Rock On (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies)

Giving me a moment to get used to the feeling, he started to move. Stroking his huge cock deep in my ass, reaching under me and fingering my pussy as well, working me to a boneshaker combined orgasm, my clit responded at the same time I felt an orgasm in my ass, which I hadn’t even known was possible.

I came with a jolt, fingers still deep in my pussy, knowing exactly what I had to do.

Derek had started off as my enemy. But I just knew we had to become lovers.

Chapter Eleven – Pauline

The smell hit me harder than usual, in a good way. It was a unique bouquet of wood, stain, resin, glue and wood filler I so loved.

I hadn’t been to the workshop in a while. My joining the band coincided with a level off in repair orders. The semi-layoff had come at the best possible time. I’d been making more in a day from shows than I had at the shop, but I still missed it, in an odd way.

I was glad there was some work for me to do here, even though overall I was even more glad that I’d accepted the cellist position with DSM.

Plying my skills, fingers still remembering what to do, I got back into the swing of things. The job I had once taken as a stopgap measure didn’t seem so bad or menial now.

One of the things I’d liked least about it was the isolation, but that had also turned out to be one of the best things. I didn’t want to go back to only doing repairs, but it was nice to have a break now and again.

I loved playing with the guys in the band, but that sort of intensity could get to be too much sometimes. Plus, I still wasn’t even sure there would be a band after what had happened. Derek’s exit looked less like a tantrum than an epiphany.

I had decided I was going to talk to Derek though and get this all over with, for my personal life as well as my professional life. As my lunch break drew near, so did my fear, which was mixed with anticipation.

I was resolved to get it done, no matter my consternation. Steeling my mettle, I crossed the street to the café, the crowded anonymity just what I needed.

“Your usual?” Gustavo said, as I passed.

“Sure.”

Away from the crowd but close enough for comfort, my phone came out like the sword from the stone, its primary function put into use.

Bells rang far in my head, concerns raised and then quashed. It hadn’t been very long, and I wasn’t sure he would talk to me. Or, if he did, I wasn’t sure that it would go particularly well, but nothing worth having came without some kind of fight.

I lost count of the rings but refused to be defeated. I was willing to stay on until the battery died if I had too— that should only take a couple of hours, I thought sarcastically.

Finally, there was a pause, replaced by a different sound.

“Hello?” Derek finally answered.

“Derek, it’s Pauline, we need to talk.”

“Agreed; meet me at The Church.”

I stowed the phone, marveling at my luck. I’d been thinking he would at least yell at me for sure. Maybe there was really hope after all.

Unless he was luring me out there to do something unspeakable, but that didn’t seem likely. He’d be too likely to be caught, for a start.

Logic said I should be scared. Good thing I rarely listened to it, though. At least when it wasn’t convenient.

Keeping my wits about me, I piloted the rickety wagon out of the city limits, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

Unlike me, Derek was a clock watcher, and his hulking car was already monopolizing nearly two spots when I pulled in. There was no turning back now— not that I would. Resigned to my fate, I approached the oddly lovely wooden door of The Sanctuary.

The sound of him paying was enchanting. His guitar reclaimed, Derek was making the best of it, almost sounding better in isolation than he did with the band.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” I said, shyness crashing over me in an awesome wave.

“I’m sorry,” we blurted out in unison.

The laughter was a natural as it was honest. I was starting to think we were more alike than we liked to think we were.

“You first,” he offered.

“I wish I had thought about this a little more. Basically, I’m sorry for being such a snob. I thought I knew what was best for the band because I know more about music theory, but I wasn’t paying attention to what really made it great.”

“And what’s that?”

“You. Anyone can play the notes in the right order, even improvise, but you have something I never did. You have grit, and you have soul. I do it because I can, because I like it. You do it because you need to. I didn’t have enough respect for that, or for you.”