Rocked Up

by Karina Halle

Likewise, I think. His thick rough finger slides along my clit and my body immediately melts into his hand, needing more, wanting more. I’d never had the need to get off strike me like this before, like a match. My emotions and hormones are in for a hell of a ride. All this sneaking around, all this worry, it all melts away the moment he touches me and everything I’m feeling right now is intensified more than normal.

  I grab hold of the back of his neck, his skin hot to touch, my body hungry for him. His fingers play gently along my clit, teasing like fluttery wings, before the they plunge up inside me.

  A gasp escapes my mouth.

  “Oh god,” Brad says thickly, bringing his lips back to mine. “I can’t control myself when you make sounds like that.”

  “Then don’t control yourself.”

  “You’re playing with fire,” he says before he's lowering his head to my breast, pulling the neckline of my dress to the side until my nipple is exposed and hardening in the air. His lips gently suck at the tip before he draws it into his mouth in one long, hard pull.

  My back is arching for more and breathless groans are coaxed out of me. We're still standing in the middle of the tour bus and I'm not sure how much more I can take like this. I mean, where do we even go? We won’t be able to have sex on the bunks, there’s no room.

  He pinches my nipple between his teeth, distracting me, and, as he does so, plunges his fingers back inside me, three of them this time. I expand around him, needing more. Every inch of my skin is on fire for him and only he can put out the flames.

  Before I know what's happening, he's pushing me back down the aisle. “Get on the floor,” he says, his voice husky and rich, dripping with need.

  I drop down to my knees on the rug, staring up at him while he quickly yanks down his jeans. His dick bobs free and I'm breathless once again.

  Since I'm already on my knees and I'm salivating for the taste of him, I grab his ass with one hand, my fingernails digging in as I tug him toward me. With my other hand I grasp his dick at the base, making a ring around it. He's so goddamn hard, it's like velvet steel, and silky to touch. I can feel the hot blood rushing underneath, the way his shaft ticks with each beat of his heart.

  I close my eyes and tentatively slide my tongue along the sensitive underside before circling his crown. His hand goes into my hair, pulling lightly, and he groans as I try and take him all into my mouth.

  “Easy now,” Brad says through a groan. “Keep it up and there won’t be much left of me. Turn around.”

  My heart is pumping hard in anticipation as I pivot around on the buses harsh carpet so I'm on all fours, my ass raised in the air. He drops to his knees behind me and I hold my breath, waiting for his touch.

  Swiftly he lifts up my dress until it's bunched around my waist and slides my under down. Then he grabs my ass, squeezing hard so I stay in place. I flinch, the pressure from his fingertips is firm and yet the moment he yields, I want it even more.

  He pulls me toward him as he positions himself and with one swift jerk, pushes into me. The air is expelled from my chest as he fills me, a gasp broken on my lips.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, shuddering the words as he pushes himself fully inside.

  I can’t speak. I can’t think. I can only feel, every single inch of his dick as I squeeze around him. I try and nod, get my breath.

  “Does that sound good?” he asks, his voice thicker now. “Can you handle that?” He pauses, slowly pulling out in such a teasing, languid way that it’s torturous. I feel empty, aching for him, I want him to fill me up and up and up, like a balloon ready to burst.

  “I feel everything,” I tell him.

  He hisses, “Yes,” and then he’s pounding into me, fast and deep and relentless. Over and over and over again, this breakneck pace that has me trying to hang on to the rug for dear life, my breasts jiggling with each quick, hard thrust.

  His pumps become quicker, deeper, and messy, like he’s losing control and going over the edge and taking me with him. I’ve never had a man in so deep like this, not just inside me but inside my head. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I shouldn’t have and he’s fucking me like we might lose everything tomorrow.

  He has no idea, no idea…

  The same urgency that’s running through him is running through me. I drop onto one elbow, and with my other hand reach for my clit, the pressure building to unbearable heights as he fucks that sweet spot inside me. He grabs the back of my hair until it’s gathered in his hand and pushes forward until my cheek is pressed into the carpet and he’s holding me down, grunting hard with each thrust.

  I’m so wet, slick and ready for him, it doesn’t take long for him to push me to the edge. I feel just as I do when I’m on stage, that moment when the roar of the crowd raises you higher and higher and you swear that you’ll never come down.

  But you do.

  And in this case, right now, it’s a beautiful come down.

  Brad is merciless, groaning hard with each thrust, this rough, animalistic noise that gets louder and louder the closer he gets to coming.

  I don’t even have time to tell him I’m coming. It just happens, quick and swift, and I’m swept away, tumbling and turning, like I’m crowd-surfing above millions of adoring hands. My body quakes and shudders from head to toe as I pulse around him. I am light and heavy and my heart has wings. I never want to feel anything but this, never want anyone else but him.

  “Lael,” he groans out my name and then I feel him as he comes, the pressure in my hair, the slamming of his hips into my ass. The sounds coming out of his mouth are blistering and raw and I’d give anything to watch his face as he empties into me.

  Then his thrusts slow down, his hand in my hair slowly letting go, releasing the pressure from my head. He’s breathing hard, his toned body hovering over me. Drops of sweat fall onto my back, making me shudder.

  “First time on a tour bus,” he says to me, pulling out. I immediately feel bereft without him.

  “Oh shit,” he says.

  “What?” I say, slowly flipping around so I’m on my back and staring up at him. “Is it my knees?” I ask, noting how red and raw they are from where the carpet rubbed me.

  “No, I forgot to use a condom,” he says. “Sorry, I was so carried away, I just had to have you. I didn’t even think.”

  I clear my throat. Yeah, about that, I think.

  But I don’t say it.

  “It’s fine,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Are you sure?” His brow is creased with worry which feels like a fist to my gut.

  “I’m sure,” I tell him.

  “We have been pretty good about it,” he says.

  I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I quickly get to my feet and pull up my underwear, smoothing my dress back down. “We should probably get out of here. Who knows if people saw us come in here. We know people talk.”

  “Though to be fair, we’ve been pretty good at the sneaking thing.” He pulls me toward me and grins at me before placing a sweet kiss on my lips. “It’s almost fun to pull one over your father and not get caught.”

  I manage a stiff smile.

  What happens when the thrill runs out?

  We can’t do this forever?

  What happens if…

  “Hey are you okay?” he asks me, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze.

  Maybe?

  Maybe not.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him. “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m fucking starving.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  We walk off the bus and back to the stadium.

  ***

  I knew.

  I fucking knew it.

  I’m staring down at a pregnancy test in my hand, the third pregnancy test in a row I’ve used. I’m so fucking tired of peeing and seeing the same result.

  Positive.

  Positive!

  Holy fucking fuck.

  I’m pregnant.

  Pregnant wi
th none other than Brad Snyder’s baby.

  This can’t be happening. It just can’t be.

  But it can, I tell myself, tossing the stick into the trash with the rest of them. And you know it.

  It’s true. Normally I wouldn’t think much about getting pregnant while on the pill, but it must have been that first time we did it in the alley. There was no condom and at that point I wasn’t as regular with taking my pills as usual. Being on the road every single day really messed that up for a bit, even when I had an alarm set to remind me when to take them.

  Then there’s the fact that for the last while I haven’t been feeling like myself. Then I missed my period.

  It happened a few days before Brad and I had sex on the tour bus. I was kind of hoping that sex would bring it on, as much of an oxymoron as that seems.

  I was in denial. I didn’t want to face facts.

  Brad knew something was up and I played that show in Detroit feeling less enthused and more distant than normal. But I didn’t want to tell him. Not until I knew.

  Well, now I know.

  It’s as clear as day.

  Those lines on all those tests, all different brands, they don’t lie. Not to mention feeling sick and missing period. Everything is swirling together to create a not-so-perfect storm.

  Shit.

  What the hell do I do?

  I’m only twenty-one and pregnant by the man I’m not supposed to be with.

  If I have this baby, my father will disown me.

  I might just ruin my entire relationship with him, let alone my life.

  And Brad, Brad didn’t sign up for this. We’re together now but we’re sneaking around. Having a baby would tie him to me forever and that might not be something that he wants.

  We haven’t even discussed what we are to each other.

  We haven’t even exchanged I love yous.

  I mean, I’ve barely had time to figure out how I feel about him.

  Okay, that’s a complete lie.

  The truth is, I do love him.

  I’m in love with him.

  And I always have been.

  Only this time, it’s for real.

  It’s not a fantasy, it’s far from it.

  It’s raw and it’s messy and it’s beautiful.

  And it’s mine.

  No matter how Brad feels about me, he can’t take away the fact that what I feel for him is true. He can’t stop me from loving him.

  Every single moment of this tour for the last couple of months, I’ve been falling deeper and deeper, head over bass, until I’m rocked by it, by my very love for him.

  In some ways, this baby is a product of that love and that feeling alone is probably why I’m not even contemplating an abortion. I’m absolutely respect a woman’s right to choose, but getting rid of this baby doesn’t seem like an option. It represents my love for Brad. It represents how wonderful he is with me.

  And, to be honest, this is something I’ve always wanted. A family of my own, a product of love. I’ve always had dreams of being a mom, I just figured it would happen the normal way. You know. Fall in love…with someone who isn’t a famous rock star and doesn’t have a complicated relationship with your father and isn’t completely forbidden. Followed by a proposal, marriage, and then kids.

  Not like this. I could have never predicted this.

  You’re getting ahead of yourself, I remind myself, leaning against the hotel bathroom sink and staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’m not glowing yet.

  And yes, I am getting ahead of myself. For all I know, Brad won’t want anything to do with the baby or me.

  Then again, I can’t imagine Brad being like that. I might scare him off and he might have never planned to be with me beyond all this sneaking around on the tour, but he’s not the type of guy to just leave a woman when she’s pregnant. He’s had that growing up – he will do the right thing.

  But there’s a huge difference between the right thing and the thing that I want.

  And the thing that I want is Brad.

  And the baby.

  I shake my head, trying to come to terms with how quickly my life has changed.

  Thank god I’m pretty good at swinging with the punches.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brad

  It’s rare I see snow and I can’t remember ever seeing it fall so heavily. The wind is blowing sideways and I can feel it push against the side of the bus. I know George can feel the wind because he is wrestling with the steering wheel and leaning in close to the windshield. I don’t understand how ol’ George can see the road; from where I sit it looks completely black. The high-beams make the falling snow look like stars and comets whizzing by as we fly through space. We aren’t flying through space, we are on a highway in the middle of nowhere, en-route to Chicago, and we’re all terrified.

  No one is saying a word. Everyone’s eyes are forward and we collectively brace ourselves when the large bus swerves and shakes. Everyone is in their usual spots. Lael’s in her seat at the front of the bus on the right, near the exit. Seeing her visibly afraid awakens something in me. I want to protect her. I have no idea how I might do that if the bus rolls off the highway, but foolishly I feel I could. I sit up tall and square my shoulders. I don’t care what my bandmates think as I make my way over to sit next to her. I wrap my arm around her and I smile.

  We’ve all heard how fear is contagious. The truth is all emotions are contagious. I’ve made my living on that principle. Even at this point of my career there are times when I walk out on stage and the crowd is off. There is a funny frequency in the room that everyone has caught. There’s no telling how it started, and it doesn’t matter. If you don’t like what is being said, change the conversation. It’s my job to do just that and I do it well. Sometimes it takes a carrot, sometimes a stick and there are times where it’s best to not say a word and just wait for the right moment. Like a bear standing in a glassy pond watching the fish below, building trust, waiting.

  I’m waiting for her. I can feel her and all of her emotions everywhere our bodies are touching.

  “You do realize it’s safer to fly than take a bus around the country,” Lael points out with a chuckle.

  This is another thing about fear, people are quick to pass blame. Although she’s right, I’m the reason we have to take the bus everywhere rather than fly.

  “We’re fine,” I reply with a reassuring tone that is slightly forced.

  As I answer her we pass flashing lights and sirens and can barely make out the overturned vehicles. Lael tenses up and pushes into me.

  “Don’t let fear win,” I say as I pull her in tight.

  I can feel her slightly relax. Partly because she’s amused by my cliché advice, but mostly because we are pulling off the highway. I assume we are being diverted due to an accident.

  “So I guess you’ve been in a few blizzards on a tour bus in your day?” Lael asks.

  “Actually, almost all of our tours are in the summer. Though there was a time in Norway where we had some close calls on windy cliffside roads.”

  “Why are we doing a tour in the winter?” Lael asks.

  “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “Someone has to.”

  As I take a moment to silently question why we are doing a winter tour, Lael notices my confused contemplation and we share a laugh.

  “Lael?”

  “Yes Brad?”

  “When this tour wraps up, will you come with me to one of those tropical vacation places where the sand is white and the water is blue? Like, Tahiti or somewhere like that?” I ask her, as if I was thinking out loud.

  “What?” she questions.

  “Last day of the tour we fly to a beach that looks like a postcard,” I say.

  “Okaaaay …?” Lael’s simple one-word response drags out and her pitch dips and dives.

  The bus stops with a thud.

  George unbuckles his seat belt and stands up to address the gang. He’s expressionless as always,
and he straightens his ill-fitting blazer before talking.

  “The highway is blocked and we can’t go any further. I am sorry to say you will not make it to Chicago on time. We are parked in front of the only motel; I assume it will fill up quickly, if it isn’t already. I am old, so I get priority for a room. If there are not enough rooms available, there is enough fuel to keep the generator going so the bus will be warm. Good night.”

  With that, George puts on his grey hat and opens the door. The wind whistles, and blows in snow.

  “We are going to miss Chicago, this sucks!” I can hear Calvi from the back.

  “Alright lads, chin up, these things do happen. Everything from here to Chicago has been canceled due to the storm,” Arnie says, while attempting to write an email on his phone.

  “Well let’s try to get some rooms while we can,” Switch says as he zips up his tight leather jacket.

  “Right, right, I will look into it.” Arnie gets up and makes his way out of the bus, forcing the door open against the wind.

  I stealthily hold Lael’s hand for a moment and squeeze it tight to let her know I’m going to get up.

  She pulls me in.

  “I need to talk to you,” she whispers.

  “Okay, alright,” I answer.

  “Alone, later.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “I’m not staying on the damn bus, we have been on this thing for eight hours!” Switch shouts.

  “I don’t mind staying on the bus; it’s probably better than that fleabag motel,” Calvi says.

  This moment is not private and whatever Lael has to say will have to wait.

  “Fuck it, I’m not waiting here,” Switch says as he stomps off the bus and into the blizzard.

  “I am going to see what’s going on,” I say to Lael.

  I push open the door and step outside. The wind is so cold it’s like a million tiny shards of ice stabbing your skin. I rush to the yellow light coming from the lobby entrance. When I step in, I’m overwhelmed with the smell of cats, cigarette smoke and dusty electric heat.

  “Madame, we need five rooms, are you sure you only have two?” Arnie asks the lady behind the desk.