Chapter Two
Six children, all under the age of four, sat at a kiddie table in the middle of Bo’s living room, having brunch to celebrate Emery’s third birthday.
Pretty in pink, complete with a tiara, she looked like a princess.
With fresh flowers and linens, Ava and Katie had the place looking like an English tea party.
Cute and whimsical, it made for some pretty pictures, but what made them think kids that small would sit still long enough to take any, Matt would never know.
Declan was only a toddler, for chrissakes.
Ireland was just taking her first steps.
And at two months old, Charlotte couldn’t sit at all yet.
Linnea had to hold her up for the photos.
But this was the first birthday Bo got to have with his little girl, and the first one for Emery without her mother, so he got it.
This party was as much for him as it was for his daughter.
Matt cut into pastel-colored pancakes, stuffed with Nutella and topped with candy pearls, edible flowers, and sprinkles. Talk about a morning sugar rush. Watching Bo and Ava fuss over the little ones from the sofa, he washed it down with champagne and orange juice.
Picking on grilled fruit salad, Kit sat to one side of him, while Sloan tucked into avocado toast and maple syrup-glazed balls of sausage on the other. Shocked that he came, since he rarely left his house, Matt nudged the voice of Venery. “Where’d you get that?”
“Miss Bo Peep has a spread for the grownups in the kitchen,” he said, popping another sausage ball into his mouth. “These are damn good.”
“I have to make a new plate.” Matt stood. “I’m about to go into a diabetic coma here.”
“Gimme the rest of your pancakes, then.” Sloan snatched the plate out of his hand. “Heh, those kids are gonna be wired for days.”
Now you can be, too.
But then, wasn’t he always? The dude hardly ever slept. He stayed awake most nights penning lyrics or playing his stupid video games.
Kit tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll come with you.”
Matt wasn’t sure how he missed the bounty laid out on the kitchen island. Miniature quiches, chicken and waffles, bacon and eggs, pastries and breads. Coffee, juices, and bottles of champagne on ice. “Look at this. Ava was holding out on us.”
“It’s not her fault you went right for the kiddie buffet.” Kit snickered, handing him a plate. “I saw her yesterday, you know. Told her I was sorry about the other night.”
“You know, I don’t get you sometimes,” he said, loading the pink china with savory deliciousness. “How the fuck could you hurt sweet Ava like that?”
“She tried to, uh… never mind.” Long hair hiding his face, Kit shook his head.
“You should’ve stayed and played with us.”
“Nah, bro, I don’t shit where I eat. That gets messy.” He made himself a mimosa, gulped it, and poured another. “I’d rather not know their names. It’s better that way.”
“Safer, you mean.”
He shrugged.
“That’s so fucking sad, man.” Matt took the glass from Kit and, staring into his puppy dog eyes, he drank it. “When are you gonna let her go?”
“Who?”
“You know who.” There’d never been another, for fuck’s sake. “After all these years, that bitch still has a hold on you.”
“Is that what you think?” Kit turned away and reached for another glass. “Because you couldn’t be more wrong, brother.”
“If you say so.” Matt blocked his way. “Keep on doing what you’re doing, and you’ll end up dying an old man in that big house of yours all alone.”
He swiped his tongue across his lips, and the corners of his mouth ticked up. “Maybe, but the way your life is going, so will you.”
Then, taking the bottle with him, he walked away.
Kit might be right. He’d never had a girlfriend. Not even in high school. He dated them, fucked them, but Matt couldn’t say he ever had a true and meaningful relationship.
Ava followed Bo into the kitchen. “Hey, man, I’m glad you’re alone. I want to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Did you mean it when you said you wouldn’t say no if we wanted to play again?”
His dick turned to stone. Refilling his glass with champagne, he grinned.
“Yeah, sure.” Matt turned to the drummer’s girlfriend. The pretty, young thing chewed on her lip as she put candles on Emery’s pink-frosted birthday cake. “You want to, Ava?”
“I do. Bo and I talked about it, and I know I can trust you. I don’t want to go to the club, though.” She leaned back against the counter, wringing her hands. “I think I’d be more comfortable here at home.”
“Avie wants to know what DP is like,” Bo explained, tucking her beneath his arm.
Hell, fuck her with a toy in her ass, then.
Though it likely didn’t feel quite the same.
Matt fondly recalled that time at the club when Brendan asked him to take his place.
He walked into the alcove to find Gillian, one of the club’s bartenders, impaled on Dillon’s dick.
There was no way Brendan’s monster cock was getting in there, but he was happy enough to make it happen.
I wonder what ever became of her.
Gillian may have gotten her heart’s desire, but she didn’t get Dillon.
He called her Linnea by mistake and left her crying while Matt picked up the pieces.
Maybe he had a penchant for ferocious play, but he could be patient and gentle when it was called for.
“Well, I’m always up for that,” Matt said and drained his glass. “When do you want to get together?”
Ava looked up at Bo and then at him. “Not on a school night… how about this Friday?”
“Works for me.”
“We can order pizza,” Bo said like they’d just picked a date to play poker.
The girl from Rossi’s came to mind. Maybe he’d get to see her again.
“I’ll bring some wine.”
Lots of wine.
“We can watch a movie or two with Emmy.” Bo slung an arm around his neck, and drawing him and Ava close, he lowered his voice. “Then, after she goes to bed, we will, too.”
“God, I love watching the two of you fuck,” Ava squealed. “It’s so hot.”
“Know what’s gonna be even hotter, angel?”
“What?”
The drummer’s lips ghosted across his girlfriend’s jaw to her ear. “Me and Matt fucking you.”
“Bo’s right, Ava. We’ll go slow and take real good care of you,” he said, looking into her big blue eyes. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“Course, I trust you. We’re friends, right?”
Yeah, friends who fuck.
“More than that, Ava.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’re family.”
Matt wiped the condensation off the glass, and studying his reflection in the mirror, he debated whether to shave the three-day growth of stubble on his face.
“It’s not like this is a date.”
He decided against it. Besides, girls liked it when his prickly chin rubbed against their swollen clits.
And so, he pulled on a pair of army-green khakis.
Well-worn, faded, and soft, they were comfortable.
More importantly, they were easy to take off.
He paired them with a thin, white, long-sleeved V-neck tee.
It’s not like he had anyone to impress next door.
With his dick raring to go and a case of Valpolicella Ripasso waiting on the kitchen counter, Matt took to the stairs two at a time.
It was nice not having to deal with the bullshit of going out for a change.
He noted the time. Half-past five. He had thirty minutes to kill.
Bo and Ava weren’t expecting him until six.
Kit came strolling through the door. He didn’t bother knocking, but then he rarely ever did. Pushing his hair away from his eyes, the bassist plopped his ass down on Matt’s overstuffed leather sofa. “I’m restless tonight. Let’s go to the club.”
Fuck.
Now, what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t betray Ava’s trust and tell him what his plans were.
“Not up for it, man.” Feigning a tired sigh, Matt sat across from Kit and kicked his feet up. “How about tomorrow?”
“What are you gonna do, then?” His brows knitted, hazel eyes taking him in.
“I’m hitting the sack early.” It wasn’t a lie, right?
“Yeah, all right.” He pursed his lips, nodding as he rose. “Tomorrow’s good, I guess.”
“See if you can convince Sloan to come.” Matt grabbed onto Kit’s forearm before he passed. “An evening drowning in pussy.”
“Down in the pen?”
Tense muscles relaxed beneath his fingers. He squeezed Kit’s arm and let him go. “Where else, brother?”
Why did he feel like a piece of shit sneaking over to the house next door? And why did he feel like he had to? Instead of going out his front door, he slunk through the backyard with a case of wine under his arm.
With a kiss on his cheek, Ava let him in through the door on Bo’s terrace. She wore a lacy black bralette beneath an oversized tee, the sleeve sliding off of her shoulder. Yoga pants. Bare feet. She wasn’t trying to impress him, either… still, she did.
I hope you know what a lucky sonofabitch you are, drummer boy.
Sometimes, nice girls do end up with rock stars.
“You trying to get us drunk, Matt?” she asked, following him and Bo into the kitchen.
“Why not?” He put the Valpolicella on the island and leaned against it. “Especially if we’re gonna be up all night.”
“Are we?”
“Guaranteed.” His thumb skimmed along her jaw. “Ain’t that right, Bo-Bo?”
“Absofuckinglutely.” His arm around Ava’s waist, he tugged on the ends of Matt’s hair. “Now, where’s my kiss?”
“Where’s Emmy?” His gaze flicked around the room. Matt wondered why he hadn’t seen her yet.
“Monica’s.” And he winked. “She, Elliott, and Chandan wanted to have a sleepover.”
“How convenient,” he said with a snigger. “That your idea?”
“Nope. Chloe’s.”
“Well, in that case…” Winding Bo’s hair around his fist, Matt yanked, pulling the drummer’s bare chest to his. “I know how much Ava gets off watching us.”
In the past, he rarely kissed the men he fucked.
At least, he didn’t remember it if he had.
Usually, he was pumped up and drunk. A beast when he fucked, Matt could pound into a dude without restraint, but he couldn’t allow himself to tap into that base need with a woman, no matter how much she begged him for it.