She’s the perfect fit for us.
I weave through the crowd toward the men’s room in the back.
I totally dig Switchblade’s smart mouth. But the truth is, I’m relieved she’s gay. The last thing I need is a bunch of girlfriend
(Giselle)
drama getting in the way of my band. Getting a band off the ground is hard enough as it is without any added bullshit.
I walk out of the men’s room a few minutes later and work my way back toward my buds.
“Nice ink,” some random girl says to me as I squeeze past her.
I’m wearing a short sleeve T, so my muscled arms and all my sharp tats are clearly visible. I turn to look at her. BAM! Hottie alert. She has a huge pile of tightly curled red hair framing her delicately sculpted porcelain face. Redheads aren’t normally my thing, but when they’re as hot as this babe, I make an exception.
Once Red sees my face, her blue eyes lock on mine. “Hey,” she says then sips from her margarita glass. “What’s your name?” She’s already twirling her fingers in her hair. Game on.
I chuckle, “Kellan.”
“Kellan…” Red purrs and narrows her eyes, “That’s a sexy name.”
I snicker internally. This is too easy. I size her up. Ample porcelain cleavage strains out of her tight low cut top. Narrow waist, nice hips, long legs hanging out of her short skirt. She’s easily an 8.5, maybe even a 9. Most men would do anything to get in this girl’s pants. She’s the kind of babe they’d be bragging to their friends about for years and years if they could manage to bag her. I know I can.
Red says, “I really like your tats.” She slides her icy margarita glass down my forearm.
“Me too,” I say, not even trying. Do I let her take me home?
She obviously wants me. She hoods her eyes seductively and asks, “Can I buy you a drink?”
Yeah, chicks ask to buy me drinks all the time. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. I suddenly blurt, “You’re not a musician, are you?”
“No. Should I be?”
I shake my head, “No. You’re fine the way you are.”
She smiles alluringly, “How about that drink?”
I glance toward my table where Dubs sits with Switchblade and Joaquin. They’re all laughing and smiling like old pals. I catch Dubs’ eye. He takes a good look at Red and raises appreciative eyebrows. I see him mouth the word, “Damn!” He gives me the “Go for it, dawg,” nod.
I grin in response.
I’ll find my own way home tonight. I mean, tomorrow morning.
I cock a wicked grin at Red and say, “Sure. Anything you want.”
Chapter 57
VICTORY
“That’s not good,” Julian says to Colette on his earpiece while casually steering the Ferrari with one hand. He nods several times. “I was afraid of that. They’re not going to use it, are they?”
Is he talking about my guitar tracks for the dick hardener pill commercial? I hope not. I was kind of excited to think my playing would end up on TV. Oh well. At least I got paid. That’s the good news.
“Okay,” Julian says to Colette, “tell them we’ll come up with something else… When do they need it? … Friday? … It’ll be tight, but we can definitely have something rough for them by end of day Friday. Is Max in the studio right now? … No? Can you track him down? … He’s probably at the Viper Room trying to pick up women…” Julian chuckles, “Yes, that’s Max. I’ve been thinking about buying a chastity belt for him. Can you price them for me, Colette? … Where? … Try Agent Provocateur. Or try The Pleasure Chest. They’re open late,” Julian smiles. “Yes, have them send some samples over tomorrow. We’ll find one that fits Max with minimal chaffing.”
Wow, it sounds like Julian knows a lot about sex shops and chastity belts.
“What? …” Julian snickers to the phone, “No, I don’t think Max needs extra large. He’s most likely small or extra small.” Julian turns and winks at me with a big grin, then returns his eyes to the road and continues with Colette, “Don’t tell Max I said that,” Julian grins and chuckles again. “In the mean time, keep texting him. Tell him to get his butt to the studio if he wants to keep his balls.”
It’s nice to see Julian’s sense of humor coming out. It looks good on him.
“Okay,” Julian says to Colette, “I’ll be back at the house in twenty minutes.” He hangs up and smiles at me, “Sorry about that.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” Truthfully, I’m slightly disappointed that I don’t get to choose whether or not Julian and I will share a drink, whether at a bar or at his place. But it’s probably for the best. Need to keep that friends line drawn in the sand so nobody steps over it. Him or me.
Curious, I ask, “Is there something wrong with the dick pill commercial?”
“Huh?” he looks confused. “Oh, no. That call was about a different project I’m producing.”
I wait for him to say more but he doesn’t.
We drive back to his house, up the winding roads into the Hollywood Hills. Julian doesn’t race this time, just cruises along at the speed limit. His mind is obviously elsewhere. I imagine he’s thinking about whatever mysterious project Colette called about.
I have to admit, I’m disappointed.
When we arrive at the gate to his house, he stops the car while the gate wheels slowly open, then cruises up to the driveway and parks. I wait in my seat while he jogs around and opens my door.
He extends his hand, which I take, even though I really don’t need help getting out of a car. Even if it’s a low slung Ferrari. I have leg muscles. But it’s sweet and romantic and I kind of like that Julian is such a gentleman.
“Thank you,” I smile as I stand.
“My pleasure,” he grins.
“I had a great time tonight,” I hint.
“Me too,” he says.
He’s now supposed to line up another date with me.
He doesn’t. He just slips his hands in his pockets like he’s posing for a fashion photographer again.
“Uhhh…” I stammer.
“I should get inside,” he says apologetically. “Max should be here any minute and I need to prepare things in the studio.”
“Um, okay?” This wasn’t how I expected this evening to end.
“Screw it,” he grunts.
Huh?
He yanks his hands out of his pockets and hooks one hand around the back of my neck and the other cradles my hip. For a second, I think he’s going to dip me into one of those old school black-and-white movie kisses. Instead he pushes my body against the side of the Ferrari with his.
His hot mouth devours mine greedily.
I’m so surprised, I can’t even think to resist. His tongue plunges into my mouth and wrestles with mine. His hand on my neck caresses me, his thumb stroking across my ear, skimming along my jaw. His other hand reaches behind me and grabs my ass, squeezing hard and pulling me into him forcefully. Then he thrusts his pelvis into mine abruptly, pinning me back against his expensive car.
I kind of expected Julian to be the kind of guy worried about scratching the paint job.
How wrong I was.
But I was right about his beast beneath.
It’s a hot iron bar pressing through his cargo shorts.
I’m instantly wet and totally ready. All I want right now is for him to push my cutoff denim shorts down around my ankles and fuck me right here against his Ferrari. Or he can throw me on the hood and fuck me there.
I don’t care.
As long as he lets his beast out to fuck me.
His hand squeezes my breast through the thin material of my V neck shirt. A thousand butterflies take wing in my breast and flutter across my chest. Rose petals blossom between my legs as I come alive. I lift one leg and hook it around Julian’s thighs, pulling him into me.
He pushes into me deeply and groans into my mouth.
I swallow his hot desire.
Both his hands slide down my sides, curve over my hips and
coil behind me, pulling my ass even more forcefully forward into his rigid manhood. He hisses and grunts and nips at my neck with greedy teeth.
This is really not what I expected from Julian.
I’m pleasantly surprised.
His hands are hard and forceful on my ass, digging into the muscles savagely. It feels like a good hard massage, the kind that releases exquisite tension, and I want more of it.
Pleasure flickers between my legs as I feel his fingers prying me apart, pulling at my ass. I moan as staccato pleasure explodes and implodes repeatedly in my core, the muscles spasming with anticipation.
I haven’t felt this way since…
(Kellan)
…I don’t remember.
He pushes me against the Ferrari and unbuttons my denim shorts. He rips the zipper open and his fingers grab the waistband of my thong and he pulls hard upward. The material of my damp underwear pulls against my folds and I like it.
I narrow my eyes and stare at Julian, daring him to go further.
His face is contorted with angry lust, his teeth clenched and bared like an animal ready to attack. His eyes glow with green fire. He hisses through his teeth like he wants to take a bite out of me.
I bite my lower lip and grab his thick golden blond hair with both hands, curling my fists into it, and pull his mouth toward mine.
He attacks my lips again, ravaging me with his need.
I’m lost to the onslaught of passion dancing between us.
I’m barely conscious of the hot stiff finger sliding into my slickness. I moan low as it hooks up and thrusts deep inside. Every muscle in my belly clenches and quivers.
I want more.
Headlights crawl up the driveway.
Someone is driving up from the main gate.
Julian’s hand leaps out of me.
I frantically button and zip my shorts.
The big black Range Rover I’d seen parked here the first day I came to the house now rounds up the driveway. Its headlights splash voyeuristically across me and Julian, pinning our shadows to the garage door behind us like guilty suspects.
Julian thrusts his hands into his pockets, pretending a casualness his crooked collar and ruffled polo shirt denies.
The Range Rover stops and Max hops out.
“Man, I’m totally sorry,” Max says like he’s expecting Julian to chew him out, “I was in the Viper Room, and the music was super loud. My ringer was on, but I didn’t hear it till just now. I drove here as soon as I saw the fifty messages from Colette.”
Julian nods at Max, “Fine. Now we have work to do. Did you talk to Colette?”
“Yeah,” Max says.
“And she brought you up to speed?”
“Yeah.”
I still have no idea what emergency work Julian and Max have in the studio. Honestly, it sounds exciting. I would love to be a part of it. It must be a big deal for both of them to drop everything late at night like this. And based on what I know of Julian, I bet they’re going to be paid plenty for their troubles.
Yes, I’m jealous.
But I don’t think I’m invited.
I shrug my shoulders uncertainly and say to Julian, “Should I go?”
Julian gives me this long look which has nothing to do with recording studios or making money from music. The green flames in his eyes say it all. He doesn’t want me to go. I can see that he doesn’t want to work with Max on whatever awaits them in the studio nearly as much as he’d like to keep working on me.
I’m up for either.
Both promise excitement I never dreamed possible.
Julian huffs a big sigh and says to Max, “Do you think we’re going to need any guitar tracks on this?”
Max glances at me and says thoughtfully, “Probably not. I think tonight is going to be all about synthesizer samples.”
Julian nods like that’s not the answer he wanted.
“But…” Max says, “it’s always nice to have a fresh set of ears for new ideas?” He looks at me hopefully.
Julian closes his eyes firmly and takes a deep breath. After a moment, he says, “As much as I’d like to, Victory, I think Max and I need to get into our regular groove on this one. But we may very well need those fresh ears Max mentioned tomorrow or the next day.” He looks disappointed, but his Mr. Responsible side is now running the show. “You should probably go.”
I stuff my hands into the back pockets of my shorts and shrug my shoulders again, “Okay.” I do my best not to sound disappointed. I mean, they’re about to do something that sounds really awesome and important and fun, and I’m not included.
Oh well.
“I’ll call you in a day or two, Victory,” Julian says. “You can come by the studio when things have calmed down and give a listen to whatever Max and I come up with. How does that sound?”
“Sounds great.”
We all say goodbye politely and I climb into my Altima and drive home.
Alone.
Hot, bothered, and alone.
Damn it.
Oh well. It’s probably for the best.
I’d told myself earlier I wanted to keep things between me and Julian on a business level.
Stupid Ms. Sensible.
She doesn’t know how to have any fun.
Her and Julian’s Mr. Respectable can suck it.
Chapter 58
KELLAN
“Oh,” Red hisses in the silent darkness. “Don’t stop. No, don’t stop…” She moans and her fingers knot in my hair. Her thighs quiver around my ears. “Oh my god,” she gulps, her hips bucking against my face. “Oh, oh, oh… Oh, Kellan. I’m gonna, I’m gonna…oh, oh, oh! I’m gonna COME! OH! KELLAN!!!” She’s screaming now. “AAAHHH!!!” She almost sounds like she’s crying. “OOHH!! Ohmygod! OH!!!!”
My dick is totally soft in my jeans. I’m kneeling on the fake wood floor inside the front door of her apartment. Her back is pressed against the front door and my head is up her skirt. My hand holds her thong to the side with my disinterested fingers.
I felt like I owed her for the drink.
But I’m not even close to being into this.
I stand up and she slides down the door until her butt settles on the floor, her knees splayed wide apart, her skirt hiked up to her wet crotch.
She has a huge smile on her face. She gazes up at me and laughs, “Was that your idea of foreplay?”
I’m amused. It’s always nice to make someone feel good. It’s always better to give than receive, right? I smile at her and offer my hand.
She takes it and I pull her to her feet. Then she stumbles toward her kitchen, working her skirt back down her thighs. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”
“Water is fine.”
“I have beer,” she suggests.
“Whatever.”
She grabs two bottles from the fridge and pops the caps with an opener that she leaves on the counter. She hands me a beer, and takes my free hand in hers and leads me to the couch.
“Wow,” she chuckles, “that was incredible.”
I smile politely.
We sit down on the couch.
How can I leave without hurting her feelings? Is one orgasm enough? Or does she need my dick to call it even? There’s nothing worse than getting a chick all worked up to fuck, and then you change your mind. All of a sudden that feminist “no means no” bullshit goes out the window and you become public enemy number one because you don’t feel like fucking anymore. I know. It sounds stupid. But it’s happened to me before. What can I say? Sometimes even I’m not in the mood. I don’t know why. Just sometimes,
(Victory)
I’m not.
Red drops her head back on the couch cushion, “Ohmygod, Kellan. I need to catch my breath after that.” She chuckles and sighs. Then sighs again.
I still don’t know Red’s name. I smile dumbly and sip my beer.
She laces her fingers through mine and we’re holding hands.
Great. I know where this is going.
/> “So, Kellan,” she gives me the big eyes, “tell me more about you.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask absently.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
(Giselle)
I chuckle, “No.”
“That’s good news,” she sips her beer and lifts up my hand to examine it. “You have really big hands.”
And?
“What do you do with them?”
“I’ll give you three guesses.”
She smiles, “Ooh. I like games.”
I bet she does.
“Hmmm,” she purrs, “Let me see. I bet you like to build things and tear them down and get your hands dirty. Are you a mechanic?”
I shake my head, “No. But I do all my own work on my bike.”
“You ride a motorcycle?”
“Yeah,” I shrug and sip my beer.
She says, “Why am I not surprised?” She sets her beer down on the coffee table in front of her couch so she doesn’t have to release my hand. Then she drapes her legs over mine and runs her free hand through my hair. “I like a guy who rides a motorcycle.”
Most women do.
She asks, “Do you do construction work?”
I shake my head.
“I know! You’re a grip or one of those hard working handymen on a movie set? They’re always sexier than the actors.”
I shake my head with less emphasis than before. This is a drag. But I don’t want to be totally rude.
“So,” she asks curiously, “What do you do, Kellan?”
I sigh, “I teach guitar to kids.”
She smiles, “You’re a music teacher?”
I nod and sip my beer. I really don’t feel like beer right now.
“That is so precious, Kellan! I bet you’re totally good with kids.”
“They seem to like me well enough.”
She leans back, her eyes gleaming. “How did I get so lucky tonight?”
I’m feeling the exact opposite. This is going south fast. She’s already picking out wedding dresses and engagement rings in her head.
“You really teach kids?” she asks like it’s impossible.
“I do.” I can’t help it. I always enjoy talking about my kids. I smile slightly, “This one student of mine, Chloe, she’s twelve but she’s so into guitar, you’d think she was twenty or thirty cuz of how hard she works.” Now I’m smiling a lot. Chloe is totally cool.
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