Stand (Black Addiction Book 3)

by T Gephart

  “Purely for research purposes, of course.” She moved her mouth against my throat, her lips kissing softly against my skin.

  “Of course.”

  It was a compulsion.

  Whenever Max and I were in the same zip code we inevitably ended up in bed. It had been our MO for so many years, I had assumed that once I moved and put some distance between us the cycle would stop. Surely we could be next to each other and not dissolve into a pair of sex-starved teenagers.

  But nooooooooooooo, it seemed we couldn’t.

  We’d lasted exactly one week.

  A week.

  Not even a full week if you take into account hours.

  Problem was, I didn’t even know who or what to blame.

  Was it my libido? The lack of decent sex and rather underwhelming dick I’d been exposed to? It would make sense since Max was a bonafide guarantee of toe curling pleasure. He was able to tease out an orgasm within minutes while the last guy I’d dated played Battleship with my vagina and I still had to fake it.

  Maybe it was just habit? An unconscious compulsion like eating a cookie even though you aren’t hungry, purely because there is a plate of freshly baked chocolate chips sitting in front of you.

  Or maybe—going out on a limb here—it’s because he looked freaking hot beyond measure and could make me cream my pants with just a smile.

  Ha. Yeah, that was definitely not the reason. Didn’t even notice his washboard abs or his impeccable ass.

  Of course there was the obvious answer here—the one I had been dancing around because I didn’t want to admit that I’d be that shallow—his penis.

  Ahhhhhhh.

  Yeah.

  That.

  It really was worthy of the hero worship it received online. Its pink perfect glory was not only sizeable—there was no false advertising with that man—but he knew what to do with it too. A well-trained beast he could either call to heel or let off the chain—each with their own set of rewards.

  Great. Now I was a pervert too.

  On top of all of that—because clearly that wasn’t enough drama—I’d had sex with him without a condom. Repeatedly. Excuse me while I beat my head against a brick wall because that would have been a hell of lot smarter than protection-less sex. He even stopped, giving me the option for his happy ending not to be inside of me and what did I say?

  It’s all good, all fine. Go ahead and inject me with your love juice I’m on the pill. Okay, maybe that’s not what I said, but it may as well have been. Hypnotized by the orgasmic glow or stupid pills, I wasn’t sure which. Like an unwanted pregnancy was my biggest problem. God, please don’t strike me down with some unpronounceable genital funk.

  It was an honest mistake. We had been together so often and so long we sometimes forwent the latex. I’d been on the pill since I was sixteen and I trusted that those times we had been with other people, both of us had been safe. Probably a little trusting, but there was no reason to not be.

  But that had been in the past. And while I knew there were no mutating cells crawling around my private parts—Max was the only unprotected partner I’d ever had and I had regular rigorous health screenings—I had no idea what had been crawling up on him.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Max laughed, his chest still glistening from his shower. The towel around his waist further fed my stupidity as I rationalized whatever the damage was it had already been done, so what trouble could one more time be.

  “I should probably get going.” Well there was an understatement. Probably? How about definitely.

  “Wait a second.” Max stood in my path, the few steps I’d taken towards the door not enough. “What’s wrong?” He lifted my chin so that he could see in my eyes, all traces of allergens completely gone from his beautiful face.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged, not willing to share the freak out currently happening in my head.

  “You really expect me to believe that?” The raised eyebrow was a hint he wasn’t buying it. “You’re forgetting I know you. So, I will ask you again, what’s wrong?”

  Ah fuck it. He was right. He did know me, so I might as well get the conversation over with. That sexy dialogue of, is-there-a-chance-of-syphilis. Way to go, dumbass.

  “We had sex without a condom.” My eyes stayed glued to his. “I know it’s a little late now.” Once again, another understatement. “And I said I was on the pill but—”

  “I’m clean.” He didn’t give me a chance to finish. “And I would never put you at risk if there was even the slightest chance.”

  “What about me? Aren’t you worried?” I shook my head wondering why I was the only one of us with the concern. He had no idea what I’d been doing in the years since he saw me. I could have thrown caution to the wind, screwing with reckless abandon.

  “Nope, not even a little.” There was zero hesitation in his voice as he smiled, in his eyes unwavering confidence that clearly I didn’t possess. “Is there anything else?”

  “No, that’s it.”

  Well most of it. My own stupidity wasn’t up for debate. I was having too much fun with that on my own. The whole can we just be friends without fucking, still very much the question of the morning.

  “Good. What are you doing tonight?” He wrapped his arms around me ignoring the fact he was essentially naked and I had a bad track record of not sleeping with him. “The band is doing a gig tonight, and I know they’d love to see you.”

  “A gig? I’ve seen nothing in the press. In New York?”

  Black Addiction had come a long way in the last few years. Their last album had gone quadruple platinum, with record-breaking sales in the UK and Europe. They weren’t a bar band anymore with almost every concert selling out no matter how big the venue. So, maybe I stayed up to date with their rise to success, sue me.

  “That’s because it’s not listed.” Max’s face animated with mischief. “Not as us anyway. Stadiums are awesome, but we miss the clubs, the intimate contact. We figured we’d do a couple of shows under different names so no one knows who it is until we show up.”

  “Really, well that’s kind of cool. What’s the band called?” Talk of the band a welcome diversion. My freak out wasn’t going anywhere, so delaying it a minute or two wasn’t a problem.

  “Cloak and Dagger. It’s so fucking cheesy, I love it.” He pulled me closer, his lips landing on my neck. “So you’ll come right?”

  “Sure.” My mouth agreed before my brain had properly weighed the argument. Not smart, my brain warned while my mouth gave us all the finger. Awesome. I’m developing multiple personality disorder, how nice for me.

  “Great.” Max’s arms squeezed tighter, ignoring he was still in a towel and his man bits were trying to give me a hug of their own.

  “Pick me,” whispered my vagina thankfully quiet enough so my mouth couldn’t hear.

  “Show starts at ten, we’re heading there to set up earlier though, but I can circle back and pick you up around nine.”

  “No, that’s silly. It makes no sense for you to come all the way back.” Really, my self-conscious glared at the irony of me identifying stupidity. Middle fingers and fuck yous internally being thrown at random. “I’ll catch an Uber or cab, just tell me the address.”

  “It will be just like old times, huh?” Max’s hands wandered down my back seeming to not notice his renegade cock was tapping Morse code against the towel.

  “Yeah, it will be great.” The big freak show smile on my face indicating I had now hit delirium. “I should let you go. Get ready. Get in the zone.” Get into some clothes, the last option remaining unspoken as I unraveled myself from his hold.

  “You don’t want to stay a little longer?” The effort I’d made to create distance negated as he pulled me back. “Have breakfast?” The smirk on his face hinted that he wasn’t talking about bacon and eggs.

  “I need to get back.” I tried again to escape, this time unhinging his hands from my ass so that I was able to step out of his grasp.
“Jules has probably already called the police to issue a BOLO when I didn’t come home last night.”

  “Fine, I’ll see you tonight then.” He watched with amusement as I walked backward toward his bedroom door.

  “Yes, yes of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  While it would have been perfectly acceptable to let me find the front door and continue on my journey solo he instead insisted on being a gentleman and walking me out.

  In his towel.

  So trying to keep my eyes above his chin—anything lower could mean some renegade body parts of my own—I said goodbye and finally made my escape.

  Phew.

  Now I could go and berate myself in private and work out how the hell I got out of the date I had accidentally agreed to. Because surely I couldn’t go. No. That would be inviting trouble.

  I had barely stepped inside the doorway when my progress was stopped, my body slamming into a very amused Jules.

  “The allure of the twelve-inch cock was too great, well done, you.” Her arms folded across her chest with a smile of I-know-what-you-were-doing beaming on her face.

  “It’s not twelve inches.” I closed the door behind me and immediately jumped on the defensive. “And me spending the night with Max is not what you think.”

  “Oh, so you didn’t sleep with him?” Her brow rose in a challenge to prove her wrong. “Him and his eleven-inch slong.”

  “I-I.” My mouth opened and closed unable to finish the sentence. Or lie as the case was. I had definitely slept with him. “It’s not eleven inches either.”

  “You totally slept with him.” Jules gave me a case of wiggle-finger-I-told-you-so. “Rode his ten-inch rod all night.”

  “No, stop.” My hands waved erratically in front of me, an effort to stop what my mouth wasn’t capable of. “I’m not telling you how big it is.”

  “You don’t have to say a thing, just nod when I get it right.” She nodded her head like it would assure my compliance. “Nine-inch nail?”

  “I slept with him,” I blurted out, the pressure too great. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold out. Damn it, I sucked at discretion.

  “Nine inches. Go, Beth.” Jules raised her hand awaiting mine to join it for a high-five.

  “Stop focusing on his penis.” I scrubbed my face with my hands in frustration.

  “Um, probably should have taken your own advice.”

  “Jules.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious.” She bit down on her lip trying not to laugh. “Tell me all about it.”

  The details of the night spewed out of me. From the wonderful meal, my bottomless wine glass and the guest appearance of micro penis at the restaurant, to my downward spiral where I tried to poison him. Twice.

  “Who has to worry about Rohypnol when you can do all of that with dessert and some antihistamines.” She’d stopped trying to hold back the laughter, her arms wrapping around her sides as she enjoyed the retelling at my expense.

  I wanted to be mad, I mean it shouldn’t be funny but laid out in front of us in its calamity it was hard to not crack a smile. I’d become my own punch line.

  “It’s not funny.” The giggle unable to be suppressed as I shoved her shoulder.

  “Oh I disagree, it’s freaking hilarious.”

  “Alright, Alright, Alright.” My invisible white flag of surrender waved while I conceded there was mostly likely going to be laughter. “You have to help me think of an excuse not to go out tonight.”

  The sex with the ex had been done. Even if I wanted to—and I didn’t—we couldn’t go back in time and un-copulate so the more pressing issue was the date. The one I had agreed to. The one that I was sure would lead to more of that. The that not needing to be clarified.

  “Why don’t you want to go out with him?” Her confusion justified given I wasn’t usually a one-night stand kind of girl, micro penis had been the exception. “Did his huge pole knock the sense out of you?”

  “It’s not that simple. The band will be there and it will be . . .” Just like old times as Max had put it. “Awkward, they’ll assume we’re back together. I don’t want to send the wrong signals.”

  Don’t get me wrong. I loved the band. Joey, Rusty and Angie were all amazing in their own individual way and over time, we’d all become tight. They’d never made me feel like the “girlfriend” and happily welcomed me into their circle. Even Angie who had the best resting bitch face ever.

  But.

  When I’d waved goodbye to my old life they had also been part of the separation. Clean break being what it was it didn’t make sense to continue to see them. Even though I had separate and meaningful relationships with each of them independent of Max. So the not seeing them was partly guilt—fine, a LOT—related.

  The sending the wrong signal thing was valid too. Of course they would assume we were back together. Why wouldn’t they? We’d only been down this road five thousand times.

  “So let me go over this just to be sure I’ve got it.” Jules tried to reason with my logic. “Your ex-boyfriend is not only hot but turned out to be a huge rock star.”

  “Yes.” I had no idea where this was going, but I was willing to humor her.

  “And he wasn’t a dick who broke your heart.” Fingers were lifted for visual cues in case I couldn’t keep up.

  “Yes.” So maybe I knew where she was going with this.

  “And he wasn’t even pissed when you tried to kill him.” More fingers were added. “Not only once, but twice.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And he has a huge—”

  “Can we move to the point already.”

  “But even with all of that.” She waved her hands around like a lunatic. “You don’t want to date him. Do you see how insane this all sounds?”

  Well yeah, when she put it like that. “We had a good thing, I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Girl, I’m telling you, none of this makes any sense.” Jules refused to buy my—fine, probably convoluted—argument that Max and I shouldn’t get back together.

  Except.

  No, the sex didn’t mean we were back together. We were definitely not back together.

  “Well sense or not, I need to think of a good reason not to go tonight and you are going to help me.”

  “You moved in with Beth?”

  Angie let me get an entire three steps into the bar, the usual hello apparently obsolete, as she went into mother hen mode. The douchebag who was most likely responsible for the misconception tipped his chin hello.

  “I didn’t move in with Beth. I moved into her building.” The conversation I planned on having with my band happening a little sooner than expected.

  “Dude, I’m sleep deprived.” Joey rolled his eyes like I was the asshole, and having a few hours less shuteye was a good enough excuse to spill my biz. “I can’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth.”

  “So are you guys getting back together?” Angie was front and center on the mission: acquiring information, the to-and-fro between Joe and I not registering on her radar.

  “If I have anything to say about it, yeah we are.” It was the condensed version and one no doubt Angie was after. She was a long-story-short kind of girl and I admired the quality.

  “Who’s doing what?” Rusty breezed in pulling a Top Gun, gold-framed aviators chilling on his face despite it being already dark out and the smooth motherfucker was indoors. “You’re supposed to wait till I get here before you get to all the gossip.” The asshole flashed his Hollywood grin as he nodded to Angie and Joey. Fucking lead guitarists, cocky sons-of-bitches.

  “Max and Beth are getting back together.” Joey didn’t bother letting me do the fill-in, his big-ass mouth talking shit out of turn.

  “Dude, seriously?” The shut-the-fuck-up I was directing his way hopefully coming in loud and clear.

  “I can’t help it.” Again Joey went with shifting blame. “At least I didn’t say you guys were living together this time.” The bastard gri
nned knowing full well he was stirring the pot.

  Wonder how long it would take to get a replacement drummer for the night. We were going to need it, because I was going to kill this one.

  “Well then the day just got a whole lot more interesting.” Rusty rubbed his hands together with motherfucking glee, the shades coming off as he settled in. “I’m gonna need some details.”

  Better to get it over with. It was either do the show-and-tell myself, or have my moron of a best friend sham-wow us with his fairytale adaptation of events. Not wanting to leave my little niece fatherless, the only reason why the bastard was still breathing.

  “The apartment I recently moved into happens to be a few floors up from Beth. Something I didn’t know when I bought it.” There was no need for the extended dance version of how it came to be, the core facts being more than sufficient.

  “Max, I’m kinda crushed, dude.” Blond Maverick, AKA Rusty Crawford clutched at his chest laying the dramatics on real thick. “You’ve been living there over a week and I’m just now hearing about it. Dead to me, asshole.”

  “I swear this was a lot more fun when it was directed at someone else.” I shook my head knowing karma had a big black rubber stamp with my name on it. The amount of shit I had dished out to the other three of my band members had me primed for a serious amount of payback.

  So cliff-noting our initial welcome-to-the-neighborhood through to the last twenty-four hours, I got the band up to speed on how I was now sharing an almost identical address with the chick I dated for more than a decade.

  “She’s coming to the show tonight and I want everyone on their best behavior.” I eyed them all equally, being sure there was no one who could claim the oh-sorry-I-didn’t-hear. “No fucking third degree, especially you Angie.” Our front woman notorious for going full metal jacket.

  “What could I possibly say?” Her freaking grin proved how right I was to be suspicious. Seriously, the lot of them were a bunch of loose cannons, and I wasn’t sure who was the weakest link.

  Usually the band didn’t get involved in my relationships, but Beth had been a little different. She’d been more than just a girl I’d dated; she’d been friends with each of them in her own special way. Not that anyone had any grounds to harbor bad feelings. Sure, she’d blown out of town with no goodbye but we’d all—especially yours truly—had time to find her if we’d wanted. And if I had no problem with the way shit had played out, then the band didn’t have grounds for issues either. And if they wanted to get technical, we hadn’t even been together when I left town, so there was no way I’d let them give her a hard time for it.