Keep the Beat: A Band-Com for Romance Geeks

by Kata Čuić

  Jim looks absolutely panicked. He might have fallen asleep with his dick in my mouth last night, but I have him by the balls now. His street cred would definitely take a hit if other guys knew about this.

  “I had a weird dream and woke Jim up. He’s not sure if he wants to ever sleep with me again.” I grin.

  I love you, he mouths silently, his expression relieved. He starts unpacking a box of dishes, likely to divert any further questioning. “I hate to say this, but Davey would not like Sarah.”

  “What?” Shannon yelps. “Why not? Sarah’s the most lovable person ever!”

  “Autistic people tend to have sensory issues,” I explain. “They don’t like loud noises and unexpected social situations. Sarah is the total opposite. Her hugs might upset Davey.”

  Shannon twists her face in confusion. “Autism? I thought Sarah has Down syndrome.”

  “Davey is autistic,” Jim supplies. “Sarah has Down’s.”

  Nate shrugs. “I don’t see what the big deal is. When they meet, just have Davey wear his headphones and weighted vest like when he comes to the games. Explain to Sarah that she has to be quiet and can’t hug him. I think she’ll understand.”

  I’m shocked. “Your parents bring Davey to the games?”

  “Sometimes, yeah. They usually have to play it by ear. If he has a good morning, then they bring him. If not, they stay home.” Jim continues unpacking bowls like it’s no big deal that his brother gets to do fun things my sister is never allowed to do.

  I need a break—and not just from unpacking. Loving a person with special needs isn’t without its ups and downs. From not taking the smallest milestones for granted to wondering why life is so unfair, it’s an emotional roller coaster, not for the weak.

  Everyone else already assumes Davey and Sarah will eventually meet, but I’m nowhere near convinced plans will even need to be made to facilitate a peaceful exchange. My parents never bring Sarah to games. They only let her stay with me when my aunt can’t, and they have somewhere to be they think she can’t go.

  “Is anyone hungry? I’ll order pizza. My treat as a way to say thank you for all the help today.”

  Tim checks his phone. “I actually gotta get back to the house. I’ve got homework I need to get done before classes tomorrow.”

  “Same,” Jake agrees. “Raincheck on the pizza. You can buy us dinner after the ITK meeting this week.”

  Everyone else echoes that idea even though I didn’t realize I was supposed to attend ITK meetings from now on.

  Hugs and thanks are exchanged until Jim and I are staring at each other from across the room.

  “You don’t need to get going, too?” I’m itching for a little alone time to stew in private.

  “Are you kidding?” He grins. “All my homework is done already. Still gotta stay ahead of you in our classes.”

  “I thought we weren’t competing anymore?” My bad mood seeps into my tone, so I abandon ship for the bedroom to start unpacking there.

  Jim was so good to my sister. I can’t kick him out if he doesn’t want to leave.

  I’m already pulling clothes out to hang in the closet when he meanders into the room.

  “Which box are your sheets in?”

  I point to the one marked Blankets. If I wasn’t feeling so salty, I might enjoy the way his cheeks brighten with embarrassment for overlooking the obvious. It’s a look I’ve never seen before on him.

  We work in silence—him making the bed, me hanging up clothes. The more he fights with the fitted sheet, the more the pressure in my chest builds.

  “You’ve never held back before,” he grunts, finally getting the last corner into place. “What’s stopping you now?”

  “I can’t believe your parents bring Davey to games!” I throw a dress in the corner, but it flutters pitifully to the ground not even a foot away from me. “It’s so unfair!”

  Jim’s eyebrows pop up. “Why? Because you think he should have to stay at home and never be forced to interact with a world that makes him uncomfortable, that judges him constantly?”

  “No!” I throw a shoe this time and feel slightly less unhinged when it hits the wall with a dull thud. Which actually makes me more unhinged, but I’m not in the mood to split hairs. “Well … maybe if he doesn’t like it, it’s unfair to force him. I mean, they already have the deck stacked against them! There are things you and I,” I wildly swing my finger between us, “will get to experience and do that they’ll never be able to! So, they should have every opportunity to do what they can, what they want to do, without being held back because someone else can’t deal with them!” I plop down onto the floor in front of my closet and make a way louder noise than either the dress or the shoe.

  “Sure …” Jim slowly nods his head. “But there are some things Davey really can’t do. He can’t have a conversation, and he can barely show us what he wants. If my mom and dad wake up on Saturday morning and tell him there’s a game and ask him if he wants to go, they’re not even sure he understands the question. The best they can do is wait and see how he acts. If he has meltdowns all morning, we assume he doesn’t want to go. If he’s in a good mood, we assume he wants to.”

  “That’s fine. For Davey. But Sarah can talk. Sarah talks all the time about wanting to come to games, about wanting to visit me here. She’s never been to a single game. They barely allow her to stay with me on campus, and she should get to! It’s bad enough she’ll probably never go to a party, never have a boyfriend, never get blackout drunk. I get some things are unsafe for her, but my mom won’t even let her live the kind of life she absolutely has the capacity for!”

  Jim strides around the bed and settles himself on the floor, framing my body between his legs. He brushes more hair off my face because it keeps falling loose from my messy bun. “She’s the reason you were a party girl in high school, isn’t she? You wanted to experience everything she’d never have the chance to?”

  I nod.

  His expression darkens. “And I ruined that for you. Jesus. No wonder you hated me so much.”

  “Yes and no.” I sigh, the fight draining out of me now that the pressure has been released. “You were a wake-up call. I was living too close to the edge and doing dangerous things. For all I knew, you could have infected me with a serious disease. You could have murdered me, and I wouldn’t have seen it coming because I just wanted to do everything for her. After you acted like you’d never seen me before, I realized the best thing I could do for her was get my shit together, so my parents would trust me with her more often. So, I’d be in a good, stable position to take care of her after they’re gone.”

  “I’ve always known it, but you deserve to hear the words from my lips.” He cradles my face in his hands. “You are one of the most amazing people I have ever met, Sophia Reston. Knowing you at all is an absolute privilege.”

  I sniffle through a chuckle and shake free of his hold. “You say that like you’re pond scum. You love your brothers just as much as I love my sister, and you would do anything for them. You’re amazing with kids, and you devote your free time to teaching them how to love music as much as you do. And you would have made a way better head drum major than me.”

  He laughs, clamps his hands around my hips, and drags me toward him until our limbs are tangled like pretzels. “You insist we’re not competing anymore, but I don’t think you have any intention of honoring this peace treaty.” He brushes his lips so softly against my own. Then, he threads his fingers through my hair with shocking force and tilts my head to the exact position he wants it. “So, let me give you a competition we can both win.”

  I don’t know if it’s the endorphin rush of hearing the treaty has been nullified, or the deep satisfaction of having someone to talk to who finally understands my life in a way no one else could, or simply the fact that he’s showing me he wants me as much as I want him. I don’t care.

  I meet the bruising force of his kiss and return it tenfold, taking his lower lip between my teeth
, scraping my nails down his back until I reach the hem of his shirt and yank it over his shoulders.

  He pulls away from our kiss to finish the job then wrenches my shirt off, too. Not content with anything less than perfect balance, he practically tears my bra in his haste to remove it from my body.

  He kneads my flesh in his hands just to the point of pain, not even remotely holding back from manhandling me the way he wants to. I throw my head back in ecstasy and let him have his way with me because I’m still winning. Every woman wants to be desired this much. Worshipped.

  And oh, he is devout. He winds his arm around my back and bends me further to his will. The warm, damp heat of his mouth envelops my nipple as he sucks like it’s going to be the last thing he ever consumes. He treats the other side fairly but maybe runs a little competition of his own to see what makes me moan the loudest.

  Everything. Everything he does makes me moan. This time, it’s not in a bad way at all.

  My sounds must be like music to his ears because he flattens me to the floor in a hurry, only to pause when the back of my skull meets the track of the closet door with a loud thump.

  The panic ebbs from his expression with my laughter.

  “I don’t care how fierce this competition gets; no injuries allowed.” He points a finger at me. “No dick-breaking and definitely no biting the hot dog.”

  I laugh harder, especially because, in my anger, I have imagined doing exactly that. “Why are you giving me rules? You’re the one who just gave me a concussion!”

  His expression softens. “No more hurting my Sophie. Not for anything.”

  He reverses course and peels us both off the floor, hoisting me in his arms, only to throw me onto the middle of the bed.

  If that was meant to showcase his manly strength, it works.

  A loud crack punctuates the moment the mattress swallows me as the bed frame collapses beneath it.

  All I can do is laugh, but Jim shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why can’t anything ever go right? For the record, this is not the way I imagined breaking a bed with you.”

  I’ve never been so delighted to be trapped. “You’ve imagined breaking beds with me?”

  He tsks like that’s a stupid question then grabs me by the ankle and hauls me from the wreckage. “Okay, fine. I can make modifications.”

  The mattress makes a horrible ripping sound as he pulls it from the bedframe to rest on the floor.

  “Jim,” I wheeze. I should probably be mad that my bed is broken, but I can’t stop laughing. Maybe I’ve finally snapped. “It’s fine. Stop. We don’t have to.”

  “Oh, but we do. Everyone said to wait, to hold out, to make it clear this isn’t about sex, but I know you, Sophie. I know the way your mind works. And there is no way I’m going another week or two with you thinking I don’t want you just because I passed out on you last night.”

  I rest my face against his hard chest, his heartbeat a rapid pulse beneath my cheek. “It’s okay.”

  He raises my gaze with a single finger beneath my chin. “It’s not. It’s not okay. And I fucking want you. I’m done waiting for all the stars to align.”

  This kiss is no less passionate but a hell of a lot more deliberate. All the frantic, rushed bumbling of the past fades into intentional, slow touches expertly delivered to bring me back to the brink of insanity.

  As he steals my breath into his own lungs, his fingers trail down my spine until his hand splays at the small of my back to pull me against him. He grinds his erection against my stomach. “Do you feel what you do to me?” He crushes my breasts against his chest, and I moan. The skin-to-skin contact is so good. “I want to do the same for you. I want to be everything to you.”

  A sobering thought makes me use his chest for my headdesk meeting. “Jim … I don’t have any condoms.”

  He makes that maddening clucking noise then reaches into his pocket to produce a row of condoms. “You should know by now that I play to win.”

  I raise my eyebrow as I count. Five. “And were you planning to make this an orgasm competition? I’m already in the lead by one.”

  “You’re always going to be in the lead on this round.” He chuckles. “You have some definite physiological advantages on your side for this competition.”

  I don’t know what turns me on more. A new, exciting angle to our cat-and-mouse game or the promise of multiple orgasms.

  “I don’t want to hear anything you’ve learned with other women,” I inform him, adding some new rules of my own to the growing list.

  He pulls down my leggings and panties in one go. “And I don’t want to hear you scream any name other than James.”

  “I’m good with Sophie actually.” I bend a little more as I take my time dragging his sweatpants down his toned hips and legs, kneeling in front of him. I didn’t get my chance last time. I’m taking it now.

  “If you bite me,” he warns, “I’m going to spank you.”

  He’s going to break me.

  All the mouthwatering urges I had last night are amplified with every moan he makes. His fingers spindle through my hair again, and he tightens his grip against my scalp. This feels like the most important exam I’ve ever taken, and I want to prove how much I’ve studied. I take him down until his head meets the back of my throat. He really must have imagined me choking on him because when I can’t hold my gag back anymore, he grunts like a feral animal. And that animal instinct kicks in because he pumps my mouth up and down his shaft with a firm hold on my hair. He takes control like in every competition we’ve ever faced before.

  Wetness pools between my thighs, and my clit pounds in time with his thrusts into my mouth. But I can’t let him beat me so easily. I hollow my cheeks and increase the suction of my tongue against his velvety skin.

  “Sophie, no.” He pulls out so abruptly that my teeth snap together.

  “Oh my God, did I bite you? I didn’t mean to!”

  He hauls me upright and crashes his lips against mine, his tongue delving into my mouth with as much force as his thick cock did. He breaks our connection enough to murmur, “I’m not going to come down your throat … tonight.”

  My disappointment is short-lived. He falls to his knees, nudges me into a wider stance, and clamps his hot mouth around my clit so hard that I see stars and nearly fall over.

  He releases me with a deep chuckle that vibrates down to my toes. “Maybe you should lie down for this.”

  “That’s not fair,” I whine as I lower myself to the much lower mattress. “If you’re not going to come down my throat, then I’m not going to come down yours.”

  He works his way between my thighs, his long body sprawling out mostly on the carpet. “You can go at least three to my one, and for the love of God, why are you fighting me on this?”

  That’s a really good question. “I’m sure you can go more than once. You’re a fit, young stud.”

  “I don’t know,” he answers with honesty ringing in his tone as he takes his time caressing my thighs with his lips and tongue. “I’ve never tried before. But with you? I very much want to see how far I can go.”

  With every word, his hot breath fans against my throbbing center, intensifying my need for release until I’m certain I’ll die without it. And the sexiest man alive is trying to have a conversation with me from between my thighs. Not going to lie, that does it for me. It does it in ways I could never have imagined.

  I grip his hair in my fingers the same way he did to me and give a little tug to be sure I have his full attention. “James, I’m telling you right now, go all the way.”

  He grins, but it’s only because he has an ace up his sleeve. He plays to win after all. The bastard doesn’t go for the gold. He doesn’t give me exactly what I need. Instead, he takes his time to explore. Every fold, crevice, plane, and valley, his tongue maps. He tastes me instead of devouring me.

  “James, please,” I beg. Yes, I’m begging my sworn adversary to give it to me good.

 
; “Oh, Sophie.” He chuckles, the rumble of his voice better than any vibrator. “I’ve been alone in my patience. I’m giving you a free pass to catch up because I am going to take my time now that I finally have you.”

  He won’t be swayed, no matter how much I tug his hair or grind my throbbing center against his face. He doesn’t even care when I try to squeeze the life out of him with my thighs. He’s hell-bent on torturing me, and I can only give in.

  “Are you edging me?” I cry. “Is that what you’re doing? Is this something you learned from someone else?”

  “Shh,” he whispers against my lips. “I’m savoring. That’s something I’ve never done with anyone else before. Not even you.”

  How can I complain when he says things like that to me?

  I’ve only ever felt wrung out before from an actual orgasm, but somehow, that’s exactly what he makes me feel without it. My body has been kept so close for so long that I’m sure I’ll never come again. Every nerve ending is a blur of sensation.

  Until he thrusts a finger into me while his tongue continues to circle my clit at the slowest possible tempo. Just when I think he’s pushed me over the edge, he continues his exploration. Shallow, deep, moving around so slowly to map a new world with the pad of his finger. He hums, and I give myself over to the agony. He inserts a second finger, and I accept without argument. A third, and then he begins stroking in a more methodical way.

  He adds another new sensation to my repertoire.

  The bliss is immediate and strong. I can’t describe it. The sensations are like nothing I’ve ever sexperienced before. No, it’s not a word. I made it up. It’s only fitting. At first, I’m terrified he pressed some weird, magical button that will make me piss into his mouth, and maybe that’s a kink he grew into when he was banging other women, so I fight against it, but in the next second, I’m coming without thought, my throat constricted in a soundless scream that goes on for an eternity.

  I lied. I never knew what wrung out was before.

  He slows the punishing rhythm of his fingers and tongue to ease me out of crazy town. Only I don’t think I’m ever leaving. I don’t think I can. I’m not entirely sure I want to.