No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) (53 page)

When he said shit like that to me, I was done for. And he knew it.

“How do you want me?” I asked, breathless.

He smirked and dropped his hands to my fly, unbuttoning and unzipping, pushing my jeans down to pool around my ankles.

“Any fuckin’ way I can get you,” he replied, a hand pushing me down from between my shoulder blades.

Gently, his fingers probed my wet slit from behind just as Devil’s Advocate started blaring through the walls, a heavy thrum of muffled thrash. Moaning, I arched my back, taking his fingers deeper. In the reflection, I saw him sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “I love how you’re my own sweet little slut. Always fuckin’ ready for me.” His narrowed eyes found mine in the mirror. “
Only
me.”

“Put it in me,” I begged.

“Tell me you’re
my
slut first.”

“I’m
your
slut, Phil. Only yours.”

He removed his fingers and undid his belt. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, hearing the
clink, clink
of the buckle made my cunt ooze and tingle in an anticipating knee-jerk reaction.

He’s right. I’m his absolute slut. Anytime, anywhere, however he wants it, he can have it.

Thick and rigid, it felt
so good
as the hot hard length of him sank in nice and slow. In the mirror, I watched as he closed his eyes, and his face showed unadulterated bliss. So beautiful, so fierce.

Large hands grasped my hips. Mesmerized by the sight of him, he towered above me, filling me, losing himself inside me.

“God, Kenna…” He moaned. “Squeeze me
hard
, Baby—oh, fuck! I
love
that.” Phil opened his eyes and stared straight into mine. “Again.”

I bore down as hard as I could, tearing a bestial growl out of him.

“You want it hard, Sugar Tits?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Fast?”

“Make it hurt, babe,” I told him.

His face went feral.

“I want to feel you after you leave me for the stage.”

Unleashing a wild energy, he set a brutal pace, and we watched each other come undone in the mirror. Our bodies slapped together furiously as he fucked me so hard that my feet lifted off the floor. I had to brace a hand on the wall next to the mirror to avoid face-planting into it.

As I felt him grow harder, his head dropped back, and he released a roar that drowned out all other noise. His neck muscles corded, stretched, and stood out in individual bands, and his Adam’s apple dipped low.

Gods above, that is gorgeous!

Bending over, he curved his huge body around mine, sliding his arms around my chest, and rested his cheek against the back of my head. His heartbeat thundered through me, his chest heaving with his panting breaths.

“Fuck, I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you, too,” I replied, my soul swelling with joy.

Reaching out, Phil snagged a bunch of paper towels and wadded them up. Pushing himself off my back, he stood, and gingerly pulled out of me, pressing the wad to my crotch.

“Do you still feel me in you?” he asked, a smile playing about his mouth.

“Always,” I replied.

His gaze met mine in the mirror. A light blazed behind his eyes—bright, smoldering, and passionate. I wondered if he could see something similar within mine because I sure as hell felt that way inside.

“Somethin’ like that,” he said softly.

Devil’s Advocate had raised the energy of the place to unparalleled heights for an opening band. The atmosphere was pulsing with the radiant vibes. The place was
packed
. At least five hundred people were in here, and everyone was thinking that they would be doing a three-hour-plus set.

No one had a clue what was going to happen.

Phil and I had rejoined our friends to catch the tail end of the show, and when Andy signed off, the crowd felt confused.

Ever the front man, Andy laughed. “Don’t worry, guys! There’s somethin’ comin’ up that’s gonna blow
all
your minds! Just chill!”

Connor reached for my hand and squeezed. “I wish Da and Mom were here. They’d flip to know I’d already landed work!”

“One of our moms
is
here,” I replied. “Can’t you feel it?”

He closed his eyes and was still for a moment. Then, his handsome face split into a wide grin. “Yeah. She’s here.”

“Good luck,” I whispered.

While the stage was set up with their equipment, the house lights went up, and people wandered around. Devil’s Advocate moseyed their asses back up into VIP to watch the show, but I didn’t want to be up here at all. I was vibrating with the buzz, and looking over at Alys, I could see she was, too.

Her eyes met mine, and our minds synchronized, coming to the same conclusion. We were going down there. We needed to unleash the inner savage. When no one else was paying any attention, we chugged our beers, grabbed Jimi, and snuck down the stairway leading to the front of house, weaving our way through the masses. Alys and I knew our men would prefer that we stay safe and bored up in the VIP lounge, but
fuck that
. We were going to rock out.

It was how they’d met us in the first place!

The lights on the floor went down, and the PA crackled to life. We could see movement.
Had no one noticed the impressive drum kit being set up?
That would’ve been my first clue that something better than average was getting up on that stage.

The crowd slowly pushed forward, hushed and curious.

A huge breath sounded through the speakers, a noise of resignation.

In a creepy singsong tune, Phil fucking Deveraux’s voice melted and spread through the air. “NOOOLAAA’s Oooownnn! Have you missed your boys?”

“Holy shit!” screamed someone.

The entire crowd
en masse
rushed the stage. Caught up in the excitement and several large bodies, Alys, Jimi, and I rushed forward, too. Stage lights exploded, revealing the mystery band. They opened the set with their very first single, “A Fist to the Face.”

Connor looked to be on cloud nine. That look was reminiscent of GianFranco’s solo face. If I were Connor, I was pretty sure I’d have that look, too.

Squashed and packed in, we were headbanging, screaming the lyrics along with our heroes. No longer were they our boyfriends, our lovers, and best friends, and a baby brother. They were our gods, shining their brilliance upon us, flooding our hearts and ears with the sounds of their souls.

“Addicted Masochist.”

“Adopted Son.”

“Broken Deviant.”

“A Madman’s Love Letter.” I nearly died when Phil went all out with that performance. At the end of Love Letter, Phil grabbed a water bottle and chugged. The guys relaxed. It was audience-interaction time.

“Hey, everyone! You all havin’ a good time tonight?” Phil asked, a little winded. He was sweating and smiling, stealing my heart all over again.

The crowd screamed their approval.

Phil laughed. “Surprise!”

The crowd screamed harder and louder than ever.

“Have you guys noticed anything different? We found our long-lost little brother!” said Phil, strutting up to Connor and slinging his arm around my brother’s shoulders. “Everyone, it is my very great privilege to introduce to you the new guy in our lineup. Connor say, ‘Wassup,’ to your heathen brethren.”

“Wassup, everyone!” Connor smiled, high on stage fumes.

The masses cried out to their newest leader.

“As you all may have heard,” Phil continued, walking back to the front of the stage. “we’re workin’ on some new sounds for our next album. We have this idea in our head that we need to push things further, try out some new shit. We got a few things we’d like for you all to hear. You guys up for givin’ your boys your honest opinion?”

“
Yes
!” Alys and I screamed with everyone else.

“Awesome. But not just yet. Connor’s itchin’ to play all the stuff he missed out on these last five years. Aren’t you?”

Connor cheered off-mic, and the audience cheered with him.

“It’s cherry-poppin’ time for little brother!” shouted Phil.

They went straight into three more of their beloved classics.

“This is
the shit
!” yelled Jimi.

We were sweaty, amped up, and aching sweetly in the man-swamp. There were some other chicks here, too. We weren’t the
only
ones. We attempted to catch our breaths before the next song came up.

Fuck, Our Boys rocked hard.

Alys and I exchanged blissed-out grins as Phil started talking again. It made sense he did this every few songs to give Our Boys and the audience time to gather up their energy to continue.

Our view was even better now that the crowd had smooshed and shifted. From the stage, we were perhaps three, maybe four people deep. The burly rocker dude to the right and in front of us was the only obstacle really.

“So, I think we’re ready to unleash some of our new shit,” Phil said, looking out over the crowd. “And we’re totally—” He cut off and stared.

Fucking hell
. He was staring straight at me!

“Oh, for
fuck’s
sake!” exploded out of his mouth.

Grabbing Alys’s hand, I yanked her down behind the burly dude.

“Too fuckin’ late, Baby Girl! I fuckin’ saw you!”

Alys groaned in defeat next to me.

Around us, the crowd had stilled, and there were a few titters and chuckles.

“And I fuckin’ see that massive-ass ’fro, Jimi!”

The burly dude looked behind him and then down at us. He gave us a shy grin and reached down, lifting me to my feet. Phil was up there, crouched down, sitting back on his haunches, elbows resting on his knees
, pointing
at me.

“Kenna, you’re gonna be the death of me, I fuckin’ swear.”

The crowd started laughing. Phil wasn’t. His angry face was well fixed, and his eyes were flashing hellfire.

He turned his face, scanning the audience, and then brought the microphone back up to his mouth. “My woman is a hardcore fan. And I guess, like any other hardcore fan, she wants to be front and fuckin’ center.” He looked back over at me.

Alys was still crouched, no doubt praying she wouldn’t be busted, too.

“Is Alys with her?” X stormed up to Jason’s mic, his face thunderous. Forgetting his fear of microphones, he bellowed “Alys!”

“Damn it,” she grumbled from the floor.

Burly dude’s burly friend hefted her up.

“This one?” the guy shouted to the guys up on the stage.

“Goddamn it, woman!” X roared.

The audience erupted into laughter.

Great. All we’d wanted was to enjoy a show, and now, we were a fucking joke.

Phil crooked his finger at me, and the crowd in front of us parted. Burly One and Burly Two actually
escorted
Alys and me to the barricade in front of the stage.

“What the fuck, Baby Girl?”

“What the fuck what?” I shouted back.

“What do you think you’re doin’, comin’ down here?”

“Enjoying the fucking show!” I shouted, incredulous.

Another wave of laughter crashed over us, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

He stared at me hard, and I could see it warring inside of him. He could make a huge stink and get exactly what he wanted—which was me back up in VIP, but that would infuriate me to no end, and he didn’t want me miserable.

His eyes flicked between One and Two. “You two—” he said, pointing between the guys.

They swelled up at being addressed by Phil fucking Deveraux.

“You’re going to watch out for my Baby Girl, you got that? And Alys, too. Don’t let no one touch our crazy bitches.”

Burly One braced his arms on either side of me, grabbing onto the barricade.

“And don’t be grindin’ up on her either!” snapped Phil. “I know she’s got a perfect ass under those pants, but it’s
my
ass, and I’ll kill a motherfucker who tries to touch it!”

My brother was losing his shit. He was laughing so hard that he had to lean against a speaker, wiping tears from his eyes.

Ass
.

Flipper was just as bad, and when he caught me glaring at him, he waved. He said something to Connor, who righted himself with some difficulty. Jason looked like he was recovering from a bout of giggles himself.

X glared at us. Alys pulled a Lili and flipped him the bird.

Back on his feet, Phil announced, “Now that I’ve recovered from my mild fuckin’ heart attack, let’s throw some new shit around, yeah?”

Our Boys kicked off two of their new songs.

After, a laughing Phil informed me and the rest of the crowd, “Baby Girl, you fuckin’ headbang like a dude.”

I wasn’t too sure how to take that.

Another two new songs passed. Their sound had matured. They weren’t young bloods anymore. The music had become smoother, more rounded, with elements and dimensions that had been missing. Things that could have only come with age and experience. Phil’s lyrics had become more poetic, held deeper meaning, and his voice had taken on greater definition. It was still heavy, still dark, still held a soul for metal, but it was so much more. It was
beautiful
. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“So, what do you all think? Are we measurin’ up?”