by Deana Birch
No one liked the new drummer—not my problem. John was drinking more than usual— also not my problem. And Sam was miserable and taking it out on her, which was my problem because she was sitting in front of me at an outdoor table in Santa Monica. I apologized for not being able to give her the answers she was hoping for—Shane’s obsession didn’t need to make its way to anyone else’s ears. Besides, I had actually had sex with him. A fact I wasn’t ready for the world to know. It was bad enough that everyone in the band knew. Fuck, the look on John’s face had been telling. As if I’d always taken Shane’s side in fights because of that stupid fucking night.
When I carefully changed the subject to me getting Louana back and laid out my plan, in true Gina fashion, she switched her mood on a dime. She clapped her paint-stained hands together like a kid in front of their birthday cake. I gave her the three dates that would work All she had to do was get Fern and Louana out on one of the nights and let me know which one.
We took Boom Boom for a long walk on the beach, we reminisced a bit, and I picked up all her hints that I should reach out to Sam. He missed me—musically and physically—on the tour. When I got back to my stark apartment and had boxed up what I was taking to Hollywood the next day, I sent Sam a text apologizing for leaving him with fuckups but explaining that I’d had to do it for my sanity. I hoped it would be enough to start mending the fence and the fact that I hadn’t reached out since I left him standing with the other two at the label. Hell, if I ever got my shit together, maybe we could form a new band. I did fucking love playing with him.
I took my time in the morning, I had nowhere to be, and it was starting to make me a little crazy. The apartment was done. Louana and I were on the mend. My surprise would be in full swing as soon as Gina got a date. I needed a new project. I loved being with Fern and Archie, but I couldn’t sit by the pool with them for the rest of my life.
Playing drums the other day in Mario’s studio had brought the bug back and made me realize how much I missed hitting those fuckers. I scratched my beard and wondered where there was a lonely kit in need of abuse.
I packed up the Jeep with a couple of bags of clothes, my boxes of CD’s, and the sheets Louana had given me. I had the apartment for another two weeks, and my brother Simon was going to come out and stay there with his new girlfriend. My bed would be delivered to the apartment in Hollywood in the afternoon, and there was no doubt in my mind it would be christened in a matter of hours. Well, maybe not all the way, but at least I would finally be able to shoot a load with someone else in the room.
Louana floated through the courtyard in one of those dresses that she didn’t mean to be sexy, but that secretly drove men wild—as the douche-hole from the other day had mentioned. This one was the perfect shade of sky blue against her olive skin and looked like a long shirt with a belt in the middle. A few open buttons showed the top of her chest, and a simple silver necklace peeked out. Her lingerie was light blue. I could see the lace pattern pushing against the material at her breast. And I knew all her underwear. I’d even kissed a couple pairs.
“Hey!” She shot me a smile, then came over to where I was sitting and kissed me on the cheek. “Do we need to walk Archie?”
“Nope, the dog walker is on duty.”
“It is like we’re their parents. The dog walker is actually a babysitter.” Her eyes widened. “I just need to run in quickly, and then we can go. Who’s driving, me or you?”
“Well, since you’re driving later”—I winked— “I’ll drive now.”
“Been thinking about dessert, have we?” Her face shone with confidence, and her eyes showed something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Mischief? Didn’t matter. It was a shade of her beauty that suited her perfectly.
As she turned to go into her apartment, I gave her a little smack on her ass—because I could now and, fuck me, it felt great to have permission to do it again. She peered over her shoulder. “Careful. Remember who has the keys later.”
While I waited for her, I tried to avoid thinking about what was going to happen after dinner. I didn’t need a fucking hard on while eating sushi. Instead, I went back to my big plan and over the chord changes of the complicated piece I was writing on the piano.
When she came back out, she was wearing the same dress, but I could tell she was somehow different. There was a pep in her step and a lightness to her smile. She was definitely plotting something. I hoped like hell it was my physical release.
“Ready?” I asked.
She answered with a simple nod, all the while keeping her little smile.
At dinner, I gave her the play by play of the session with Matthew Schiller. She had already heard Mario’s version but wanted to see it from my perspective as well. I had to hand it to her: When it came to work, that woman didn’t fuck around. She was thorough every step of the way. Part of me wished she was my manager instead of Mario’s producer.
“It looks like you used the piano today. That’s great.”
“Yeah, I’m working on something.”
Her eyes lit up above a huge grin. “You’re writing?”
“Not exactly.”
“Tell me!”
I didn’t want her to think I was hiding something, but there was no way I was ready to share. “I’ll show you when it’s ready.”
She reached inside her dress, pulled out her silver chain, mindlessly twirled it with her fingers, and finished her wine. I was so ready for this charade to end. I wanted to be back together and have her in my bed every night. Fuck patience and taking our time. But then again, building our relationship back to where it needed to be was not just mandatory—it was fun. When her hand dropped the necklace, my eyes couldn’t stop themselves from glancing at her little chest. My head tilted to the side, and my bottom lip curled out.
“You changed your underwear.”
“Excuse me?” She let out a half laugh.
“Before, you had on the new light blue ones. Now you’ve got something else on underneath your dress.” Shit. I wasn’t supposed to know about the blue ones.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe you’re still memorizing my lingerie. But I knew you had gone through my drawers. You have a problem.” It was hard to know if she was mad or just annoyed. But the little smirk she added told me I was okay.
“Don’t you think I know that? It kills me when I can’t prove myself right. The other day, when I was sure you were wearing that black-and-cream lacey thong, I banged my head against the wall in frustration.”
She laughed. Phew. Then her face got serious, and she stared off at an empty table over my shoulder.
“The day I was wearing the green dress?”
I nodded and sighed, remembering her ass walk away from an amazing kiss she had initiated.
“You were right. Jesus, now I think you have more of a gift than a problem. But please stop going through my things. It’s creepy.”
“Deal.”
Surely, she didn’t mean cold turkey? And now I was dying to know what was underneath her dress.
As we waited for the valet, I got recognized by two guys who must have been in their twenties. They barraged me with questions about why I’d quit The Spades and showered me with compliments about my drumming. They were in a band and gave me a flyer for their gig the following week at the Viper Room. Their slot was early in the evening, which told me they didn’t have much of a following. I remembered those days well. Even after eighteen months on the road with a successful band, I still hadn’t gotten used to total strangers coming up to me, impressed with my mere existence. I hoped I never would; it was fucking bizarre.
When their car pulled up and they left to get in it, I was suddenly aware Louana was holding my hand loosely and with the fingers interlaced. I turned to look down, and she beamed a supportive grin back.
“Sorry about that.” I gestured to the two guys pulling away in their Honda.
“Why? People like and respect you, and they can’t help themselves. I can’t help myself
either, sometimes.”
“I like those times.” I winked.
The valet pulled up in the Jeep. I opened the door for her and reluctantly let go of her hand to walk around and tip the attendant before driving us home.
“My bed came today. We can go up to my place.” I said as I pulled into my parking spot. She had a debt to pay, and Louana’s old friend who lived in my pants was dying to see her again. And he was waking up just at the thought of it. Already at half-mast, he was eager to make his appearance.
“I was hoping for my private concert afterward. The piano is still at my place.” She blinked through her long hair, and her beauty floored me. Inaugurating my bed could wait. I had no problem with her suggestion. Wherever, however, whenever.
“Then your place it is.”
When the door closed behind us, I had to fight the urge to push her up against the wall and rip open her dress. But I knew this had to be on her terms, so I stood in front of her with my hands in my pockets and waited for my cue. She turned on a low light next to the couch and came back to stand in front of me.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about tonight.” Her voice was smooth. Fuck, she was a vixen. Full mast. She flashed me bedroom eyes and unbuttoned her dress. When her fingers got to the belt, she untied it and continued moving down to slowly reveal the silver teddy she had on underneath. Holy Mother of Everything. She’d planned the whole damn night.
“It’s gonna be quite the challenge,” she continued.
“Probably not as much as you think.” Full mast was now officially at raging hard-on pulsing against the back of my zipper.
Her hand moved back to the belt, and as she slid it out of its loops, the dress fell to the floor. She stepped out of her heels and moved a step closer to me.
“I don’t know.” She blinked innocently. “Mouth only.” Her chin dipped. “Could be tricky.”
“I’m sure we can make an exception.” Fuck rules. Rules sucked.
“Nah, deals are deals. And you know I’m a stickler.” Her sleepy and soft voice seduced me with every breath.
“I can help.” I was a great helper. A really good, qualified helper.
“Would you?” How could she play so innocent as she stood in front of me in the sexiest thing I’d ever seen on her? The silver slip was simple, which only made it hotter. It had thin straps and a long neckline, and it was trimmed with lace at the bottom. Holy shit. She wasn’t wearing any panties and hadn’t been all throughout dinner.
I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my shirt, and got rid of my pants and socks in record time. When my hands slid into my boxers, she stopped me.
“I think I can handle the rest. Just one more thing before we start.”
“Anything.” Seriously, fucking anything. She could have my social security number and PIN code. She could even have the drum kit in my parents’ basement.
“Well, I would hate to cheat and use my hands.” The belt twirled in her fingers, not unlike the necklace had an hour before. “So maybe we should take them out of the equation.”
She was going to make me come with her hands literally tied behind her back. I loved this woman.
Instead of throwing my head back and showing her how motherfucking excited I was, I met her seductive gaze head-on. “No, we definitely wouldn’t want you to cheat.”
She handed me the silk belt from her dress, turned around, and put her wrists together. Boy Scouts made sense for the first time in my life. I bound her wrists tight, and she turned back around to me.
Louana stretched up to kiss me, and I bent a little to give her better access. Her hungry lips moved along my jaw to my ear, where her tongue gave my lobe a preview of the licking and sucking in store for my other body parts. The agony of the tease and the bliss of the attention were all encompassing. Having her spoil me was my everything.
She slowly trailed down my jaw. After a peck at the tip of my tattoo, and with more vulnerability than I’d ever heard from her, she asked, “Did you get this for me?”
Maybe it was the little crack in her voice. Maybe it was the haze her kissing had put me in, but I swear to God, for the first time in all the shit I’d put us through—for the first time, I was on the brink of tears. I bit them back. “That’s your spot. I wanted you there for the rest of my life.”
She stared up at me, and her mouth flinched. Jesus, I’d probably ruined her plan by making a light moment heavy.
Slowly, she lowered her lids, and her warm breath hit my neck. “I love it.” Her tongue traced it, and I swear my knees actually wobbled. To my utter and complete delight, her mouth continued its glorious path south. Pausing at my nipple, she bit the skin and pulled it back, then looked up with a grin.
Moving to the waistline of my boxers, her tongue darted in and out of the elastic, teasing me even more. Then she bent down, assaulted my inner thigh, and pulled the boxers off with her teeth. Louana dropped to her knees, and I joined her. I needed to kiss her again. I had to give something back; receiving only was killing me. My mouth thrashed against hers and she let me have my way for a moment but then pulled away and shook her head.
“Lie down.”
I sprawled out on my back in the middle of her living room floor and opened my legs to give her all the access she needed. How I deserved any of this was a new wonder of the world.
Her tongue and mouth slithered, kissed, and sucked from my inner thigh to my balls. Jesus Christ, she was starting there? My eyes rolled into the base of my brain, my head tipped back, and I arched.
There’s something incredibly liberating about having the most sensitive part of your body controlled by someone else. I let go and let her work her magic. The gentle tugs, the vibrating low moans, and the circular twirls of her tongue sent my nerves into overload. When she finally moved to the shaft, I thought I would explode within three seconds. But I was a greedy motherfucker, so I concentrated and made her work a little harder. Which, to my intense delight, she did. But the rumblings were there, and her pace quickened. God bless her, she never let up. The rumblings turned to thunder, and I cried out in ecstasy as my entire body spasmed from her skilled mouth.
After a long, audible exhale, I let out a fake cry of protest and sat up on my elbows to see her proud face shining back. She got up on her knees and hobbled around so that I could untie her. On a different day, I would have immediately returned the favor. But this time, I was too content and pacified. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips and stood.
“Want a beer?” she asked with such lightness that I had to shake my head.
“Pfff … I think I need one of your cigarettes after that.”
She padded off and came back in her white cotton nightgown with a sweater, a glass of wine for herself, and a beer for me.
“If you want to stay, you’re gonna have to play.”
How did she do that? Give me everything I wanted? Know everything I needed? A blow job and music with the woman I loved? Sign me up. I thought about what to play for her, I didn’t want to give away any of my surprise, so I went to the opposite end of the spectrum.
“When I got a bit tired of piano, my mom had me learn all the Beatles songs to keep me interested …”
I moved over to the bench, where I sat down and played her a particularly cheesy one.
She giggled from the couch. “You want to hold my hand?”
I quit playing and turned around. “Yeah, I do. Last Saturday my hand kept looking for yours, and I had to stop myself because I didn’t know if it was okay or not. And tonight, when you took mine, I didn’t want to let go.”
“You can hold my hand,” she whispered.
I got up from the piano, took a swig of my beer, and set it back on the table.
“What else can I do?” Someone was ready for round two. And that motherfucker was me.
I took her wineglass from her hand and placed it beside the beer. Sitting down next to her, I heard her swallow hard. The tension wasn’t just on my side. I ran a finger along her bare calf.
> “Can I touch you like this?”
She watched the path up her leg and said a quiet “yes.”
I leaned in and stopped right in front of her beautiful mouth. “Can I kiss you?” I brushed my lips against hers while my hand moved up her thigh. “Like this.” I didn’t push; I didn’t even use my tongue, I just gave her delicate, gentle kisses on her sweet, soft mouth. Her affirmation was to reciprocate. I knew I was breaking her down. My heart pounded in my chest as it worked hard to send the blood below my waist.
My attention turned to her ear. “Let go, baby,” I whispered. My hand was so close it could sense her readiness from her warmth. “Let me love you.” I could see her mind lose control of her body as her breathing sped up. She pushed herself down so that she was flat on her back, and as she did so, the nightgown lifted and gave me the golden ticket to move forward.
I needed to kiss her again, and I made it slow and deep. My fingers found the prize. She was drenched and ready. I loved the fact that she was turned on. I built her up circling that little nub, got her so fucking close with quick taps, stopped, and did it over and over again. I knew the higher the climb, the bigger the peak, and I wanted nothing more than for her to have a massive orgasm because of me. She purred like a kitten, and I invited the fingers of my second hand to play along. That did it; she cried out, and I took her climax home. Making her come never got old.
I was hard again but knew I’d already pushed enough for the night, so I kissed her and left her to recover. She joined me in the bathroom, we went through our routine, and she didn’t object when I climbed into her bed. She even brought back her habit of interlacing her fingers with mine and pushing her ass against my crotch. I smelled her hair and kissed the top of her head. I was one step closer to having her back fully.
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