-3-

Ash held his breath as he waited for Ginny to soothe the ache in his balls. His cock bucked hard each time her lips met with his shaft. He didn’t know what the hell all that nonsense in the bedroom had been about, or why she thought it was so urgent to send a text message to someone this late at night while he was horny, but nor did it matter now. The text was sent and the only thing of importance was that he was about to get the release he’d been craving for weeks, from the woman who’d supported him through some pitifully dark nights.

If he’d ever doubted her commitment, her loyalty, her love, then he was a fool. She’d proven herself a zillion times over.

Ginny Walters loved him.

There was no other explanation for why she’d put up with his crap. If she’d only been around for the thrills, she’d have bailed on him back in Karlstad. He forced his eyes open to look down on her and reassure himself this was in fact real and not some figment of his imagination. It wasn’t some random girl whose name he wouldn’t remember on her knees before him. Not so long ago, blowjobs had been synonymous with groupies. What’s more, it used to be that he’d hardly ever come when someone sucked him. With Ginny he always had to fight not to give into the roaring in his veins too soon.

Ginny understood how to tease, and cared enough to do it. What you did with the body was secondary to how you engaged the mind. His toes curled as he anticipated the moment when her delicate, butterfly kisses would cease and she’d surround him again with wet heat.

“Gin…nee!”

He wasn’t sure if she was the angel of mercy or a demoness.

“You like that, hotshot?”

“Chief,” he insisted. Hotshot implied abilities he couldn’t live up to right now.

“I reckon my skills might have got a little rusty. I’m not sure if I remember how to do this right.”

That was such a heap of bullcrap. She knew exactly what she was doing, and how fine a thread she had him dangling by.

“You’ll have to remind me, was it a lot of attention around the crown you liked, or the ripple around you when you go in deep?”

Her tongue kept lashing him, stealing away the pearls leaking from his tip. It made it hard to concentrate on the question. Truthfully, he liked everything she did to him. All of it. Even this purposeful torment.

“You need to instruct me, Ash.”

“Deep,” he sang, because now she had his balls in her mouth and that was like maybe more than he could handle.

“Deep you say. You mean right down into the back of my throat?” She made a little noise to signify the depth.

Ash responded in the affirmative, leastways he made a noise that might be construed as one. Speech was beyond him while her tongue was working him like that. Just…couldn’t…function…Shit! There were actual tears leaking from his eyes, he was so on edge. No way did he want it to stop though. He’d die if it did. Literally, he’d probably croak on the spot.

“All the way down,” she whispered, licking him like he was a lollipop, down to the base and up the other side.

If she did suck him that deep, he’d go off in a blink. His balls pulled up tight getting ready to do their bit, and his eyes kept closing even though he wanted nothing more than to gaze at her scrumptiousness forever.

“Or maybe you’d prefer it if I kept concentrating on this bit here.”

He watched enraptured as her tongued painted swirls that made him bite his lips. Then her nails dug deep into the cheeks of his arse and she tugged him forward so that his whole shaft bottomed out and he felt the tightness of her throat. Only for a moment though, then her tongue was swirling around his tip again and making him tingle all over.

Aw, fuck! That was mind blowing.

Another intense moment of constriction quickly followed. This time he felt her swallow, and the ripple of her throat nearly sent him over the edge. Abstinence apparently gave you a hair trigger.

“Ginny, I can’t hold on.” He didn’t want to come and take her by surprise, and end up choking her.

She dug her nails deeper into his flesh, and refused to let up. Come daylight, there’d no doubt be half-moon indents in his flesh to remind him off this moment—the one where she pushed him out of a plane without a parachute.

He was falling… Fuck he was falling. The wind around him, the ground hurtling towards him too fast. He didn’t want it to end, the impact would hurt.

Ash buckled at the waist and knees. The only reason he maintained any sort of balance was down to her hold upon him. For fifteen seconds, she was the streamer of light at the centre of his universe, while his cock jerked, and ripped groan after desperate groan from his throat. When Ash crashed back into his body, his limbs were jelly and he was astonished to find he was still standing upright, and not pancaked flat upon the gravel.

Ginny swallowed everything he’d given her.

The noise of it going down lit up arousal centres in his brain, but his cock was so wrung out from his climax that he couldn’t even manage a teeny jerk of appreciation in response. My God, he was cabbaged. He shook his head, trying to force out the fog. He would love this woman for eternity. She’d enraptured him. No one else would ever do.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

He hadn’t told her that nearly as often as he ought to have done. He’d change that habit now and make sure she was never in any doubt over his affections. She’d been there for him. She’d supported him. Without her over the last few weeks he knew he’d be in a far worse state.

He tried to scoop her into his arms, but when he attempted to push his arms beneath her legs Ginny stood like there was a rocket under her butt.

“I was going to carry you to bed and thank you.”

“I know.” She caressed his face. “But I think we’ve both had enough excitement for one night.”

What the hell was she on about? “We’re just getting the fun started.”

“You need to pace yourself, handsome.”

“I’m fine.” He tried to kiss her, but she danced right out of reach. “Ginny?”

“Just because you have your feet under you again doesn’t mean you’re capable of running a marathon.”

Did she think he wasn’t capable of getting her off anymore? Hadn’t he proved seconds ago that he was fully functional? He might have a few problems, but getting it up wasn’t one of them, and he knew plenty of ways to fuck to ensure any issues with his hand or his tongue wouldn’t bugger things up.

He made a second attempt to grab hold of her, but she was whippet thin and just as fast.

“Uh-uh. I’m not going to be held responsible for you having a relapse.”

He wasn’t going to have a fucking relapse, not from having sex. A lack of it on the other hand… “You know fucking might actually speed up my recovery.”

Banging sure as hell always fixed Xane.

All right, so that wasn’t even vaguely true. It just helped pin a smile on his dopey mug and made him conveniently forget all the sludge he was at risk of drowning in.

Ginny crossed her arms over her bare breasts. “It’s not happening. Let’s go inside and call it a night.”

Sure, they could climb into bed if that’s what she’d prefer. ’Cept, he knew that wasn’t what she meant.

He watched her pick up her discarded clothing and patter back indoors. Ash stood for a moment staring at the spot where she’d just been, scratching at the stubble on his chin. If she was genuinely, flat-out telling him ‘No!’ then he was stumped. Attempting to circumnavigate your way around that was only something an utter twat would do. It didn’t matter how desperate he was to bury his head between her thighs, he wasn’t going to see any more action tonight.

Grumpily, he plodded back to their room, only to discover Ginny had settled herself in the spare bed.

“Are we not even sleeping together?”

“We can, but it’s strictly cuddles only.”

Well that was fucking bollocks. You know what, he didn’t even want to get into bed. Instead, he about turned and headed for the door again.

“Where the hell are you going?” She sat up to ask him.

“To get a drink.”

“You’re not supposed to be—”

“Of water.”

“There’s a glass in the bathroom.”

“I meant milk.” He needed a minute to get his head wrapped around recent events and how he’d gone from a terrific high to wishing he was six feet under.

Ash padded his way into the kitchen, where he downed a glass of milk. It sat like lead in his stomach.

What the hell was her problem? He felt fine. Okay, he was a bit woozy, but any man would feel that way after the climax he’d just had.

He swilled the glass under the tap, and then drank a couple of pints of water too. He had this thirst, like he’d been baked under a hot grill for an hour. Ash returned to the fridge and claimed a carton of juice and a handful of mini cocktail sausages. Apparently, he had the munchies too. He ate them and then raided the cupboards until he happened upon a bag of tortilla chips. Rather than heading back to the bedroom and a seemingly inevitable fight with Ginny, he trekked down the lawn to the anchorage and sat at the end of the stone jetty with his feet in the water. He had his snacks and a bevvy. All that was missing was a smoke. Not that he was craving nicotine, just something to do with his fingers.

The black waters glittered ahead of him, and way, way in the distance there was the faint glow of street lamps, or perhaps the light in someone’s bedroom. It was too quiet. He missed the bustle of the tour bus, the constant reassuring thrum of its engine, but mostly he missed the companionship. There was always a shoulder to lean on, a drama going on. Basically a ton of things to fill up his mind so he didn’t have to listen to his own thoughts.

He heard the patter of footsteps and realised that someone was coming towards him. “Ginny?” he said without turning. He wasn’t sure he actually wanted her companionship if she was going to tell him he was a dunce for not taking his health seriously. He did, but he didn’t want to just exist. It was important to enjoy life too. It wasn’t as if there’d been a whole lot of fun and thrills recently.

“Afraid not.” Xane sat beside him. He didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, which meant he was on the prowl looking for a fuck, or had recently secured one.

Or not, judging by his glower.

Ash passed him the juice carton, which Xane returned with a sniff of derision. “Unless you have a flask full of vodka to make it palatable, I’ll pass.”

Yeah, because there were pockets in his skimpies, and if he’d had spirits on his person, he’d have downed them neat over diluting them with orange juice.

“What are you doing out here?” Xane brushed his near waist length hair behind his shoulders.

“Could ask you the same.” Ash took a swallow of the juice, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He didn’t much feel like having a discussion about his desire to get his girlfriend off, and her unwillingness to let him.

“Simple. I’m a shit boyfriend.” Xane clasped his hand behind his head. Then he lowered his back to the walkway. “I’m probably a shit human being too.”

Xane would hear no arguments from him on that score. “True, but then I’m a shit guitarist, so we can be in the shit together.” He lay down beside Xane, so that they were both looking up at the stars. To a casual observer, maybe it’d look weird, them both chilling like this, but there was nothing more than friendship to it. He’d missed this sense of normality and security. They didn’t really need to talk to know where they were both at, they understood.

“Yours is a temporary affliction. I fear mine’s permanent.”

Xane and relationship drama were synonymous.

“Luthor and Dani not seeing eye to eye? Cor, ’cause that’s such a surprise.” There were women out there, plenty of them, who’d happily date Xane and let him screw Luthor on the side. Dani Fosbrook wasn’t one of them. It was hard to see looking at Xane and Dani how they’d ever ended up together. Xane was a certified sex addict, with a flair for the dramatic, and Dani was a first class prude who struggled to think outside of the confines of the narrow religious teachings she’d been fed by rote for years. Although clearly she was capable of some sort of magic, or she’d never have held Xane’s attention.

“I can’t say no to either of them, and they don’t want me to say yes to them both.”

“If you will insist on being polyamorous…”

“Denying that’s who I am only makes things worse.”

“Have you tried getting them both shitfaced and dragging them into bed?” Yeah, he knew that was a dreadful plan, but sometimes it was the bad ideas that resulted in workable solutions.

Xane snatched the juice and took an awkward swallow. “Don’t even plant that idea. The last time I pulled that stunt, it didn’t end well. Steve’s dead because of the fall out.”

“I guess you’re just going to have to suck it up and live with the complications then.”

Xane turned onto his side, and hitched himself up on one elbow. “Yeah,” he drawled after a thoughtful pause.

For a minute or two, their gazes flicked over one another, without seeming to acknowledge what they were gazing at. “It’d just be nice to get off, you know. With two lovers, you’d think there’d be twice the thrills, but between them, they keep dangling me on a thread, and batting me back and forth. For fuck’s sake, I just want to fuck!” He yelled the last bit out across the water.

“Well don’t look at me. I ain’t volunteering.” No way, he’d been there and made that mistake before.

Xane flashed him a heart-stopping smile, then laughed from his belly. “Figured I blew my chances with you years ago.”

Ash folded himself into a protective ball. “Yup. It’s strictly fan-service only between us.”

Xane continued to chuckle. “I see, so I’m only allowed to get you off if it’s live on stage. Well, hell, hurry up and get better Ash, ’cause that’ll reel the crowds in.”

Ash whacked him with the bag of tortilla chips, causing the packet to burst and spray them both with bits. Ash picked one off Xane’s stomach and ate it. His friend retrieved another couple and did the same.

“Okay, so no more bullshitting, how is your hand?” Xane asked after they’d munched their way through the picnic on his skin.

Ash flexed the fingers of his left hand one at a time, then those on his right as a comparison. “Sometimes the range of movement is better than this. Other times I can’t move a thing.” He was kind of surprised he’d admitted that.

“I guess that means that given time things might improve to the point of there not being an issue.”

That’d be the most preferable outcome. “Or it might mean, I’m doomed to forever screw up halfway through every song.”

Xane shrugged. “We’ll write super short songs.”

Dumb suggestion, which nevertheless made him smile. The only way that would work was if they revolutionised the whole music industry and convinced everyone that one minute thirty was the ideal song length. The prog rockers would be doomed. It was a miracle if any of those buggers managed less than twelve minutes. Long winded bastards.

“How long do you reckon the average fuck takes?” Xane’s brow knotted thoughtfully. “Start to finish including the foreplay and the clean up?”

“What’s average anything?”

“Well, you’re average length.”

“Fuck you.” Ash jerked two fingers up at his friend. “What do you even want to know for? Are you frightened you’re under par?”

“Hardly. I thought I’d try and hit the play time on the new album to exactly the right length, and play around with the pacing of the tracks a bit to get the pounding and the release and such like synched.”

“That’s a pissing awful idea.”

Xane crunched upwards and wrapped an arm around Ash’s torso. His hot breath whispered against the side of Ash’s neck and the top of his shoulder. “So is holding on to a guitarist who can’t play because he’s your mate. But, sometimes we do these things ’cause it feels right. We need you, Ash. The band won’t survive without you, so do whatever the hell it takes to get yourself fixed, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He’d give it his best. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing precisely that already.

Having spoken, Xane flipped onto his feet. He was already padding away by the time Ash turned his head. “Where are you going?”

Xane’s hair whipped around him as he turned his head, then settled against his back. The ends of the black strands reached past his waist. “To see if I can patch things up with Dani. If you have any sense, you’ll do the same. That woman of yours stuck by you when plenty would have flown. That means she’s worth the effort.”

Actually, he and Ginny hadn’t rowed. They’d merely disagreed over whether he was up to shagging her. Which, he totally was, whether she realised it or not. Either way, he no longer felt there was anything to be gained by sitting out here freezing his tits off, so having collected up the rubbish and brushed the spilled tortillas into the lake—maybe the fish would appreciate them—he followed Xane back to the house.

Soft light still bathed their guestroom. Ginny rolled over in bed when he entered and gave him a tense smile. She didn’t speak, but she drew back the covers so there was a space for him.

Ash shed his shorts and climbed in.

“Jeez, you’re cold. Did you go back outside?”

She spooned herself around him, which didn’t entirely work as he was by far the taller of the pair of them, but he appreciated her efforts to rub some heat back into his limbs. “You should’ve put something on if you wanted a walkabout. Your arse is like an icicle.”

Maybe, but every place she put her hands instantly thawed. “There’s a pretty thick icicle right here that’d appreciate some warming.” He shifted her hand so that it covered his cock.

“Ain’t happening, buster.” She kissed the side of his head. “Time to sleep.”

Ash glowered into the darkness, but he wasn’t nearly as irate over the lack of action as he’d been before his walk. He’d coax her ’round to the idea. She had to be gagging for a good long shag as much as he was, and Ginny was a woman who liked sex. She wouldn’t hold out forever…probably. Tomorrow when she saw he was okay—the hand issues were just something, not the whole of him—then she’d be her normal happy-to-tango-with-him self.

“I don’t actually know if I’ll sleep,” he said, making one last ditch attempt to engage her in something. “It’s so quiet.”

“Blessedly so.” He felt her yawn, heard the near silent bay of it too. “I’m fucking knackered. Sweet dreams, Ashley.”

Maybe the problem here wasn’t so much a matter of his health or possible concerns over his prowess, but that his Ginny Bear was totally cream-crackered. He guessed she hadn’t enjoyed many peaceful nights in recent weeks. A lot of nights, she hadn’t even had a bed, but had stayed beside him propped up in the chair. Therefore, he’d better stop being selfish and let her sleep. Then, maybe he could persuade her to spend a long lazy day in bed with him tomorrow.