Olivia Cunning - Double Time

When she came, he followed her over the edge, his release bringing him that state of tranquility he craved. He wished it lasted longer than thirty seconds. And didn’t have to be followed by a whole lot of awkwardness. He pulled out and removed the expended condom, tossing it in a convenient garbage can on the janitor’s cart, and then refastened his jeans and belt. He let her find her panties and scrub pants. Waited until she was dressed before he looked at her. Not that he didn’t want to watch the hot stranger he’d just fucked slide her panties up her legs. He just knew that if he did, she’d start seeing things that weren’t there. Feelings. With feelings came attachment. With attachment came complications. That was the last thing Trey ever wanted.

“I…” she said breathlessly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. He pinned her with the look that got him almost anything he wanted. He’d perfected it as a child, modified it as a man, used it unabashedly. She flushed and leaned against the door for support.

“Sometimes a beautiful woman just needs a hard, slow fuck against a wall with a perfect stranger. I understand.”

She gazed at him, looking more dazed than a pothead at a Grateful Dead concert. “Yeah… Perfect.”

“I’ll leave first. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Yeah…”

He waited for her to collect enough sense to move out of the way of the door. One hand on the doorknob, Trey took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her trembling lips. “That is the best sex I’ve ever had against a door in a hospital supply closet.”

“Yeah…”

“You’re an amazing woman.”

“Will you call me?” she gushed.

He shook his head slightly. “I want to keep my memory of this moment untainted. Let’s not complicate it. Let it be what it’s meant to be. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure.”

Her face twitched with disappointment, but she nodded.

He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and then let himself into the corridor. He strode toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

Hot nurse a fuzzy memory already, Trey dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called his brother.

“What’s up?” Dare answered.

“Brian and Myrna had a boy.” Trey smiled at the thought of holding Brian’s perfect son for the first time. “They named him Malcolm Trey.”

Dare sniggered. “What the fuck are they thinking? Poor kid.”

“You home?”

“Yeah, but I’m busy.”

Trey grinned. “Busy, huh? What’s her name? I’ll help you entertain her.”

“Not that kind of busy. Remember that stupid contest our publicist came up with: Guitarist for a Year with Exodus End? Today we’re auditioning studio musicians to identify the winner. We do need to find someone to take over for Max on rhythm guitar, but this is fuckin’ stupid.” Max was the lead singer of Dare’s band, Exodus End. Max had also played rhythm guitar until recently. “We hoped his carpal tunnel surgery would get us out of this mess, but the surgery fucked up his hand even more. He can’t stand the pain of playing, and he’s been advised not to move his wrist for several weeks.”

“That should make jerking off a challenge,” Trey said.

“As if Max needs to jerk off.”

True. The man could have any woman he wanted.

“Hey,” Dare said, “you should come try out. We can make it seem like you entered the contest.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’d never leave Sinners. Not even for you.” Trey stepped on the elevator and made his way down to the lobby. The well-built guy in the elevator smiled at him and let his eyes drift down Trey’s body with appreciation. Trey had to admit he was tempted by the open invitation, but he had a powerful need to hang out with his big brother. Dare understood him. Trey needed that at the moment. More than he needed more meaningless, but amazing, sex with yet another attractive stranger.

“You can help us decide then,” Dare said, drawing Trey’s attention from the way elevator-guy was gnawing on his lips and making Trey want to kiss him. “We’ve narrowed it down to five guitarists based on their demos, but there’s no way to know how many times they redid them before sending them in. They’ll all be playing live for us in about an hour. They can’t fake that.”

Trey stepped off the elevator, winking at Open Invitation before wandering toward the exit to find a cab.

“Okay, sure. Sounds like fun.” Trey’s phone beeped. “I’ll be there in a few. I’ve got another call.”

“Later.”

Trey disconnected and checked his phone’s screen. Mark? Shit. He considered ignoring him but knew Mark would just keep calling and calling until Trey finally talked to him. The guy could not take a hint. Might as well get this over with.

“Hey,” Trey answered.

“Are you in town?” Mark asked.

“I’m on tour. You know that.”

“The Sinners’ News Blog said you flew into L.A. this morning because Brian’s wife was in labor.”

Trey wasn’t sure how the owners of that blog knew what was going on with Sinners so quickly. Sometimes they knew more about Sinners’ goings-on than Trey knew and he was living it. He guessed he couldn’t deny that he was in town. “Yeah, they had a little boy. Adorable little shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what the site said. 7 pounds 9 ounces. 21 inches. Named him Malcolm Trey. Are you still at the hospital? I could stop by.”

Stalker alert! “Mark, we’ve been through this. I’m not interested in a relationship with you.” Men! They could be such a pain in the ass. Especially if they didn’t know what they were doing back there. Trey had slept with Mark more than once. They’d met in Portland over a year ago and after relieving him of his anal and oral virginity, Trey had taken him to get a tattoo. The guy had moved to Los Angeles a few months later. Trey suspected it was because of him, as Mark was relentless in his pursuit. Trey had no problem fucking him, but when Mark had started trying to forge a commitment, Trey was finished with him. The guy could not take a hint. Or blatant rejections. Or flashing neon signs that read: Go the fuck away.

“Who said anything about a relationship? I just wanted to congratulate Brian,” Mark said.

“Do whatever you want. I’ve already left the hospital.”

“Oh.” Mark hesitated. “Are you hungry? I could take you out for breakf—”

“No, I’ve got plans.”

“What kind of plans? Are you seeing someone else?” The jealousy in Mark’s voice was so fucking annoying Trey considered hanging up on him. But then Mark would just call back and blame a bad connection or some stupid shit.

“Yeah,” Trey lied. “I am seeing someone. I’m seriously dating a woman right now.”

“Bullshit,” Mark said.

“It’s not bullshit. I’ve sworn off men for the rest of my life.” When the lie had formed, Trey hadn’t meant it, but now that he’d said it, he decided it was the best idea he’d ever had. Women he could deal with. Men either broke his heart or complicated his life. Exhibit A was upstairs bonding with his son. Exhibit B was on the phone. Exhibits C through triple X were scattered across the US and Canada waiting for Sinners to pass through their area again.

“Whatever, Trey. Come over to my place tonight and I’ll make you dinner. Suck your cock.”

Mark was a decent cook. And he did suck good cock. He was also exceedingly easy on the eyes and had a spectacularly tight ass, but the guy needed to move on. Trey had tried to hook him up with a few different men, but Mark was too hung up on Trey to consider anyone else.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” he challenged.

“Don’t want to—how’s that?”

Mark sighed loudly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mark, what do I have to do to convince you that it’s over between us?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Shit. Trey was going to have to get his number changed. Again. He honestly didn’t understand why some people couldn’t take a hint. He didn’t want to be in a relationship. Why was that concept so difficult for his sex partners to grasp?

Reagan leaned against the brick wall and clung to the neck of her red, electric guitar as if it was her lifeline. Breathe, Reagan, breathe. If you don’t win this competition, it’s not the end of the world. Maybe you were meant to be a barista for the rest of your life.

“You should have taken some Dramamine like I did,” an emo-punk hybrid, who was wearing more eyeliner than a three-dollar whore, said. He was also a finalist and set to go into the sound booth right after her. “You look like you’re going to hurl.”

She felt like she was going to hurl. Why was she here? She’d sent in that demo tape never thinking Exodus End’s manager would actually call her to audition for the band. Over five thousand guitarists had sent in a demo tape, too. How had she ended up in the top five? They were fucking with her. Had to be. She was a complete unknown. Of course, Dramamine guy was an unknown too, but that confident son of a bitch in the corner looked familiar. She was sure he’d been in some popular eighties band at one time.

Dramamine turned to look at Hair Band Hasbeen and sighed remorsefully. “We made it this far, at least.”

“I think I must be dreaming,” Reagan said. Dramamine’s hair definitely looked like something out of a bizarre dream sequence. How did he get it to stay sticking straight out to one side like that? And who thought the burgundy and green stripes through his jagged-cut bangs were a good idea? “How often does a mega-famous, amazing band like Exodus End let unknowns audition for their group?” Reagan continued.

Dramamine opened his mouth to answer, but Reagan prattled on. “Never, that’s when. I can’t believe I’m actually here. In Dare Mills’s house. Doing an audition with Exodus fucking End.” She checked a clock on the studio wall. “In twenty minutes.” She swayed and Dramamine grabbed her shoulder to keep her on her feet. She removed her guitar and set it against the wall. It didn’t usually feel heavy, but today if felt like she had an elephant hanging over her shoulder. She massaged her temples with both hands. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“You’re hyperventilating. Breathe more slowly.”

“I can’t help it.” She needed to keep talking about something to keep her mind off things. She patted Dramamine on the chest. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Pyre.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “No shit?”

“Well, that’s my stage name.”

Lame.

“It’s short for Vampyre,” he added.

Wow. Okaaaay.

“I’m Reagan. It’s short for Reagan. I’m not into vamps. What are you going to play, Pyre?”

“The three Exodus End songs we all have to play.”

“‘Bite.’ ‘Encore.’ ‘Ovation.’” She ticked the song titles off on one hand. She’d been practicing them for days. And every other Exodus End song ever released in case they threw a surprise at her. Like a pop quiz. They probably wanted to make sure whomever they hired could really take over the duties of rhythm guitarist—and what better way to do that than to request a surprise song? Reagan would rather play lead guitar than rhythm, truth be told, but Dare Mills wasn’t the one being replaced. Maximilian Richardson was giving up rhythm guitar and just sticking to vocals. At least, that’s what she’d been told. She hadn’t actually met him or anything. In fact, they’d been ushered into this studio and hadn’t had the opportunity to meet any of the band members. So much for her plan to win them over with her sweetest smile. Probably for the best. At the moment she doubted she could produce a decent grimace, much less a smile. “What about the solo of our choice? What are you going to play for that?” she asked Pyre.

“‘Temptation.’” Another Exodus End song. A great solo, heavy on technique, but not speed.

“Nice choice.”

“What are you going to do?” Pyre asked.

“Sinners’ ‘Gates of Hell.’”

“Are you foiking insane?” Pyre asked, his eyes wide in astonishment.

“What do you mean? That solo is awesome!” she said, her heart thrumming with excitement. She hearted Sinners. Their lead guitarist, Brian Sinclair, was an absolute god.

“That solo is impossible,” Pyre said. “Foiking Master Sinclair has seven fingers on each hand or something. No mere mortal can do that solo justice.”

Reagan grinned. “You can’t play it?”

“No one can play it like Sinclair does. You should pick something easier.”

“Let her play it.” Hair Band Hasbeen saw his way into their conversation. “If sweet-tits blows her chance, it’s one less piece of competition for us to worry about.” He grinned to himself as he stared at her ass.