The Prince of Punk Rock (12 page)

“I don’t like her.”

Angel laughed.  “You’re not one to sugar coat anything, are you?”

“No.
 
I tell it like it is.
 
Not many people rub me the wrong way like she
does, Angel. I don’t like her, and I don’t trust her.”

Chapter Twelve

Tommy thought they were supposed to
be writing music, but where were Damien and Jimmy?
 
And why were they at Angel’s apartment
instead of the studio?

Angel set two drinks down on the
coffee table and sat next to him. “Play something for me.”

Tommy picked up his Fender and
strummed
Adrenaline Rush
.

“No.”
 
Angel placed his hand on Tommy’s thigh.
 
“I don’t want to hear one of our songs.
 
Play something
you
wrote.”

Tommy’s eye went straight to Angel’s
hand. His leg tingled and a bolt of fire shot to his groin.
 
He couldn’t think of anything to play.
 
His mind was clouded with visions of Angel’s
hand traveling up his thigh, slowly unzipping his jeans, touching his flesh for
the first time . . .”

“Play anything.
 
What was the last song you wrote with your
old band?”

The sound of Angel’s voice yanked
him out of his fantasy.
 
He pulled the
guitar closer to hide his erection, and played one of his songs from
Psychobabble.
 
Angel’s penetrating gaze
was too distracting, so Tommy focused on his fingers and on the guitar
strings.
 
About half way through the song
he stopped playing and looked up at Angel.

“You’re amazing.”
 
Angel touched his knee again.
 
“You’re a titan on the guitar.
 
I wish I could do that.”

“I could teach you how to play.”

“Oh, no.”
 
Angel laughed, modestly.
 
“I can’t play the guitar.
 
It’s too hard.”

Angel tried to protest, but Tommy
put the guitar in his lap.
 
He was
apprehensive, almost afraid to hold it.
 
It was adorable.

“It’s not going to break.” Tommy
positioned the guitar on Angel’s knee.
 
“Get the feel of it in your hands for a while.”

Angel held the guitar in a rigid
embrace, but made no attempt to play it.

Tommy demonstrated a simple chord
and put the guitar back in Angel’s lap.
 
He tried to replicate it, but his hand was awkward around the fretboard
and his fingers couldn’t reach the strings.

Tommy moved closer and held Angel’s
manicured and uncalloused fingertips over the correct strings.

Angel furrowed his brow and
concentrated on holding them down.
 
He
glanced up at Tommy.
 
“Like this?”

Angel’s dark eyes peeked through
the strands of his jet black hair.

Tommy slowly nodded.

“Now what do I do?”

Tommy put the pick between Angel’s
fingers. “Strike all six strings in one fluid motion.”

Their thighs were touching and
Tommy could feel Angel’s warm breath blowing across his cheek.

Angel dragged the pick over the
guitar strings.
 
It was slow and choppy.

“That’s it.
 
That’s good.
 
Now, do it again, only do it really fast this time.”

Teaching guitar never sounded so
dirty.

Angel repeated the chord several
times, each time with more confidence and eventually, all the notes rang
together.

“You did it.
 
That’s a G chord.”

“I can’t believe it.
 
My prince! Thank you so much!”

Those two words always made Tommy’s
blood race and sent his heart into a static frenzy.
 
“I love it when you call me, my prince,” he
said, softly.

Angel’s eyes bore into Tommy’s for
several seconds.
 
“My prince,” he
whispered.

A hot shiver ran down Tommy’s
back.
 
He could barely hear anything over
the sound of his heart beating in his ears.
 
The sexual chemistry they shared was palpable.
 
It was an entity that occupied its own space.
 
It crowded the room and pushed them together.

Angel put the guitar on its
stand.
 
His gaze was strong and
penetrating.

The palms of Tommy’s hands began to
sweat and he fidgeted in his seat.
 
Thoughts of Jessi pierced his heart and made him look away.
 
As much as he wanted to kiss Angel, he couldn’t
do it behind Jessi’s back.
 
And he still
couldn’t tell Jessi how much he cared about Angel.
 
He couldn’t hurt her like that.
 
He had no choice but to slink further down
the couch and back away.

The disappointment was clear on
Angel’s face.
 
He looked wounded and sad.

Tommy wanted to take Angel in his
arms, throw him down on the couch and rip his shirt off.
 
He wanted to put his lips to Angel’s neck and
to his chest.
 
He wanted to do so much
more, but his love for Jessi held him back.
 
He needed to do something else, quickly, and he reached for the guitar
to rescue him.
 
“Let me show you
something else.”
 
He quickly ran through
a couple of chords, played a short melody and rattled off a half hour lesson in
five minutes.

Angel gave him a bewildered
smile.
 
“There’s no way I absorbed
anything you just said.”

Tommy laughed, nervously.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
Maybe we should just . . . slow down a little.”

“OK.
 
If that’s what you want . . . my prince.”

Chapter Thirteen

Jessi
crawled into bed and rolled over to face Tommy.
 
He was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, reading one of his
guitar magazines.
 
She tucked his hair
behind his ear so she could see his face.
 
He glanced up and gave her a tiny smile before returning to his reading.
 
She watched him and stroked his long, silky
hair.
 
She entwined her fingers through
it and smoothed it down the center of his back.

They had
been out with Angel again tonight.
 
She
was at his apartment discussing merchandise sales.
 
They got on the subject of fashion and she
ended up embellishing one of the jackets he wore when he performed.
 
She lost track of time and Tommy came by
looking for her.
 
The three of them went
out for dinner and then for a few drinks, afterwards.

Jessi
studied the interaction between Tommy and Angel over the course of the
night.
 
She had a tight friendship with
Angel, but Tommy and Angel had a bond.
 
Their interaction was always flirtatious, but it was also that of – she
hated to say it –an old married couple, but a couple whose spark still ignited
fire.
 
Tommy and Angel were comfortable
with one another, familiar, but the intensity they shared was so strong that
you could see it with the naked eye.
 
It
was actually very similar to the relationship she had with Tommy.

As she
continued to pet his hair and run her fingers through it, she realized that
they hadn’t shared their bed with anyone in a long time – not since Angel came
into their lives.
 
It hit her hard, like
a slap in the face.
 
Since Tommy met
Angel, he didn’t want to be with another man.
 
Angel was the only man on his mind.

 
“Can I ask you a question, baby?”
 
She didn’t wait for him to answer. “How come
you haven’t brought any candy home lately?”
 
That’s what Tommy called the men he brought into their bedroom.
 
It was easier for him to say, ‘I’m going to
stop and get some candy on the way home’ than to say ‘I’m going to pick up a
random stranger and let him fuck me senseless’.
 
It became their code word.
 
“It’s
been a while.
 
I don’t remember you
taking a break before.
 
Are you turning
straight on me?” She was teasing him.

“I
am
straight.”

“Really?
 
Because I think your gay lovers would say
differently.”
 
He never acknowledged that
he was bisexual.
 
She knew he hated the
word.
 
In his head, he
was
straight. The things he did on the side with men didn’t count.

He cast
his magazine aside and faced her.
 
He
didn’t say anything. He only met her gaze with a defiant smile.

“I have
another question for you.”

“You’re
full of question tonight, aren’t you?”
 
He took her hand and placed it on his crotch.
 
“Maybe I can find something else for you to
do with that inquisitive mouth of yours.”

She
wiggled her eyebrows at him.
 
“I’ll get
to it.
 
I was just wondering, how come
you never top?
 
You’re tough and
masculine.
 
I wouldn’t peg you for a
bottom.”

“I like
the bottom.”
 
H
is hand traveled
over her hip and he grabbed her left butt cheek and gave it a hard
squeeze.
 
“I don’t want anyone else’s
ass. This is all the ass I need.
 
If I
want it, I’ll take it.
 
Besides, just
because I’m on the bottom, doesn’t mean I’m not in charge.”