Play (Stage Dive, #2)(37)

No, masturbating was a much more sensible course of action. I was all wired and awake, my nipples hard and breasts aching. The time had come to take matters into my own hands.

“Mm, Nate.”

More moaning.

Some groaning.

A thump.

“Baby, yes.”

“Lick it, Lauren.”

No. Fucking. Way.

I covered my face with my pillow and silently screamed. If I put on music to drown them out (my usual course of action for dealing with Nate and Lauren’s nocturnal passions) I’d probably wake Mal.

Two more thumps. The bed next door started creaking. It was so loud I almost didn’t hear my bedroom door being opened.

“Pumpkin, am I in hell?” Mal walked in, sat on the edge of my bed.

“Yes. Yes, you are. I’m sorry. This is the first and worst level of all, the one where you can hear your neighbors f*cking through paper-thin walls.”

Lauren made some screechy noise she was particularly prone to during such encounters. I cringed.

“Make it stop,” Mal whispered, mouth opened wide in horror. “Oh, f*ck no. This is horrible.”

We both started quietly laughing. It was the only sensible response.

“Let’s go to a hotel,” he said, moving farther onto my bed.

“It’s four in the morning.”

“How long do they normally take?”

“They’ve been drinking, so this could go on for a while.” I drew up my knees, hugged them tight to my chest. He didn’t need to know about my nipple situation. The sad truth was that listening to people having good, noisy sex wasn’t helping. Lucky I was wearing my best comfy cotton jammie pants and an old T-shirt. They were so baggy they hid everything. Otherwise, having Mal sitting on my bed so close might have been a touch embarrassing.

“Isn’t there something wrong with this picture?” said Mal, scowling at the wall as if it had personally offended him. “I’m the drummer from Stage Dive. I don’t get kept awake by other people having wild sex. I keep them awake. I keep entire f*cking neighborhoods awake.”

“Damn, baby. You’re so good at this,” Nate snarled through the wall.

“Did you hear that?” asked Mal.

“Yep.”

“Right. That’s it.” Mal climbed up onto his feet, standing tall on my bed. There was only a foot between him and the ceiling at most. “He’s taunting me. He’s challenging me.”

“He is?”

“The bastard.”

“And I always thought Nate was such a nice guy.”

He reached out his hand to me. “C’mon, Anne. We must defend our fake sex life.”

“Shit.” I took his hand, letting him pull me up too. “Don’t let me bounce off the side. And don’t hit your head.”

“I’m not gonna hit my head. Would you stop being such a grown-up for a minute? Relax, have some fun.”

“Harder, Nate!” Came from next door.

Mal’s cleared his throat, loudly. “Anne!”

“Mal.”

“Louder,” he hissed, as we started to bounce. The wooden frame of my bed made startling creaking noises. The kind it hadn’t made in a very long time, if ever. If only it were due to us being horizontal and naked. That would be so great.

“Mal!”

“You’re such a nice girl, Anne,” Mal projected for the sake of our neighbors. “I really like you a lot.”

“Seriously? That’s your version of sex talk?”

“Let’s hear you talk dirty, then. C’mon.”

I shut my mouth. It stayed shut.

“Coward.” Mal turned his face to the wall we shared with Nate and Lauren. “You taste so f*cking good.”

“Like what?” I asked breathlessly, thigh muscles tightening. The man was lucky I didn’t just attack him with my vagina. “What do I taste like?”

“Well, like honey and cream and … I dunno, bread?”

I scrunched up my nose. “Bread?”

“Yes. Sexy bread that I could eat all the time because you are so delicious and full of wholegrain goodness.”

The next round of giggling made my stomach muscles seize up, but I kept bouncing. How weird to be laughing and jumping and turned on at the same time. Some friends of Lizzy’s and mine had a trampoline when we were growing up. It’d never been as much fun as this, however.

Then Mal jumped particularly high and hit the ceiling with his head.

He dropped onto his much-coveted ass, rubbing the top of his skull. “Fuck. Ouch.”

“Are you okay?”

The bed suddenly collapsed, one end of the wooden frame crashing to the floor. The noise was most impressive. As was the sudden silence from next door. I stumbled and slid and wound up landing half on his lap. Fortunately, an arm went around me, stopping me from bouncing further. We sat there, basically chest to chest, with one of my legs thrown over both of his.

“We’ve broken my bed,” I said, stating the obvious.

“In battle, sacrifices must be made, pumpkin.”

“Is your head okay? Do you need an ice pack?” I pushed his mess of blond hair out of his face. Maybe he needed sexual healing. I was so up for that. It was right on the tip of my tongue to suggest it. Drunken bravado was the best.