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Evan and Kellan had been at the club that night and had found us in the parking lot after we were rudely evicted. As usual, Matt was whining when they’d approached us—something about how much of an idiot I was. I don’t know, I hadn’t really been listening. But after introductions, the conversation had shifted to music, and Matt had finally been in seventh heaven. He was happier discussing music styles with a bunch of dudes than he had been watching silicone jugs jiggling up and down in front of our faces. I’d suspected it for years but had known without a doubt in that moment that Matt was completely out of his mind and would never be right in the head.

The two of us had signed on with Kellan and Evan and—boom!—the D-Bags were born. And I discovered that, as I’d predicted, music was a surefire path to sex. And, oh my God…there was so much sex to be had! Backstage sex. Parking lot sex. Wall sex. Bathroom sex. Whips and chains sex. Cosplay sex. One-night stands. Threesomes. Orgies. And a partridge in a pear tree.

It was a never-ending smorgasbord of carnal delight. All I had to say was, “I’m in a band,” and whatever chick I was talking to was instantly intrigued. It was so easy it was almost too easy. No, not really. It was fucking amazing and I loved every second of it.

The only thing that put a slight damper on the awesomeness of my life was my inferior position in the band. The guys had no idea what a gift they had in me, and even though I told them repeatedly that I deserved a shot on lead guitar, time and time again, they kept holding me back. That was my only real complaint about being in the band. Oh, that and fucking Kellan routinely stealing my pussy! Even when I called dibs! Before he went and got all “domesticated,” that used to really piss me off. And then, to make things even worse, the fucking thief wouldn’t even share sex stories. If you’re gonna swipe my slit, asshole, at least have the common courtesy to share the deets!

But no, Kellan would get all weird and tight-lipped. Almost embarrassed. Didn’t make sense to me at the time. Still didn’t—I sang that shit from the rooftops! But, then again, I was amazing in bed. I was such a good lay, even I wanted to sleep with me. Kellan probably sucked at it. He only got the chicks because he had the “lead singer” badge. The girls probably cried afterward it was so horrible. Yeah, that made sense. Poor pathetic asshole. Maybe I should cut him some slack? Nah. It was his obligation as the front man to be good at sex. If he couldn’t hack it, I’d gladly replace him. I could sing and thrust my hips. Easy as nailing an unsatisfied wife after Mother’s Day. Yeah…I could totally do it. Fuck being lead guitarist. I could be lead everything.

I pictured myself standing in the center of the stage, the fans hollering, jumping up and down, flashing their tits as they screamed my name. Kellan shrank into the background, smaller and smaller, until finally the darkness at the back of the stage swallowed him whole. I could only see shadowy, fingerlike shapes lightly flicking the bass line strings. He was messing up the song, but I let it go…because I was awesome like that. I’d talk to him about it later though, maybe give him extra rehearsals. Ha!

It was hot under the center lights, but I loved it. The heat was like a lover’s fingers over my bare skin. If only I were naked, so I could feel the warm vibrations everywhere. The crowd would go crazy for that. They were already clambering to get to me; security was having a hell of a time keeping them back. By the looks on their faces, I knew that if they did make it up on stage, they would tear me to pieces. Being mauled to death with love, lust, and desire…not a bad way to go.

They started chanting my name, over and over. “Griffin! Griffin! Griffin!” I held up my hand to appease them…

“Griffin…do you have a question?”

My vision of writhing fans evaporated as a pair of emerald-green eyes came into focus. Anna. My gorgeous, sensual goddess of a wife. “No…I wasn’t listening. Can you start over?” The full lips below the penetrating eyes frowned, but I knew she wasn’t really all that upset. My mind often wandered; she was used to it.

It still surprised me some that I had taken the plunge, cut myself off from the pack, picked just one type of cereal to eat. Forever. But when the cereal in question was chocolate-coated chocolate flakes dipped in fudge and covered with chocolate sprinkles, it really wasn’t that much of a sacrifice.

Anna and I had met several years ago, before the D-Bags were big. She’d thought I was the shit, even back then, when the pool I’d been floating in wasn’t all that deep. I dug her even more for that. I’d dug her, but that hadn’t stopped me from banging babes after we hooked up. Not even after we’d repeatedly hooked up. Her either. Anna and I’d had a whenever-works-for-you-works-for-me relationship, and I had continued reveling in eager-to-please groupies for a long time. But then, somehow—and I’m still not sure how—everything had started to change. After being with Anna, every other girl had left me wanting. The two of us together were explosive. No, mind-blowing. No…life-altering. I supposed that was why no one else could compare. Anna just got me, and fully satisfied me like nobody else.

Other girls…well, it was like drinking from the ocean with them. Sure, the momentary ache was gone, but I felt worse afterward. Thirstier. I’d just wanted Anna, all the fucking time, and nobody else would do. Admitting I was whipped was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever done, but denying it was getting me nowhere. Anna was enough for me. No, she was it for me. So I fucking married her before anybody else could.

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