There was no hint at the start of Abbey’s evening that before her shift had ended she’d experience the fuck of her young life.

Dennehy’s bar was its usual dingy self. Clientele the same rowdy bunch of jocks. Atmosphere noisy and on course for drunken mayhem by closing time.

The music, however, was a cut above normal. “Who are these guys?” she asked Angelo, that evening’s head-barman.

“The Devil’s Rejects,” he called above the din.

“Pretty hot!” She poured frothing glasses of beer.

“What, all of them?”

“The music, dummy!” She grinned and returned to her job —serving drinks and deflecting the attentions of college boys. A college junior herself she had no time for their retarded come-ons. Or for the posturing of rock-star wannabees. These Rejects were a pretty tight outfit, though, and the lead guitarist definitely drew a second glance.

He wasn’t conventionally handsome—features a little too angular. It was more the way he leaned into those riffs, the effortless flight of his fingers on the frets. Playing more for love than for show. And yes, it was also to do with how sweat highlighted the definition of his near-naked torso. Shame about her self-imposed rule on bands.

I’m not a one-night stand kinda girl.

Much good it had done her that past year. Her commitment to Brad had been firm, his to her not so. The rows it had caused… the words he’d used—often spiteful, occasionally loving when it suited him.

No one’s going to have that kind of power over me again. Not ever.

“Hey—musicians get any preferential treatment?”

Abbey was drawn first by his voice, then his smile. The latter transformed the guitarist, lighting up those steel-blue eyes. She returned the smile, the full white-toothed one that she held back from the jocks. “Yup—one beer, compliments of the house.”

She was handing over the bottle when he grabbed her arm, fingers sliding around her wrist, gripping tight. Instinctively she made to yank back her hand, but he held on, pulling her across the bar counter towards him.

“The things I’d do to you…”

The moment to whack his grinning face came—and went, as that blue-eyed gaze drilled into her, smile fading into a look both hard and earnest. His fingers brushed back strands that had fallen from her ponytail. Then he let go her wrist, his fingers tracing hers, before he turned away and headed for the dance floor.

Abbey stood amid a throng of customers, shuddering. Something had happened, unique and scary. She could still feel his touch—harsh on her wrist and tender on her face. She recalled his penetrating eyes, his voice raw with promise. There was something about him, dark and delicious. Something she wanted, instantly and badly.

“Customers need serving!” Angelo’s voice shattered her reverie.

She stared at him, heart pounding. “Gonna take my break.”

“Now?”

“That okay? Back in fifteen.”

In the bathroom she scrubbed her hands and stared in the mirror at the pretty green-eyed girl thinking wicked thoughts. Daddy’s pride and joy.

“God, what are you doing?” But something within her knew. “Hell with it. I’ll never see him again.” She tugged her shorts so that they sat below her hips, barely meeting her tank-top, then she spun on three-inch heels, left the bathroom and made straight for the dance floor.

She had walked no more than ten feet when he grabbed the same wrist as at the bar.

“Thought I might have scared you off.” She glanced at the tattooed arm, the muscled upper body scantly covered by a leather waistcoat. She’d gone looking for trouble and it had found her.

“I don’t scare so easily,” she said, but her show of calm belied a cantering heart-rate. Hot chills coursed through her.

“Oh really.” He smirked, and she stared into those eyes again. Thunderclouds building in a calm sky. Then he was gripping both wrists, guiding her down the passageway from the bathroom, his body pushing her up against the cold brick wall. Darkness closed them in, but still she panicked. Brad has friends here. If he knew…

“Whatever that thought is,” he whispered, “let it go. Let your body do what it wants.” So calming. Instantly her body gravitated to his, legs parting, one foot inveigling its way between his. Fuck what anyone thinks. Fuck Brad. Better idea—fuck this guy.

“That’s it…” His knee prised her legs wider, that tall frame bearing down on her elegant five-foot-nine. Warm lips pressed to her neck and worked their way to her mouth. As she succumbed, kissing in return, one hand let go her wrist and shoved its way up her top, pushing the strap off her shoulder and yanking down the lace of her bra. The ripping sent new shivers through her.

“Come on. I’ve got a set to finish and you’ve got a shift.”

The door through which he propelled her led to the manager’s office. He flipped the light switch, but she had little time to take in the grungy space before he gripped her shorts in both hands and wrenched them down. She stumbled as he untangled her feet. Reaching from kneeling, he gripped her waist to steady her. His mouth planted kisses on her hips, her stomach and her ribs, hands pushing the tank top up her body. He rose, peeling top and torn bra free of her, tongue flicking over her nipples.

Heat surged within and she grabbed recklessly for his zipper, but he swatted her hand away and pushed her flailing onto the room’s busted sofa. He shrugged off his waistcoat, then in a few swift moves ripped all else free of his body.

Naked and proud.

Abbey could not prevent her gasp at his cock. Eight robust inches—thick and hard and angry. Way bigger than anything she’d had inside her to date.

“Scared now?” That cocky smile again.

“Scared you won’t fuck me before my break’s over.” Damn—careless words when confronted with that massive fuck-stick.

“That’s all I need to know.” He was on her in a heartbeat, tongue parting her lips, shoving deep into her mouth. Both hands grabbed her panties as the kiss continued; she crooked her knees so that he could tear them right off. The pair of them naked now. Without warning he shoved two fingers into her soaking cunt and she broke the kiss to catch her breath. “So ready,” he said, and she wrapped one leg around his waist in panting agreement.

He wasted no time. Grabbing her ass he pulled her under him. He pushed her knees to her chest, pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and thrust his rock-hard cock. She gasped her shock, but he did not even stop to let her pussy adjust to his size, shoving and ramming until he was completely inside her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and he withdrew virtually all the way, driving in again to the balls. Christ, what a whole lot of dick for a girl. And Abbey was ready for it all.

“Don’t stop. Give it…”

“I will. Right until you come, girl.”

He fucked her with full, hard strokes, body straining, teeth clenching as his momentum built. Pumping piston-rhythm, all that length and girth filling her over and over. Abbey’s thighs closed, her heeled feet clutching his ass. Her body’s surge approached; she wanted to bathe his cock in her juices root to tip. His grip tightened and he gave it to her relentlessly until she screamed, her muscles contracting around him. “Fuuckkk…”

He shafted till she was done and some moments beyond, then pulled out, his cock shiny with girl-cum. “Quick. Suck it.” He dragged her up by her ponytail and she opened wide to swallow that beautiful length. Controlling her throat muscles she pushed past her own gag reflex and sucked with gusto. He tensed within seconds and exploded in her mouth so that her cheeks bulged and salty cum leaked out both sides. She gulped him down gallantly and licked his messy cock clean for good measure, eyeing him boldly.

When he cupped her face and kissed her, it was surprisingly gentle.

“Enough with bullshit. Sometimes a girl just needs a good honest fuck, right?”

Did this guy read minds? “Yeah. She does.”

They dressed quickly and he made for the door. “Gotta go play.”

“Gotta go serve bar.”

“It’s been intense…”

“Abbey,” she informed him. “You?”

“Jared.”

“Jared. It’s been fucking intense.”

“After?”

“If you’re lucky, Mr Rockstar.”

They shared a grin.

She sat on the couch a full minute once he’d gone, regaining her composure—pussy throbbing and his taste still on her tongue. Then she went and completed her shift, eyeing the horny fucker on stage. Angelo’s look questioned, but she only shrugged, smiling the secret smile of a dirty girl.

How right Jared was. Sometimes the perfect medicine was a good honest fuck.