Fully Automatic (Bullet) (34 page)

That didn’t matter, though.  He looked up at her and he thought his jaw would hit the floor.  She really
was
getting turned on by it.  She was rubbing the back of her neck and fluttering her eyes, acting hot and bothered.  He wanted to throw the guitar down and start fucking her, but he wasn’t going to.  He was going to keep playing until she either asked him to stop or he couldn’t take it anymore.  It was definitely a turn on.

He could have sung to the song too, but he didn’t want to break the mood.  Even if the song hadn’t been mournful and sappy (and probably what Valerie would describe as
generic
), the words would have pushed her away.  They were about his pining for another woman.  He doubted that would keep her aroused.

When the song was almost over, she said, “Kiss me.” 
That was all he needed to hear.  He slid the guitar off his lap and onto the bed and placed his hands on her cheeks.  Oh, she tasted sweet, and Brad didn’t know if it was because he’d once again waited too long.  She raked her hands down his chest but then he realized her hands were no longer on him.  She was unbuttoning her blouse.

Holy fuck, it was gonna happen
fast.  Yeah, that was what he needed.  A girl who wanted to call the shots.  He decided he’d kiss her until she was ready for him to take over.

Only it never happened.  She took her bra off next and, before Brad could even touch her, she was feeling herself, moaning into his mouth.  Okay…still a turn on, but he wondered when he’d be able to step in.  Then she stood, leaving Brad sitting on the bed with his cock straining against his jeans, and she kicked her shoes off. 
Next she peeled her tight little red vinyl pants off, followed by tiny little thong panties.  She flashed a seductive smile at Brad and crawled up on the bed, but she did it beside the guitar.  He turned more on the bed to look at her.  She brushed the headstock with her hand and then slid her palm underneath, lifting the guitar up at an angle, its body resting on the bed.  She lifted the headstock close to her face and then started licking a tuning peg.  Goddamn.  He had no idea why he was finding this so hot, but he was.  This chick was fucking making out with his guitar, and it was insane the way his body was reacting.

She wasn’t done, though, and Brad wasn’t sure if she wanted him to take over or just watch.  He was mesmerized. 
Brittany slid the guitar further down the bed and then lay down, her head resting on one of the pillows.  She lifted a leg so that the shaft of the guitar was between her thighs, and she rested a foot on the body.  Part of him wanted to tell her to stop, because he was afraid she might hurt his guitar, but he was frozen.  He was wired too, so close to losing his load, it wasn’t even funny.

She wrapped one hand around the fretboard
, lifted her foot off the guitar body, and brought the headstock to her pussy.  Her legs were spread wide, and she bent her knees and tilted her pelvis to meet the very top of the headstock with its smooth, curved, polished wood, and she rubbed it against herself.  She moaned and then shoved a finger in her mouth, biting down.  She kept rubbing his guitar up and down her slit, and she got louder as she did it.  She slid her hand down her neck and chest to play with a nipple and Brad was entranced.  He couldn’t move.  All he could register was that he was more aroused than he’d been in ages and it was almost painful.  She rubbed one more time and gasped again, then lay the guitar down and let her fingers take over.  She cried in ecstasy while Brad sat there and watched in agony.

Could he jump in now?  Would she even let him?  He wasn’t sure what move he should make.

Fuck it.  His cock told him to try.  Unlike Brittany, though, he felt his guitar was precious, and he gently lifted it off the bed and laid it on the other one.  Then he pulled off his shirt and lay next to her.  Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful, and he almost didn’t want to disturb her.  He rested a hand on one of her breasts and brought his lips to hers, giving her a soft kiss.

“No, no,” she said, pushing against him with her hand.  “That was perfect.”

How’d he manage to pick them?  She kept shoving him hard, though, and then she forced him down on the bed.  By the time he felt her hands on the waistband of his jeans, he was sure he was going to explode.  He didn’t, though.  Then she pulled his underwear down and spat on her hand, taking his cock in her fist and massaging it vigorously.  If he hadn’t been so aroused and so close to the edge, he would have had trouble, because she was aggressive—too aggressive.  But it wasn’t even a minute and he let it go, a burst of pleasure exploding in his mind and making him forget everything else—five glorious seconds of nothing but happiness, and he was going to ride that wave.

Chapter Forty

AFTER BRITTANY FELL asleep, Brad cleaned his guitar with a damp washcloth.  He had no problems with bodily fluids, but he did know that guitars had to be treated with respect and love and had to be kept clean, something he did with his religiously.  He knew the oils and grime from his fingers weren’t good for the finish, so he figured it was better to not take a chance with anything else.  He’d never say a word to her about it.

That had to be one of the most bizarre sexual encounters he had ever experienced.
  Uh, yeah, he got off and so did she, but could it even be considered sex, considering his cock got nowhere near her female parts?  Hell, all he’d had to do for her was play his guitar.  Weird.

So he lay next to her on the bed and had a hell of a time falling asleep.  She hadn’t rocked his world like he’d hoped.  He needed someone to drive the image of Val out of his mind for good, and he had yet to find the right woman for the job.

He managed to doze off, but he didn’t sleep well.  He finally got up around seven and turned the TV on.  He flipped through channels, finding nothing that grabbed his attention, but he was passing the time.  He wanted to sleep but knew it wasn’t going to happen.

He started drifting off
, though, and that was when he heard his phone go off.  He got a text.  He picked the phone up off the nightstand and read it.  It was Val.  She’d been coming over every morning to shower and dress after spending the night with Jet, and she wanted to again.  He mulled it over for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to tell her nicely that he didn’t want her there.

He decided not to text her back, because he’d taken too long
thinking about it.  She’d be knocking on the door any minute.  So he jumped out of bed and threw on his jeans that were on the floor beside the bed.  Then he grabbed the t-shirt he’d thrown on the other bed.  He snatched the card key and stepped out the door.  Sure enough, Val was already there.

She had a big grin on her face. 
“Look at you.”  He frowned, not sure how to ask what he needed to.  No matter what hadn’t happened between him and Brittany the night before, he wasn’t going to have Val traipsing through the room until Brittany was gone.  “What?”

He took a deep breath.  There was no easy way to say it. 
“Would it be too big an imposition to ask you to come back in a while?”

She considered it and said,
“I’ll do you one better.  Can you just bring me my suitcase?  I think I have everything else I need.”

That was cool and had wound up being easier than he’d expected. 
“Be right back.”

He went in the room, closing the door behind him.  Her luggage was next to the dresser, so he picked it up.  Jesus.  It was heavier than it had a right to be.  He stepped back out into the hallway. 
“What the hell do you have in here, Valerie?  Lead?”  She laughed.  “Seriously…you need me to carry it?”

“No.  I’ve got it.  It has a
n extending handle and wheels.”

“Okay.
”  He had to find a way to let her know he appreciated her attitude.  “And, uh…thanks.”

She grinned again
.  “So what’s gotten into you, Brad?”

He
smiled back.  Truth—always the truth.  “I got needs, Val, just like any other guy.”

“I know.  Just givin’ you shit.  You know I respect the hell out of you, right?”

Well, hell.  No, he didn’t know that.  She might have even said it once or twice, but it had never sunk in.  He and Val had a solid friendship, but he had never thought of respect before.  He was pretty sure the other three guys in their band didn’t feel the same way.  So he said, “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She pulled the handle out of her suitcase and started wheeling it down the hall, away from him.
  “Well, don’t let it get to your head.  Get back to your lady friend.”

He almost told her the girl in the bed might have been a lot of things, but she was
not
his lady friend.  He chose not to.  Brittany seemed nice enough.

He went back in the room and managed to get another hour of sleep before she woke up.
  And when she did, she gave him a real ride that helped erase the strange memories of the night before.

* * *

Brad declared the tour a success.  They had a few more Facebook fans, but they’d sold lots of merchandise (they’d need to order more t-shirts) and the crowds were wild.  It invigorated him, refreshed him, made him want to try twice as hard to push the band to new heights.  He wanted to make sure his bandmates felt the same fire burning inside, and so he called a meeting.

He had other things he needed to discuss, and he’d already laid the groundwork, but he had to have them all on board before moving forward.  This meeting would tell him what he needed to know—was Fully Automatic fully committed, or did he need to draw up a new game plan?

“Guys, we just finished something huge.  Did we make a lot of money?  Hell, no.  If you’re feeling like me, you’re tired and can’t even begin to settle back in.  I’m sorry about that.  But I hope that taste makes you hungry again.  I feel like we’ve just kinda been sittin’ on our laurels the past few months.”

Val nodded, but then he saw a shadow cross her face and she frowned.  “In all fairness, Brad, I haven’t stopped writing.  I’m constantly coming up with new stuff.”

“Yeah.  I give you that.  Hell, we’re
all
doing some writing.  I don’t think that’s the hard part.”  It was time to get down and dirty.  He was going to have to say some things people didn’t want to hear, but he was tired of feeling like he was carrying the heavy load.  It was time to get their attention.  “But how many of you are contributing around here?”  Ethan acted like he wanted to say something, so Brad wanted to nip it in the bud.  “I’m not talking about doing the shit on the chore chart.  That just keeps you in.  I’m sayin’…how many of
us
—myself included—go around promoting our shows, trying to sell advance tickets?  How many of you guys ever even log onto our Facebook page and post to our fans?  Did you guys know we actually have over five hundred fans?”

Zane asked, “Fuckin’ serious?”

Brad nodded.  “Yeah.  But we can do better.  Val and I are busting our asses earning extra cash for if we need it.  Don’t want a job?  Fine.  Then represent us…on Facebook.  Get a Twitter account going.  Make flyers and pass them out around town.  Ethan, you have that fuckin’ sick computer and software, and I’ve seen some of the shit you can do.  You should be all over that.  But then get the word out there.  Talk us up.  Find new cool merch for us to sell.  That’s a steady stream of money, even when we play free gigs.  But I can’t keep doing it all, guys.  I book us the shows.  Help me out.”  There.  He’d said it.  He’d been feeling like he was the only one trying.  He knew it wasn’t true, but there was so much the other guys could be doing, and he hoped his words settled in, even if they felt defensive about it at first.  He could see in their eyes that they were taking him seriously, taking his words to heart, so he continued.  “I’m not saying the music’s not important, but if we don’t do this other shit, no one will care what we’re writing.”

Zane
added, “We need to record more of our stuff too.”

“That we do, so why don’t you find a place for us to record on the cheap?”

“On it.”

There was one other thing he had to say, and his feelings had become evident after having his own room on the road for more than a week. 
“As for our living arrangement…I just can’t take this anymore.  It’s too close, too tight.  I feel like I’m constantly on top of one of you motherfuckers.  I need some space.  This just ain’t cuttin’ it.”

Zane
nodded.  “Agreed, man, but you know the price of rent.  No fuckin’ way we’ll survive here in separate apartments.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.  You guys know we’re on a month-to-month here.  I found a three-bedroom apartment.  It’s more than what we pay here, but I don’t give a shit.  I can’t do this anymore.  This
new place is also unfurnished, meaning we’ll have to buy our own stuff, but these bedrooms will fit twin beds.  That means we’ll all have a real bed.  I need that, guys.  I really do.”

“Yeah…that’d be nice.”

Everyone seemed to be in agreement, so he kept going.  “A lot of the shit we’ll need we’ll have to go to secondhand stores to get or buy some of that cheap-ass assembly stuff at Walmart, but I need this.  You guys already got some money from the past two weeks, right?  I socked away the rest.  We actually made a lot, even after the motels, gas, and food were taken out, and I think it’ll get us started.  Well, you know what I mean.  Not tons, but enough.”

Ethan finally spoke.  “Do it, man.  Do it.  You want me to do shit on my computer?  If we had a bigger place, I could find a spot to set it up and actually do something.”

Brad smiled.  “That’s the spirit.”  He made the call and they started packing that day and moved the beginning of the following month.  Seeing the solidarity of his friends when they knew he needed it most told him everything he needed to know.  Fully Automatic would move forward with their current lineup, and they’d be better than ever.

* * *

Before they moved, though, Brad got confirmation that Val and Jet were continuing their relationship past the tour.  Hell, Jet even helped with part of the move.  He didn’t know why he’d expected it to be a fling simply relegated to the tour.  Maybe it was because it seemed so intense and consuming while it happened.  He’d tried to ignore it, but it was difficult, because every spare moment they’d had on the road Val and Jet had spent together.  It seemed too hardcore to last.

And
, yet, there was Jet at their door one Thursday night early summer.  “Hey, Jet.  You here to see Val?”

“Yeah.”  Brad and Jet had always gotten along.  Brad respected the guy’s musical abilities—he was a hell of a guitarist.  Amazing, in fact, and Brad was surprised their band hadn’t already been picked up by a label.  Seeing him through Val’s eyes made him see the appeal to women too.  The guy’s tattoos put Brad’s to shame.  He was inked from shoulder to wrist on both arms, but that wasn’t all.  He was pierced all over too.  He knew Val also had a thing for long hair, and Jet’s fit the bill.  He just wasn’t sure about it all, though.  Not only did it bother him that Val had run straight from Ethan into Jet’s arms, but he knew Jet was a bit of a playboy.  He
didn’t want the guy breaking her heart.  Still, he had to let Val make her own mistakes.  He would never say a word to her about what he thought.

Goddamn, he had to let her go.  He wasn’t going to be able to find his own happiness if he continued mourning the fact that he’d never had her enough to consider her lost to him.

“She was in the shower.  Let me see if she’s free.  Come on in.”  Before she’d gotten in the shower, she’d acted upset, and now he was putting two and two together.  Lovers’ spat already?  Jet stepped in the door and stood to wait.  Brad figured he wouldn’t make himself at home, because it had never been a secret that he and Ethan weren’t friends.  The bathroom was free, so he went to Val’s room and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?”

“Val?  Jet’s here.  Did you wanna see him?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Brad peeked out of the hallway and motioned for Jet to join him.  By the time he made it over, Val opened her bedroom door and she took Jet in her arms.  Brad backed away.

And he prayed for strength.  Strength to let her go so she could live her life and the will to live his own.  He had to find a way.