Skin Deep: Altered Hearts, #3

Shock and Roll by Jessa Novak

Safe Haven by Annie Snow

She Aims to Please by R.R. Queen

Indiana by Persephone Noble

The Moon and Her Sun by Linda M. Crate

The Keeper of the Keys by Allister Nelson

Innuendo by David Clémenceau

Misspelled by Miranda Reynolds

Entwined by Shawna Renée Lewis

Duel by S.T. May

Can’t Say No by R.R. Queen

F**cking Amazing Grace by Avery Hunter

Walk on the Wild Side by S. Jade Path

The Vet by Crystal Red

About the Publisher

Acknowledgements

Shock and Roll

by Jessa Novak

Ifeel the press of bodies and close my eyes against the claustrophobia. We are in the centre of the crowd. It’s the perfect spot to see the stage, according to Jeremy. Coming to the concert was his idea. He’s at my elbow, swaying to the music or from beer.

I clap him on his shoulder. Jer, you good?

Yeah! He grins at me. Oh man, this next one’s so sick! The melody changes and I follow his gaze to the lead singer. He grips the microphone, shaking his head to flick hair out of his eyes. Girls shriek and reach up, clutching at his leather pants.

Our other friend, Michael, leans into me. The bassist’s gonna have a great solo. Watch. Michael isn’t a music lover like Jeremy, but one of those people who has to know everything about everything. Since we bought tickets, he listened to the band’s entire discography several times, an overnight fanatic. I’m the stick in the mud, preferring computer games to a loud cluster of stinky drunkards. Still, I pay attention as the bass player steps forward, his hands dancing over the strings. The music reverberates in my chest, and something inside me shifts. What sounded like noise becomes emotive. I look from the player’s fingers to his face, and my heart lurches.

He’s gorgeous. The light makes his skin glow, and his dark hair is long and wavy. His eyes flick up, illuminated to a vibrant blue. My cock stirs, swelling against my jeans.

He steps back after his solo, but I keep watching him. The band finishes the last song and bodies bump against me as the crowd disperses. I notice Jeremy is bent over, and I assume he’s puking. As he straightens up, his face is triumphant, not nauseated. Check it out! he crows. Someone dropped their backstage passes, and there are three of them! It’s fate!

Excellent! Michael snatches one.

The idea of meeting the bass player is too overwhelming to process. What about giving them to the lost and found?

Jeremy snorts. Finders keepers. I relent and pluck the pass Jeremy waves in my face.

We make for the hall leading backstage. A handful of others are there, most of them wearing t-shirts bearing the band’s name, Madness Moon. My knees shake with every step as I try to think of something to say to the bass player.

Security scrutinises our passes before waving us through. Couches and chairs line the walls of the green room, the upholstery threadbare and the lighting low to mask the stains. Empty beer cans and ashtrays clutter a large coffee table. The lead singer is holding court, smoking a joint with a goth girl tucked under his arm.

My eyes dart around, trying to spot the bass player. I see he’s in the corner, absorbed in his phone. God, even the top of his head is cute, his hair tumbling to curtain his face. As I imagine sweeping it back behind his ear, my erection returns. I curl over, trying to mask my body’s betrayal.

I shuffle behind Michael and Jeremy as they approach the drummer. Michael talks to him about his playing style, dropping in slang, trying to impress. Jeremy keeps exclaiming, So rad! I say nothing.

Excuse me. Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to find the dark-haired bassist. He leans close and I freeze. His hand snakes past me to snag an unopened six-pack.

He fixes me in his gaze, his eyes a pale blue. Um, great playing tonight, I stutter.

His lips turn up. Thanks. Look, I don’t bite. You seem nervous.

This isn’t my scene. It’s the first concert I’ve been to since high school.

He raises an eyebrow. And you got a backstage pass?

I gesture to my friends. Their idea. I had a great time, though!

I’m glad. He yanks a beer out of its plastic loop and holds it up to me. Want one?

I take it and he pulls a second for himself. I’m Forrest, by the way. He holds his free hand out to me.

Liam. I wipe the sweat off my palm and shake. His grip sends a shiver of pleasure up my arm. I take a deep breath to steady myself, but it fills my head with his scent. He smells like sweat mixed with something good and earthy. It reminds me of sticking my nose in the fur of my childhood golden retriever.

You kept it tight in ‘Fiery Eyes of Darkness.’ Michael appears at my side. My throat constricts with resentment. I want to keep Forrest to myself.

Thanks. Are you a friend of Liam’s?

Michael glances at me, as if he just noticed I’m here. Uh, yeah. How was the switch to a six-string? I know for your previous albums you used a four-string.

Oh, it’s been good. I enjoy having the full range. Forrest answers Michael’s question but watches me. I bite my lip, having nothing to contribute. Their conversation lets me adjust my waistband.

Michael launches into a lecture on Forrest’s playing, but Forrest interrupts him. Sorry, man, it’s hot in here. I was gonna step out for some air with Liam. I swallow. He wants to be alone with me?

We make our way out, leaving a flabbergasted Michael. Jeremy is smoking on the couch, oblivious. I follow Forrest through the darkened hall, out a side door to an alley.

So, what do you do when you’re not being dragged along to concerts? he asks.

Well, I work at a grocery store as a deli manager. Not as impressive as being a rock star.

"That’s an important job. But I mean, what do you do? What are you into?"

I mean, I’m pretty into gaming.

Oh yeah? What console?

Just my PC.

I bring my gaming laptop with me on tour! You’ll have to show me your setup.

I fumble in my pocket for my phone, not believing my luck that Forrest would appreciate how much work I put into my computer. I show him a picture of the three monitors, backlit by a strand of colour-changing LEDs.

That’s so sweet! Did you build your own computer?

I nod, my cheeks warming with pride.

Right on. He fixes me in his wintry gaze. Hey, I gotta tell you, I think you’re cute. That’s why I grabbed a beer, so I could talk to you. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.

Um, wow. I blink, still processing. My cock, which had gone dormant during our conversation, perks up.

Forrest pulls away a few inches. I get it, man. You’re not into guys. Just thought I’d shoot my shot.

No! I mean, I’m into guys...but guys aren’t always into me. I stare down at my sneakers.

Are you kidding? With your freckles and smile? I thought redheads got all kinds of play.

My face breaks into a smile.

So...how about that kiss?

I nod, holding my breath, hard just with anticipation. He takes my chin in his hand. I smell beer on his breath, but it’s pleasant, giving me secondhand headiness. He nudges my lips open with the tip of his tongue, and I yield. His free arm snakes around my waist. I lift my hands to press against his back, appreciating the smooth lines of muscle.

Forrest breaks off, leaving me gasping. He rests his forehead against mine. Want to get out of here?

If this is a dream, I refuse to wake up.

***

Forrest drives with the windows down so the wind whips around the SUV, mingling with music blasting from the stereo.

I shoot a text to my friends. Left with the bass player.

The screen lights up with Jeremy’s reply. NIIIIIIICCEEEE. I can’t tell if he’s excited for me or just drunk.

When I shove my phone back, Forrest puts his hand on my thigh. My erection pushes so hard against my fly it’s painful. Is this okay? He glances away from the road to search my face.

Yes. The word is an exhale as my body thrums with pleasure. He slides his hand up. I strangle a groan, wishing I could take my pants off here in the passenger seat.

It’s alright, we’re almost at my place. His voice sounds strained as well.

I thought you guys were on tour.

We are, but I’m from here. The car stops in front of an apartment building. He kills the engine and leans over me. His hand drifts over the bulge I can no longer conceal.

Jesus, man, you’re so fucking hard. He runs his fingers over the taut fabric and takes my earlobe in his mouth, making me whimper. He releases it to whisper, Let’s get you upstairs. I want to make you cum in my mouth. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to cum at his words.

He leads me up the stairs. On the third floor, we stop at the end of the hallway, and he unlocks his apartment. Once it’s open, he tugs me over the threshold, shoves me against the wall, and crushes his lips to mine.

I hear the thud of the door, but I’m lost in his smell, his mouth, his hands. They slip under my shirt to leave burning trails across my stomach. He breaks away for a moment to yank his top off, and I mirror him. His hands grip my waist and