Crash (Band Nerd Book 3)

by Danica Avet

  Sliding my hands under ass, I tilt her hips the way I need them and drive with a strangled groan. The move is instinctive, but by doing it, I pull her off the stool which rolls away and I end up with her in my lap, my dick sliding home in one fast thrust. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  “Ah!” she moans loudly, dragging my attention away from the way I’ve got her impaled on my erection to see her head thrown back, neck bared to me. She’s gasping, her fingernails digging into my shoulders. Then she lowers her head to look directly in my eye, a siren’s smile on her plush lips. “You feel so good.”

  I rest on my heels, Jolene in my lap, her legs draped on either side of my hips. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess not to come, just shoot off like a rocket. I need her to come with me. Need it more than my next breath, so I force myself to think about drum rudiments instead of how perfect she feels around me. I think about the shitty basketball season our team is having instead of the way her pussy ripples and flexes.

  But then she goes and ruins it by kissing me hungrily, as though she’ll die if she doesn’t fuck my mouth with her tongue. And I’m gone.

  Holding her ass in a grip that’ll probably leave bruises, I rock and grind into her. Flex my ass to get deeper even as I pull her into my thrusts. She’s tugging my hair again, making wild, muffled whimpers against my lips, but she moves with me. Just as hungry as I am. More animal than man, I fuck into her as much as I’m able to in this position, bouncing her on my lap.

  She breaks the kiss with a loud keening cry, her pussy growing almost impossibly tighter.

  “Levi!”

  No, not yet. I’m not ready for this to—

  Squinting through slitted eyes, I watch her face transform from anguished to blissful seconds before her cunt grips me like a vise and starts milking me. I shift my hands, putting one to her shoulder to hold her tighter, pumping faster and faster. There’s no way I can fight it off anymore and when I come, my dick emptying into the condom, it’s with a long, low groan.

  Jolene wilts against me, but I’m not finished. It feels as though I’m shooting buckets of cum, as though my balls have been storing it up for months, as though every cell in my body is giving itself over to her care. I shudder and grimace with pleasure that borders on the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt.

  Our hearts are pounding in unison, our ragged breaths in sync. And that’s when it really dawns on me that this is what was missing in all those one-night stands. This, the aftermath of the most powerful climax I’ve ever experienced, is what true intimacy is. Her soft hands stroking my hair, neck, and shoulders. My palms cupping her butt as our tremors die down. I rest my head in the crook of her neck and try to regain my composure and strength.

  “I love you,” I rasp against her skin, touching the tender hollow in her throat with the tip of my tongue. She tastes salty and sweet. “I’m never gonna give you up.”

  She hums softly, her arms curling around my neck in a sweet embrace. “Me too.”

  The moment stretches out, but I don’t feel any need to jump to my feet and make a run for it. In fact, when Jolene starts wiggling as though to leave my lap, I tighten my hold on her with a grumble of discontent. Her throaty laugh sends a tingle down my spine, something I wouldn’t have thought possible after coming like a freight train, but it does and that’s when I realize I need to get rid of the condom.

  “C’mon, lazybones,” she drawls as she plants her hands on my shoulders to lever herself off my lap. “We need to get goin’ before security comes around.”

  I reluctantly let her go, watching her straighten out her clothes as I take care of the condom and tuck my hardening dick away. Yeah, who knew watching a girl make herself look presentable would be such a turn-on? I guess I should be used to the effect she has on me by now, but I’m not. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this feeling.

  “Can’t believe we just had sex in the rehearsal hall,” she’s saying as she shakes out her skirt and looks around for her sandals. “I’ll never be able to come in here without thinkin’ about it. And what if security had come earlier?” She slips her sandals on her bare feet and scurries to her trumpet, still talking about how we could’ve been caught, how shocked she is, and I just stare at her from the floor.

  She turns to see me still on my knees and slaps her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have to go to work early tomorrow? You need to get some rest, Levi.”

  That’s when I know I’m gonna marry this girl. Not today, not tomorrow, but sometime in the future, I’m gonna put my ring on her finger. I’ll go to bed and wake up next to her every night for as long as God will let me.

  “Are you comin’?” she asks, exasperation coloring her voice.

  My grin has her eyes widening. “Not yet, but you will be,” I drawl.

  Hours later, we both come, sprawling across my bed in a jumble of arms, legs, and Jolene’s golden hair.

  And I’m almost late for work anyway, not that I give a shit after the best night of my life.

  Jolene

  Late April

  It’s been a whirlwind of a semester and with the final weeks approaching, I feel a thrill of excitement at what could be coming next. So much has already happened—good things that have me feeling as though my streak of bad luck is finally coming to an end.

  Levi and I are… I sigh and tuck a strand behind my ear, staring into space instead of at the paintings being projected on the screen at the front of the class. I never imagined someone like him and I’ll thank the lord every day for bringing him into my life. He actually cares about me. And while we do have a very active sex life, our time together isn’t always about that. He listens to me, encourages me, argues with me, and most importantly, loves me.

  We’re not attached at the hip. Much. Becca swears she’s gonna come up with one of those power couple names for us. Levene or Jolvi were two suggestions. I don’t care. I finally have someone in my life who wants all of me, the good, the bad, the ugly, and the pretty. I’m not just a pair of legs he can get between. I’m his girl. I know this because he reminds me of it all the time.

  And he’s my guy. Who took my idea of him majoring in Music and pursuing his Master’s to heart. He’s already talked with his advisor on what he needs to do to graduate and attend graduate school year after next. Because Sauvage has one of the best music programs in the country, he decided to stay here to get his Master’s, although he’s said that isn’t the only reason he wants to stay in LaSalle and when he says that, he gets this glint in his eyes that makes me shiver.

  He’s also staying because of me.

  A thought that makes my heart warm every time I think about it.

  Having him in my life, his sly wit and sexy smiles, makes everything seem a hundred times better. Music sounds sweeter, the basketball games were more fun, and not even the most boring of classes can get me down. Even better, I haven’t seen or heard from Josef since…

  I frown. It’s been a while. Maybe as far back as Mardi Gras? I can’t really recall because I deleted all of his messages, but I do know he hasn’t been hanging around in the hall after my art class. Well, if he is, I haven’t seen him. That probably should worry me after all those hateful things he said, but I’m going with no news is good news. Maybe he’s already moved on the way I have. Or maybe he realized there’s no way I’ll ever talk to him again after his behavior. Either way, his absence has made my life a lot easier and the bond between me and Levi stronger since I’m not worrying about Josef messing everything up.

  “The Austin Dubois Art Competition will begin next week,” the prof states loudly, dragging me out of my thoughts. A glance at the clock shows class is nearly over and I haven’t taken a single note. “The expo showcases the talented artists right here at Sauvage State and as such, I expect each of you to attend the showing at some point during the week. If you refer to your syllabus, you’ll find a signature slip that will verify that you’ve been to the event. For every artist you speak to, you’ll receive five bonus
points. The maximum points you’re able to receive is twenty-five, but that can make a big difference on your final exams.” She eyes a few students as though telling them how much they need those points. “Quiz on Wednesday on the Renaissance sculptors.”

  There are a few muffled groans, but everyone’s already slamming their books closed and packing their bags so I don’t know if she heard them. I’m sure she did though. It isn’t that class is horrible or anything. She’s just so into it, she tends to lose everyone when she goes to describing some of the pieces, using words I’m sure Josef would’ve understood with no problem, but leaves the rest of us scratching our heads in confusion.

  Grabbing my things, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and join the line of students jostling to leave the room. I don’t want to go to the expo. Josef’s going to be there and while he’s leaving me alone right now, that might change if I enter his turf. Only...I really need those bonus points. I’m not doing horribly in class; but if I want to keep my scholarship, I have to make sure my GPA doesn’t dip below 3.65 and with my History and Math classes weighing me down…

  I grimace as I step into the hall which is crowded with students heading to their next classes. I have to go to the expo. Maybe I can just avoid—

  My cell buzzes in my pocket and I frown. Everyone I talk to knows I’m in class for three hours straight. Except for Mama and my sisters. But they wouldn’t text me. Would they?

  Finding a break in the traffic, I huddle next to a wall and open the message which is from an unknown number. I really, really hope it isn’t Josef. Stomach sinking, I see there’s an attachment to the text and my finger actually shakes as it hovers over the screen. I don’t really want to see whatever’s in the file. For all I know, it could be a virus or something, right?

  But I click on it anyway and wait for it to download.

  My heart stops beating. Every molecule of my body freezes in shock and horror as the file opens to reveal a picture. Well, a picture slash painting. It’s Josef’s work. Something he calls Dunaism. Part painting, part photography, he once told me he wants to use his art to show the ugliness buried beneath the thin layer of civility in human nature, society, religion, and politics. But this… This is hatred. For me.

  The photograph at the center of the piece is one he took of me when we first started dating and I’d marveled at his talent at the time. He’d had me look into a mirror, pretending to apply lipstick, one hand planted on the vanity in front of me. The photo he’d shown me only focused on my shoulders and reflection in the mirror, but this one is a full shot of my body.

  But he’d added his artistic skills with the brush to complete his vision of me. And it’s the most disgusting, horrible thing I’ve ever seen in my life. He painted a peach on my backside, the reddened pit right where my...privates would be with a male figure disappearing into it and dozens of more shadowy figures waiting for their turn. On the right was almost an exact replica of the battered trailer I’d grown up in, as though he’d plucked the image right out of my memories. Above the artwork—if that’s what you could call it—is the title, “Georgia Peach — A Study of the Southern Woman”.

  At least now I know why he hasn’t been texting, calling, or following me around.

  My knees weaken, bile rises in my throat, and dots dance in front of my eyes. I don’t know how anyone could be so hateful. Yes, I know I broke up with him, but for him to do this? There’s no doubt at all who the picture is of. My face is clear as day. Anyone who knows me, has seen me, will know who the girl is. All of my friends, the people I have classes with. They’ll all know because something this salacious will get around campus.

  Levi… My heart squeezes hard. Levi will be hurt by something like this. I’m used to being treated like a whore, sad as it is. He may have a promiscuous past, but men aren’t held to the same standards women are. It’s a horrible realization, and one that would make me angry if I wasn’t so terrified of how he’d respond to the looks and comments people will make about me. Not for me, but for him.

  The phone buzzes with a text from the same unknown number, my gaze automatically going to the message.

  Monday

  10:22 a.m.

  Unknown: We need to talk. Meet me behind Stoeffer Hall in ten minutes.

  My first instinct is to tell him to go to hell.

  Another message comes through.

  Monday

  10:23 a.m.

  Unknown: This isn’t Josef, btw

  I almost snort. As though I’ll believe that. This picture is clearly some kind of blackmail, although I don’t know what he thinks he can get from me.

  I should go straight to someone in authority, let them know because there has to be some kind of rule against this on campus. It’s slander at the very least. But the thought of showing anyone what my ex-boyfriend is planning to show at the expo makes my bones ache with humiliation. I’ve kept my past a secret for a reason, only telling Kimber and the two men I cared for about it, and one of them is going to out me to everyone.

  My entire life on campus will change. Unless I find out what this ‘unknown’ person wants.

  Except when I round Stoeffer Hall, it isn’t Josef leaning against the brick wall.

  I stop in my tracks, wondering if I got the wrong building. A plume of smoke streams from his mouth as he turns to look at me and it’s like being caught in the path of a wolf. Ivan the Terrible, looking just as terrible as I know him to be, stares at me from those bottomless pits he calls eyes.

  “There’s no smoking on campus,” I say automatically, my brain and all of my half-panicked thoughts screeching to a halt.

  He arches a thick eyebrow at me, taking another drag from his cigarette.

  “Well, okay then,” I mutter and hike up my backpack.

  Obviously Josef changed his mind about meeting me. There’s no way I’ll tell Terrible that though. I don’t like him. Not after his involvement in Lena’s situation and I especially don’t like the way he’s got Nessie all tied up in knots over him, so I feel no qualms about being rude.

  “Bye,” I say and turn on my heel.

  “Been watchin’ that dipshit little freak you were dating,” Terrible drawls. “Got an interesting view of the world, doesn’t he? Not sure what his profs are gonna think when he shows that painting in its entirety. But I can guess what everyone else will think.”

  I stop, the hair on my nape standing on end. Pivoting slowly, I face him once more, certain my expression is filled with the horror clawing at my belly. “What?”

  Terrible flicks his cigarette and straightens from his slouch. “I owe you for Natasha.”

  “She sent me a card,” I mumble through numb lips. I’d been shocked to find it on my bed and equally surprised to see the girlish handwriting thanking me for helping her that night. As far as I’m concerned, she and I are square.

  He shrugs. “I still owe you. Now the real question is how I’m going to help you.”

  The scuffle of a shoe on the ground has me spinning yet again, expecting to see students hurrying on their way to class, but it’s Levi. I swear I’m gonna just die. I feel the blood leave my face at the dark scowl coloring his skin, his gaze going from me to Terrible and a horrible light glinting in his eyes.

  “What the fuck did you do?” he snarls.

  For a moment, I’m almost positive he’s talking to me. Considering my background, my past relationships, I almost buckle right there under the weight of his anger. I love him. I don’t want him to be upset with me, or think I’m cheating on him. That has to be what he’s so angry about.

  “Levi.” His name is a plea for forgiveness for something that hasn’t happened. But no one’s ever believed in me and my default is to apologize. Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  He continues stalking towards us, his fury surrounding him like a force field. I take a step back, not sure if I can handle having that dark emotion directed at m—

  His arm coils around my waist and he pulls me into the sa
fe harbor of his body. His muscles are tight, his hands gripping me a little harder than usual, but he’s holding me. Hugging me with all of his strength.

  “You leave her the fuck alone,” he growls at Terrible. “You show that fuckin’ painting to anyone and I’ll—”

  I pull back, twisting in his hold to look at the bad man. He is a bad man, right? “You sent it to him, too?”

  Terrible rolls his eyes and lights another cigarette. “Look, you Romeo and Juliet types are all about the sacrifice. Got that from last time. Normally I could give a fuck what y’all do for love or whatever the hell y’all do stupid shit for as long as I get paid, but I owe you for Natasha,” he says again, speaking directly to me. “You just decide what’s gotta happen to the fake little shit so we’re even.”

  “Fake?” I ask at the same time Levi demands, “What the hell are you talkin’ about, as long as you get paid?”

  I grip his hand which is grasping my hip. “Lena had some trouble last semester,” I tell him softly. He wasn’t part of the mess that befell my friend and her boyfriend and while it isn’t my story to share, he needs to know something. “Terrible, uh, sort of helped to fix it in exchange for an IOU from them.” He almost ended up getting Lena kidnapped because he thought he knew how her stepdad would react, but again, not my story to tell.

  Levi’s lip curls. “No fuckin’ way you’re givin’ that piece of shit any kind of marker.”

  “It’s like I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to myself,” Terrible mutters as he draws on his cigarette. “First, to answer your question,” he points at me. “Your ex isn’t Hungarian. He’s from south Boston; gets his hair permed in New Orleans. Practices that fucking accent in the mirror every morning. No fuckin’ clue why. As for your comment, Crash, your girl did me and mine a solid. It’s a big fuckin’ debt to pay.” He looks from Levi to me. “It’s up to you how you want me to handle this. I invited him here because a man should know when his woman’s bein’ threatened. Even if he is acting like a moron.”