by Jade Allen
I tried to hold back, and to make it last, but I knew—it had been weeks since I’d been with someone—that once I got inside Sophie I wasn’t going to be able to take it slow anymore. I started kissing a path down from her lips, down to where I really wanted to be; I paused for a few minutes at her breasts, and looked up into her eyes as I played with her, teasing her with my lips and tongue. Sophie was even hotter than before, her face flushed against the green dye of her hair, her eyes like pits in her face they were so dark, her lips parted as she panted and moaned for me. It sounded like music—and every noise that left her made me that much more turned on, that much more eager to get to the main event.
I moved down over her body as slowly as I could, taking my time, kissing every bit of skin I could find until I came to her hips. I tugged her panties down and cupped her pussy in the palm of my hand. She was already soaking—totally drenched, the silky-wet heat coating my fingers in an instant. I rubbed up and down slowly, nuzzling up against her thigh, spreading her legs wider.
I buried my face against Sophie’s pussy, spreading the labia apart and sliding my tongue up and down along the inner folds. She tasted good—sharp and sweet all at once, clean and wet and hot. I set to work teasing her, working her up as fast as I could, flicking my tongue up to just barely brush against her clit and then back down to her labia, back and forth while she twisted and arched and squirmed underneath me and around me. I was torn between wanting it to go on forever and the feeling that my cock might actually explode if I didn’t get relief soon; but the sound of Sophie’s little gasps and moans and cries was enough to make me want to devour her whole.
I brought her to the edge of climax at least twice, feeling the tension in her body, listening to the changes in her cries as I worked her with my lips and tongue and fingers; she was so tight—so fucking tight I almost couldn’t stand it. I had to feel her wrapped around me. I pulled back and Sophie let out a long, low, frustrated groan, her hands tight in my hair, her fingers tangled, her body pitching as she reeled from disappointment.
I slithered back up to her face and kissed her without even wiping my lips, squirming and shifting until I got my boxers off. Sophie wrapped her legs around me like a pair of pythons and I rubbed against her, still trying to hold back, still trying to make the moment last. I loved the feeling of her slick pussy against me, the heat of her, the taste of her lips.
I shifted against her, lining myself up against Sophie’s inner labia, and thrust into her slowly. “Fuck—fuck, Dan…god…” Sophie dragged her lips along my throat and I kissed her hungrily, over and over again as we began to move together.
“You feel so good,” I told her, lifting myself up onto my elbows and looking down into her eyes. I tried to hold myself back, but the tight, wet heat of her wrapped around me felt too good. I started to move faster, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her, touching her everywhere. Sophie’s muscles flexed and tightened around me in erratic little spasms, and I fought to keep control of myself, but it was impossible. I started going harder and faster, and Sophie moaned out, kissing my neck, my shoulder, her fingernails digging into my back. I lost myself in the moment, thrusting as deep as I could inside of her, reaching down to stroke and rub Sophie’s clit, doing everything I could to get more of those delicious sounds out of her.
All at once, I felt Sophie’s body tightening around me, her muscles flexing in erratic little spasms as she came, crying out. I kissed her again and again, barely holding back as her body rippled around me; I lost what little self-control I had in what seemed like mere seconds. I groaned out against Sophie’s neck as hot and cold flashes rushed through me like waves. I thrust a few more times into Sophie’s body as we both came even harder, until I couldn’t even think about moving anymore. Sweat dripped off of me, and I slumped against her, panting and gasping for breath.
As soon as my heart began to slow down and I was actually able to get my breathing under control, I looked down at Sophie’s face. She was still breathing heavily, but she looked absolutely gorgeous: cheeks flushed, eyes shiny, lips curled in a satisfied little grin. “We have to do that again before I take you to your car,” I told her.
“Oh totally,” Sophie agreed. She kissed me on the lips, and I rolled off of her, letting my arm rest across her waist. Without warning, Sophie giggled, curling up into herself, burying her face against my pillows.
“What?” Sophie shook her head and barely—barely—peaked up at me before dissolving into another fit of laughter.
“You’re good in bed,” she told me, once she could breathe once more.
“That’s funny?” Sophie giggled again—but not uncontrollably.
“I totally expected…” she shook her head, grinning. “I expected that you’d be…like…”
“Selfish?” I kissed her temple. “All about getting myself off?” Sophie shrugged.
“Something like that,” she said. “I mean, you do know there are rumors about Molly Riot’s members…”
“What rumors?” I rolled back on top of Sophie. “Is the word on the street that we’re all terrible in bed?” Sophie snickered.
“No—but some people do think you guys are kind of slutty,” Sophie told me. “Less so now, obviously.”
“So if we’re sluts then we should be good in bed,” I pointed out. I kissed her again and felt myself starting to get hard. “In fact, I will show you exactly how good I am in bed, right now.” Sophie chuckled lowly and wrapped her arms around me.
“Show away,” she said.
****
I woke up in my own bed, for once feeling like I’d managed to get a decent night’s sleep in spite of the fact that Sophie and I had been up until about four, having sex over and over again. We’d only stopped at three-thirty in the morning because I had promised to get her to her car so she could get home in enough time to feed the cat.
I had to get to the studio but we’d all agreed not to get started until two in the afternoon; when I checked the time on my phone it was only eleven. Time enough to get a shower, grab some breakfast, and maybe get in a little practice on one of the songs we’d changed up the day before until I had to get to the complex. I scrolled through my Facebook feed for a few moments in bed, thinking about Sophie; there was still something between us, I knew, but I couldn’t deal with the situation with her until I dealt with the one with Mark. I wondered if Sophie had already let Mark know that she would have to cancel—and if so, how she’d done it. Almost feel bad for the guy, I thought idly. Mark had no idea that I’d gone for the same girl but more successfully; he’d probably be pissed at me, but like Nick had pointed out, it wasn’t like it was the first time any of us had gone for the same girl.
As if my thoughts were a cue, my phone buzzed in my hand while I was on the way to the bathroom to grab a shower. It was Mark. Sophie canceled on me. What the hell, man? I stared at my phone for a minute, feeling guiltier than I thought I would. Had she said something about why she had to cancel? Before I could reply, I got another text—from Sophie. I tried to tell Mark that it was just a scheduling conflict, but he kept pushing for another date and I eventually just gave in and told him I’d decided to go out with you instead.
I sat down on the rim of the bathtub. Obviously I wasn’t going to get my chance to have a calm, normal talk with Mark about what had happened with Sophie—he already knew, and from her instead of from me. I asked her out that night we went to Prop, I wrote to Mark. She said yes. She shouldn’t have agreed to go out with you in the first place. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, man. I put my phone aside and stepped into the shower, hoping against hope that that would be all there was to talk about—at least for the day.
I got another text while I was shaving, but I waited until I was done to look at it. What the fuck, dude?
I didn’t know what to say to that. Mark had a right to be pissed at me—I could recognize that. I had been pissed at him, even though it wasn’t his fault, when I’d found out he was going on a date with Sophie.
But I’d known and he hadn’t. From his perspective I’d basically pulled the rug out from under him.
I got another text, this one from Nick. Mark says he’s not coming in today. Guess he knows? I cringed.
Sophie canceled her date with him, I replied. She told him why. If Mark wasn’t going to be in the studio that day, there was no point in any of us being there—we were still doing the live room recordings, not the individual parts yet.
Fuck, dude. You going to talk to him? I thought about that question and didn’t have a good answer for it. I’d have to talk to Mark sometime; I’d have to see if I could get him to understand where I was coming from, what had happened, the fact that I wasn’t out to screw him. I kept thinking about the rant he’d gone on the night we’d both met Sophie: that it was unreal that Jules had a girlfriend before he did. Sophie might not have been anything serious to him, but between Jules having a functioning relationship against all the odds and me pulling a chick he wanted without him knowing about it, he was obviously going to have some wounded pride.
If we’re not in the studio today I guess I have to, I wrote Nick. Alex and Jules sent texts confirming that Mark had told them about not coming in too, and wondering if I knew anything about it; they didn’t really know what was going on with Mark, or with any of the other members of the band, not the way that we used to know about each other’s lives, ever since they’d gotten together with their girlfriends. Nick only knew about it because he and Liv had been at Prop.
I bit the bullet and finally replied to Mark’s message. Hey, man. Let’s meet up at Nippers since apparently we’re not working today. If I was going to talk to Mark about the situation at hand, I was going to definitely need some fucking coffee before I did. I threw on some clothes and got into my car and went up to Rhino in Boca while I waited to hear from Mark. I texted Sophie to let her know that it was okay—that I’d work things out with Mark on my own, that we were still on for our next date. I had no idea whether or not I would actually be able to square things away with Mark; but I hoped that I could.
I sat down outside with a couple of donuts and a big coffee, and lit a cigarette. Mark and I were in a band together; we were friends. We’d been friends for years. Surely we could get through something this minor—right? I finished off my donuts and lit another cig, staring at my phone and willing it to vibrate, to flash on the screen that Mark had texted me back. I kept telling myself that it was just a one-day delay, that we’d hash it out over beers and everything would be fine. But after three cigarettes I had to admit that it was taking Mark longer than I would have thought to get back to me. Are we meeting up or what?
A couple of minutes later I got my response: Fuck off.
****
A week after Mark had told me to fuck off, instead of meeting with me, I found myself at Respects again. Once more, I had cigarettes, lighter, ashtray, and a beer in front of me; but I was by myself. I lit up and looked around the bar, trying not to be the morose asshole I felt like. It was eleven, so people were starting to come in, but I didn’t think there would be that many; according to Sophie the place was almost never super packed on a Wednesday. Thursdays--for Flaunt--it would get busy, and then on Friday, and almost always on Saturday, but unless there was an actual event, Wednesdays mostly only managed to bring out the diehards.
I flicked the tip of my cig in the ashtray and looked behind the bar. Sophie was in perpetual motion, taking stock of her supplies, closing out tabs, opening tabs, going into the back for whatever it was anyone needed. Queens of The Stone Age, “No One Knows” came on through the system and I saw her hips beginning to move in time, as she scribbled something down on a pad. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but it seemed like she got hotter every time I saw her; when I’d picked her up to drive her to work about an hour and a half before, it’d been all I could do not to drag her back into her apartment and convince her to let me make her late. She’d pulled her hair back into the spiky, small pigtails I’d liked so much the first night I’d seen her, but she was wearing a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass, along with a thin, almost transparent shirt that draped across her shoulders and clung to her tits.
“Want another shot?” Sophie leaned in closer to me over the bar, and I shrugged.
“Might as well,” I replied. “Not like I have anywhere to be.” It had been a week--and none of us had gone back into the studio, because Mark refused to respond to anyone. Either he told them to fuck off, same as he had me, or he just didn’t answer. Things were starting to get desperate; the record label wasn’t happy with the fact that we were stalled out on the album, especially since they’d given us the biggest budget we’d ever had. We were going to have to come up with something soon, but no one in the band seemed to have an idea of how to move forward.
I couldn’t help but feel more than a little guilty about it; I couldn’t make myself believe that Mark’s tantrum was all about Sophie, but obviously that had been the straw that had broken the camel’s back. If we couldn’t figure out how to move forward, then it was going to be bad for all of us. Not that Jules won’t just bounce back. He’s already got that side project. Alex could go solo. Nick… I sighed, pushing the thought out of my head before I’d even finished it. In a certain light, I could understand where Mark was coming from; at least, where he’d been coming from before, the night we’d met Sophie.
But knowing where he was coming from didn’t really seem to help all that much. I still didn’t have an answer for what to do about the situation. My phone buzzed on the bar top and I turned it over to see the screen flashing. I had a text. I unlocked my phone and stubbed out my cigarette, taking the shot from Sophie without even looking. Meeting tomorrow. Ron’s office. Mark won’t be there. It was from Nick. I knocked back the shot and considered the message.
Is Ron going to be there? What’s the deal? I took a sip of my beer and lit another cigarette. This was certainly getting interesting--I knew that it would eventually come to some kind of meeting, some kind of sit-down. The fact that it was Nick messaging me about it instead of Alex was a little unusual.
I had to wonder if the rest of the band thought it was my fault that Mark was throwing such an epic tantrum. After all, the spark for this had been him finding out about me and Sophie. You have to admit that you were pretty pissed about the fact that he and Sophie were supposed to go out after she’d already said yes to you, I reminded myself. And it was true--and Nick had pointed out how stupid it was for me to be so touchy about it. And then, too, it’s not like he knew. Obviously. I finished off my beer and signaled to Sophie. At least for a little while, I had enough money not to worry too much about running up a huge tab, and how I’d pay for it. We were still getting quarterly royalties from the first few albums, and since things had gotten so good with everyone else in the band drawing more and more attention to us, those checks were bigger.
Ron’s not going to be there. He’s letting us figure this shit out. But the label is pretty...the polite way they put it was ‘concerned’. I almost laughed out loud at Nick’s understatement. The label was pissed. They’d dropped money on the studio of our choice, and they were bleeding that money for however long we went without working, since--unless we contacted them and told them to suspend the album--they couldn’t just quit the lease on the place. My phone buzzed again. Noon, Alex says. You going to be there? Sophie cracked another beer and slid it in front of me.
I sighed. I knew I didn’t really have a whole hell of a lot of choice. I’ll bring pizza, I texted back. There was no real getting around it--I’d need to be there. Especially since Mark apparently wasn’t going to attend, it was a good idea. There was no doubting what we’d be discussing: the future of the band, and how we were going to deal with the situation.
“What’s up?” I looked up and saw Sophie standing across the bar from me, hands resting on the bar top. I shrugged.
“Meeting tomorrow with the boys--except Mark, who apparently won’t talk to anyone,” I told her. “At
our manager’s office, but he won’t be there.”
“I assume you’ll hash everything out?” Sophie looked doubtful.
“Jules will bring some dope, I’ll bring some pizza, we’ll talk about whatever everyone wants to talk about,” I said, shrugging. Sophie stepped back and grabbed her pack of cigarettes from where she’d left it, next to the register.
“What do you think the outcome is going to be?” I wasn’t the only one who felt guilty about the situation between Mark, the band and me. Sophie had admitted that she hadn’t quite known how to say no to Mark’s date invite; she also hadn’t known how seriously I’d meant it when I’d asked her out first. But at this point, none of that even completely mattered. It was obvious to me at least that Mark wouldn’t throw such an epic tantrum without there being more at stake than a girl.
“No idea,” I said. Sophie lit her cigarette and took a drag. “That depends on what they’re thinking.”
“Do you think they think it’s your fault?” I shrugged again and drank down some of my beer.
“Nick doesn’t seem to, but it’s hard to say for sure what Jules and Alex have concluded,” I told her. “Even though he’s got a girlfriend now, Jules is still a morose bastard--so he’s probably likely to think it’s fucking everyone’s fault. Alex just wants things to keep trucking, as far as I can tell.”
“So it might come to an argument?” I pressed my lips together. Sophie held her cigarette between her lips and poured me another shot of Jameson with a wink. I always made sure to pay my tabs, and after her comments about dating guys in the local scene I had made sure not to even think about asking her to comp me anything, but sometimes she tossed me a shot for free.
“It might,” I said, gesturing for her to pour herself a shot as well. “I’m paying for these--period.” Sophie shrugged and poured herself a shot from the bottle before putting it away. We both knocked back our alcohol; I chased mine with a gulp of beer and Sophie chased hers with a mouthful of some cocktail she’d mixed for herself. “Anyway, if it comes to a fight, at least it’ll be a change.” Sophie laughed.
