Olivia Cunning - Double Time

“Come with me,” she chanted. “Come with me. Come with me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he answered.

Her hips buckled and her fingers dug into his scalp as she cried out in ecstasy. He pumped into her vigorously and let go. He forced himself not to close his eyes as his body claimed release and was rewarded with the look of pure bliss that settled over her lovely face. “Oh God, Trey, I’m coming so hard.” He almost dropped her when her entire body went taut.

“That’s it, baby. Get off.”

If he hadn’t already come, the sounds she made as she found release would have sent him over the edge. After a long intense moment, she sagged back against the wall, wrapping her arms around his body to draw him against her. “Fuck,” she gasped in his ear. “That was amazing.”

He murmured something against her throat in agreement, so glad she’d made him look at her and hadn’t allowed him to treat her like a meaningless sex partner.

Trey released her begrudgingly, and she did her best to clean up in the tiny sink while he looked for the best place to dispose of his condom.

“Trey?”

He glanced up to look at her.

“Is there something more between you and Brian than friendship?”

Trey hoped she took his shock for denial instead of acceptance. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Just a few things you’ve said. And the way you look at him.”

“What way is that?”

“Like you love him.”

“I do,” he said. “I love all the members of my band. They’re like my family.”

While she pulled her T-shirt over her head, he turned to face the wall and mouthed, Shit, shit, shit repeatedly. How had she picked up on that so easily? And if he was that transparent, how come Brian never recognized it?

“Do you think he heard us?” She bumped into him as she struggled to put on her panties.

“I don’t know if he heard me, but I’m sure he heard you. You were screaming like a horror picture bimbo.”

She slapped him on the arm. “Was not.”

“How about I ask him?”

“Don’t,” she pleaded. She grabbed his arm and spun him to face her. “I didn’t mean to get that loud. You got me carried away. I forgot where I was.”

Three points for the Trey-ster.

He waited for her to squirm into her pants before he opened the door. He took the seat across from Brian, stretched his legs out in front of himself, and crossed them at the ankles. He folded his arms behind his head and sighed in contentment. Brian, who had been staring out the window, turned his head to look at him.

“Done already?” Brian asked.

“Had to hurry. We’ll be landing soon.”

Brian shook his head. “I couldn’t tell if you were killing her or screwing her. There isn’t a dead body in the bathroom, is there?”

Before Trey could assure Brian that he hadn’t murdered Reagan, she exited the bathroom and sat on the far end of the sofa. Her face was beet red.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Brian told her. “But if you scream like that on the tour bus, Eric will tease you and Sed will cuss you out for making him horny. You might want to borrow a gag from Jace.”

“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” Reagan said.

“I didn’t. Just sayin’.”

Reagan grinned at Brian. “Can I get my guitar out now? I brought one acoustic with me.”

Trey wasn’t sure how the woman could think about working. He wanted to take a nap.

Brian perked up, his gloomy expression replaced with one of interest. “Yeah. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

Reagan found the thickest of her guitar cases and opened it to reveal a black lacquered acoustic guitar. “This baby sings,” Reagan said, strumming the strings lightly. “Max did a great job breaking her in.”

She carried the guitar over to the sofa and sat with the instrument on one thigh.

“Good. You’re right-handed,” Brian said, leaving his seat to sit beside her. “Not a lefty like Trey. He does everything ass-backwards.”

“I think that’s part of the reason why you two complement each other so well,” Reagan said, smiling first at Trey then Brian.

“Takes him twice as long to learn a riff.”

“You’re just a freak of nature,” Trey told Brian.

“So I’ve watched all sorts of videos of you playing solos, but they never really catch your finger movements in the upper register. I sort of made up my own technique, but the notes never sound as crisp as yours. They all run together at that speed.”

“Show me,” Brian said.

Reagan played the triplet repeats of the solo to their newest single, “Betrayed.” She had to strum incredibly fast, because an acoustic sounded nothing like an electric guitar and wasn’t ideal for soloing. Brian watched the fingers of her left hand as they moved over the fret board.

“Don’t squeeze,” he said. “Tap.” He tapped the tops of her fingernails. “Short taps.”

She followed his instruction but still didn’t get the same quality of note that Brian got. He extended a hand. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She handed him the guitar and watched his fingers in rapt attention as he played the solo several times in a row. He didn’t bother strumming more than he would his electric guitar, so it didn’t sound much like a solo as most of the notes were almost silent with no pickups to amplify them. “I’ll show you on an electric tonight,” he said.

“I see what you’re doing.” She took his hand in hers and flipped it over to inspect his fingertips and then her own. “I need to work on some new callouses. Yours are more off-center than mine. I’m not hitting the strings in the same spot.”

“Instead of trying to copy me, maybe you should work on your own sound.”

She grinned at him. “But I like yours. Wish I would have come up with it first.”

“Why don’t you play some of the stuff you wrote?” Trey suggested. He still remembered the mesmeric riff she’d been playing in Dare’s studio when he’d taken her up on her challenge to duel. He’d watched her for several minutes before he found the sense to interrupt.

She flushed. “I’ll just embarrass myself.”

Most guitarists started out copying the guitarists they admired, and that would serve her fine as she took over for Max, but when she pushed to the next level in her career, she’d need to find her own sound. And be confident that she owned it.

Brian patted her knee. “You’ve got the talent. You’ll get there.” He climbed to his feet and found his seat. He reclined it. “I’m going to catch a little nap. Didn’t get much sleep at the hospital last night. I’d appreciate it if you two would keep the orgasmic screaming to a minimum.”

Trey stood and reached into an overhead bin. He pulled out a pillow and blanket and tossed them at Brian, hitting him dead in the face. If Reagan hadn’t already expressed her suspicions about Trey’s feelings for Brian, Trey would have chosen a less violent delivery, but he had to be careful not to show her how much he cared about him.

“Thanks,” Brian said sarcastically and stuffed the pillow under his head. He spread the blanket over his body and clutched it to his chest.

Trey turned the lights in the cabin down and winked at Reagan, who was sitting with her guitar still on her lap and watching him a bit too closely. Trey sat beside her on the sofa and took the guitar from her. He set it carefully on the floor and drew her into his arms. “We never got to cuddle after our initiation into the mile high club,” he murmured near her ear.

She shifted onto his lap and wrapped both arms around his neck. He mostly just held her for the next hour and stroked her skin tenderly. They exchanged a few sweet kisses, but Trey was far too preoccupied with Brian’s situation to intensify the passion between himself and Reagan. Brian wasn’t happy and if Brian wasn’t happy, none of the band was happy. Even though Sed led the band and they all looked to him to fix any logistical problems, Brian was their keystone, and without his talent, they had nothing to center themselves around. They all depended on him to be their creative focus. Trey was pretty sure Brian could stick it out for the next two weeks, but what of the next year? They’d just put out a new album they needed to promote. They were co-headlining with Exodus End all across North America, then Europe and Australia. Asia. South America. Brian might be able to fly back to see Myrna and Malcolm when he was within a few hours flight time, but from the other side of the globe? There was no way.

“What are you thinking about?” Reagan asked, her hand moving to stroke the tension from his forehead.

“The end of Sinners.”

She glanced at Brian who was out cold and drooling all over his pillow. “Maybe the band just needs to take a year off.”

“Maybe.” But then Sed and Jess would probably have a kid or twelve and they’d be in the same place. “I’m never having kids,” he muttered under his breath.

“Me neither,” she said.

Trey glanced down at her. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud and was surprised that Reagan wouldn’t want kids. Didn’t all women want them?

“You don’t want kids?”

She shook her head. “Do you have any idea what they do to your vagina?” she said. “No thank you.”

Trey laughed and squeezed her against him. “My perfect woman.”

Reagan carried two of her guitars onto Sinners’ tour bus. Behind her, Brian and Trey had divvied up her remaining luggage and followed her onboard. Her stomach fluttered when she noticed the Eric Sticks sitting at the dining table, poring over musical scores. His untamed black hair, with a streak of canary yellow that started at his left temple and continued down a finger-thick strand that fell to his collarbone, caught her attention first. Then his ruggedly handsome features. Then his long, sinewy body and masculine hands. He glanced up, barely gave Reagan a second glance with a pair of piercing blue eyes, before his gaze settled on Brian. “Pictures,” he demanded and flicked a beckoning hand at him.