“Oh, fuuuck…” Phil’s hips punched each time he brought me down, his pubic bone rubbing into my clit just right.

The orgasm began to boil through me, bubbling up, spilling over. Heart hammering, fingers digging into his muscles, I sank my teeth into the skin at the base of his neck.

“Harder!” he yelled. “I wanna wear it!”

Faintly, the coppery taste of blood touched my taste buds, and I drew back in shock. “Babe…”

But he had hit his own peak, his head dropping back. “Kenna!” he cried out, hands grasping my ass in a hard grip, pulling me against him. The head of his cock pushed a zinging pain through my cervix as it pulsed wickedly inside me. “Fuck!”

Phil collapsed backward onto the bed, breathing harshly. The impact jabbed his still hard cock even further into my cervix, making me wince.

“You’re bleeding a little,” I told him.

He grunted in reply as his chest heaved, and he struggled to catch his breath.

“We should clean that, babe—”

“Hush, Baby Girl. I’m…I’m fuckin’ enjoyin’ this.”

“But—”

“In a minute,” he grunted again. “That was…so fuckin’…hot.”

“You’re a freak!” I laughed.

“Yeah, I know.” He sucked in another deep breath. “I don’t know why, but when you do shit like that…I fuckin’ come so hard. I love it.”

Gathering me into his chest, he sighed happily. His hands roamed along my back and up again.

“You wanna shower?” he asked, his voice soft with contentment.

“That’d be great.”

“You know I’m gonna spend the rest of the day and possibly all night fuckin’ you, right?”

“I figured as much.”

“Are you complainin’?”

“Nope.”

“That’s my Baby Girl.”

NOLA’s Junk had released their new album, Homecoming, two weeks before the start of the tour. As with every other one of their albums, I’d arrived at the music store to buy it as soon as they’d opened. Some might think that I was a weirdo, considering I had one of the original recordings in its clear plastic case, signed by all five of the band members. But I had a tradition with Our Boys, and Alys and Lili had joined me, so we each could buy our own copy.

Homecoming was a masterpiece.

There were twelve songs, and each one was a personal favorite of mine in some way—even “Louisiana Baby,” catchy little pop song that it was. They had taken their sound and developed it beyond anything anyone had heard before. It was heavy, dark, hauntingly beautiful, unique, and above all, ingenious.

Much anticipated, it had debuted at number seven and skyrocketed to number one the following week. Ticket sales for the Twisted Festivus Tour had sold out in major cities after that. The first concert of the tour at Bethel Woods was no exception, selling out fifteen thousand tickets.

“Shit, it’s hot!” Alys complained before chugging half of a mega-sized beer. “And before either of you say”—her voice inflected to a high-pitched whine—“it’s a dry heat, it’s still fucking hot.”

“No shit,” I replied, unleashing a huge belch. I was chugging, too. Hot beer was gross, and it was as frosty as it was ever going to be.

Quickly following my own, Lili’s burp defied logic and possibly ripped the fabric of the universe. A group of guys parked on their asses in front of us turned to admire our unladylike superpowers. The three of us grinned at them, wholly unashamed to be buzzing at noon.

Crap stage, day one, the first band was god-awful and appeared prepubescent—not that age had anything to do with it, but talent seemed scarce. All these bands were locals looking for their big break. Most of them would be utter shit. It was to be expected. Not everyone could be blessed like Our Boys, whose first serious public appearance had thrown them onto the path of stardom.

“I’m going to need more mental lubricant if we’re expected to sit here and listen to this sort of garbage,” Alys stated. “You guys need more beer?”

“Yes, please,” Lili and I chorused.

Watching her retreating form, Lili sighed. “We’re gonna be tanked soon.”

“It’s cool. It’s Festivus.”

“Ha-ha! Yeah.”

By the time we finished what we had, Alys was back with fresh ones. The second band wasn’t any better, even with the second mega-beer.

“I’m starting to think our boyfriends don’t really like us,” I huffed. “This is audio torture. Are my ears bleeding?”

“No,” said Alys.

“Can you shove your pen in them, so they do?”

Lili cracked up, snapping some photos.

“Can we at least check out another stage?” Alys asked. “I mean, we don’t have to sit here the whole damn time, do we? My musically appreciative soul is starting to wither and die.”

We ended up giving the third band a chance, but then we left after their first song. Enough was enough, damn it. We were desperate to listen to something halfway decent. My guilt over not doing my job got the better of me though, and I called Phil to make sure we wouldn’t be in too much trouble.

“Hey, Baby Girl.”

“Garbage!” I barked. “We can’t take it anymore! All of them were absolute garbage, babe!”

“Are you drunk?” he asked, sounding both alarmed and somewhat amused.

“We thought some beer might help, but noooo. The first three bands made me want to shove sharp objects in my ears. We’re heading to the second stage for a break. Is that cool? I mean, are you guys going to be pissed off if we abandon our post or something? Because we’re seriously debating how much you all really love us, forcing us to listen to that shit—”

“You don’t have to sit there the whole time. Just enjoy the festival, and if you hear something good, get their info.”

“Seriously? ’Cause I was under the impression that we were here to find unsigned decent bands.”

“You are, but it’s not like we’re gonna force you to sit in one spot. You sure you ain’t drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you tellin’ me you guys are inebriated before two in the afternoon?”

Cracking up, I held the phone away from my face. “Phil called us inebriated!”

Alys and Lili found this hilarious as well.

“Baby Girl!” barked out of my phone.

“Hey, babe!”

“Holy shit, I’m comin’ to find your ass and beatin’ it—”

“What purpose will that serve? I’ll just get turned on, you’ll get all frisky, and we’ll just end up—”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Enough for me to really be enjoying myself, but not enough to be unable to walk a straight line or find a toilet if I need.”

“Well, all right. You havin’ fun?”

“I am now that we’ve left the crap stage behind us,” I grumbled darkly. “Phantomsy is the first band on the main stage, and I think we’re going to head over there…”

“Kenna—”

“Oou! Yes! They’re getting ready to go on! Quick! We can get to the front with our passes!” I grabbed Alys’s hand, and in turn, she grabbed Lili’s. “Bye, babe! Call you in a bit!”

“Kenna—”

I shoved my phone in my pocket, and we hauled ass. We were granted full access to watch the first band on the main stage. These guys were good, and we were happy. Yeah, we were a little inebriated, so it made for a fantastic moment to just rock out.

It wasn’t until they finished their fourth song that I spied a familiar face far at the end of the security line.

Tiny.

He was the enormous, soft-spoken security guard who was in charge of all of NOLA’s Junk security detail. He noticed me glaring at him and waved shyly, and then he said something into a walkie-talkie.

Dude, seriously?

Despite the walkie-talkie, he wasn’t making a move toward us.

At least he’s not hauling us out of here like disobedient children, I thought sourly.

After Phantomsy’s set ended, I marched my ass over to Tiny, who was sweating profusely. Good. Even if it was only the heat getting to him, I was glad he was uncomfortable. “What’s going on, Tiny?”