The homepage for m/m romance author A.M. Arthur, where grand love stories often unfold in small, unassuming towns...
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
BODY ROCKS (Off Beat #1) First Two Chapters
With the release of BODY ROCKS only three weeks away, here's a sneak peek at Dominic and Trey. These two guys were so hot for each other from the moment they met that they couldn't wait past chapter two to go at it. So consider this post NSFW.
In the very best way.
Chapter One
“Coop, I will pay you twenty dollars if you go out
and get laid already,” Danielle said.
Trey Cooper nearly dropped the glass baking dish
he was trying to slide into the dishwasher among too many other dirty dishes.
The overload was thanks to Danielle’s bright idea to cook for nine people
tonight. His best friend and roommate was blunt, probably to a fault and
sometimes to her social detriment, but once in a while she managed to outblunt
herself.
And his initial shock gave way to faint horror. He
glanced at the archway that led into the living room where their other roommate,
Bobby, was hanging with their dinner guests.
Okay--neighbors.
For whatever reason, Danielle had decided she needed to cook for the other six
people who lived on the other two floors of the rental house they all shared.
On a whim. On a Thursday.
“Could you say that louder, please?” Trey snapped,
his voice way
quieter than hers,
because the whole house didn’t need to know his business.
She ran a saucepan under the faucet. “What? It’s
not like I said get laid for your first time.”
He rolled his eyes and shoved the baking dish into
the rack. “Again, say it a little louder.”
“Maybe it will help you calm down. You’ve been
bouncing around the house like a tweaking squirrel, and it’s not helping
anyone’s nerves. Bobby’s working on it.”
“Oh, great. No problem. Bobby’s working on it.”
Sarcasm, check. He took the saucepan and wedged it in next to the baking dish.
“I don’t see how going hookup hunting is going to calm me down. We only have
three weeks to find a new drummer and get them familiar with the music.”
“I know!” She smacked him in the chest with a wet
hand. “And stop sounding so negative about the whole thing. Positive energy
only, or you’re going to jinx us.”
“I don’t do positive energy, I do—”
“Realistic expectations, yes, I know. Loser.”
He grinned. This was the Danielle he knew and
loved. He grabbed a detergent pod from beneath the sink and set the washer. Busywork only distracted him for so long, and then the fear and doubts crept
back in. Fear of not finding another percussionist for Fading Daze in time for
the regional Unbound competition in three weeks, and doubt over this
hypothetical person being able to learn the set they’d perfected two months ago
when they sent in their audition for initial online entry into the festival.
And after two months of watching their ranking
online and praying the secret jury of judges liked them, Fading Daze got their
invitation to the Midatlantic region’s festival three days ago. They’d placed
in the top ten in indie rock—the max number of winners from each of the eight
categories.
After they all went out and got crazy drunk
celebrating, Trey freaked the fuck out for about three hours, because their
entire set was his music. His original songs.
Everything was riding on Unbound. A $100,000
recording contract was what Trey had dreamed of since he was fifteen years old,
and for their band to win would be the biggest, best fuck-you to his father
that he could imagine.
Except yesterday Tyson, their percussionist for
the entire two years Fading Daze had existed, walked away. No explanation.
Nothing. Gone. Asshole even blocked them all on Twitter and Instagram.
Trey pushed the angry, ugly thoughts away so they
didn’t totally ruin his mood tonight. He’d put up with extra people at dinner
and answered the questions asked, but if the need for speaking didn’t have
something to do with promoting the band, he’d rather be in his room, alone with
a blank songbook. Bobby was the social butterfly of the group; Trey redefined
the word “introvert.”
Danielle dried her hands, then flung the damp dish
towel into the sink. Trey grabbed it and hung it on the ring haphazardly nailed
to the wall above the sink. The old beach house was falling apart in some
places, and the owners didn’t care if they did minor self-repairs.
“Look, if you don’t want to go out hunting, just
go out,” she said. “Hang out at Off Beat, listen to some music. Eat crab dip
until you explode.”
He didn’t immediately shoot that idea down. Off
Beat was one of the few bars in the bustling beach resort area that catered
mostly to locals, with only a handful of tourists finding their way inside. For
one thing, the place looked like an old-fashioned barbershop on the outside. It
was also two blocks off the main strip, tucked into a building that also housed
a nail salon and an Asian market.
Trey had discovered Off Beat through a friend, and
he’d fallen in love. The upstairs was a kitschy entertainment room, with the
bar and stage downstairs in a finished basement. They hosted all sorts of local
entertainment, from bands to poetry slams to fiction readings. And their crab
dip was the best on the shore.
He bar-backed there on weekends to help supplement
his part-time job clerking at a bike-rental shop on the boardwalk. Fading Daze
even had a standing gig to play live shows one Saturday night a month, where
they debuted any new songs that he wrote.
“You know what’s going on tonight?” Trey asked.
One night he’d wandered in on a whim, only to be assaulted by a woman reading
an erotic sex poem about a man and woman, and he’d fled the premises. Maybe if
she’d been reading about two dudes getting it on, he’d have stayed, but
dripping pussies were not his thing.
“Nope.” She sprayed down the kitchen table with
cleaner. “Isn’t Thursday usually an open-mike thing?”
“Oh. Duh.”
“So go. Maybe you’ll hear something that will
inspire you.”
“Or make me run away weeping.”
She laughed while she scrubbed at some leftover
mess on the old table’s scarred wood surface. Danielle was anal about keeping
the kitchen spotless. No other area of the house, except the kitchen. Bobby
said it had to do with them having a lot of ant infestations in the kitchen
when they were kids.
Trey stopped teasing her about it after she showed
him YouTube videos of real homes infested by ants, because yeah. Gross.
“Okay, maybe going out is a good idea.” Trey
glanced at his clothes. Red sleeveless tee and board shorts. Basic uniform for
summer. He liked blending in with the tourists. Made people less likely to stop
him and ask for directions. He wasn’t the goddamn visitors’ center.
“Put some liner on,” Danielle said.
“No.” He saved that for performances, and only
because she demanded it. He had green eyes and really thick, girly eyelashes, and Danielle swore the liner made him
even sexier, especially to his female fans.
What he really wanted to know was how sexy it made
him to his male fans, because that was his target audience.
“Spoilsport,” she said.
He found his phone under a pile of old music
magazines. Plenty of charge to get him through to the end of the evening. He
slipped into a pair of red flip-flops, then tucked his earbuds in and cued up
Katy Perry’s latest. Always music when he was walking. Outside, the humid June
air settled around him like a hot, icky blanket. Only a week into the month,
and it felt like August already.
The tang of salt from the nearby ocean tickled his
nose. He loved that scent. He’d loved it from the first family vacation here
when he was six years old, and he’d loved it even more when he left home two
years ago and moved in with Danielle and Bobby.
Alexandria could suck it.
Their house was six blocks from Off Beat. Not a
bad walk now that the sun was setting, casting a lot of towering hotel shadows
on the very packed, very busy sidewalks. He moved to the music in his ear,
darting around idling cars and skipping over curbs, existing in the two songs
that carried him to his destination.
An actual red-and-white-striped pole rotated next
a small, hard-to-read sign that simply said “Off Beat” in blocky text. Nothing
fancy, nothing to draw attention, except for the constant open and shut of the
door, the stream of male and female patrons, and the squad of twenty-somethings
loitering outside smoking thanks to Maryland law.
He returned greetings from several chicks he knew
by face, but not by name. Fading Daze had a very loyal fan base in the area,
and the females always seemed to be divided into two groups: the girls who
shipped him and Danielle in some fantasy romance they weren’t having, and the
girls who hated Danielle because of this fantasy romance they weren’t having.
Poor Dani, because damn, chicks could be vicious.
The main floor was an actual, converted barbershop.
All of the chairs and mirrors remained in place, but instead of wheeled
equipment carts and racks of products, the faded tile floor hosted mismatched
couches and armchairs that patrons moved around at will. The rear wall was all
chalkboard paint, with tubs of sidewalk chalk available to use. The owner’s
only rule was “No Fucking Cussing,” which was painted at the top of the board.
Jazzy music was piped out over half a dozen speakers.
He threaded his way through the packed upstairs to
the repurposed Atlantic Bell phone booth at the back of the room. The back of
the phone booth was another door, like an entrance to an old-time speakeasy, and
led to the cement steps down to the basement. The moment Trey opened that door,
male a cappella voices drifted up, doing a barely passable arrangement of “We
Are Young.”
Two girls in bikini tops and short-shorts were
ascending the stairs. He leaned into the wall to give them room to pass, then
continued down.
The bar was as eclectic as the upstairs. No single
set of tables and chairs was the same. Some regular table height, some counter
or bar height, most of them painted bright colors. The small U-shaped bar was
made out of old surfboards, with fake potted palm trees on each end. The stage in
the rear was painted to resemble an open clamshell that reminded him of that
famous painting of Venus.
For all the tourist-trap features, nothing about
Off Beat felt faked or overdone. It was comfortable.
“Trey! You picking up an extra shift?” Dina bumped
his hip with hers, all while balancing a tray full of food meant for one of her
tables.
“Nah, here for the open mike.”
“I think we’re full up on tables, but there’s
probably a spot at the bar for you.”
“Thanks.”
She sashayed off to the deliver the food. Dina,
like most of the staff, had been there since Off Beat opened twelve years ago,
which meant she knew everyone.
He found a seat at the bar facing the stage. Sasha
was creating something in a metal shaker. She nodded in his direction,
acknowledging his arrival like the pro she was. He admired Sasha because she
was an out and proud lesbian, while he still hid behind untrue gossip about
himself and Danielle in order to maintain their band’s growing image.
Sasha usually worked the weekends with him, so she
mixed him up a virgin strawberry daiquiri without him asking. He was only
twenty for a few more weeks. She plunked the drink down with two extra
strawberry garnishes.
“Anything from the kitchen?” she asked.
As much as he worshipped their crab dip with soft
pretzels, he was stuffed from dinner. “Maybe later, thanks.”
“Anything you need, Coop.”
She chased down another drink order. He sipped his
daiquiri, and the sharp flavor of rum made him do a double take.
Classic Sasha, sneaking a little in for him.
The a cappella group wound down. Beatrice
Westmore, the manager of the place and the woman who’d helped give Fading Daze
their first real platform, stepped up to the microphone. “How about another
round of applause for the boys of Pipe Dreams?”
Trey groaned at the awful name, but dutifully
clapped for the departing quintet.
“Okay, folks,” Beatrice continued once the
scattered applause ended. Open mike could be a tough crowd. One of the tech
crew moved behind her, setting up a Yamaha keyboard. “We have someone new to
Off Beat tonight. He’s got a little something different, and I think you’re
going to like it. How about a warm Beat welcome for Dominic B?”
The gentle applause rose in tempo as a lean, copper-skinned
figure walked onstage with a violin case in one hand. Trey paid attention, his
breath catching at the sight of the Latin god standing behind the Yamaha. Dark
eyes, black hair tousled up with product, a hint of scruff on his chin. Fit
body poured into tight black jeans and a skintight white sleeveless tee that
showed hints of tattoos on that coppery
skin. Somewhere in Trey’s age bracket, for sure, and goddamn but he was pretty.
“Careful, Coop, you’re drooling,” Sasha said as
she reached near him for a lime wedge.
He snapped his mouth shut but couldn’t stop
staring, totally uncaring of the comment because Sasha wasn’t a gossip.
Dominic didn’t go up to the mike. He produced a
shiny violin from the case. Trey wasn’t familiar with violin makers but it
looked expensive. And the Yamaha did not belong to the bar. Dominic fiddled
with the strings, then set the violin to rest on his shoulder. He touched a
button on the Yamaha, and an onboard rock beat began to play.
He took a step to the side, into a more open area
of the stage, touched bow to strings, and began to play. The bow danced over
the strings, creating a beautiful melody that Trey had trouble placing at
first. Then it hit him. Dominic was re-creating “Single Ladies” in a unique way
that had musical notes dancing in front of Trey’s eyes, mapping the arrangement
Dominic had chosen to stand out from the basic percussion beat from the
keyboard.
Dominic seduced his audience with a violin, of all
fucking instruments. Trey knew his way around a piano and various kinds of
guitars, no problem. He had little use for other strings, including something
as tiny as a violin. He associated them with classical music or bluegrass. Not
songs like “Single Ladies,” which was melting into something else. . . .
Trey closed his eyes and allowed the music to flow
through him.
“Shake It Off.”
He snapped his eyes open, hand jerking hard enough
to slosh his drink. Taylor’s lyrics popped into his head along with the melody Dominic
expertly created with an instrument that Trey was slowly starting to adore.
Whoever Dominic B was, and wherever he was from, the boy possessed an
incredible gift. He played that violin like they were one being, urging out
chords that made Trey want to weep for their perfection.
Why the hell was a guy this good playing open-mike
nights in southern Maryland?
Trey was transfixed, not only by the amazing music
but by the performer himself. He played with eyes closed, both hands a blur as
they expertly created the music. The violin sang the lyrics to the audience.
Dominic smiled throughout, so into the music that the crowd might as well not
be there.
Taylor merged into “Just the Way You Are” so
perfectly that Trey didn’t notice until he was humming along with Bruno’s
lyrics. A table of girls nearby actually started singing out loud, and Trey
nearly told them to shut up. Dominic didn’t need any backup.
Dominic finished the song with a flourish, then
turned off the Yamaha. Trey leapt to his feet, applauding so hard his palms
ached. The noise was thunderous, everyone standing. The bashful smile Dominic
gave the audience made Trey’s heart flip.
Beatrice appeared onstage next to him, clapping,
cheeks stained red. Trey knew that look—the look that said “We’ve got something
special
here.” She’d had that look the first time Fading Daze played for her.
“Now that
was something special,
wasn’t it?” she said into the mike. “Dominic B, ladies and gentlemen.”
More applause was joined by various shouts of “Encore!”
“Play more!” “Don’t stop!”
“I think they like you, honey,” Beatrice said.
Dominic leaned forward, his expression so
adorkably awkward. “I, ah, only practiced those three with that baseline. I
haven’t done this in a long time.” His voice was smooth and deep, rolling over
Trey like a gentle tide.
Her face went hawkish. “What if I found you an
accompanist? Care to do a little freestyling?”
He glanced out into the audience, but likely
couldn’t see many faces thanks to the lights. “Um, maybe.”
She shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned
the crowd. “Earlier I spied with my little eyes a house favorite in the
audience. Coop? Get your perky little ass up onstage.”
On the rare occasions when Beatrice called for one of her
regular musicians to come up and help someone out, and when it was Trey he
usually grumbled his way to the stage.
Tonight he bolted, stomach twisting into nervous knots.
“There he is,” she said. “Mr. Trey Cooper.”
Trey strolled to the center of the ten-foot stage,
waving at the audience. Someone even shouted out, “Go Coop!”
“Coop here is an excellent pianist,” Beatrice
said. “And we all know Dominic is wicked with that violin. I think they’ll make
some beautiful music, don’t you all?”
Cheers erupted. Trey soaked them in, taking the
energy they gave him and amping himself up for an impromptu performance. He
shook Dominic’s offered hand. The first brush of skin on skin was electric,
buzzing up his arm like static. Dominic’s eyebrows arched. He met Trey’s eyes,
and oh yeah, this was going to be fun.
Beatrice exited stage left.
“So what do you know?” Dominic asked, his voice
caught by the mike even though he wasn’t speaking directly into it.
Trey grinned. “What do you know?” A better idea
struck him, and he leaned toward the mike. “What do you guys want to hear?”
Everything from Beyoncé to Bon Jovi barraged them.
“Man crush!” Dominic said suddenly. “Who said Adam
Lambert? You’re my hero.”
“Heroine!” someone in the audience shouted.
“My girl.” He looked at Trey. “‘Whataya Want from
Me’?”
Trey grinned. “Oh yeah. You gonna start?”
“Definitely.”
This was going to be fun. Trey got behind the
keyboard. Piaggero series. He was familiar enough with those to bring up the
guitar voice. That would sound way cooler with Dominic’s violin than basic
piano. He warmed up with a few chords from one of his own songs, “Familiar at
Last,” and that got a wolf whistle from a fan.
“You ready, Coop?” Dominic asked.
Trey glanced up into playful brown eyes, so dark
they were almost black. “Ready. You lead.”
Dominic shouldered his violin, pulled a few notes,
then paused. He closed his eyes and drew the bow across the strings, ripping
out the opening chords. Trey matched his tempo and joined in, fingers dancing
across the keys, hitting all of the right notes. They didn’t blend perfectly—no
one did their first time performing together cold—but it was pretty damned
great.
Instead of Dominic keeping his eyes closed
like he had when playing solo, his attention was firmly on Trey whenever Trey glanced
up from the keys. The intense focus stirred something deep inside of Trey.
Whatever it was he liked it, and he put it into his performance. He even found
himself singing along. He’d performed this a number of times with Fading Daze,
doing both vocals and acoustic guitar.
He liked this better.
And he didn’t notice when exactly the mike
appeared in front of him, or when his voice joined the jam for real, but the
audience went kind of nuts. They kept going nuts for a few minutes after the
song actually ended.
Dominic gave a little half bow that was all kinds
of adorable, that shy smile back now that he wasn’t lost in the music.
Trey didn’t want it to end. “You up for one more?”
he asked into the mike.
“Whatcha got in mind?” The shy smile went all kinds
of devilish once it turned on Trey. “You know All-American Rejects?”
His brain spun through the dozen or so songs of
theirs he knew somewhat well. Working the violin in would be the challenge. “‘Mona
Lisa’?”
Dominic winked. “Sounds good. Never done it on the
strings but I can figure it out.”
And figure it out he did. Trey kept the guitar
voice on the keyboard, because that really was a guitar kind of song and he
could make it work. He made it through the first verse and into the chorus
before Dominic joined in, pulling smooth notes from his strings and bow and
fingering.
More than the music this time, the words echoed in
Trey’s mind.
He wouldn’t mind having Dominic with him for a
while longer, and he was absolutely stealing his attention once they were done
performing. He needed to know where this musical genius had been hiding all of
his life.
At the end of that song, Trey came out from behind
the keyboard to match Dominic’s half bow. Beatrice came up and gave them both
big hugs before stealing the mike. Trey shook himself all over, his adrenaline
up, not ready for this to be over.
“Well, that was certainly a memorable duet,”
Beatrice said. “And as much as I hate to break up this brand-new partnership,
we still have some folks waiting to get their chance in the spotlight. So how
about another hand for Coop and Dominic B?”
Dominic waved one more time, then started packing
his violin away in its case. Tech guy Danny came up and took down the keyboard.
Trey hung off to the side so he could snatch the keyboard case from Danny. He
needed a way to start a conversation, because that was so not his strong suit.
Dominic joined him at the bottom of the stage steps, violin case tucked close
to his chest.
“That was a lot of fun,” Dominic said.
“Yeah it was.” Trey searched hard for a compliment
that wouldn’t make him sound like a dork. “You’re really good onstage. You know
how to play to a crowd.”
“I would hope so. I’ve been performing since I was
six.”
“Wow, really?” A tiny bit of jealousy prickled
over his skin. “It shows.”
“Thanks.” That cute shyness stole over Dominic
again. “You were pretty amazing yourself. I don’t do a lot of improv
performance, especially with guys I don’t know.”
“So get to know me.” Trey silently prayed he was
reading the guy right.
“Yeah?” Dominic’s dark eyes roamed up and down,
taking stock, and yes, Trey had read him right. “You don’t have any place to
be?”
“Only place I have to be is wherever you’re
going.”
That sharp, feral grin from onstage returned. “I
need to take my instruments back to the hotel first.”
“Hotel room?”
Dominic laughed, a deep, velvet sound that rippled
over Trey. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m sharing it with three other guys who may
or may not be there.”
“Bummer. I’d invite you to my place, but I live
with, like, eight other people. Technically my apartment is with two, but the
whole rental is like a frat house, and there’s no real privacy.”
Something flickered in Dominic’s eyes. “Then let’s
drop off my stuff, and we’ll go from there. It’s not like the city’s shutting
down anytime soon. I’m sure we can get into some kind of trouble.”
“Count on it.”
As they made their way through the club, Trey made
a mental note to thank Danielle for insisting he go out. He had a good feeling
that this impromptu visit to Off Beat was going to have a very, very happy
ending.
Chapter Two
Dom silently cursed two things on the short walk to
Lincoln’s car. First, that one or all of his three bandmates could be back at
the hotel room and give him a hard time about picking up a guy at an open mike.
Second, that tonight was his last night on the shore. XYZ had played the three
different gigs that had brought them to town, and they’d budgeted out one more
night just to hang at the boardwalk before returning home to Philadelphia
tomorrow morning.
He’d known Coop for all of thirty minutes, but he
already liked the guy. He knew his way around a keyboard, and he had a
beautiful voice. Like Bruno Mars and James Blunt got together and had a love
child. That was Coop’s voice.
It also didn’t hurt that Coop looked like a
younger, less goth version of Adam Lambert. Thick brown hair, big green eyes, gorgeously high cheekbones. His skin was so smooth he looked airbrushed,
and he’d radiated with a boyish kind of joy while singing. Everything about him
appealed to Dom, and he couldn’t wait to see that toned body naked.
Maybe his bandmates wouldn’t be at the hotel. It
was still earlyish, and if they were boozing it up on the boardwalk, they
probably wouldn’t tumble back into the room until late. Still, Dom was crazy
private about his sex life, and even though all three of his bandmates were
also gay, he didn’t want anyone stumbling over him and Coop getting it on.
Lincoln’s beat-up Dodge was parked in the far
corner of the shadowy parking lot. Dom shoved the key into the trunk and
snapped it open. “You can put the keyboard in there,” he said.
Coop obliged without a remark about the piece of
shit Dom had borrowed. His hotel was only ten blocks up, and while the Yamaha
wasn’t super heavy, he’d called dibs on the car because the ocean air was bad
for his violin. The other guys got to use Shore Transit. Snagging the car while
avoiding telling them why exactly he needed it had been a fun song and dance.
Not.
Dom tucked his violin case onto the rear driver’s-side
floor. Lincoln always gave him a hard time about how much he babied that thing,
but it was over a hundred years old and cost more than they’d made since
founding XYZ nearly four years ago. Dom’s parents would kill him dead if it got
broken or damaged.
“So which hotel are you at?” Coop asked.
“Sand Dune, seaside.” Dom unlocked the passenger door
with the key, passing close enough to Coop to smell his cologne. Spicy and
warm.
“I know it.”
“I figured.” He circled the front of the car to
his side. “Beatrice pulled you out of the crowd, so I take it you’re a local.”
“Moved here a few years ago. Before that we spent
a lot of family vacations down here.”
They both got into the car. Dom winced at the way
the bucket seat squealed. At least the engine roared smoothly to life.
“Your car?” Coop asked.
“My best friend’s car. He’s all super proud of it
because he fished it out of a dump and restored it.”
Coop made a show of inspecting the cracked
interior seating. “This is restored?”
He laughed. “Well, maybe not the insides so much
but the engine is all brand-new. He does street racing with it sometimes. Getting
him to let me borrow it tonight was a fight.”
“And him is who?”
Oh, right, Coop didn’t know his friends. “My best
friend Lincoln.”
“His name is really Lincoln?”
“Yeah, his dad might have been a little car-crazy.
He’s got a little sister named Mercedes, and they aren’t even Latin.”
This time Coop laughed. The sound was high-pitched,
but forceful. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but his smile was boyishly charming
and he had bewitching eyes. Like he was always telling a funny story in his
head and trying not to giggle.
“So how long are you in town?” Coop asked.
“We go back tomorrow morning.”
“Well shit, that sucks.”
Dom very much agreed. He eased out into the
southbound traffic. “Yeah, the vacation can’t last forever.”
“Not unless you live here. Except in winter, of
course. Then it’s boring as hell.”
“I bet.” The part of Dom that had been horny ever
since Coop joined him onstage wanted to skip the small talk, find a dark alley
somewhere, and get to business. Another part of him, the one that had felt an
actual fucking spark when they shook hands, was enjoying the “getting to know
you” part of their time together. And that was pretty atypical of Dom, who was
a no-fuss, get-his-rocks-off kind of guy.
“It’s June, though, so you’re not here for spring break.”
Coop was fishing. Trying to figure out why he was
here with a couple of friends in the early days of summer. Dom could explain
why, but he didn’t want to tell Coop about the band. Usually he couldn’t wait
to advertise and spread the word. Tonight it wasn’t about the band.
His performance hadn’t been about getting their
name out there. It had been a much more personal, therapeutic thing for him.
For the first time in six years, he’d pulled bow across strings in front of a
live, nondigital audience. He’d played the instrument that felt like an
extension of his very being for people again, and the response had been overwhelming.
For twenty minutes or so, he’d been able to make beautiful music with his
violin and nothing about it had made him sick to his stomach. Nothing had
reminded him of his last public performance with his violin.
“Dude, red light!”
Dom smashed on the brakes, stopping the car two feet
from crashing into the idling SUV in front of him. He hadn’t noticed the red
light.
Coop stared at him from the passenger seat, a
little saucer-eyed. “You want me to drive?”
“Sorry, I got lost in thought.” Dom stared at the
red brake lights in front of him, his face hot, feeling like a total tool.
“Yeah, maybe save that for when you’re not
driving, okay? I’d like to make it to my twenty-first birthday, thank you very
much.”
Dom filed that tidbit of information away. Coop was
only a year or two younger, roughly in the age range he’d guessed. The under-twenty-one
made hitting up a bar difficult, but there were other things they could do
together.
“Seriously,” Coop said. “I know we’re in bumper-to-bumper
traffic, but you should at least be able to see the back wheels of the car in
front of you.”
He side-eyed his passenger even as he eased up on
the gas. “Have you always been a side-seat driver?”
Coop shrugged and turned his head away. “I was in
a bad accident a few years ago. I don’t really like riding in cars. Here I can
pretty much walk anywhere I need to go.”
“Sorry, man.” He couldn’t blame Coop for being
jumpy. Dom knew all about PTSD reactions to bad shit. “Why don’t you live in DC
or New York? They at least have subways.”
Coop turned his head back, grinning. Cute, even
with all kinds of random neon lights splashing patterns on his face. “They
don’t have the ocean.”
“True story.”
“So this your first time here?”
“Second. I came down for a week with my family a
long time ago. I was like five or six, I think. My parents didn’t like to take
us to the same place twice for summer vacation. Said we needed variety and to
experience different parts of the country.”
“Does ‘we’ include siblings?”
“Yup.” Dom had the weirdest urge to whip out his
phone and show off pictures of his mismatched siblings. He never did that with
hookups, because it led to larger explanations. Hell, sometimes with his
hookups they barely exchanged names before getting down to business. “Three
sisters and a brother.”
“Five of you? Damn, your parents were busy.”
He had no reason to tell Coop that each one of
them was adopted. But he wanted to. “I was never bored,” he said instead.
“You?”
“I’m bored all the time.”
He lightly punched Coop in the shoulder. “Do you
have siblings.”
“Only child.” The way his mouth pinched up
suggested not a fun topic.
The hotel’s blue and white sign appeared in the
distance, about a block away. They didn’t talk the rest of the ride, and Dom
was extra careful making a left turn through summer beach traffic, even with a
green arrow. Instead of pulling into the garage, he double-parked near the main
entrance. “I’ll run everything up and be back in a few,” Dom said.
“Cool.” Coop stuck in a pair of purple earbuds.
“I’ll be here.”
The keyboard case was extra heavy with one hand,
and he probably could have left that in the trunk, but he didn’t want to risk a
six-hundred-dollar piece of equipment getting stolen. So he hefted that and his
violin to the elevator. As expected, the room was empty. It reeked of beer and
yesterday’s supreme pizza. The windows weren’t the kind that opened, so he
jacked up the air-conditioning.
It was barely eleven, and the room was predictably
still empty. The bed was tempting, but he had a funny
feeling that finding a private place to fuck in this town was going to be an
adventure worth experiencing.
He dug into Linc’s bag for a condom and a lube
sachet. Dom hadn’t expected to get laid during their stay on the shore, but
Lincoln went everywhere prepared. “Never miss an opportunity to enjoy yourself”
was his life philosophy. Dom checked himself in the mirror. No unexpected zits.
Hair still perfectly gelled. He needed to shave but whatever. Coop probably
wouldn’t care. Some guys enjoyed a little beard burn. Dom certainly wasn’t
opposed to a little extra heat between his cheeks, and the mental image of Coop
rimming him sent blood right to his dick.
Walking through a hotel lobby with a hard-on was never fun, but Dom still made it back to the car in record time. Coop
pulled the earbuds out as soon as Dom’s ass hit the fractured leather driver’s
seat. “So where to?” Dom asked, resisting the urge to adjust himself. “Since
you’re the local, I figure you know the best spots.”
“How do you feel about go-karts?”
His answer was going to get him made fun of, Dom
had no doubt. “I have no real feelings about them because I’ve never actually driven
one.”
Coop’s exaggerated shock made him look like an
outraged kid. “What rock did you grow up under?”
“Hey now. Don’t mock my hometown rock. I drove a
stock car on an actual NASCAR track once.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. My dad knew a guy. Me and my two older
siblings. We couldn’t go over forty, but whatever.”
For some reason, that left Coop in a kind of
giggle-snort fit that was insanely appealing. Everything about Coop was
appealing, from his thickly lashed green eyes to the small scar on his chin,
and especially the faint hint of dimples when he smiled. “So you want to do go-karts?”
Dom asked once Coop got control of himself. “I thought you didn’t like riding
in cars.”
“Real cars. Go-karts have rubber bumpers and are
almost impossible to crash.”
“Sort of like bumper cars at a fair?”
“Yeah, but with wheels and a longer track. I know
a guy who manages one. He can get us in for free.”
Dom grinned. “A cheap date. I like it. Point the
way.”
“Go back out to the light and head south. All the
way down past First Street.”
With traffic the drive would take about ten
minutes. Dom was crazy curious about Coop, but he wasn’t sure how personal the
guy wanted to get. Family was definitely off-limits as a topic of conversation.
Coop helped him out by asking, “So how many
instruments do you actually play?”
“How many do I play? Or how many do I play well?”
“Seriously? I know you’re a fucking prodigy on the
violin, and seem to know your way around a Yamaha.”
“I love strings. Violin is absolutely my first
love, but I’m really good with the piano and classical guitar.”
“I’m more of a bass man, myself.”
“Yeah? You play anything else, or just lure guys
in with your voice?”
Coop laughed, but didn’t answer. “So what do you
play, but not well?”
“Damn. When did you find time to go to school and
sleep?”
Dark memories from high school tried slithering
into the front of Dom’s mind from the far recesses to which they’d been
banished. This was why he didn’t get friendly with hookups. His thoughts
inevitably turned back to the worst seven months of his life. He hummed a few
notes from k. d. lang’s “Calling All Angels” to chase away the blackness. That was his song.
Coop was giving him a funny look, but whatever.
“I love music,” Dom said, once everything was back
on an even keel. His wood was gone, too, and that was okay. He had no doubt
he’d get it back later. “I was lucky because my parents encouraged me to try
different instruments and see what I loved most.”
“You were lucky.
Mine were okay with music as a hobby, but not as a profession.”
“That sucks.”
“It is what it is. I’m doing what I love anyway,
so fuck them.”
Dom winced at the bitter words. He adored his
parents, and his siblings, and they’d only ever loved him back. A small part of
him wanted to make this better for Coop, but he didn’t know how. Or understand
why. After tonight, he’d most likely never see the guy again, so no sense in
getting attached.
Except he kind of wanted to get attached, which
was a problem since Dom lived two-plus hours away.
“So you play bass and keyboard, and you have an
amazing voice,” Dom said. “Anything else I don’t know about?”
“I have a pretty cute ass, too.”
The flirty remark made Dom’s dick twitch with
interest. “Is that your personal opinion, or is this coming from a secondary
source?”
“Both.” Coop’s lazy smile, combined with his very
open appraisal of Dom’s body, kind of made Dom want to skip the go-karts and
find a private place so he could nail Coop’s cute ass. “You want to find out
for yourself?”
“Oh, I am definitely finding out for myself.”
Coop’s gentle laughter sent excited shivers down
Dom’s spine.
The go-kart track was on the west side of town,
tucked in behind a bunch of chain stores. Bright lights all around the
perimeter and in various places inside of the fenced-in area made it
practically daylight. Half a dozen karts were racing around the far side of the
track. The humid air had lost the scent of the ocean, replaced by burnt rubber
and gasoline.
Coop took the lead, man-hugging a guy their age
that he introduced as Gray. Gray set them both up with helmets and karts, then
showed Dom how to run the thing. Seemed simple enough. He got it going and
followed Coop out onto the main track. It seemed pretty crashproof, with
bumpers on both the kart and the edges of the track. Wide enough for three
karts at a time.
“Ready, set, go!” Coop said, then hit the gas.
He shot off. Dom jammed his own gas. The kart
surprised him with the power of the initial lurch, and he belted out a sound that
was half fear and half laughter. Once he figured out how to apply pressure, he
started to enjoy himself. Coop slowed down so Dom could catch up, and they
began a high-speed dance around each other. Dom would lead, then Coop would
take over. Every time he caught a glimpse of Coop’s face, Coop was grinning
like a fool.
Dom was having a blast, too. They were probably
supposed to have a time limit, but they raced around the track for what felt like
hours. Dom lost himself in the chase, until Coop signaled that they should pull
over. Coop’s eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed, and Dom had never seen
someone so completely alive from something as simple as go-kart racing.
Dom pulled off his helmet, grateful to get the
heavy thing off and some air on his face.
“So what did you think?” Coop asked. He bounced on
his feet like an excited puppy.
“It’s killer, man, I loved it.”
“Sad you waited so long to try it?”
“Nah. Then you wouldn’t have been able to pop my
cherry.”
Coop’s eyes widened briefly, then he laughed.
“Happy to help.”
On their way back to the car, Dom asked, “Anything
else you want to do?”
Coop leered at him. “Anything you want to do?”
Blood started going south, and Dom was glad they’d
reached the car, because he didn’t want to be walking through a parking lot
with a boner. “Dude, your ass better be ready to cash the check your mouth is
writing.”
“Oh,
it’s more than ready.”
Dom unlocked his side, climbed in, then reached
across to unlock the other door. “You know a place we can go?”
Coop glanced at Dom’s lap, then licked his lips.
“Up the highway there’s an old, overgrown drive-in. Great place for parking.”
“Yeah? Been there a few times?”
“No, but one of my roommates has. She told me about
it.”
Dom kind of wanted to call bullshit, but Coop had
no reason to lie to him. And who cared if Coop was a total slut or pickier than
a vegan in a steakhouse. Dom was getting fucking laid tonight, and he was very,
very eager to judge Coop’s cute ass for himself.
He would have totally overshot the entrance to the
drive-in if Coop hadn’t pointed out the rusty old sign half covered by bushes
and wisteria vines. There wasn’t really a road anymore, mostly narrow tracks
through thick underbrush, as if someone had taken a Hummer and plowed through
it all to make a path. Dom kept as much of his attention on the non-road as he
could, but Coop decided to distract him by rubbing himself through his shorts.
That simple image got Dom’s own dick straining against his already tight jeans.
He cranked up the air-conditioning, because things were about to get steamy.
The forest finally gave way to a moderately open
space that had been mostly overtaken by nature. The remains of a small shack were
off to the right, and the remnants of a movie screen were straight ahead, full
of holes where it had fallen apart over time. The place had a slasher-movie
vibe to it that was at once creepy and exciting.
Dom shifted into park, but left the car idling for
the air. The last thing he wanted to do was open the windows and end up with
mosquito bites all over his ass.
Coop wasted no time curling strong fingers around
the back of his neck and hauling him into a kiss. Dom’s surprise fled the
instant their mouths clashed. Something electric surged between them, so strong
he actually gasped. Coop licked at his parted lips, then slipped his tongue
into Dom’s mouth. He tasted like lime and spice and everything nice, and
goddamn he knew how to kiss. Dom cupped both sides of Coop’s neck, as much to
keep him there as for balance, because kissing Coop was a little like falling.
He could have sat there and kissed Coop all night.
Coop pulled away first, his cheeks red and eyes
glistening. “Backseat.”
“Yeah.”
Dom was tall and the space between the seats
wasn’t huge, so climbing over it had both of them laughing by the time they
collapsed on the backseat. Coop tugged his shirt off, revealing a slightly
tanned torso, a nice little happy trail, and a tattoo of a Gerbera daisy on his
left pec. Defined abs, but not super cut, which appealed to Dom a lot. Meant
Coop wasn’t a gym rat. And he loved that Coop had ink.
Coop tugged at Dom’s shirt, and he let Coop pull
it off. Coop’s bright smile was worth the reveal. Dom was crazy proud of the tattoo
that spanned his abdomen. Coop traced a finger over it, and the touch sent
goose bumps across Dom’s shoulders. “What’s it represent?” Coop asked.
“An artist friend created it for me. It’s a
combination of the national emblem of Italy and the Philippine eagle. My birth
mother was from the Philippines, my birth father from Italy.”
“Birth mother?”
Dom nearly slapped himself. “I’m adopted. All of
my siblings were adopted by our parents.”
“Oh wow. Have you ever met your birth parents?”
“Nope. No desire to, either. I know and embrace my
heritage, yeah, but I also know who my parents are, and they’re the people who
raised me.” Dom touched the daisy tattoo on Coop’s chest. “How about this?
Special meaning?”
Coop’s smile dimmed. “Someone I loved who died too
young.”
“Sorry.”
“It was years ago.” He surprised Dom by swinging
his leg over and straddling his lap.
A hard cock ground into his. Dom tugged Coop into
another kiss, his body aware and sparking everywhere they touched—mouths,
hands, legs, groins. So good. Dom shoved both hands into Coop’s shorts, past
the elastic of his briefs, to clasp warm skin. Coop gasped into his mouth. Dom
squeezed and kneaded, urging Coop to rock into him. Coop pulled off to lick and
nibble his neck.
“Shit,” Dom said when Coop found a sensitive spot.
“Can’t wait to fuck you.”
Coop straightened, his green eyes intense in the near-dark. “Tell me you
brought stuff.”
“I brought stuff.”
Coop climbed off him. Dom missed the contact until
Coop shimmied out of his board shorts and briefs, showing off a very pretty
uncut cock that begged to be sucked on immediately. He leaned over and took
Coop’s dick in his mouth, savoring the musky taste that exploded on his tongue.
Coop was big enough for him to feel it, but not so big he couldn’t work him all
the way in. The head bumped the back of Dom’s throat. Coop made a hissing sound
and grabbed Dom’s hair.
Dom started to protest but Coop didn’t pull or
tug. He just held on so that was okay. Dom pulled Coop’s foreskin toward the
head so he could nibble on the edges the way he liked done to him.
“Oh fuck, that feels good,” Coop said.
He glanced up. “Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah. Harder.”
Dom happily obliged, licking Coop’s cock and
playing with his foreskin until Coop was a shivering, gasping mess. He slicked
one finger with spit and rubbed it against Coop’s hole just to watch Coop’s
eyes go wide. He massaged the tight muscle, revving Coop up for the main
event—which couldn’t wait much longer. Dom’s cock was painfully hard, still
confined, and he needed to get inside Coop before he came in his jeans.
He reluctantly released Coop’s cock and sat up so
he could get of his own pants and boxer briefs. Coop reached for his dick, but
Dom knocked his hand away. “Want to fuck you.”
Coop glanced around the car, a little dazed.
“How?”
“Kneel on the seat. Face the back window.”
Dom had a few inches on Coop, but not enough to
make this position too awkward. Coop turned around, giving Dom a fantastic view.
Nature had awarded him a perfect bubble butt. Dom gloved up fast, because hot
damn, he needed to get inside that ass. He slicked his cock, then two fingers.
Pressed those fingers between Coop’s cheeks, down to his hole.
Coop gasped, then chuckled. “Chilly.”
“Not for long. Open up for me, babe.”
The sound Coop made when his finger breached those
tight muscles sent lightning down Dom’s spine. Coop pressed his forehead
against his arm, panting hard while Dom continued to play with a single finger,
working it in deeper. Trying to find—there.
“Fuck!” Coop bounced his head off the top of the
car. “Ow, shit, oh my God.”
Dom kissed the top of his spine but didn’t relent,
massaging that sweet spot while Coop thrashed and moaned. He relaxed enough for
Dom to work in a second finger. Fucking tight, and Coop was going to feel so
good around his cock in a minute.
“Ready?” Dom asked.
“Fuck yes. Fuck me.”
He notched his cock to Coop’s entrance, his belly
rippling with anticipation. Coop clutched the headrest, his back glistening
with perspiration. Dom didn’t have a huge dick. Bigger than two fingers, sure,
but Coop’s resistance surprised him. He worked his way in a little at a time, until
the head finally popped into a tight heat so perfect he knew he wouldn’t last
long.
Coop shoved back so hard and unexpectedly that Dom
nearly fell backward. He grabbed Coop’s hips to steady himself, which only
drove him deeper.
“Fuck!” Coop’s entire body shuddered.
Dom held him still, sparklers lighting behind his
eyes. Hot damn but Coop felt amazing
around him. “Jesus Christ. Eager much?”
“Sorry.” Coop sounded anything but contrite, even
muffled behind his arm. “Fuck me, Dom, please.”
“Happy to.”
Dom fucked him with long, slow strokes, savoring
the intense heat and tightness that surrounded him on every push inside. The
delectable slide back that pulled his foreskin just a little bit forward. He
kept that pace until Coop relaxed more. Until Coop was fucking against him,
urging him.
Coop reached back and grabbed his hip. Dom draped
his chest over Coop’s back, splayed one hand over his belly, and really went to
town, snapping his hips hard enough to earn soft grunts and gasps from Coop.
Skin slapped against skin. Sweat slicked the way everywhere they touched. The
car filled with the heady scents of sex, and Dom lost himself to it.
His orgasm snuck up on him, tightening his balls
and simmering in his belly. He grabbed Coop’s cock. His hips stuttered when he
found a half-hard dick, instead of a fully erect one. Dom slowed his strokes so
he could get Coop back in the game, kissing along his spine and working his dick.
“You don’t have to,” Coop said. His voice was
hoarse and strained.
“Yeah, I do.” Dom had no idea why it was so
important to him that Coop get off first. As much as he wanted to come in
Coop’s ass, he wanted to see Coop fall apart more. He eased out, then gave
Coop’s left cheek a swat. “Sit down against the door and spread ’em.”
Coop did was he was told, which Dom liked more
than he probably should have. Dom didn’t miss the brief flinch Coop gave the
moment his ass hit the cracked leather. He knelt between Coop’s legs and took
him back into his mouth. His nose and taste buds were filled with Coop, the
earthy scent and flavor branding itself to him. He licked and sucked and
nibbled Coop back to a full erection, then went to work on Coop’s balls. Coop
hollered something when he managed to get both in his mouth at once.
Dom loved this—getting a guy to fall apart, all
because he was playing the right notes on his body. Urging beautiful music in
every cry and gasp and pant. He rubbed Coop’s taint as he sucked his cock back
in, hard suction meant to take him over the edge. Coop’s hands gripped his
shoulders, hips pushing up, trying to fuck into Dom’s mouth.
He nudged his finger farther back. Coop raised up
without direction, and Dom pushed his index finger inside. He found that spot,
and Coop keened.
“Dom, fuck!”
Dom didn’t relent until Coop was shooting down his
throat. He lost a lot of the taste, but that was okay because Coop was fucking
gorgeous when he came. His chest was flushed, his eyes wide and a little bit
glassy. His thighs trembled, and his belly flexed a little, probably
aftershocks from the orgasm. Dom grabbed his own cock and pumped, blasting into
the condom with just a few strokes.
He collapsed into the other seat, legs spread, an
unexpected sense of joy buzzing in his chest. He’d had his fair share of sex,
but holy damn that had been incredible.
Coop was staring at him, still catching his
breath, his expression hard to read.
“You okay over there?” Dom asked.
“Huh?” He blinked hard a few times, and that odd
blankness gave away to a bright grin. “I’m fantastic. That was awesome.”
“First prostate massage?”
“Yeah. I’ve never come that hard in my life.”
Pride made Dom sit up a little straighter. “Happy
to help. Your ass is amazing.”
Coop laughed. “Thanks.” He started to sit up and
flinched again.
Now that he was coming down off his sex high, Dom
paid closer attention. “You sore?”
“A little, but that’s to be expected, right?”
The slightly rhetorical question sent a tremor
down Dom’s spine. “Coop, that wasn’t your first time getting fucked, was it?”
Damn, he hadn’t meant for his voice to go so high.
Coop opened and shut his mouth. His eyebrows
dipped together. “No.”
“Okay.” Relief gusted through him. Dom hated to
think he’d been so rough for someone’s first time. He liked hard sex, yeah, but
he never wanted to hurt a guy. Especially not a virgin.
“It’s too bad you’re leaving tomorrow.” Coop
scooped his underwear off the floor. “I would totally do this again with you.
The music and the sex.”
Dom’s heart flipped at the idea of another round
with Coop. “Maybe we can. I live outside of Philly, which is only two and a
half hours, give or take traffic.”
“You want to see me again?”
“Sure.” Dom never wanted to see his hookups a
second time. He liked anonymous. Repeats could get clingy and want more. But
being with Coop had been more than just sex. They’d started something onstage
at Off Beat, and it was still going strong in the backseat of that old car. He
did want to see Coop again, maybe play some music with him. They’d lit the
stage on fire tonight.
Dom wanted that again.
“Yes,” Dom said, more firmly this time. “So if
we’re going to be friends, I guess I should introduce myself. Dominic Castrogiovanni
Bounds.”
Coop’s grin made him ache for another kiss. “That’s
a mouthful.”
“You can thank my birth parents for
Castrogiovanni.”
“Bounds are your adoptive parents?”
“Yeah.” Zelda and Robert Bounds had been the very
best parents Dom could have asked for.
“Trey Cooper. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Getting dressed should have been awkward,
especially given how cramped the backseat was. Dom frequently touched
Coop/Trey, but he didn’t mind. He liked touching Trey. A lot. And he was
excited that they weren’t going to say good-bye and go their separate ways.
They exchanged cell numbers before Dom got them back on the road. He resisted
checking his voice mail from Lincoln. It could wait.
Trey directed him to a street six blocks farther
north than Off Beat’s location and said to pull up at the curb. Interesting
that he didn’t want Dom to know which house.
“I’m really glad I decided to check out Off Beat
tonight,” Trey said. His charming smile went adorably shy. “You really are gifted
with the violin, Dom. I’m not just blowing smoke.”
“Thank you.” Playing tonight had been as nerve-racking
as it had been therapeutic—and he wouldn’t change meeting Trey for anything.
“Don’t let a month go by before you text me.”
“Impossible.”
Trey climbed out with a small wave. Dom really
wanted to kiss him good-bye but Trey didn’t lean in for a kiss, and he was
skipping down the sidewalk too fast for Dom to call him back. He palmed his
cell phone and sent a thumbs-up emoji.
A few seconds later, Trey sent the same one back.
The simple little
computer creation made Dom’s heart flip. He held on tight to those happy
feelings as he listened to Lincoln's voice mail.
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