. Cool air hits my gaping pussy, and a few droplets make their way south to further lubricate my ass.
He slowly guides my hips up. Bracing my hands behind me on his straining chest, I squeeze my muscles around his length on the way down, and he groans.
“God fucking damn it, Letty. You’ve got ass panache. You’re so tight. I missed the hell out of butt-fucking you.”
“I didn’t miss it at all,” I joke quietly over my shoulder. “Now, why don’t you flip the ‘on duty’ sign and drive this ass taxi home?”
“My fucking pleasure.” He leans forward, gropes my tits, and squeezes them. I bite off a retort, instead, lifting my butt and plunging down hard on his rod. He tenses.
“What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll break your cock all the way this time?”
“It’d be worth it.” Clutching me around the waist, he lifts me to my feet, bends me over, and shoves me face down into the couch, never breaking the seal on our ass pact. He presses his chest to my back and whispers in my ear, “I won’t be able to hold out long.”
I smile. “I’ll cut mine loose whenever you do.”
He gathers my hair and twists it around his hand. Yanking my head back, he stares into my eyes upside down and grabs my exposed throat with the other hand.
Thrust.
I gasp at the suddenness, the brutality of the jab that I can almost taste on my tongue. The extreme, conflicting sensations of the cock violently commandeering my ass, the pain of nearly ripped-out hair follicles, and the sudden loss of oxygen sends my blood rushing into survival mode. Control is relative, I guess. I thought I had it seconds ago, but Shades proves to me I have anything but control. He’s in charge. I’m his to use just as I was a toy for Eve’s enjoyment in the hotel room.
In any other situation, I’d protest at the very least. Nobody controls Letty Dillinger except for Letty Dillinger. I could easily exercise my power to refuse him with a strongly uttered, “Stop!” and he’d obey without question. But I don’t. Because Shades needs to feel empowered. We all do. Things have been pretty fucking crazy for him lately too with the baby and our relationship staggering around in a potential death throe. He needs to feel like he’s got control of at least one thing in his life. And I need to let him. Because really, if I’m honest with myself, Shades is the one person besides me who owns the fuck out of me.
So I submit to his vicious pelvic onslaught, spreading my cheeks wider so he can angle in deeper. Fuck me, Shades. Fuck me and fill me and love me and fuck me some more.
In the absence of air, I mouth the words, I love you. I love you so fucking much.
As fog claims the outskirts of my vision, he lets go of my throat, and my lungs beg desperately for oxygen. He tugs my hair again, a friendly reminder of who’s in charge, and I smile.
His tight, hard thighs smack the backs of mine. I’ll have bruises galore tomorrow, but I don’t care. As promised, his balls thwack my dripping cunt as my ass endures the beating. Gross sounds of wet splatters echo through the tail end of the bus. If anyone’s awake, they can totally hear us going to town. Again, who fucking cares? It’s not like they haven’t seen it—or done me—before. I have no problem putting on a show for anyone, especially if it gets them off too.
Shades’s breaths increase in frequency and depth, sure signs he’s nearing his climax.
And then it hits me. The last time we had sex this good was when we were role-playing cops and drunk drivers. The scene was remarkably similar to this one, minus the uniform, ex-wife, and baby. But, like now, we really connected sexually.
I recall forgotten song lyrics I meant to write down, but never did. And new words form in my mind. I sing them aloud as Shades wraps things up:
Get it up
Smack that ass
Grease your piece
Drop that bomb
Get it up
Shove it in
Turn your frown
Upside down
He squeezes my ass, then reaches around and smacks my tits. The pain wakes me from the comfortable place I’d slid into.
“I want it on my pussy, Shades.
Come on my pussy,” I beg. “And I’ll hose your fucking face, motherfucker.”
He flips me over and tosses me to the cushions. I spread my legs and diddle my clit while he works his dick with brutal pumps.
“Ass panache!” he yells. And the cum flies—spurt, dribble, spurt, dribble, blob, spurt—the heat perfectly sweet on my open lips.
I savor the moment, unwilling to let my own cum out of the house until he’s had a chance to recover.
A curtain sluices open, the metal rings breaking what would otherwise be silence. “Shut the fuck up unless you plan on letting everyone else in on the action,” Rax hollers, peering from his bunk through the dim light. Though the words sound harsh, his expression is soft.
Our gazes collide, and respect passes between us, despite my legs being splayed and hooked around either side of Shades’s thighs as he hovers over me. Rax’s slight grin lets me know he’s not mad at me—for keeping him awake or for ruining the band. Maybe I won’t have to walk on eggshells around him anymore. Eve’s hand drops to his chest, and her head appears beside his. She’s smiling too.
All’s forgiven, they seem to say.
What a relief.
I flip Rax a teasing bird, turn to Shades, and laugh. “Ass panache? Really? You’ve got problems.”
“I do have problems,” he agrees. “I’m not eating your pussy right now, and that’s a problem.” He drops to his knees between my legs and dives into the creamy mess he made.
“Fuuuck me,” I moan, fingers twisting through his fauxhawk, our audience forgotten. I grab a handful and squeeze as his tongue laps ferociously at his cum, my cum, prying me open wider and wider. He jabs two fingers in and works me from the inside while his mouth creates a hell of a ruckus biting and flicking my clit. “Gonna blow, baby. Gonna blow—”
I push, and sexual magic happens.
He had fair warning. He could’ve backed up and finished me off with his hand, but stubborn Shades stays right where he is. His jaw swings open, and he takes the full spate straight down the gullet. He shakes his head like a wet dog barking at the stream jetting from my cunt, soaking his hair and skin. He laughs through it.
“Fuck yeah, pussycat!” he yells, wiping his face. He slaps my cunt, and I jump.
Rax and Eve laugh from his bunk. The two of them clap appreciatively. He catches my eye and shoots me a thumbs up as Eve snags him around the shoulders. The curtain slides into place, and smooch sounds emanate from behind it.
Freddie’s still snoring up front. Jinx giggles. Toombs probably mauls her. I grab Shades by the ears, lick myself off his nose, and kiss him long and deep. I know it won’t last beyond tonight into tomorrow when I have to make amends for speaking the truth, but all is right in my world. For now.
Making a Statement
Cleanup after last night’s festivities on the couch was a pain, but it was worth the mess. The cleanup awaiting me now, however, isn’t remotely as pleasurable.
I’ve been nervous since the moment I woke up. With nothing else for my idle hands to do, I started weaving my hair into thin, dread-like strands around ten o’clock. It took my mind off all the shit flying around, haunting me. Got about a third of my head braided before Jinx noticed what I was doing. Without a word, she sat beside me, grabbed a length, and joined in the ritual plaiting. A few minutes later, Toombs did too.
At first I thought it was a little weird that Toombs knows how to braid and doesn’t have a little sister, but by the time the three of us finished, I was grateful for his mad skills. Three sets of hands worked together, much as our three instruments work together on the stage, and we collectively made something awesome.
The rest of the world may suck, but my hair looks fucking badass.
Half an hour ago, Jillian marched up the steps and told everyone but me to take a hike. Once the bus was cleared, she sat me down and had a heart-to-heart. Or in her case, a bitch-to-bitch. She told me what to say and how to say it. I said I’d think about it. She was disgusted with my attitude and told me so when she left.
Pretty sure we’re either gonna need to find a new manager, or I’m gonna have to bail on this band. I don’t see us going anywhere if one of those two things doesn’t happen.
Now I sit alone on the bus where my life’s dream became reality over the last year, and my nightmares have come back to bite me on the ass. Lots of stains I’ve left behind. And not just squirt stains.
I wander down the aisle, running my fingers gently over the metal skeleton propping up habitat holes and trundles and memories. On the bottom left side is Shades’s bunk, which I mistakenly thought was Freddie’s the first night I snuck over to meet him for sex. Nobody knew about Shades and me then. We had to keep our contact secret because of another bitch—Cherry Buzz Float’s resident psycho at the time, Kate.
I claimed the last bunk on the right to try to keep Toombs away from my sweet, innocent friend Jinx, who turned out not to be so innocent. I was protecting her. Didn’t want her to get hurt.
That’s what friends do. Protect each other from bad shit.
At the moment, I don’t have any friends to protect me. Jillian shooed them away and left me to deal with swabbing the mess I made by myself.
Guess I’d better get busy.
I head to my bunk and grab my cell, and then return to the front of the bus. Stacking a few video game boxes up to prop the phone, I check myself out in the reversed screen. My eyes are weary. New lines have taken up residence in the skin around them. My cheeks are sunken.
But my braids look awesome. I shake my head to scatter them over my shoulders.
I bought this phone after we signed a deal with a decent record label. I’d been dirt-ass poor up until then. I’m still pretty fuckin’ poor, but at least now I have enough cash to pay for monthly service on this bitch, to buy decent food, pick up a new stage outfit every couple of weeks, and have a little bit left over for savings.
I never imagined I’d have a savings account.
I bite my lip as I readjust the phone’s angle to avoid the incoming spears of sunlight. “You look stupid, Letty. Smile. Pretend like you’re happy as a fuckin’ clam in some sweet-ass chowder. Waiting to be eaten alive. Because you will be eaten alive for this.”
Yep.
I hit the record button.
“My name is Letty Dillinger. I’m the lead singer for Killer Buzz Float, currently playing on the Get Your Rock Off Tour.
“Some of you may have seen or heard about a video showing me going off on another band. A lot of people are pissed about what I said. A lot of feelings were hurt. I’ve actually received death threats over this incident. I was advised to keep quiet and wait until the drama blew over, but it hasn’t yet, and there are no signs it will. People are demanding my blood, or at the very least, an apology, for something I didn’t do. It’s time for me to set the record straight.
“The person you saw in the video was me, and I did say those things. But someone edited the footage and dubbed it to make it look like I was responding to questions no one ever asked me. My manager has requested the raw, unedited video, but Megamusic claims it’s been lost. I’ve filed a formal complaint against the woman who interviewed me. As I understand it, she’s being investigated, but has not been suspended from her job.
“Here’s the thing. The interviewer, the cameraman, and I are the only people who know exactly what happened during filming, and it’s their word against mine. We all stand to lose something. I’m asking you to hear my side of the story before you jump to conclusions. You can plainly see where cuts have been made. Someone with audio experience could have easily dubbed Anna DeVille’s voice over the original questions. It’s not my place to point fingers without evidence, so I’ll leave it at that.
“Regardless of what you think of me or what I appear to have said, I want to send a clear message to Killer Buzz Float’s fans.” I lean closer to the phone and fill in the frame with my head and shoulders. “I have always and will always believe in The Rock. Music is one of
the few forces in the world that brings people together, no matter what they look like, what they do for a living, what they believe, or where they live. Rock ’n’ roll drives my life. I’ve been playing since I was a kid, and I’ll probably be playing until the day I die. Music is everything to me.
“My words may have been taken out of context, but you know what? I stand by them. I would rather make art than house payments because I’m an artist. I’d rather be poor but real than rich and fake. If only a handful of fans love our next album, at least we made a handful of people happy. And we didn’t sell out.
“If you’ve ever been to a Killer Buzz Float show, you know we give it our all onstage every single fucking night. We do it for you, our fans, because you support our dreams. You get us. You challenge us to be the best we can be, and I thank you for it.
“I hope you’ll consider what I’ve said here and take the video floating around with a grain of salt. In this age of Internet bullies, trolls, and haters, it’s easy to accept things at face value and without question. Use the brain the Good Lord gave you, and find out both sides of the story before passing judgment.” I salute the camera. “Long live The Rock.”
The sick feeling returns to my stomach as I end the recording. I drop my chin to the table and clutch my belly. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Shades and Jillian told me not to go on the band’s fan page or Megamusic’s website until things blow over, and I haven’t. But curiosity digs at me.
I sit up. I’m gonna check my personal page. I gotta know what they’re saying about me. With a shaking finger, I login.
The slaughter is about what I expected. Scathing comments, links to sarcastic animated GIFs making fun of me, pictures of people burning Killer Buzz Float merchandise, lots of stills of me screaming at the camera with lame commentary pasted into viral memes.
