Rock Harder: Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies

And in real life, as I thought about Stig filling my pussy tight and thrusting in and out, I came all over my fingers, wishing they could be Stig’s cock, and hoping that soon, they would be.

Chapter Four – Stig

Once Holly and I had to leave the van, it was like I had a vision of the pearly gates in reverse, the darker confines of The Sanctuary paling in comparison to the divine light that had just departed.

Everything about the encounter felt right. Then she left, which wasn’t so good. My only consolation was the fact that we were going to see each other again soon— and that was something that couldn’t come quickly enough.

“Where did you get off to?” Varg teased.

“The van.”

“With the lunch girl?”

“Hey, now, that’s no ordinary girl. That was Holly Jones,” Ragnar said.

“Oh, sorry.”

Varg seemed to mean it, Holly’s esteemed professional reputation having no doubt traveled to him by word-of-mouth. She was one of the first employees hired when Suspicious Activity had moved into that office and was regarded as family by them.

I wasn’t sure what he might think of me going on a date with her, but we would have to cross that bridge when we came to it. My general impression of him implied that he would be fine with it. There might be a warning or two, just to make things crystal clear, but that would likely be the end of it.

We set up again for the next few songs on the list. Seth had insisted on fifteen tracks, figuring that if there were two or three that the buyer didn’t like, there would still be lots left for them to choose from.

He really did have the customer’s best interest at heart, as well as that of his bands. Striking a good balance between the two was one of his great skills. No wonder he’d reached such legendary status.

All during the rest of the recording session, Holly was still there. Not physically, but in my head and in my heart. Her presence haunted me like ghosts of the past. What was certainly a distraction in the majority of scenarios was somehow a catalyst in mine, helping me play the bass better than I had in a long time.

“Whoa,” Varg said at one point, actually turning to look at me.

“Dude,” Ragnar remarked from his kit.

“Where did that come from?” Sven asked, through the intercom.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Whatever it was, keep it up,” he said. “And you two, keep up with him. That was great.”

This was truly high praise coming from Sven, who could go to the Grand Canyon and describe it as “meh.”

The guys rose to the occasion and, with them following my lead for once in our history, we laid down some of our best songs ever, bringing our entire sound to a new level.

“Shit,” Varg said, in the best possible way.

“That’s it for today, guys,” Sven announced. “The bad news is, I think we should go back and re-track everything else to match with the greatness of this last song, if you guys think you can keep up this new level of performance. It will add an extra day or two to the recording schedule, but you’ll thank me later.”

I figured it would be possible to do that, especially now that I had a date with Holly lined up. It was as if she were my muse.

After no one complained, we went back out to the van for the journey home, with a newly clear-headed Varg at the wheel.

“Whatever that was,” Ragnar said, breaking the silence, “please do it again, Stig.”

“I’ll try my best.”

I truly wished I could have guaranteed it, knowing for a fact that Holly was some sort of magician who brought out the absolute best in me. I simply didn’t know for sure what would happen, though, and wanted to avoid writing checks I couldn’t cash. I’d seen where such conduct could land someone— especially from Varg, who had earned more scars than eyelashes by the time he could drink, due to getting into fights from calling out people who didn’t keep their word.

After dropping me off at my building, the van continued along its merry way, nearly blending in with the horizon at the top of the hill. Buzzing with adrenaline, I made my way up to my condo, focusing on what was in front of me, rather than on the circus of positive feelings rioting in my head.

My destination had been decided before I crossed the threshold of my apartment. Clothes fell away behind me like boosters on a space shuttle as I made my way to the bedroom.

The pressure was already reaching a fever pitch in my jeans. Those were the next to come off, making things somewhat easier. The removal of my boxers relieved everything even more so.