by Meg Ripley
“Deal,” she said. Sophie took a step back and laughed, shaking her head. “I cannot believe you got me to agree to that.” Sophie half-turned away from me and slipped her keys out of her pocket. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”
“Lucky? Luck has nothing to do with it,” I informed her. “I have the most aggressive skin care regimen of anyone in the band.” Sophie snorted.
“Where am I going?”
“Get in the car,” I told her. “I’ll bring you back by here to get your ride after dinner.” Sophie gave me a watchful look, but slipped her keys back into her pocket.
“I will so get a fucking Lyft if you use this as an excuse to be an ass,” she said firmly.
“I promise I will be a perfect fucking gentleman,” I said. “Get in the car.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So, tell me: what’s it like to be a famous musician?” Sophie reached out with chopsticks in her hand and snagged a piece of grilled eggplant off of the plate in front of us. I’d taken her to Yakko-San, not too far from the studio.
“I’m not famous,” I said, shaking my head as I grabbed for a bite of tuna.
“Sure you are,” Sophie said. “Molly Riot is the success story of the scene.” I rolled my eyes.
“All happenstance,” I told her. “Alex had that big raid, and then Nick got involved with a journalist, and Jules…” I shrugged and ate my bite of tuna, before reaching for a slice of grilled sea bass. Sophie plucked a dumpling off of a plate.
“The reason doesn’t matter,” she told me. “You’re famous.”
“Does that matter to you?” I ate my sea bass. Sophie looked at me thoughtfully, chewing her gyoza.
“Not really,” she replied after a moment. “I mean, obviously it will ruin my cred in certain circles, but I can deal with that.” I laughed.
“So we’re operating on the assumption that this is going to be an actual thing?” Sophie’s lips twitched in a little smile.
“I’m kind of hopeful it will,” she said. “But I mean—obviously, that’s going to depend on how it goes in the bedroom.”
“You have doubts?” I snagged a dumpling and ate it, eyebrow raised.
“Well, I can’t know for sure until we get there, right?” Sophie tilted her head to the side.
“You didn’t get anything from that kiss the other day?” I held her gaze.
“I was half asleep,” Sophie pointed out. “Maybe if you tried it again I could judge better.” I chuckled, and snatched another piece of tuna off of one of the plates.
“I think I can manage that,” I told her. Sophie grinned.
“I’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.”
“Well I’m not going to kiss you right here—I taste like fish.” Sophie snorted.
I insisted on paying for dinner at the end of it all, even though I’d said we were going to go Dutch. We walked out of the restaurant, and acting on impulse I grabbed Sophie’s hand. Her fingers tightened around mine as we went to my car. She turned to face me as we got to the passenger side door, but before she could say anything, I leaned in and kissed her. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing her body against mine, and deepened the kiss moment by moment. Any and all thought of Mark completely left me.
I pushed Sophie up against my car, letting my hands wander over her body slowly; I hadn’t realized how much I’d been thinking about kissing her, touching her, holding her ever since I’d left her apartment days before. I could feel myself already starting to get hard as Sophie began to squirm against me, her hands moving across my back and shoulders as I deepened the kiss.
I don’t know how long we stood like that, kissing against my car, but when I finally broke away from Sophie’s lips, I was so turned on that I wanted to fuck her right there. “Sophie,” I murmured, dragging my lips along her jaw up to her ear. “I know I promised to take you back to your car and let you go home…”
“But if you don’t take me back to your place right now you’ll die?” Sophie chuckled lowly.
“That’s about right,” I admitted. Her hips felt amazing underneath my hands—I could feel the tremble in her body, I could feel the heat of her. “What do you think?” Sophie twisted her hips against mine and looked up at me.
“I think this is going pretty fast,” she said.
“I can slow down,” I told her. “I won’t actually die if you go home instead of back to my place.” Sophie hesitated and then leaned up onto the balls of her feet and kissed me. My hands slid up to her tits and then down along her tight little waist to her hips, and all I could think about was how she would look naked, sprawled out on my bed.
“I need to be home before dawn,” Sophie murmured against my lips. “Drogon has to eat.”
“I can totally do that,” I told her, pressing my hips against hers.
How I managed to get the doors to my car unlocked I have no idea; all the blood was rushing to my groin. I probably wasn’t safe to drive, but thank god there was almost no traffic for once on 95. I made it back to the apartment in record time, and barely got the car parked in my spot before I rushed around to the passenger side to let Sophie out. If I thought too much about what I was doing, I knew I’d just fuck myself over—I’d think about Mark and the fact that he didn’t know yet that I’d sniped a girl he was into.
I almost stumbled over my own feet getting Sophie into my apartment; I threw her up against the door and pinned her there, kissing her hungrily while I let my hands wander all over her body. “God,” I murmured against her lips, rubbing my hips against hers, kissing along the column of her throat. “You are so fucking hot, Sophie. So…goddamn…hot.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her up a little bit, rocking up against her.
Sophie moaned against my neck, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, pushing her hips against mine, twisting and writhing between the wall and me. I nibbled along the column of her throat and pulled back from the front door, taking Sophie by the hand and leading her towards my bedroom.
I pulled the straps of her jumper over her shoulders and found the zipper in the back for the skirt, even as she tugged and pulled at my tee shirt. I pushed any thought of anything other than Sophie out of my mind; the only thing that held me back was not wanting to actually rip any of her clothes as I got them off of her. I managed to get her down to her panties and took a step back to admire my handiwork; Sophie looked even better naked than I’d imagined, her tits so full they had that little bit of droop to them—not a sag, exactly, but enough to let you know they were 100% real—and, to my surprise, tattoos from the front of her hips to her back, visible just above and below her black lace panties.
I didn’t take the time to examine the ink; instead I gave her a careful shove onto my bed and then slid on top of her, barely able to keep myself under control. I was hard as a rock—my cock was aching, throbbing from how turned on I was. I kissed her again and again, rocking my hips against hers, rubbing against the heat and wetness I could feel through the fabric of her panties and my boxers.
I tried to hold back, and to make it last, but I knew—it had been weeks since I’d been with someone—that once I got inside Sophie I wasn’t going to be able to take it slow anymore. I started kissing a path down from her lips, down to where I really wanted to be; I paused for a few minutes at her breasts, and looked up into her eyes as I played with her, teasing her with my lips and tongue. Sophie was even hotter than before, her face flushed against the green dye of her hair, her eyes like pits in her face they were so dark, her lips parted as she panted and moaned for me. It sounded like music—and every noise that left her made me that much more turned on, that much more eager to get to the main event.
I moved down over her body as slowly as I could, taking my time, kissing every bit of skin I could find until I came to her hips. I tugged her panties down and cupped her pussy in the palm of my hand. She was already soaking—totally drenched, the silky-wet heat coating my fingers in an instant. I rubbed up and down slowly, nuzzling up against he
r thigh, spreading her legs wider.
I buried my face against Sophie’s pussy, spreading the labia apart and sliding my tongue up and down along the inner folds. She tasted good—sharp and sweet all at once, clean and wet and hot. I set to work teasing her, working her up as fast as I could, flicking my tongue up to just barely brush against her clit and then back down to her labia, back and forth while she twisted and arched and squirmed underneath me and around me. I was torn between wanting it to go on forever and the feeling that my cock might actually explode if I didn’t get relief soon; but the sound of Sophie’s little gasps and moans and cries was enough to make me want to devour her whole.
I brought her to the edge of climax at least twice, feeling the tension in her body, listening to the changes in her cries as I worked her with my lips and tongue and fingers; she was so tight—so fucking tight I almost couldn’t stand it. I had to feel her wrapped around me. I pulled back and Sophie let out a long, low, frustrated groan, her hands tight in my hair, her fingers tangled, her body pitching as she reeled from disappointment.
I slithered back up to her face and kissed her without even wiping my lips, squirming and shifting until I got my boxers off. Sophie wrapped her legs around me like a pair of pythons and I rubbed against her, still trying to hold back, still trying to make the moment last. I loved the feeling of her slick pussy against me, the heat of her, the taste of her lips.
I shifted against her, lining myself up against Sophie’s inner labia, and thrust into her slowly. “Fuck—fuck, Dan…god…” Sophie dragged her lips along my throat and I kissed her hungrily, over and over again as we began to move together.
“You feel so good,” I told her, lifting myself up onto my elbows and looking down into her eyes. I tried to hold myself back, but the tight, wet heat of her wrapped around me felt too good. I started to move faster, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her, touching her everywhere. Sophie’s muscles flexed and tightened around me in erratic little spasms, and I fought to keep control of myself, but it was impossible. I started going harder and faster, and Sophie moaned out, kissing my neck, my shoulder, her fingernails digging into my back. I lost myself in the moment, thrusting as deep as I could inside of her, reaching down to stroke and rub Sophie’s clit, doing everything I could to get more of those delicious sounds out of her.
All at once, I felt Sophie’s body tightening around me, her muscles flexing in erratic little spasms as she came, crying out. I kissed her again and again, barely holding back as her body rippled around me; I lost what little self-control I had in what seemed like mere seconds. I groaned out against Sophie’s neck as hot and cold flashes rushed through me like waves. I thrust a few more times into Sophie’s body as we both came even harder, until I couldn’t even think about moving anymore. Sweat dripped off of me, and I slumped against her, panting and gasping for breath.
As soon as my heart began to slow down and I was actually able to get my breathing under control, I looked down at Sophie’s face. She was still breathing heavily, but she looked absolutely gorgeous: cheeks flushed, eyes shiny, lips curled in a satisfied little grin. “We have to do that again before I take you to your car,” I told her.
“Oh totally,” Sophie agreed. She kissed me on the lips, and I rolled off of her, letting my arm rest across her waist. Without warning, Sophie giggled, curling up into herself, burying her face against my pillows.
“What?” Sophie shook her head and barely—barely—peaked up at me before dissolving into another fit of laughter.
“You’re good in bed,” she told me, once she could breathe once more.
“That’s funny?” Sophie giggled again—but not uncontrollably.
“I totally expected…” she shook her head, grinning. “I expected that you’d be…like…”
“Selfish?” I kissed her temple. “All about getting myself off?” Sophie shrugged.
“Something like that,” she said. “I mean, you do know there are rumors about Molly Riot’s members…”
“What rumors?” I rolled back on top of Sophie. “Is the word on the street that we’re all terrible in bed?” Sophie snickered.
“No—but some people do think you guys are kind of slutty,” Sophie told me. “Less so now, obviously.”
“So, if we’re sluts then we should be good in bed,” I pointed out. I kissed her again and felt myself starting to get hard. “In fact, I will show you exactly how good I am in bed, right now.” Sophie chuckled lowly and wrapped her arms around me.
“Show away,” she said.
CHAPTER NINE
I woke up in my own bed, for once feeling like I’d managed to get a decent night’s sleep in spite of the fact that Sophie and I had been up until about four, having sex over and over again. We’d only stopped at three-thirty in the morning because I had promised to get her to her car so she could get home in enough time to feed the cat.
I had to get to the studio but we’d all agreed not to get started until two in the afternoon; when I checked the time on my phone it was only eleven. Time enough to get a shower, grab some breakfast, and maybe get in a little practice on one of the songs we’d changed up the day before until I had to get to the complex. I scrolled through my Facebook feed for a few moments in bed, thinking about Sophie; there was still something between us, I knew, but I couldn’t deal with the situation with her until I dealt with the one with Mark. I wondered if Sophie had already let Mark know that she would have to cancel—and if so, how she’d done it. Almost feel bad for the guy, I thought idly. Mark had no idea that I’d gone for the same girl but more successfully; he’d probably be pissed at me, but like Nick had pointed out, it wasn’t like it was the first time any of us had gone for the same girl.
As if my thoughts were a cue, my phone buzzed in my hand while I was on the way to the bathroom to grab a shower. It was Mark. Sophie canceled on me. What the hell, man? I stared at my phone for a minute, feeling guiltier than I thought I would. Had she said something about why she had to cancel? Before I could reply, I got another text—from Sophie. I tried to tell Mark that it was just a scheduling conflict, but he kept pushing for another date and I eventually just gave in and told him I’d decided to go out with you instead.
I sat down on the rim of the bathtub. Obviously I wasn’t going to get my chance to have a calm, normal talk with Mark about what had happened with Sophie—he already knew, and from her instead of from me. I asked her out that night we went to Prop, I wrote to Mark. She said yes. She shouldn’t have agreed to go out with you in the first place. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, man. I put my phone aside and stepped into the shower, hoping against hope that that would be all there was to talk about—at least for the day.
I got another text while I was shaving, but I waited until I was done to look at it. What the fuck, dude?
I didn’t know what to say to that. Mark had a right to be pissed at me—I could recognize that. I had been pissed at him, even though it wasn’t his fault, when I’d found out he was going on a date with Sophie. But I’d known and he hadn’t. From his perspective, I’d basically pulled the rug out from under him.
I got another text, this one from Nick. Mark says he’s not coming in today. Guess he knows? I cringed.
Sophie canceled her date with him, I replied. She told him why. If Mark wasn’t going to be in the studio that day, there was no point in any of us being there—we were still doing the live room recordings, not the individual parts yet.
Fuck, dude. You going to talk to him? I thought about that question and didn’t have a good answer for it. I’d have to talk to Mark sometime; I’d have to see if I could get him to understand where I was coming from, what had happened, the fact that I wasn’t out to screw him. I kept thinking about the rant he’d gone on the night we’d both met Sophie: that it was unreal that Jules had a girlfriend before he did. Sophie might not have been anything serious to him, but between Jules having a functioning relationship against all the odds and me pulling a chick he wanted without him
knowing about it, he was obviously going to have some wounded pride.
If we’re not in the studio today, I guess I have to, I wrote Nick. Alex and Jules sent texts confirming that Mark had told them about not coming in too, and wondering if I knew anything about it; they didn’t really know what was going on with Mark, or with any of the other members of the band, not the way that we used to know about each other’s lives, ever since they’d gotten together with their girlfriends. Nick only knew about it because he and Liv had been at Prop.
I bit the bullet and finally replied to Mark’s message. Hey, man. Let’s meet up at Nippers since, apparently, we’re not working today. If I was going to talk to Mark about the situation at hand, I was going to definitely need some fucking coffee before I did. I threw on some clothes and got into my car and went up to Rhino in Boca while I waited to hear from Mark. I texted Sophie to let her know that it was okay—that I’d work things out with Mark on my own, that we were still on for our next date. I had no idea whether or not I would actually be able to square things away with Mark; but I hoped that I could.
I sat down outside with a couple of donuts and a big coffee, and lit a cigarette. Mark and I were in a band together; we were friends. We’d been friends for years. Surely, we could get through something this minor—right? I finished off my donuts and lit another cig, staring at my phone and willing it to vibrate, to flash on the screen that Mark had texted me back. I kept telling myself that it was just a one-day delay, that we’d hash it out over beers and everything would be fine. But after three cigarettes I had to admit that it was taking Mark longer than I would have thought to get back to me. Are we meeting up or what?
A couple of minutes later I got my response: Fuck off.
CHAPTER TEN
A week after Mark had told me to fuck off, instead of meeting with me, I found myself at Respects again. Once more, I had cigarettes, lighter, ashtray, and a beer in front of me; but I was by myself. I lit up and looked around the bar, trying not to be the morose asshole I felt like. It was eleven, so people were starting to come in, but I didn’t think there would be that many; according to Sophie, the place was almost never super packed on a Wednesday. Thursdays--for Flaunt--it would get busy, and then on Friday, and almost always on Saturday, but unless there was an actual event, Wednesdays mostly only managed to bring out the diehards.