Stay Until We Break (14 page)

“Kiss me?” I whisper.

He stretches out over me, covers my mouth with his, sliding his tongue over my teeth as he reaches down and nudges my legs apart. Then he tongues me all the way down, along the swell of my breast, the dip of my belly, the curve of my hip, as I grab onto his hair, urging him lower.

“Fuck, Sunshine, your skin is heaven,” he says, breathing warm against my thigh. “It makes me high.”

He kisses the inside of my thigh, holding my legs apart, and I have no way to anticipate the sweet, drowning sensation I feel when he licks me right there where I need him, spreading me open against his tongue. He starts out licking softly, slowly, and then gradually his tongue is rougher, hungrier as he strokes it up inside of me until I cry, “Cole, Cole, oh my God . . .” He swallows me whole, along with every bad memory of every other guy I’ve ever known. I’m so glad I’m not drunk, that I’m right here for this moment, because nothing has ever made me feel as adored as Cole taking me with his mouth.

“I’m never going to get enough of you,” he murmurs into my skin. “The more I get, the more I need.”

He licks, swirls his tongue over me, fills me with it, and then he licks up and over my clit, sucks it into his mouth and tongues circles over it until I writhe. He holds me steady, pinning my hips to the ground until I plead and pant, right on the edge of explosion.

“That’s it, Sunshine,” he says. “Come on my tongue.”

Three . . . two . . . one . . . he tongue fucks me, rough and persistent, until I’m coming hard and calling his name loud enough even Travis and Emmy can probably hear it wherever they are. When it’s over and he kisses me, it’s the first time I ever taste myself on a guy, all sweetness and salt on his lips, on his tongue as he dips it into my mouth. He pulls his face from mine and grins.

“So, how was it?” he asks.

“Oh my God, it was . . .” I start to say when there’s suddenly a loud crackle and a flash in the sky, accompanied by the shrieking whistle of a Roman candle, and the “BANG!” echoes off the lake. Cole rolls off me and we sit up and watch the fireworks against that perfect Tennessee summer sky, while out in the middle of the lake, Anton and Miles sing “God Bless America” from the other canoe.

“Okay, that was awesome,” Cole says.

“Let’s never go home,” I say.

“Deal,” he says, leaning in to kiss me again. I climb onto his lap and reach for the button of his pants, tug them open, and slide my hand down until I feel him, hard and thick and Jesus, oh so huge.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Sonia.”

“The yellow bag is in my backpack. Can you reach it?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t. So I reach for it instead, but he puts his hand over mine.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.

“Nothing,” he says. “I just want you to be sure.”

“Am I sure I want to fuck Zeus under the Tennessee stars after you just gave me the best orgasm of my life? Yeah, I’m pretty clear on that.”

“The best in your whole entire life?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Like you don’t know that?”

The way he smiles assures me he does.

“Are
you
sure?” I ask.

He takes my face in his hands and holds it, studying me. Then he kisses me, and the way his mouth is on mine, I know, I can feel, can taste how much he wants me, and that only makes me want it more. I kiss his neck, then down his body, down to that wooden plank of a stomach covered by the softest, sweetest skin that tastes a little like salt and smells like some other specially patented Cole chemical the CIA probably keeps in a lab somewhere to snare international spies, because I breathe it in and my mind goes numb. All I want is that skin in my mouth, between my teeth. I nudge the waistline of his boxers down and tongue his hip bone, nose along that happy trail of his. He puts his hand in my hair. His fingers stretch out over my scalp as he gently encourages. Then he reaches for the backpack. I hear the zipper, the other zipper, the crinkle of the foil packet as I pull his jeans and his underwear down to his ankles. He kicks them off and now, finally, Cole is completely and gloriously naked in front of me.

At first I can’t even look so I just look at his face, the way his lips curve as he studies me. Then I finally get the nerve to look down, and I just look at him. Look at him. I mean, Jesus, look at him. His cock is fully erect and beautiful and, well, big. Long and straight and thick as can be. For a second I wonder how that’s going to feel going inside of me and whether I can handle it. But I’m sure willing to find out.

“Holy shit,” I say. “You really are Zeus.”

He laughs but stops real quick when I take him in my hand and start to stroke him, slowly and with just the right kind of pressure. I don’t have the most experience with guys, but I’ve given my share of hand jobs and I can tell this one is doing it for him. Cole’s skin is so soft I want to put my mouth on him and I’m about to when he puts his hand over mine and says, “Hold on, let me get the condom on, all right? Stop or you’ll make me come right in your hand.”

“Okay,” I squeak.

He tears the condom wrapper open and I stare, wide-eyed as he rolls the latex down and covers the most beautiful penis I’ve ever seen. Will likely ever see. I nervously position myself over him, ready. Slightly terrified, but ready.

“We’ll take it slow,” he reassures me, caressing the side of my face. “As slow as you need, okay? You’re in charge.”

I nod and kiss him, all set to start fucking him. But then I hesitate.

“Wait,” I say. “I’m sorry, but this just isn’t right.”

“Okay,” he says, looking concerned. “No problem. We don’t have to . . .”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.” I take a deep breath. “Look, I’ve imagined this moment a million times, and you’re always on top.”

“A million times, eh?”

“That’s a conservative estimate.”

Then in one swift move, he rolls me onto my back, and now he’s pressed right against me, ready to fuck. I’m so wet I can feel myself drip onto my own thighs. I dig my nails into Cole’s back, waiting. Just waiting. Oh fuck, Cole, please do not keep me waiting.

“Like this?” he asks, his breath hot against my ear.

“Yes, yes, exactly like this,” I somehow manage to say, but I sound as high as I feel.

“What else did you imagine?” His voice is low and rough and oh, so fucking sexy. “Tell me what happens next.”

“You already know,” I whisper. “All the very good, very wrong things.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Okay,” I say through my teeth. “You fuck me until I forget my own name.”

“Wrong,” he says. “I fuck you until the only name you know is mine.”

His mouth is rough on mine, like he’s been holding himself in check for so long that he loses control, and he isn’t so gentle now. He’s all the way inside of me on the first thrust, much faster than I’m expecting, and oh fuck, he is big and it hurts. I cry out in surprise, like it’s my first time, and it may as well be because this feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

“Sunny,” he says, hoarse as he strains to hold himself still. “Oh fuck, are you okay?”

“I . . .” I just try to breathe as the pain recedes and transforms into some other sensation—a very, very good one. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I manage to get out, but my voice shakes, my eyes fall closed, and my mouth falls open as he stays perfectly still inside of me. Then I feel a wave build from the deepest, most remote part of me and it starts to spread throughout my entire body. At first I don’t quite understand what’s happening, but every part of me hums a long, slow, sweet buzz. I had no idea you could come with your entire body, but I think I’m doing it. I feel so utterly full with him inside of me that every single muscle I have twitches, squeezes around him, silently pleads with him for more, more, more. I feel his eyelashes flutter against my face as he puts his lips to my neck, breathing warm, soothing breaths against my skin.

“Sonia,” he whispers. “Tell me what you need.”

“Please, please move,” I say, choking up, holding him as close as I can as I start to shudder and clench. “I need to feel you move.”

“Sunny, oh God, are you coming?”

“Yeah.” I can hardly whisper. “I think I am.”

Cole groans, “Oh fuck, oh my God . . . yes, okay,” and then he starts to move, though much more carefully now. But I thrust my hips to meet his and that just makes him wilder, less controlled. The waves rock me deeper and I ride them until I peak with my toes curling. Hell, I’ll bet my hair is even curling with how hard I come. It’s all I can do to open my eyes, locking on his like they’re an anchor to an island when the tsunami hits.

“This is what
I’ve
imagined a million times, Sonia,” he says. “You, under me. Coming just like this.”

Then he covers my mouth with his and continues to fuck me, to fill me, to fucking own me until the next wave starts to build. I may have only had sex one other time, but I’m a pro at getting myself off, and even in my dirtiest, wildest fantasies I had no idea my body could feel like this. Cole fucks me and it’s like a mind-altering experience, one I know I’ll need to have again and again. He fucks me until I’m absolutely incoherent, nothing but a collection of sighs and trembling limbs, and then he makes me come again, teeth marks on his shoulder, nails at his back, his name cried out in the dark. He can’t even slow down now as he fucks me all the way through that orgasm, pushing it further and further until he finally lets himself go with a roar, thrusting into me so hard when he comes I don’t think I’ll walk right again for the rest of the tour.

He collapses on top of me, his face buried in my neck as he goes quiet and still. We rest and catch our breath for several minutes, and when his eyes open, he touches his lips to mine, devouring my heart with his tender kiss. I can’t move. I barely have the strength to kiss him back. I’m totally wasted, wondering how the hell I might ever fuck anyone else again and not think about this. About him.

And then when I least expect it, right as he pulls out of me and takes the condom off, I feel tears stinging my eyes. I try to blink them away before he notices, but they roll from the corners, making the moon blurry. I’m wiping them with the backs of my hands when he catches me and frowns.

“Sunny?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”

“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “You wrecked me. But in the best possible way.”

“No, I mean did I physically hurt you?” He runs his hand along my thigh. “Are you in pain?”

“No, not really,” I say, which isn’t actually true now that the adrenaline subsides. “No big deal.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he says, and he looks really mad at himself. “I meant to be more gentle. I wanted to go slow . . .”

“I’m fine, I swear,” I say. “Just a little sore. I’ve never . . . it’s never been like that before.”

“I should have been more careful with you.” He starts to berate himself. “I should have realized—I shouldn’t have been so rough, especially not the first time.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, bewildered. My heart pounds, and my mind starts to race, that anxiety surging through me again. “Was it not good for you? I’m not very good at this, Cole. I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“Are you crazy?” he says. “That was the most intense sex I’ve ever had in my life. You blow me away.”

“Then why are you so stressed out about it?”

“Well, why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” I say, but then I realize I am. Not like sniffling or anything, just sort of leaking these tears from the corners of my eyes. And I have no idea why that is. I guess it’s just another thing about my body that’s not wired right. I wipe them away, self-conscious. “Is it really all that weird?”

“I just can’t stand the thought of hurting you,” he says.

“But I’m not hurt,” I insist. I can’t stand to see him looking so guilty, especially not right now. I sit up slowly and try not to wince because wow, I really am sore, but that’s not why I’m crying at all. He sits next to me, pulling the edge of the sleeping bag up and wrapping it around our shoulders so we’re huddled together beneath it. I sigh, press my palms to my eyelids to try to make my head stop swimming so fast. I know what I have to say to him now, and it’s going to take all my courage. And I have to look him in the eye to say it. So I do, and I try to keep my voice as steady as I can, which is not very steady at all.

“I think it’s just because of how I feel about you.” My voice cracks as I finish the sentence, and damn, I’ve never been much of a crier. I think being teased to death in high school really taught me how to act tough in front of other people, but that ability fails me now and I feel ten times more naked than I did when Cole was openly staring at my naked body.

“What do you mean?” he says, brushing the hair from my eyes. “Why would that make you cry?”

“Because being with you is so much better than anything I’ve ever imagined, even after a million times. Maybe I’m crying because I just can’t believe you’re really here, you know? I never thought I’d ever be this lucky.”

I’m glad I have the courage to look at him, because what a shame it would be to miss the fierce longing I finally recognize in his eyes when I do. He pulls me to him and kisses me, deep enough to drown every tear I’ve got left in me.

“Sonia, I’m not here because you’re lucky.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” he says. “I’m here because you’re
you
.”

Cole

Let me tell you all about the very good, very wrong things.

First of all, the very good things. The absolute best thing—Sonia.

Those bright blue eyes, the way her hair smells, and the way her smile lights up my world. The way she packs hydrocortisone for our mosquito bites and logs every tank of gas we buy. The way she makes me feel like a king when she comes, calling my name so everyone in Tennessee can know it. The way her skin turns to silk in my hands, draws me in and makes me warm, all the way down to my soul. She’s sunshine, all right. Brightest light of my days.

The very wrong things? Not telling her about my plan to quit Soft before I ever let things between us go this far. No doubt she thinks a future with me would be endless rock tours and late, late parties where no one gets tired and everyone is laughing. I fucking
wish
that was my future. But it’s not, and she’s going to have to know that sooner or later. Not that she’s brought the relationship status question up, but she has told me that she’s crazy about me, and I’ve told her essentially the same thing, so I’m sure that conversation is right around the corner. Then I’ll have to tell her, and I guess that’s as good a time as any.

But with any luck, we can put that conversation off until after Maxwell’s and this tour can stay as magic as it was last night. Though it’ll be hard for any night to ever live up to making love to the girl of my dreams under the stars in Tennessee.

But I have to say, last night in Asheville came damn close.

Yesterday, we stopped at a Salvation Army to pick up a new pair of shoes for Marmaduke, who’d left his at the Pumps’ hotel suite in our mad dash to escape the cops. While we were there, Sunny got her heart set on this sexy little black dress with red roses embroidered on the collar and the pockets and these pearl snaps that go all the way down the front, so I bought it for her. When she changed into it in the back of the van, all I could think about was how soon I’d be popping those snaps open with my teeth. The answer was: right after soundcheck, when she let me finger-bang her in the bar’s kitchen. The kitchen was closed for business, but the bartender unlocked it for me when he found out I came from the Misfits’ hometown. Perks of being a Jersey boy—you learn to take them wherever you can find them.

Not only did she let me get her off before the show yesterday, but after the show was over and everyone was asleep back at Big Wake’s house, she woke me up with her hand on my dick, and I swear, I nearly dragged her by the hair caveman-style to the bathroom. As soon as I got the door closed behind us she dropped to her knees and blew me, which took all of about sixty seconds, if I’m being real about it. Sixty seconds of perfect bliss with that sweet, pouty mouth swallowing my cock. If I wasn’t sure whether it was love before, I sure as shit knew I was a goner when she swallowed and then licked what she didn’t get down right off her hand.

Then? When I woke up next to her this morning and pulled her close, she had her hand in her panties. Not even awake and she had to get it. But shit, I know exactly how she feels. All I can think about is when the hell I can get my dick back in her. It’s kind of distracting, not that I mind. She’s also down two pairs of panties now. The first pair I still have stashed in my backpack, and the second was the pink lace pair I accidentally shredded last night when I yanked them off her in a hurry. And holy fuck did I play that set like I still had my girl all over my fingers. No wonder she blew me in the bathroom.

Let’s just say, with the way things are going between us right now, I’m not real inclined to rock the boat. Not because she doesn’t deserve the truth—she surely does. But because the truth is going to complicate the shit out of things. The truth means she has to think about whether she even wants to bring an ex–drug dealer high school dropout home to meet her country club parents. She has to decide in the cold light of day if she wants to be tied down to a guy who stays home to fix toilets while she’s out chasing her rock-and-roll dreams all over the country, and truthfully, I wouldn’t even blame her if the answer was no. But if it is, it will kill this sweet tour vibe we’ve all got going, and I don’t want that. Save the drama for when we’re back to the real world. There’s not enough magic in this lifetime, the way I see it, and this tour has a nice, hefty dose of it.

Right or wrong, I’m not ready to break the spell.

***

What’s not so magical is the smell of the van, which has taken on this permanent aura of three guys and two girls living in a tin can in high summer in the South, which is a mix of several pine tree air fresheners, BO, and shoes kicked off in the backseat. Or at least we think it’s shoes. Something is funky in Steady Beth and we keep teasing Joey about it, but he swears it can’t be him, and say what you want about the guy, but he always keeps his can of Right Guard handy.

Sunny rides from Asheville to Boone in my lap in the backseat, scribbling in her notebook the whole time, totally ignoring me except for every so often when I stick my nose in her hair, kiss the edge of her ear, and she grins and tells me to stop distracting her—she lets me do my job, I need to let her do hers. Her hair is in this messy bun she keeps together with some kind of magic placement of a single pencil. She’s got these skull earrings in, no makeup on, and her skin is so perfect I’m not even sure why she bothers with makeup at all. Her eyelashes go from Asheville to Montevallo without any need of transportation. She’s in a pair of Emmy’s cutoffs, and her legs, fuck, I cannot stop touching them. She’s in a white Crown the Robin T-shirt tied at the waist, the sleeves rolled all the way up, while her dresses are hanging in the van, still drying after a stop at the laundromat.

We pull into a gas station to fuel up and Sonia takes her notebook and calling card so she can make some calls to radio stations at the pay phone. She insists this is making a dent, and I’m not saying I don’t believe her, but out here it’s really hard to see what difference it makes. We have no funds, no promotions team, no label supporting us. What can a handful of calls really do?

“More than
not
making phone calls will do for you,” she says.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” I tell her. “There’s a lot of competition for radio play.”

“Cole, your job is to play bass. My job is to worry about whether you get airplay, okay?”

I’m getting really good at not rolling my eyes when she says shit like that, at least.

She smiles, pecks me on the nose, and then skips off to the phone. Emmy and Joey head into the gas station to use the facilities. Trap checks the oil in the van while I fill the tank. I’m leaning against the side of Steady Beth, not thinking too hard about anything when a brown electrician’s truck pulls up to the diesel pump.
Conway and Son
it says on the side in gold letters. A guy in his forties climbs out of the driver’s seat, and his old man gets out on the passenger’s side and walks into the gas station while his son pumps diesel. He’s got short salt-and-pepper hair, a pretty deep tan, lines in his face. He’s in a work shirt and work boots and a grimy cap with the same logo embroidered on it as on the truck. He lights a cigarette as he’s pumping gas, so clearly he’s a genius, too. He looks over at me and gives me a nod, like he knows me. I look around because he must be looking at someone else, but nobody else is here. Then I remember I’m in the South, so I nod back.

Travis closes the hood of Steady Beth and wipes his hands off on a rag.

“Trap,” I say absently as I’m staring at the ghost of my future.

“Yeah?”

“You ever think about where you’ll be in ten years if the band doesn’t work out?”

Travis quirks an eyebrow at me, his mouth that straight, unreadable line. But I know Travis well enough to know for shit sure he has a backup plan to being a rock star. The guy is starting graduate school in two weeks. What I’m not sure about is whether the band is his plan A or plan B.

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “That’s why I decided to get an MBA. I figure with that I’ll be able to feed myself and Emmy and keep a roof over our heads, whatever happens.”

“You and Emmy?” I say. “You’re really gonna marry that girl, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You know, someday.”

“Someday soon?”

Travis cracks a small smile and I see he’s not looking at me anymore, but over my shoulder. Behind me, Joey, Emmy, and Sonia are on their way back to the van. I hear them laughing as they approach.

“Yeah,” Travis says. “In the spring, after she graduates.”

“No shit?” I almost spill gas on the side of the van. “Seriously?”

“It’s not official or anything,” he quickly adds.

“I won’t say a word,” I say. “She’s gonna say yes, don’t worry.”

“I know,” he says, and suddenly my brother Trap doesn’t look so steel-trap-like, but a little undone as he thinks about it.

“That’s awesome, man.” I stick my hand out and he shakes it, and I get the feeling that outside of whatever he and Emmy talked about, I’m the first one he’s told about this and somehow that makes it all the more real for him. “I feel like I should hug you or something.”

“Right?” he says. “Don’t, though. That’d be weird.”

I grin. I’ll get him later. I’ll wait until Joey knows about it and then we’ll tag team him after the show. Maybe we’ll celebrate by filling his tackle box with awkward porn when he’s not looking. I’m imagining the ridiculous tour of strip clubs we’ll plan for him down Route 35 for his bachelor party, and then feel a sharp tug on my heart when Sonia walks right up and kisses me quick before she climbs into the back of the van.

Before I climb in after her, I see the electrician dude walking out of the gas station, packing a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds against the heel of his hand as he walks back to the truck. He catches me staring and nods.

This time I look away, pretending I didn’t see him.

***

Friday, August 18, 1995

Rafters, Boone, NC

With Crown the Robin and Skulls

Soft Tour—Day 8

We get to Boone and find Rafters right along the main drag. This is the one real rock venue in town and it must be able to hold five hundred people. It’s got a serious sound system that’s cranking “Rockets Are Red” by Girls Against Boys when we walk in, so we know we’re in the right place. It’s probably the biggest club we’ve ever played, and as we load our gear in we get super excited to play, but Christ, I hope some people show up. It’s Friday night, but it’ll take a lot to make this place look crowded, and from what we can tell, this town just isn’t that big.

Sonia comes back from talking to the soundman and tells us to get ready to soundcheck.

“We’re checking first?” Emmylou asks. “Shouldn’t that be Skulls and then Crown the Robin?”

“Well, Crown isn’t here yet,” says Sonia, because Crown decided to stop in Linville to get their van checked since it’s still misfiring and they still won’t let Trap look at it. Dummies. “And Aubrey says you guys are headlining, so he wants to make sure you get the first soundcheck.”

“Wait, we’re not headlining,” Emmy replies. “Skulls are headlining. We’re opening, then Crown, then Skulls. That’s what we set up with Harley.”

“I’m telling you what Aubrey is telling me. They want Soft to headline.”

“But they’re the local act—they’re the draw.”

“Not according to Aubrey. And guess what? They’re giving us a guarantee.”

“What?” I say. “Really?”

“Five hundred dollars!” Her face is lit with excitement.

“Are you sure that’s right?” I ask, and she shoots me her patented sunburn.

“Do you think I can’t count money?” she asks. “Seriously?”

“No,” I say. “But it’s not normal for rock clubs to give away money, especially to nobody bands.”

“Yeah, well I guess they think you guys are a big deal or something,” she says. “Go figure.”

“Sunny, what did you do?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Made a few calls, that’s all.”

A few calls? By eight o’clock there’s a line down the block to get in the door. Then before the show, when we’re hanging out with Skulls in the dining area having the worst hamburgers I’ve ever eaten in my life (free or not), two guys and a girl from the Appalachian State radio station come over to talk to us.

“Hey, are you Sonia?” a guy in a blue mohawk and a Tesla T-shirt asks. “I’m Max. Remember me?”

“The station manager at ASU! Right!” Sunny beams at him. “That’s so cool that you guys came out to the show.”

“Oh hell yeah, we love Soft,” he says. “We’ve been playing both cuts off the vinyl ever since we got it back in July. We want to pick up another copy. Do you have any here?”

“Yeah, I’ll hook you up,” she says.

“We’ve been promoting the show all over town—everybody is out tonight!”

“Dude,” Emmylou says. “That’s incredible. How can we thank you?”

“Well,” he says. “I was hoping you guys might not mind signing my copy of
Jersey Beat
, being that you’re from Jersey and you’re in it.”

“The latest
Jersey Beat
is out?” Sonia asks.

“Yeah, it just came in this week,” he says. “Great write-up, by the way.”

He hands the magazine to Emmy and we huddle around until she flips to the review section and finds it—with a nice, big photo of us at the top of the page.

STARS ON THE FLOOR—“Loud Is How I Love You”/”Steady Beth” (self-released)—I think it was Mickey Ween who first told me about Brunfuss’s Stars on the Floor—or Soft, as the Court Tavern crowd calls them—but since then, this quartet’s been making quite a name for themselves, and rightly so. This single’s A-side is a natural for those moony kids snapping up Madder Rose and like-minded romantic rockers, with dueling twinned guitars and Emmylou’s warm and urgent vocals hammering home the emphatic chorus, “Loud is how I love you, loud is how I know you’re there.” The B-side “Steady Beth” is a four-to-the-floor garage-rock classic with a zippy surf riff that climaxes with the entire band shouting, “Steady Beth!” How a band with this much joltin’ energy got the nickname “Soft” is beyond me.—Jim T.