Crash Ride by T. Gephart

we had spoken about, being friends and not fucking, yeah that went right out the window. So maybe licking her spoon was playing dirty, but I didn’t give a fuck. What I did care about was making my intentions clear, and I wasn’t subtle about it.
    Megs and I, that shit was not over.
    We pulled in along Jason’s Mustang and ejected from the Lambo. The drive had been pleasurable even if the occasional conversation interjected wasn’t.
    “I swear, dude. The vibrations in that car when you drive—you could jerk off with no hands.” A sample of what I had to endure.
    We walked in, said our hellos and got down to business. Getting the track laid down was the priority, getting Megs off my mind, an added bonus.
    “Hey man, you wanna go over that last bit again? It sounds kind of tired.” Alex stopped mid strum, the new song not sounding right.
    “It’s missing something.” James ran his hands through his hair. “The verse is okay but the chorus fucking blows.”
    “I don’t think it’s the lyrics, dude,” Jase added to the mix. “I think it’s the timing. It’s too slow.”
    “You know my feelings on this,” Dan piped in. “Every song should be faster.”
    “We’re not playing death metal you tool.” Alex threw a guitar pick at Dan.
    “Don’t be jealous, asshole, it’s not my fault I can play faster than you.”
    Alex rolled his eyes. “Does your future wife know she’s marrying a child?”
    Dan’s claim was laughable at best, just yanking Alex’s chain like he always did. Usually the back and forth amused the hell out of me. Tonight, not so much.
    Before Dan had a chance to respond, I picked up my sticks and started playing the chorus again. This time faster on the snare and giving the double kick a little more love. Beside the obvious benefit of drowning out any further bitching, it released some of the tension I’d been feeling.
    What came out was aggressive but catchy as fuck. Jase was right; it was a timing issue. Sped up, it sounded amazing.
    “That’s wicked, dude.” James grabbed the mic off the stand, his excitement almost as big as his grin. “Play it again, exactly like that. Alex…”
    “On it.” Alex turned up his amp and sped up the tempo. His fingers owned the fret board as he moved through the complicated progression. The smug watch-me-shred-like-a-demon look he shot Dan wasn’t missed by anyone either. Jase snorted a laugh, punching Dan in the arm before they both joined in and rounded out the sound. It was magic.
    James was more excited than a kid on Christmas morning as we hit record. The track was cut and polished a few hours later. And while my poor DW kit took the mother of all poundings, at least I wasn’t thinking about the pint-size blonde who’d been dominating my thoughts and making my cock stir.
    It was late by the time we made it back to the apartment, and Megs would for sure be tucked up in her bed at home. That piece of information both pissed me off ’cause it meant not seeing her, and made thankful as fuck my torture session for one day was over. It was a fifty-fifty split.
    The minute I walked through my front door, I pulled off my boots, tossing my keys on my kitchen counter before I stripped off my T-shirt and socks. It was easier to dump my gear in the laundry on the way through, so I peeled off my jeans and boxers as well and walked to my bedroom, naked.
    The place was dark but the layout had been permanently locked away in my brain so I didn’t bother hitting the lights. Instead I navigated through the hall, allowing my eyes to readjust. This was a journey I’d made a million times — sometimes drunk, sometimes sober, and sometimes with a girl around my waist. Yeah, only one girl I was interested in at the moment and we were not going there. My dick showed interest even though there was no prospect of that happening. Not like I blame him.
    By the time I’d reached my bedroom, I was seriously contemplating skipping the shower and collapsing into