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Raging Hard(96)



But in that moment, I didn’t want anyone around. The only thing was the music pouring from the keys, the tempo and the noise, my feet tapping and working the pedals despite the pain.

It was my only solace. And I kept it carefully separated from the documentary. I couldn’t imagine mixing the two worlds. They caught me on film playing pinball, but I wasn’t about to let them catch me playing piano.

As I finished the song, just a simple concerto Soren had taught me, the door creaked open. Instantly, I let the sound die off, and I turned around.

“Lincoln?”

Framed in the doorway was Aubrie, her hair wet from the shower. She was wearing a tight black tank top and short jean shorts, and I could see her bra strap standing out from behind her top. A black frilly bra. I could feel my cock begin to stir at the thought of her in nothing but a black bra and matching panties.

“Hey, Brie baby,” I said.

“What are you doing?”

“Jerking off.”

She made a face. “Gross.”

I shrugged. “You asked.”

“Seriously, was that you playing?”

I nodded, a little embarrassed, though I wasn’t sure why. “Yeah, it was.”

She walked farther into the room, her arms crossed. “I didn’t know you played.”

“I dabble. Why, does playing piano not fit in with ‘Based’ Carter?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yeah, but I was just surprised.”

I grinned at her, loving how easily it was to fluster her. She frowned.

“Relax, I’m messing with you.”

I turned back to the piano but felt nervous all of a sudden. I hadn’t felt nervous in a long time. I felt her eyes on the back of my head as I began to play a slow song.

“That’s pretty,” she said, and walked over.

I gestured at the bench. “Take a seat.”

She sat as I continued playing. “What is this?”

“It’s a song by Nick Cave called ‘Into My Arms.’”

“Love song?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Does it have words?”

“It sure does.”

She smiled. “Sing it for me.”

I laughed. “You sure you want that?”

“Please?”

“Is this your favor?”

“No. I just want to hear the song.”

I sighed. As the song turned around and came toward the chorus, I sang.

“Oh not touch a hair on your head



Leave you as you are

If he felt he had to direct you

Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, oh lord,

Into my arms, oh lord,

Into my arms, oh lord,

Into my arms, oh lord.





I stopped, suddenly too self-conscious to keep going. She was staring at me with this weird look, her sexy fucking mouth hanging half open, and her body was pressed close against mine on the small bench. I could feel her warmth and the soft skin of her leg against mine. I had no clue what she was thinking, but I realized how weird I probably looked.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“No, there’s a lot more.”

“Finish it.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I forgot it.”

She frowned. “It’s really pretty.”

I laughed. “Yeah, well, listen to the real thing sometime.”

“Nick Cave?”

“Yeah. The Dark Prince of Rock ‘n’ Roll.”

“Weird name for a guy that writes love songs.”

“You should hear his other stuff.”

She laughed, and I started playing another simple concerto. “So what are you doing here, Brie?”

“What, I can’t talk to you now?”

“You can. You’ve just been avoiding me for a few days. I figured you were still pissed about the interview.”

“I am. I mean, I guess I’m getting over it.”

“Good. Think more about what I said?”

She paused. “Did you know my dad’s back?”

I stopped playing suddenly. Nobody had told me Cliff had come home. He was pretty much the last guy in the world I wanted to see, especially considering it was his fucking fault that I was stuck doing some pathetic documentary.

“No, I didn’t hear.”

“Yeah. I saw him downstairs.”

“That’s good.”

She paused again and looked like she wanted to say something else, but I started to play again. Distracted, she watched as I moved through the song. I made a few mistakes, but I wasn’t sure she noticed them. I wasn’t usually so self-conscious, but there was something about the way she looked at me and the way her body made me feel that made concentrating on the music pretty damn hard.

It was the opposite of calming. It was distracting. Finally, the song ended, and I sat back.

“You’re good at that,” she said.