IS MY SURPRISE UNDER HERE?
“Welcome to Metal Hell.”
After handing our tickets to the heavyset bouncer with the ZZ-Top beard, Penny, Shayla, and I file through the narrow doorway and into the dilapidated warehouse-cum-concert venue that is the site of one of the most anticipated underground death metal events of the year. I catch a whiff of piss, pot, unwashed bodies, and stale beer all wrapped up in a nausea-inducing olfactory package. The dark, dank club is as far from heaven as one can get.
“Love death metal. Whoo. Go Slugs.” Penny pumps her fist in the air and screams as we push our way through the crowd.
Shocked at her outburst, I clamp my hand around her arm. “What happened to your British reserve?”
“Reserve goes out the window when British people cut loose, and after our little warm-up party in the office, I’m looser than a hooker’s…”
“We get it.” Shayla cuts her off with a glare.
Penny shoots Shayla an evil look. “Have you seen the lead singer? He totally has the British rocker thing going. I know you Americans don’t go for the Rolling Stones type, but to me, he is fit. That’s how we say hot in England.” She joins the crowd in a loud chant. “Slugs. Slugs. Slugs.”
We push our way through the crowd and I scan the area for Jake. I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off two nights ago except for the brief five minutes he spent at my office to hand over the tickets. A peck on the cheek, a casual “see you at seven,” and a throwaway “remember, don’t wear panties,” and he was out the door. Penny immediately set about dousing my fire by opening a bottle of white wine. Now, I realize what a mistake that was.
Shayla tries to shush Penny again, and for a moment I worry she’s going to lose her patience, but suddenly she pulls up short and grabs my arm. “There’s Fuzz. Over by the speaker with Jake.”
She waves her hand in the air and catches Fuzzy’s attention.
“He’s coming.” She turns to me. “How do I look? Girly enough?”
My eyes drift over her cargo pants, kicks, and death metal shirt emblazoned with a flaming skull. “Nice. But maybe take out the ponytail.”
With a sigh, Shayla pulls out her ponytail holder and shakes her head. “How’s this?”
“You still look like you’re a commando at a death metal concert,” Penny says. “Not so good for picking up guys.”
“And you look like you’re clubbing on someone’s yacht.” Shayla gives a disdainful sniff at Penny’s white skirt, matching kitten heels, and gold tank. “I don’t do that kind of girly anymore. I packed it all away when I hung up my tutu and started on the ’roids. Didn’t last long on those. Messed me up pretty bad.”
Penny’s eyes widen. “You were taking steroids? I’ve always wanted to try them, bulk up a bit. How did they work out for you?”
“Who’s taking ’roids?” Fuzzy says as he and Jake join us. I make the introductions and Shayla shoots us a pleading glance. If anyone found out she had taken steroids, she could lose her fight license.
“Me,” a quick-thinking Penny says brightly.
Fuzzy stares down at her curvy, five-foot-four-inch frame that, according to Penny, has never seen a gym, and gives her an incredulous look. “You’re taking ’roids?”
“That’s right.” She flexes her soft, pasty arms. “Lookit these pythons. ’Roids all the way.”
Shayla bursts into laughter. Not just a giggle or a chuckle or even a guffaw. Real, uncontrollable, straight-from-the-belly, tears-pouring-down-your-cheeks laughter.
Fuzzy’s gaze cuts to her. His eyes linger over her soft, chestnut waves. He smiles. Then his smile fades into a frown.
“Christ,” he mutters. “Almost didn’t recognize you there, Shill. Did you wash your hair?” He gives her a friendly thump on the back and her laughter dries up with a choke.
Jake’s arms slide around me and he pulls me back into his chest. “Your idea,” he whispers in my ear, gesturing toward Shayla.
“No, she pulled out her ponytail holder all on her own.”
Jake laughs. “Nice try.”
“I thought you were angry with me for trying to seduce you.” I look back over my shoulder and he rests his cheek against my forehead. “Except for the tickets, I haven’t heard from you in two days.”
“I didn’t hear from you for two days either.”
“This is true, but I have an excuse. I’m insanely busy at work. My witness gave me a list of women who may also have been harassed by Farnsworth, and I’ve already got another interview lined up. You’ll be pleased to know Ray has checked the addresses and marked the interviews he wishes to attend in the guise of a guard dog.”
“I’m pleased.” Jake’s hands slide down over my abdomen, his fingers resting in a V just over my mound. “And I’ll be more pleased if you followed my instructions.” His breath is hot and moist in my ear and a delicious shiver of anticipation winds its way up my spine. After only a few hours without my panties, I’m already so wet I’m afraid my arousal will trickle down my inner thigh. Not that I would tell him.
“Why would I follow your instructions when you made it clear you have…limits? Maybe I’m not up for another tickle and tease.”
He tightens his arms and presses his lips against my ear. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you tonight.”
My body heats. “Well in that case, I have a surprise for you.”
Taking a quick glance around, he slides his hand between us and surreptitiously lifts my skirt to fondle my bare ass. “Is my surprise under here?”
“Beast.” I slap his hand away. “You’ll have to wait.”
A ripple of excitement runs through the crowd as the warm-up band hits the stage. The lead guitarist grabs his guitar and the first few notes of a death metal guitar riff fill the room.
“Eeeeeee!” shrieks Penny. “It’s the warm-up band. I want to be up front.” She holds her hands together like a battering ram and shoves her way forward through the thicket of long, stringy hair, faded jeans, tattoos, and piercings.
“C’mon, Shill,” Fuzzy mutters. “We’d better get her. She’s so tiny, she’ll get crushed.”
With a defeated sigh, Shayla follows Fuzzy through the crowd.
Jake nuzzles my neck. “You want a drink?”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, we’re pressed up against the bar, a temporary wooden structure that looks like it could collapse at any moment. If not for Jake’s strength and determination, we would never have made it through the crowd. Even now he has one hand braced against the counter and his back to the heaving mass of people to give us breathing room.
The bartender shoves two cups of beer—the only item on offer—in our direction and I wrinkle my nose.
Jake laughs. “Still not a fan?”
“Not really. Especially if it’s warm, which I’m guessing it is.” I dip my finger in the cup and pop it in my mouth. The beer is indeed warm and very bitter, but the heat in Jake’s eyes as I slide my lips over my finger makes it easy to swallow.
“Again.” His voice is husky and filled with sensual promise.
“You like that?”
“Yeah, baby, I do.” His hand tangles in my hair and he yanks my head back so hard my eyes tear. With his other hand around my waist, he pulls me tight against his body. I sense a shift in the crowd around us, and then people surge toward the stage, leaving us alone at the bar.
“You drive me fucking crazy.” With a nip, he parts my lips, and his tongue sweeps inside, searching, possessing, teasing, until my knees tremble and my body turns liquid.
“Remember that night we met?” he murmurs against my lips. “We fucked against one mirror and watched ourselves in the other and you told me it was how you imagined it would feel to have sex in a crowd?”
“That was a good night.”
“The night I met you was the best night of my life.”
Before I can respond, he deepens the kiss. Our tongues tangle, teeth clash, lips bruise. Lust, raw and ragged, tears through me, and I can only cling to his shoulders and hold on for the ride.
“We’re gonna do it now.” His voice deepens to a growl. “We’re gonna make that fantasy come true.”
“Maybe not here.” But a few minutes and multiple shoves of angry fans later, we are in the shadowed alcove leading to the equipment room. Doors in back. Walls on the sides. And an entire warehouse of screaming fans in front of us. If the band could see past the glare of spotlights, they would have a front row seat to what’s about to go down, and if anyone turns around and takes more than a casual glance, they would be able to see us too.
Jake presses me up against the doors, his broad back hiding me from view. He slides his hand under my T-shirt and his thumb brushes over my nipple, already peaked and aching under my bra. Lightning zings straight to my core and I gasp into his mouth.
“Been thinking about your breasts all day and how I didn’t give them proper attention.” His hands ease up my shirt and he shoves up my bra.
“Jake…” But my protest comes too late. My breasts tumble free into his waiting palms.
A fresh burst of energy hits the crowd as the band starts a new song. The warehouse pulses and throbs with the first roll of the drum. The venue must be over capacity, because even at the back, there is little room to move. Not that I want to move. Plastered against Jake’s body so tight I can feel the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the steel of his erection pressed against my abdomen, suddenly there is nowhere else I want to be.
He releases me with a low groan and then his hands trace my curves, over my hips, down to the edge of my skirt. Easing it up ever so gently, he traces lazy circles up my inner thigh. “I wanna hear you scream, baby.”
“How about your surprise first?” I slide his hand to the front and draw it up under my skirt.
Jake sucks in a sharp breath as he strokes his finger over the fuzz-free curve of my sex. “Bare. For me.”
“For you.”
He gives me a devilish smile, all crinkled eyes and rakish charm, and rests one forearm on the wall beside my head while his other hand explores, his fingers spreading my folds, easing my legs apart. “Open for me.”
A naughty thrill of sensation floods my body and I inch my legs apart. “When you talk like that…say things like that…it makes me so wet.”
“I know.” He dips his fingers between my thighs and spreads my wetness up and around my clit, tearing a moan from my throat.
“And I know you’ll like this even more.” He kicks my legs farther apart and glides his fingers along my wet folds, parting them, exposing my hidden depths. My brain fuzzes at the intimate touch while around us the crowd roars.
“Oh God. You’re right.” I slide my hands over his shoulders and thread my fingers through his soft, silky hair.
He eases one finger into my center, swollen and throbbing, and I almost come right then. My body stiffens then arches toward him, my fingers gripping his shoulders so hard I’m sure I’ll leave bruises. But I can’t deny the delicious thrill of his touch where the risk of being seen is so high, the danger so great, and the pleasure so intense.
“I want to hear you.” He withdraws his finger then thrusts it in again, deeper this time. “I want you to come all over my hand. I want you to scream because I made you scream and you wanted me to do it.”
Coiled tight, I rock my hips against his palm, seeking just the barest touch on my swollen nub to send me over the edge, but he keeps just out of reach, leaving me to grind against his fingers until I am ready to scream with frustration.
Jake gives a satisfied growl. “You like fucking my fingers, knowing any moment someone might turn and see what a dirty girl you really are.”
“Yes.” My head drops against the wall, my body trembling.
He rubs his fingers along my inner walls, pushing deep, deeper than I imagined fingers could go. My tension builds, but every time I near my peak, he slows his pace until I’m squirming and whimpering and begging for release. My hands are no longer gentle in his hair. Instead they are claws, dug into his shoulders so deep nothing could pry them away.
“You’re tight, baby. So damn tight. I want so bad to be inside you.”
His erotic words shoot me right to the edge. Stiffening, gripping him, my body burning, I whisper, “Make me come.”
He presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “You’ll come when I want you to come.”
My brain fuzzes and my sex clenches around him. Jake kisses me softly, gently while his fingers pump hard and deep and fast inside me, an overwhelming dichotomy of sensation. I don’t know whether I should cry or moan or whimper or shout or beg. All I know is my body is coiled tight, tighter than it’s ever been, and the need for release is so strong it borders on pain.
“Do it now. I can’t take any more.” I whimper, unable to control the desperate rock of my hips as he withdraws his fingers yet again.
“Not yet.”
My lust-soaked brain tries to process his words. Why am I not coming when I want to come? Why am I playing this game? But the answer comes in a heartbeat. Somewhere deep inside I wanted this. And I knew what the game was going to be the minute I took off my panties.
The next three minutes are the longest of my life. Jake brings me up and takes me down. A flick of his thumb over my throbbing clit, the stroke of his finger over my swollen inner tissue, a hand squeezing my breasts, and even a breathtaking moment when he bares one breast for his nipping pleasure. The band plays. The bass pounds. Moisture floods my sex, trickling down my thighs. Excitement and fear thunder through my veins. The fans cheer and stomp their feet. But nothing is as loud as the rush of blood through my veins or the rasp of Jake’s breath in my ear, and nothing has ever consumed me so absolutely and totally as the almost painful, overwhelming need to orgasm.
“Jake…please.”
“You’re doing so well, baby. Breathe through it. Give it up to me.” He slicks my moisture up and around my clit, so close but never close enough, bringing me down again from the peak I almost reached seconds ago. I tighten, gripping him, my body getting wetter, hotter, clenching around his fingers, and he continues to torture and tease.
The band finally segues into a new tune. My pleas become whimpers. Jake whispers encouragement in my ear. He tells me he knows it hurts, but it will be worth it in the end. He tells me to let go, to trust him to take care of me. Never have I been so completely at a man’s mercy. Never have I been so out of my mind with lust I don’t care.
The tempo changes. The lead singer falls to his knees. Smoke jets into the air, perfuming the venue with the chalky, sweet scent of dry ice. The music turns into one long stream of white noise. The lead singer screams and the audience screams back.
“Now, baby.” Jake’s voice rumbles in my ear. “Come for me.” He simultaneously strokes his thumb over my clit and pulses his fingers against the sensitive tissue of my inner walls. I shoot from simmer to full boil in an instant, coiling, coiling, climbing, and then my orgasm hits like a tidal wave, crashing over me, drowning me in sensation until I can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain.
And I scream. A scream to end all screams, blending in with the screams around me. Head back, body rigid, hands locked around Jake’s neck. The scream starts in my belly and radiates outward, taking my tension, my need, and my will with it. My orgasm grips me, my hips rocking violently against his hand, but he continues to stroke inside me, drawing it out until I slump, boneless, against the wall.
“Fuck. That was beautiful.” He pulls me up against his chest, taking my weight in his strong arms. “I want you so bad I’m tempted to take you right here. Right now.”
“Please do.”
He cups my jaw with his hand and tilts my head up. His jaw is tight and tension creases the corners of his eyes. “Not yet.”
“But…” I slide one hand over his erection, palming his hard steel through his jeans. “You’re so hard. Let me take care of you.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’m good.” He releases me and helps me straighten my clothes while I lean against the door, dazed, exhausted, and confused. I look out over the sea of heads and spot a flash of gold on stage. “Oh. My. God. Penny’s on the stage.”
Jake spins around, and for a moment we can only stare at Penny dirty dancing with the lead singer.
“Where the fuck is Fuzz?”
I scan the crowd and spot Fuzzy and Shayla frantically trying to get Penny’s attention. “There. Right up at the front. They’re trying to coax her down.” But with the lead singer wrapped around her, and their hips humping and pumping in time to a heavy metal ballad, Penny doesn’t seem interested in anything except the tribute to death metal grinding his cock into her ass.
“We’d better go give them a hand.” Jake brushes his lips over my cheek. “When you said she was into death metal, you weren’t kidding.”
We take a few steps out of the alcove and I hesitate. “Wait. I think they’re done. He’s slipping something into her hand.” As the last notes of the ballad fade away, the lead singer spins Penny around and plants a long, wet one on her. All tongue. No class.
The crowd goes crazy. Penny grins and curtsies. Fuzzy leaps up on stage with the agility of a pole-vaulter and helps her back down to the floor. High fives all round.
By the time we reach them, the band is halfway through their next song.
“He invited me backstage after the show,” Penny whispers in my ear after I pull her aside. “His name is Vetch Retch, and boy, can he kiss.”
I glance up at Vetch. He is well over six feet of skinny scrawniness. Long, unkempt hair falling to the waist; eyes ringed black with makeup; tight, black leather pants that show off his scrawny chicken-like legs. Mick Jagger eat your heart out.
“You can do better.”
Penny shakes her head. “He’s a British girl’s dream lad. And look at that face. Stark beauty. Plus, it’s been a dry year, and he’s the lead singer in a famous band. Once I get a picture of us on all my social media, my mates will be seething with jealousy.”
After the last of the endless encores, Shayla and I go with Penny to make sure she’ll be all right on her own backstage. A huge bouncer wearing a Slugs T-shirt motions her forward with a thick finger and then he points to Shayla and me. “Ladies can join you if they want. We always like the ladies.”
“He knows I’m a woman,” Shayla whispers as we follow the bouncer along the hallway to a huge, smoky lounge. “What’s Fuzzy’s problem?”
The backstage lounge is heaving with people, and it takes us a few minutes to find Vetch, sprawled on a couch with a blond tucked under each arm.
“Hey, dancing girl.” He waves Penny over, and Shayla and I share a glance.
“He doesn’t remember her name,” I say.
Shayla’s eyes narrow. “From the dilation of his pupils, I’d be surprised if he remembers his own name.”
“I don’t like him. Something about him makes my skin crawl.”
She snorts a laugh. “Could it be that he looks like he just slithered out of a swamp?”
“Hey, Vetch, you sharing?” The keyboard player, a skinny ginger-topped dude with a tiny goatee slides an arm around Shayla’s waist. Her hands clench into fists and her jaw tightens. Dude is in for a whole lot of pain. I feel compelled to warn him out of the goodness of my heart.
“You might want to reconsider the position of your arm,” I say to him. “Shilla the Killa is a top-ranked MMA fighter and she doesn’t take kindly to uninvited affection.”
“What about you?” The deep voice in my ear is accompanied by a cheeky squeeze of my ass. “You a fighter too? Because you got a mouth made for sucking and I have a special treat.”
I look back over my shoulder at the greasy-haired bassist behind me. “Do you seriously think I would waste this mouth on you?”
A disturbance at the door behind us draws everyone’s attention. Taking advantage of the distraction, Shayla quickly extricates herself from the unwanted arm clasp and sends the keyboard player flying across the room. She doesn’t even break a sweat. In that moment, I want to be her. I want to make men fly.
She reaches up to high-five me, and the naughty hand disappears from my ass. When I turn around, the bassist is up against the wall with Jake’s hand around his neck.
“That’s my fucking girl you’re touching.”
Two burly security guards push their way through the crowd, and I spot three more coming from the other direction. I put a hand on Jake’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“Get out of here, baby.” He shakes off my arm and his eyes glitter, enraged.
Nononononono. Too many for him to handle. He’s going to get hurt. “Let’s just go, Jake. He just copped a feel. No big deal. I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Amanda.” He gives an exasperated shout, his body thrumming with anger. “I told you to go.”
I tug on his arm and try another tactic. “I don’t need your help. I have the situation under control.”
And then Fuzzy is there. He puts a firm hand on Jake’s shoulder and murmurs in his ear. Whatever he says has the desired effect. Jake grunts and releases the quivering bassist. He pushes me behind him, and we back out of the room while Fuzzy holds the security guards at bay with the ferocity of his gaze.
“Are you going to be okay, Penny?” I call out. “Do you want to come home with us?”
Vetch throws an arm around her shoulder and she smiles and waves.
“I’m good. Vetch is going to give me a ride home in his limo.”
Outside the club, we shuffle cars. Fuzzy and Shayla go home together in Fuzzy’s vehicle. Jake and I climb into his Jeep. Wary of Jake’s tight jaw and stiff posture, I don’t even try to make small talk and we drive home in uncomfortable silence.
When he pulls up outside my house, my stomach clenches, and for once I am at a loss for words. Ever the gentleman, he walks me up the sidewalk and waits until I’ve unlocked the front door and flipped on the lights.
“I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” I give him a breezy, fake smile. “It was fun…at least until the end.”
He rakes a hand through his hair and cocks his head to the side, continuing our painfully stilted conversation. “Yeah.”
A moment of silence. Something in his expression falters. “I’d better get going. I’ve got a late-night underground fight tomorrow after the gym closes. Gotta get some sleep.”
“Do you want me to come and watch?” He always wanted me at his fights before.
“Maybe not the best thing,” he says, his voice tight. “We cut loose on those underground fights. No rules. No restraint. It can get pretty bloody. Some guys lose control.”
My heart sinks. Something is seriously wrong, and I’m not sure what it is. I watched him at dozens of underground fights before. I was always in his corner. Doesn’t he remember? Or maybe he does but he’s changed his mind about us. Maybe it was a game after all. “Sure. I get it.” I step inside and turn to close the door. “Good night.”
“Wait.”
A moment of silence. Something in his expression falters. “I just want to make sure we both know what we want before we start something.”
Before we start something? The night he kissed me after the renovation party something started for me.
“What does that mean?” My voice rises in pitch. “You just want to be friends? For how long? Or do you like driving me crazy? Is that the game?”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t kiss my friends.”
“You kissed this one.”
“I don’t want you as a friend.” He brushes his lips over my cheek and turns away.
What the hell? Does he want me or not? And if he wants me, why won’t he sleep with me? And if not, why doesn’t he want to be friends?
“I don’t think you really know what you want.”
He sighs and rakes his hand through his hair. “I know exactly what I want. I just don’t know how I’m going to get it.”
My heart sinks as he climbs into his vehicle, and for a moment I miss my old life. No relationships. No strings. No commitment. No heartache.
No Jake.