I reached my hand between her legs, moving the scrap of lace she still wore to the side. “You like my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” Bex nodded, her eyes rolling back in her head as I got to work inside her with two fingers. “Oh yeah, you like that, too. So dripping wet for me. The whole time I was watching you practice I pictured this, right here. This sweet pussy dripping for me, bending you over and taking you so hard you’d see stars.”

“Yes,” Bex moaned. “Do it. Now.”

I didn’t even need to move the scrap of lace. I was going to take her with them still on. “Go lean over the back of the couch and close your eyes.”

She took my hand from inside her and lifted it to her lips, sucking my fingers one by one. It might be the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen. “You like tasting yourself, naughty girl? Oh, the things I want to do to your dirty self.”

She smirked, strutting across the room to the futon that was one of the very few pieces of furniture in this space. She did as I asked, leaning over so her perfect ass was sticking out and her head was facing the other way.

“Your eyes closed?” I stroked my rock hard shaft as I made my way towards her. I couldn’t wait to be buried to the hilt inside of her.

“Mmm hmmm,” she said. “When are you going to come put your big dick inside me, Johnny boy?”

“Oh don’t you worry, you’ll know the second I get there,” I said, stopping to take a good look at her rounded ass. God, it was perfect. I traced my finger along the tattoo of angel wings she had on her back. There was a date and letters along the bottom, but hell if I was going to ask right now.

Goosebumps broke out over her skin as my fingertips ran down her body. “Tell me what you want.”

She wriggled. “I want you to fuck me, Johnny.”

“How hard?”

“Please. Hard. Really hard.”

I moved the scrap of lace away from her and rubbed my tip against her ass and then to her slick entrance. “Ohh yeah, baby.” She tensed. Shit. I had to stop saying that. It was a trigger for her. “Bex, that’s gonna feel so good isn’t it?” I felt her relax instantly at my change of words.

“Yes,” Bex breathed. “Do it. Now.”

As much fun as it was to hear her beg, I couldn’t wait one more second. Sliding into her, we both groaned in relief. I held onto her hips as I pounded into her, the bumping sounds of the futon moving slightly across the floor the only sound other than our rapid breathing.

“So fucking beautiful,” I murmured, my hand roaming her ass before I leaned over and cupped one of her breasts. Her hand moved down her flat stomach, and I felt it wrap around my pulsing cock as I went in and out of her heat. I could feel her rubbing herself back and forth while her fingers felt me moving in and out.

“You like feeling me in you? Does that turn you on?”

“Yes,” she groaned. “Give it to me, Johnny. I want more.”

I withdrew, turning her and laying her down on the futon. Hovering over her, I took in everything about her all at once: her cheeks were flushed, her lips pursed and her breath was coming out in puffs. She was reaching for me, her need primal.

I slid back in, lifting her hips so she was tilted more. Leaning over her, I caged my arms around her as she wrapped her legs around my torso. Her eyes were looking directly into mine. I lowered my mouth to hers, fusing them together. Bex was arching her back and gripping me with her nails as we continued kissing, her moans muffled.

I tilted my face, kissing her deeper. She was now scratching her nails down the skin on my back, pulling me closer to her. She started tightening around me and I knew we were both ready. I pushed into her hard a few more times. Bex arched her back and broke my kiss, crying out as I emptied into her, and she pulsed around me.

“FUCK, Johnny! Yes! Harder!”

This girl was a freak in the sack, and I loved it.

“Who writes your songs?” Bex and I were sitting cross-legged, facing each other on the futon we’d had mind-blowing sex on just a few minutes ago. I’d slipped my jeans back on and so had she, but she was wearing just a bra on the top. She could’ve done without that, in my opinion.

Her eyes widened just enough for me to notice and she looked away, her gaze fixed on an imaginary spot on the wall.

“Are we not talking?”

She looked back at me. “I do.”

“You write all of them?” My heart pounded in my chest. I’d had a suspicion that she at least had something to do with their songs.

Bex nodded so slightly I almost missed it. She seemed embarrassed.

“Why don’t you want to tell me that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like talking about myself.”

I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t dare. I knew that would be a deal breaker. I thought this girl was me in the female form. “I don’t like talking about myself either, but if we’re going to be friends, friends share, right?”

Bex smirked. “I don’t think friends do what we did on this futon.” A slight blush crept into her cheeks as she thought about it.

I lost myself in thoughts of how she tasted and felt for just a moment. “Friends with benefits, right?”

“Right,” she laughed.

“I don’t need you to tell me all your secrets, Bex. I’m just trying to get to know you a little.” I was shocked to realize how much I did want to know about her and what made her tick.

She blew out a breath. “I’ve written most of our songs. Beau has helped on some, and Ryver has had some input on some, too. Most of the ideas come from me.”

“I write songs,” I heard myself saying. Panic made my chest tighten the second the words were out. Why the hell did I just tell her that?

She scooted closer to me. “You do?”

Shit. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid. “I—uh, it’s a long story. Yes.”

“Do you play?”

I stood, crossing my arms in front of my chest and turning away from her. It was a simple question but not a simple answer.

I felt her come up behind me and wrap her arms around my bare torso. She rested her head against my back. “Johnny? Friends, right?” I nodded. “Do you play?”

It was better not to look at her when I answered. “I did.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

Bex was quiet, her arms still around my waist and her face pressed into my back. “Want to try?”

“No.” My answer was immediate.

“Okay. How long have you written songs?”

“Since I knew that writing songs existed.” It was better to talk to her while I was facing away from her. I couldn’t try to read her face at what I said.

“Wow,” she whispered. “Do you have them all?”

I cringed, immediately going back to the large bonfire of notebooks full of songs that had been my ‘punishment’ once for not wanting to do what they said. “No.”

Her hands began caressing my abs, but not in a sexual way. It felt . . . comforting. I tensed at first but then forced myself to relax when I realized I liked it. It was oddly . . . satisfying. “Will you turn back and look at me?”

“It’s easier this way,” I admitted.

I felt her nod her head. “I get that.”

“When did you start playing?”

Bex tensed. Seemed I hit a nerve, too. I put my hands over hers, her face still pressed to my back. “My dad taught me when I was very young.” The words she spoke didn’t sound painful, but there was something there.

“He was obviously very talented.”

She nodded again. “He was. He’d been in a band since he was a kid and had made it somewhat popular in our area.” I noticed she talked about him in the past tense, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“He played rock?”

“Yes.”

I turned so I could face her again. “We can do this.”

She tilted her face to look at me. “Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Look at it each other while we do it.”

Bex looked away and then settled her eyes back on me. “I’ve never told anyone about my dad,” she whispered.