Beats (25 page)
Lying naked on Toombs’s bed, facing each other, we’re right where I need us to be—sex or not.
Toombs’s lids are heavy. His fist serves as an additional pillow for his head. He’s gorgeous, exposed, free. Mine. “Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” he says.
“I was a chameleon in another life,” I answer. “But it was hard playing so many roles. I’m not qualified for all that, so I’ve decided on one color.”
He purses his lips. “Red.”
“Nope.”
“Pink.”
I shake my head.
“Green.”
I giggle. “Silver.”
“That’s not a color. It’s a…
tone
or some shit.”
“No?” I reach between his legs and tug the curved barbell through the head of his cock. “So this isn’t a color?”
A grin melts his harsh features. His dick hardens in sync.
I heft my breasts, angling the studded nipples upward. “Or this?”
He dives into my boobs and tongues the metal, leaving lines of cooling saliva everywhere he touches. Definitely not sleepy anymore.
I sweep his cheek and kiss his lids. “Or these beautiful eyes?”
Toombs blushes. I’ve never seen him do that before. “Oh my God, are you embarrassed? I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”
He tilts his gaze downward, black lashes taunting me with schoolboy charm. “They’re not silver. They’re gray.”
“Now,
gray
is a tone. Silver is a precious metal. That’s what you are to me. Precious. Metal.” I snuggle in for a kiss, rounding my shoulders into the warmth of his tattooed arms.
He obliges, gently lifting my thigh as our mouths mingle, dance, and chase. A finger diddles my clit. My moan disrupts our kiss.
I’m still getting used to this whole domination thing, but it’s coming easier. “Keep doing that,” I instruct. “And tell me a secret about you.”
His gentle pulls and wiggles form a groove I can totally dance to.
“I got a perfect score on the SAT. And a full scholarship to UGA. Didn’t take it, though.”
If I had a drink, I’d spit it all over him. “Are you serious?”
He pauses his strokes. “Surprised?”
“Well…yeah. I had no clue I was dating a freaking genius. I mean, musical genius, yes. Is that what you were going to study? Music?”
“Math.”
I smile. Of course, he’d be a math major. I rub his short hair. “Why didn’t you take the scholarship?”
“Because I knew I could use numbers in better ways.”
“Beats?”
“Beats.”
“I’m glad you decided against it. I might not have ever met you otherwise.”
My phone chimes from the bedside table. Mikey’s face fills the frame.
“Shit.” I jump out of bed, fumble into the T-shirt I threw on the floor earlier, flip my hair out of the neckline, and sit in the chair by the window. I hit the answer button.
“Hey, Mikey,” I say.
Toombs sits up in bed, tattoos shadowed in the low light, trained on me like a sniper. He has my favorite predatory look in his eyes. The one that unleashes hordes of butterflies in my stomach. The one that protects what’s his. The one that’s going to get him laid as soon as this chat ends.
“What are you doing up so late?” I ask.
“You forgot to call again.” Mikey’s nasally voice is soft but not accusing.
“Yeah. I suck for that. I’m sorry.”
“I’m ready to play Beethoven for you.”
I straighten as an excited chill seizes my skin. “Really? That was quick.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“I’ll bet. I’m so proud of you, little brother. Will you play for me now?” It’s a 50-50 shot. I have to ask.
“No.”
“You did it last time, and the song wasn’t even done.”
“I want you to come home and hear it in person where the acoustics are good.”
I smile. “I’d love to. I promise I’ll be there whenever you schedule your recital.”
“Next Saturday.”
I panic a little. Only a week from now? I might not get paid before then. “That doesn’t give me much time to—”
Toombs hops out of bed, shaking his head. He mouths, “Go.”
“Actually, yeah. I’ll be there. No matter what. I told you I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I glance to Toombs. He’s right. I can put airfare on my credit card, regardless of the expense. Mikey’s worth it.
“Who’s with you, Gianna?”
“Just a friend.”
“Why is your lip shaking?”
Shit. I work my jaw to cover my embarrassment. “Didn’t know it was,” I lie.
“Can I talk to your friend?”
I can’t hide my shock. “Where does all this curiosity come from? You’ve never been interested in my buddies before.” The one time he met Letty, he clammed up and didn’t say a single word. Though, she kind of has that effect on people.
“My teacher said I have to talk to someone new. For homework.”
I get that he’s supposed to work on his social skills, but damn, he couldn’t have picked a worse person to try them out on.
Toombs pads over to his shirt and slips it on. My joints tense. This isn’t a good idea. The tattoos will probably freak Mikey the hell out.
“Uh…”
Before I can stop him, Toombs appears behind me and leans into focus beside my head. Worries about the impending “meeting” are put on hold as I see our faces in the same frame for the first time. My jaw drops, and I rush to shut it. I’m awed by how Toombs and I look together—him slathered in ink and me so “clean” in comparison. On the outside, we’re night and day. Black and white. Demon and angel. But on the inside, we’re the same.
“Hi,” Toombs says.
Mikey’s expression doesn’t change. “Your friend’s a boy, Gianna.”
I laugh and press the back of my hand to my mouth. He sure is. “This is Toombs. He plays guitar in Killer Buzz Float. He’s…a nice guy. Toombs, meet Mikey.”
Mikey’s gaze shifts to Toombs. “Is he coming on Saturday?”
I hold my breath.
“Only if you want me to,” my man says.
I face him, psychically projecting a
Seriously?
in his direction. He squeezes my leg out of the camera phone’s range.
“Does he like piano?” My brother is so socially awkward, talking about Toombs as if he’s not here, but Toombs doesn’t seem fazed. Probably because he’s a bit socially awkward too. Then again, aren’t we all?
“I like piano. And drums. And guitar,” Toombs says.
Mikey considers for a moment. “He can come. I’ll see you Saturday. Bye, Gianna.”
“Bye, little brother.” I smile as the screen freezes and then turn straight into Toombs’s approaching pucker.
Ah, the softness. The tenderness. He claims my lips without being too bossy, yet he lets me know they belong to him now. Gentle pulls deepen our kiss, but no tongue. He’s too much of a gentleman for that.
A hand wanders through my hair. He scoops me into his arms, maintaining the seal on our kiss, and carries me to the bed.
Our
bed. At least for now. He lays me on the comforter like a precious doll and sweeps his gaze down my front.
“I’ll book us two tickets to Atlanta tomorrow. I can’t wait to meet your brother.”
“He’s special,” I say.
“I know. He’s your brother.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Doesn’t matter. He belongs to you. That’s what makes him special.”
I inhale a deep gulp of air and release it. “My parents will be there.”
He nods. “Should be a good trip.”
“Yeah, and I’m paying for my part of it.”
“No, you’re not.”
I sit up and try to sound forceful by exercising my Domme voice, which is actually kind of lame. “Yes. I am.”
A slow grin smolders across his features. “Okay, how about you pay me back with sexual favors,
Mistress
?”
Um, yes, please. “Are you mocking me,
Jefferson
? Because you know I’ll punish you for that.”
His brow arches. “Then, yes. I’m absolutely mocking you, Mistress.”
“We gotta come up with another term. That one makes me cringe. It brings to mind visions of me wearing a leather cap, a catsuit, and six-inch patent boots, topped off with a frayed whip.”
“Now you’re just teasing.” He rubs his crotch. His erection taunts me. “What I wouldn’t give to see you dressed like that. Goddamn, Gianna.”
I smile. “See, now every time you call me Gianna, I get a tickle between my legs. Why not use that instead? It could be your private little pet name for me as your Mistress, and I’ll know you’re using it with respect.”
“Or to get you off.” His sexy, smug grin undoes me.
My phone buzzes on the bed beside us. Damn it, what now? I pick it up. It’s a photo from Letty. Oh my God. Toombs and me on the throne at our first rehearsal in the house a few days ago. For the second time in a matter of minutes, I’m struck dumb by how we look as a couple.
Right before she took this picture, I was scared shitless, uncomfortable, and downright nauseated. But like the Toombs and Jinx on video chat moments ago, in this image, we’re perfect. We
fit
together—all his parts matching mine, in sync, visually and spiritually in tune with each other. And our expressions—his relaxed face, chin resting lightly on my shoulder, and me fixated, filled with a little bit of surrender and a lot of determination—prove what I hoped all along. Despite our differences, or perhaps
because
of them, we’re good for each other. I can rely on him to be there when I need him, and he can do the same for me. With a little give and take, we’ll make this work.
I tap the picture and save it to my phone’s camera roll. What a beautiful portrait of us as both lovers and as musicians. Definitely a keeper.
A text follows, pushing the image further down the screen:
Just found this when I was taking selfies of me blowing Shades in St. Louis Cemetery #1. Goddamn, this place makes my ass cheeks clench tighter than an old nun’s shriveled cooter, but hey, spitters are quitters, which makes me a winner. Consider that step 12 since I kinda fell down on my instructor responsibilities. Now, go fuck Toombs. And be sure to swallow! :-)
Shaking my head at my friend, I flash the picture to Toombs. He takes the phone from me and studies it. A hint of pride sneaks into his eyes. “We make a good couple.”
I can taste the cinnamon on his breath. It turns my head into a Tilt-a-Whirl.
“We make a
great
couple.” I whip my shirt up and over my head once again, and snag the hem on his. Dragging it up his chest, I enjoy the scenery as each inch of his hot body is revealed. Never gets old. I paw at the colorful gun hanging at his hip and give it a quick lick.
“Now, I have strict instructions from my teacher to give you the blowjob of your life, and I love a challenge. So tell me, Jefferson Toombs, are you ready to be used, abused, and generally taken advantage of for a couple hours?”
He beams. “I could be down with that if you twist my arm.”
I take his wrist and wrench it behind him, pressing my breasts against his chest in the process. He stifles a grunt. “Is that enough of a twist for you?” I say.
“It’s a nice start.” He grins.
I push him to the mattress and straddle his erection.
Heavy footfalls trudge down the hall toward our room. They stop for a moment, and the floor under the door darkens with the shadows of two boots. Rax. I sigh. A few seconds later, the steps pick up and march down the staircase. The front door opens and closes, and welcome silence ensues.
Toombs takes my chin with his index finger and draws my attention back to him. “Be with
me
, Gianna. Only me.”
Ah, the tickle again. I smile. “There’s no one else but you.”
Eyes focused steadily on mine, he pulls me into the vortex of his kiss, and I forget about Rax. I surrender to him, knowing things are still not okay. They’re far from it.
But there’s a lot of potential for goodness.
I’m pretty sure Toombs is still in love with Rax. And if I’m honest with myself, maybe I am a little too. The three of us shared some intense, uncomfortable moments, but there was also tenderness. Even though it ended on a sad note, I’ll never forget how the two of them made me feel. How they freed me from my shell and showed me how to be happy with who I am and what I have, right here, right now.
It’ll be a long time before Toombs forgives Rax. A long time before he gets over the guy who might’ve been the love of his life.
Looking down at the harsh lines of his face tamed by my hair hanging around him, I’m okay with sharing a place in Toombs’s heart. I’ll never replace Rax. But I’ll be Toombs’s Gianna for as long as he’ll let me share his beats.
About the Author
Kendall Grey is the self-appointed past, present, and future president of the Authors Behaving Badly Club. A whale warrior and indie freedom fighter, she spends summers in the corner (usually with a dunce cap on her head) and winters hunched at the peak of Mt. Trouble, fiery pens of fury (complete with invisible ink) flying across the pages. She has a big set of cajones, and she’s not afraid to use them. In her spare time, Kendall speaks your mind so you don’t have to.
Kendall lives off a dirt road near Atlanta, Georgia, but don’t hold that against her.
