Hell's Music Read online

  Chapter 5

  The Morning After the Night Before

  Rae stumbled in the dark as Davy jerked her behind an oak. “What the hell–”

  He clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shh.”

  His heart beat so fast she was conscious of its rhythm and the heat radiating from Davy’s body as he pulled her tightly to him. Some innate instinct made her relax in his grip. Another feeling crept over her, that of fear, for a sapphire wash of light filled the quiet Rosebank street they wandered in. An SAPS patrol truck cruised past, its progress a bit too slow and too purposeful.

  Davy edged them around the tree and kept the trunk between them and the police vehicle. All the while Rae expected the cops to slow even more and draw to a halt, but they didn’t. They rounded the corner, leaving Rae and Davy undetected, for now, backs to the tree.

  When she was certain they were safe, Rae squirmed from Davy’s grasp. “That was quick thinking. Do you think we’ll be okay to carry on?”

  He looked about, gave a brief shake of his head and patted his bulging sling bag. “Don’t know. Didn’t want to take chances. Face it. The both of us look a bit, erm, suspicious walking the streets here. We just need to keep better chips, that’s all.”

  “This is a student ‘hood. Loads of strange people about. Don’t see why they would single us out. So where is this party?” Rae asked. “I hardly know these people and you expect me to just walk in there with you as if I’ve got all the right to be there?”

  “The place is around here somewhere,” Davy said. “Bogn... Bogd... Ah, screw it.”

  “You didn’t write it down?” There were times Rae wanted to throttle Davy, and right now was one of them. “So we’ve taken the last train out from town to go to a party you were only marginally invited to, hoping we can sell some stuff–”

  “Look, I met the guy at The Circus a week ago. We shared some spliff down by the river and he invited me to his party.”

  “What’s his name?” Rae didn’t try to hide the annoyance from her voice.

  “Um, I think it’s Bryan or something.”

  “Or something? What in the hell do you mean by ‘or something’? For all we know he could be a rat for the narcs. You’re going to get us arrested.”

  He jerked her by the arm and got them walking. “And if you keep raising your voice like that people are going to overhear and call the cops. Let’s just walk a couple of blocks and keep an ear out. I’m sure they’ll be listening to loud music. He said they were near the station.”

  Rae wanted to point out they’d been past the station three times since their train pulled in, all to no avail, but she clamped her mouth shut, not liking the way Davy’s mean streak showed. It was a few times, like tonight, where she caught a glimpse of someone harder, more decisive than the Davy she thought she knew, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

  So they walked, Davy’s grip on her arm slackening somewhat after two blocks when it became evident the pig-wagon was nowhere in sight.

  He stopped abruptly and Rae bumped into him. “Shh. Do you hear it?”

  Her head cocked to listen, Rae thought she heard the bass thump of speakers a few roads down.

  “Neighbors must’ve complained. I’ve heard a lot of stories about Bryan’s house parties.”

  “What sort of stories?”

  “You’ll see. He’s apparently got this homemade bong that’s legend.” Davy’s grin flashed white in the darkness. “Come!” He grabbed her hand and she didn’t protest, just glad they’d found the party, and that Davy could offload as much of his weed as possible.

  If the cops caught them now… Rae didn’t even want to consider the amount of trouble she’d be in.

  * * * *

  “We can’t lie out here half naked the whole night,” Emily said to Simon. “Besides, I could use a bath.”

  He stirred, fingers idly entwined with her hair. “You’re right, I suppose.”

  Emily sat up then gathered her fallen clothing. The coffee tray she’d sort out later. The night had turned, a restless, chilly breeze stirring from the southeast, hinting at a gale-force wind the next day. Relieved her sister hadn’t arrived home from wherever she hung out, Emily led Simon to the bathroom and ran a deep bath for them.

  There was something profoundly wholesome about lying nestled against the flat planes of his chest, well-defined muscles shifting beneath her. The hot water soaked away her worries and the niggling little voices that asked What have you done? Where do you expect to go with this? Surely you don’t think this will become a long-term relationship?

  Steady hands massaged away these concerns and teased her nipples into stiff peaks. His lips breathed sweet nothings in her ears. By the time they stumbled into her bedroom, Simon had explored her thoroughly, this man so unlike any she’d shared intimacies with before. He’d nibbled and licked, his breath hot in her secret places, tormented in ways Adrian had never ventured. She couldn’t continue focusing on these contrasts. The two men were completely unalike.

  Emily pushed Simon down on the bed and admired the way the tattoos on his chest traveled down his thighs, morphing into a tangle of Japanese koi. “This time it’s my turn to torture you.” Emily locked the bedroom door then set about lighting the jasmine-scented candles impaled on the wrought-iron stand in the corner.

  She knew he watched her from the bed, sprawled as she had pushed him onto his back when they’d entered the room. Emily lit sandalwood incense and drew the curtains then started a Gregorian chant album on her MP3 player. The choir of male voices ebbed and flowed, barely audible, but was enough to create a special ambience.

  At the foot of the bed, Emily let her robe drop to the floor then slunk over the mattress toward him. Simon still had a damp towel wrapped around his waist but he wouldn’t for much longer. She tugged at the fabric, pleased to note his slight smile.

  The towel dropped in a pile on the floor and Emily stretched herself across him, enjoying the wet-satin feel of skin on skin. Despite the bath, a faint patchouli scent still clung to him, masking something slightly wilder, muskier. An answering heat from between her legs made her realize she wanted him again, but this time she’d take it much, much slower.

  His cock already hardened, and she reached out to stroke its length, discovering how wet the tip had become so soon and enjoying the way it pulsed in her grasp. “You want me already.”

  “You’d make a dead man hard.” He gripped her backside, fingers digging in to pull her closer to him. The skin of his thigh slid across the sensitized flesh of her cunt.

  “If you want me to treat you good, you’re going to have to do what I say.”

  “How so?”

  Emily sat up, took his wrists in her hands, which she pulled to the front so they crossed over his chest. Having the man beneath her brought out a side of her she hadn’t imagined.

  With an impish grin, she kneeled over him, licking a trail from his sternum down his belly, and suppressed a giggle when he hissed as she encountered the first curls of his pubic hair. His fingers tangled in her hair and she held him by his hips as she breathed over his cock, allowing the faintest whisper of her exhalation to tickle the skin.

  Thanks to Adrian’s hang-ups, she’d not given a man pleasure for ages. Emily nibbled the soft skin of the sheath until she reached the head. Simon tasted of salt and smelled faintly of the jasmine-scented bath oils she’d used earlier. When she took the head of his shaft in her mouth, probing at the slit with her tongue, he let out a low moan, lifting his hips.

  With growing confidence, Emily stroked the shaft while she explored his shape with her tongue. There was no way she could fit all of him inside her mouth, but she gave it a good try, finding it difficult to suppress a grin when she saw how blissed out his expression had become. Simon clutched at the bedding and bucked his hips at her efforts even more when she cupped his balls, fondling them softly and enjoying the weight of them in her palms.

  Satisfied that she’d tortured him sufficiently,
and in response to her own excitement, Emily slid up next to him and trapped him by throwing a leg over his thighs. His erection was hot and damp against her stomach, his skin glorious between her legs. Her own wetness no doubt aroused him further as she shifted.

  Simon rolled over so he was on top of her then brought his mouth down hard on hers in a deep, almost-bruising kiss followed by small love bites down her neck. “God, woman, you’re driving me crazy.” His voice was heavy with need, his fingers wicked as they slipped inside her, letting her know exactly what he intended to do to her.

  Torture over, Simon entered her slowly, holding himself above her, so he could watch her face. Each thrust was a languorous eternity bringing her closer to that plateau that would end in freefall.

  Like two combatants surging against each other, they came together, crying out and clutching at each other. Each thrust took her higher until she didn’t think she could last much longer without exploding. Her orgasm was a cloudburst of fire that washed over her. For a moment Emily existed in a singularity before she collapsed against her lover. How was it possible that one man could make her feel so good, so whole?

  While they lay still in the aftermath, she listened as Simon’s breathing became regular. They had no need to speak, existing in this time outside of time. Instead she drowned in the swell of music, glad just for the time to enjoy this man she’d somehow managed to get into her bed. She’d definitely missed out for the past handful of years.

  * * * *

  Emily woke once near dawn when she heard the front door unlock. This was followed by someone fiddling with the bread bin and toaster in the kitchen before boot-treads clomped on the oak floors to the guest room where her sister slept.

  At first alarmed Simon would wake at the disturbance, she was glad to see he remained comatose, sprawled over three-quarters of the double bed, an arm and a leg draped over her body almost possessively. This she would have welcomed in winter when it was cold enough to warrant such close physical contact, but now in summer, their skin was tacky where they touched.

  Emily lay still, listening to Rae use the bathroom then after a while, shut herself in her bedroom. All the time she’d worried her sister might knock on her door, but she had better sense than that. The debris of last night’s supper in the kitchen and the state of the bathroom had in all likelihood made it abundantly clear Emily had entertained.

  When had they gone to bed? Emily wasn’t sure, but she knew herself well enough to realize she wasn’t going to get another scrap of sleep now. Besides, in a few hours she’d have to go open shop.

  Simon stirred when she sat up and mumbled apologies in his sleep, his face pulled in a grimace. Some agony of mind appeared to bother him, for he frowned and twisted his head from side to side, an arm thrown over his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay?”

  She’d pay a good few rand to know what had him saying this in his sleep. Given time, Emily would find out but now was not the time to worry about his past.

  As if possessed of some sort of sixth sense, knowing when he was being watched, Simon breathed deeply and relaxed then peered at her. For a moment he looked confused but a genuine smile played across his features, his eyes so green they almost glowed in the low light.

  “Mornin’, sunshine.” He snaked out his arms to catch her about her waist.

  Emily laughed quietly and reached out to push his hair from his face as he pulled her to his chest. “Good day, sir. Want some breakfast? I’m afraid the establishment will have to kick you out well before nine, but you’re welcome to drop by at the retail outlet later for a cuppa tea.”

  He groaned then reached to the side table where he’d dumped his cellphone. “Oh fuck. It’s what...five in the fucking morning.” Simon collapsed back into the bedding. “What time do you normally wake up? The last time I was up this early I didn’t go to bed the night before.”

  “Normally about seven or eight. My sister just came home. She must have been out with her friends, it being vacs and all that. Lucky college student brats.”

  “You never mentioned you had a sister.” Simon propped himself up on his elbow.

  “My reprobate sister.” Emily grimaced. “She had a fallout with our mother a few days ago and is chilling out here until she can move in with our father.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about that.”

  Emily shrugged. “‘S okay. Can’t be helped.” As much as she’d rather remain in bed with Simon, Emily rose and pulled on her underwear. She smelled him on her, the underlying scent the patchouli usually masked. It was wild, somehow dangerous, and made her think of some predator that stalked in the bush.

  “Breakfast do you good? Rae will probably be sleeping off one heck of a hangover if I imagine what she caught up last night.”

  “I’d rather have you for breakfast.” His smile almost disarmed her.

  “And I you, but I kind of have a shop to open in a few hours and if I get distracted now, I’ll be late as I’ve been for the past few mornings. Some of us appear to have a discernable source of income.”

  Emily laughed when he groaned. Once slipped into a mauve silk dress, she was glad he had pulled on his jeans and shrugged into his shirt before he followed her to the kitchen.

  Outside the window, the southeaster raged with all its characteristic summer fury. Emily yawned. She’d had much less sleep than she was accustomed to, so this morning definitely warranted a fresh pot of coffee. She set the kettle to boil while she rinsed out the plunger.

  Simon’s warm arms encircled her as she swished out the grounds, and she enjoyed leaning back into him to feel the bulge of his crotch against her backside.

  “I fully intend to make you change your mind about breakfast,” he murmured into her ear.

  After she set the kettle down, Emily turned, laughing when he lifted her onto the counter and parted her legs. “You’re going to tip me into the sink.”

  “If that’s going to get you to take your clothing off, I may be forced to go so far.” Small laughter lines crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  It was all but impossible to resist sliding her hand beneath his shirt to play her fingers across his chest. She liked men without chest hair. Another comparison in his favor. “You really are a bad influence on me. Getting me all hot and horny here in my poky little kitchen.”

  “Bad but good?” He nuzzled her neck, a hint of teeth playing across the soft skin beneath her right earlobe. The contact caused a flash of warmth to spread from her belly. Strong hands encircled her waist to travel slowly down...

  “Jesus, Em, and everyone says I’m the wild one.” Rae’s voice cut through the moment, jolting Emily from her perch, so she fell against Simon, who stumbled.

  Her sister still wore a rumpled black shift and stood in the doorway. The state of Rae’s smeared eyeliner suggested she hadn’t spent enough time in the bathroom.

  “Who’re you?” She pointed at Simon. “And what are you doing with my sis–” A look of complete horror bloomed across Rae’s features. She staggered back a few steps then held out a hand for support against the wall before she slid to the floor. “Fucking hell.” Her voice lost all strength and she turned a shade of white lighter than her usual ghastly pallor.

  Concerned her sister was still drunk, Emily rushed to Rae and knelt before her. “Are you okay? If you’re going to puke, I’m going to make you clean it up, no matter how shit you’re feeling.” She caught a whiff of the typical club stale-beer-and-cigarettes smell off the younger woman.

  Aware of Simon looming behind her, Emily pressed her lips together in concern at the way her sister’s lower lip trembled. Rae stared at Simon with eyes so wide they were almost all white.

  Simon spoke. “Hey, I know you. You’re that chick from The Event Horizon the other night. Raeven, isn’t it?”

  Rae closed her eyes, turned away and pressed a shaking hand to her cheek. Her color went from white to beet red in an instant.

  Something was up and Emily didn’t like it one bit. She s
tood, facing Simon. “What’s going on?” A terrible scenario involving Simon with her sister played itself out in her mind but she shoved it as far away as possible until such time she could disentangle this situation.

  Simon did not look happy at all. He backed off and seated himself at the nook so hard the bench creaked. He waved a hand in the air, a vague gesture. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “She... Groupie... Erm... I was. Shit. Dead Voices had its reunion at The Event Horizon last Friday. We’ve announced we’d start gigging again since I returned. There was a special event... Media...”

  He grimaced. “See, I’m down in South Africa while I... I sort out some shit. And I’m supposed to be writing new music, so I can record a new album... And. Stuff.” His hands clasped in his lap, he looked down, a man who clearly did not want to have this conversation.

  That earlier nasty sense of familiarity tugged at Emily. “What’s your band in the States called?” She remembered an incident involving a music album their mother had not stopped complaining of since their father had ordered it online. Rae had worn a t-shirt at that family lunch a few weeks previously that had received its fair share of snide remarks from older, more conservative relatives, a t-shirt with a likeness on it that started to make horrible sense... Especially since a certain individual present was no longer out of context.

  “His band’s called Hellbound Heart,” Rae said from her spot on the floorboards.

  Although Emily avoided television, and all but the most basic media communications as if they carried the plague, even she in her self-induced cocoon of Luddite lah-lah-land had heard of Hellbound Heart. Granted, she’d not paid anything too much attention, only listening to the more mainstream types complain about “that evil satanic music” or the antics of its lead singer who was often compared in a very unfavorable light to the likes of Ozzy Osbourne and Marilyn Manson.

  She rounded on Simon. “You’re the Simon van Helsdingen? The one who’s supposed to be in rehab?” None of this computed. She couldn’t compare the image of the ghoul in the media to the flesh-and-blood lover in her bed. The dichotomy was just too much.