Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Our bandmates had a field day with that one. They assumed he still had a sex-only arrangement with his ex-boyfriend and not gonna lie, it was highly entertaining to hear the guys razz him.
“Dude, I didn’t think old people did that shit,” Johnny teased. “Isn’t Sean more of a ‘Get on your knees, boy’ kind of lover?”
Bobby J shook his head in mock censure. “I have one word for you, man… ‘turtleneck.’ Or is that two words?”
Ky and Gill…and even the temp studio drummer, Frank, chimed in with a few helpful hints. I had to add something, or I’d look suspicious.
I inspected the bruised skin under T’s ear nonchalantly, barely curbing my impulse to lick it better. I felt like a vampire being teased with a willing partner at sunrise.
“Try a mock turtleneck,” I suggested. “You could all wear them and go for an early Beatles vibe.”
Tegan flipped me off, and the guys laughed. Then Charlie came in to see what the ruckus was about and ended up telling a story about a kid in high school who wore scarves on eighty-degree days because his girlfriend had a thing about sucking his neck…and other parts. That led to a hearty debate about blowjobs, and the discussion devolved from there.
Justin was the only one who was curiously quiet. He laughed at a few off-the-wall comments, but he didn’t add any of his own. And that was…odd.
I meant to bring it up to Tegan later that night, but we got sidetracked. Again.
I studied my handprint on the wall above his bed where a normal person might have a headboard and shivered at the memory of him pounding into me from behind. Sweat dripped from his brow onto my shoulder as he moved like thunder to the soundtrack of squeaky bedsprings and a steady stream of “Yes, fuck yes, harder.” The second he wrapped his fingers around my cock, I fell apart.
It took me a good ten minutes to resurface. I stared at the ceiling, willing my legs to stop shaking.
“That was hot,” I said, my voice rough and low.
Tegan rolled to his side. “Very fucking hot.”
“No hickey tonight either.”
He chuckled lightly. “Gee, thanks, asshole.”
“Don’t mention it,” I called on my way to the bathroom. He was in the same position, thoughtfully staring into space when I returned. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing much…family, holidays.”
“How can you think about family and Santa Claus after what we just did? That ain’t right,” I huffed good-naturedly.
Tegan laughed as he sat up. “True. What are you doing for the holidays?”
“Going to my mom’s. It’ll be…nice-ish.”
“Hmm. Does she invite other guests, or is it just immediate family?”
I pulled my T-shirt over my head. “There are usually a few friends too. Why? Do you wanna come?”
“No, thanks.” He waited a beat, then asked, “Any chance she’d invite Xena?”
I froze. “No chance at all. Why do you ask?”
He tried to shrug it off, but I wouldn’t let it go. “Fine. Justin did a little research and found out that your mom is somehow connected with Xena.”
“Is that why he was so quiet today?” I snapped, pulling my jeans over my sore ass. “I should have fucking known. Tell Justin she sold their house. My mom’s a real estate agent. End of story.”
“Right. But the Smiths don’t live in the area she usually covers,” he continued. “So why bother?”
“My mom wanted me to bring her as a date to an award function and—I told you this. It’s not news.” I shoved my feet in my shoes with more force than necessary. “Justin is fucking paranoid.”
“He has reasons. This is our last shot at—”
“Bullshit. He’s practically married to a Grammy-winning songwriter with connections. Zero is gonna be just fine. Scratch Records is gonna be just fine. My band? That’s another story. If our album doesn’t do well, if our meager fan base doesn’t turn into a major one…I’m shit out of luck. The label will drop my ass, and my mom will be asking where I want my desk at her office.” I threaded my belt angrily and looked around for my jacket. I had no clue where I’d flung it when we stumbled in here an hour ago. “This isn’t your last shot. It’s mine.”
“Hey, relax. I’m not accusing you.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, you are. At some point, you’re going to have to trust me, T. I don’t have an ulterior motive. I want the same things you do.”
“Sex and rock and roll?”
“Yeah…something like that,” I said wearily. “See you tomorrow.”
“Dec?”
I paused in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“I don’t not trust you.”
The sincerity in his eyes was sweeter than it should have been. I moved to the bed, lifted his scruffy chin, and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “I guess that’s a start.”
We were navigating something new with a host of old complications weighing us down. But I sensed that we were both trying and for now, it was enough.