Our set was nearly over. For almost two hours, Cade and Ashley had taken turns torturing my libido with their sexy selves. Cade still wouldn’t look at me; instead, he made repeated eye contact with all the other Rim Shot brothers, including Rem, who, as the drummer, was the hardest to spot.

What sounded like a gazillion girls (and probably a few boys, too) screamed illegally louder as Cade strutted downstage during his bass line on “Roadkill Jungle Cats.” Though Lash had the screaming guitar solo, and I had the is-he-or-isn’t-he-faking-an-orgasm moaning arpeggios at the song’s climax, Cade was doing a damned good job of hogging the spotlight. That black wife beater, perfect in its simplicity, looked fucking bomb on him. And those tight leather pants, hugging his curves and angles and amazingly well-endowed assets...I nearly climaxed for real.

What the fuck is he playing at? My eyes narrowed when he tipped a wink at a purple-haired dude sporting devil horns (and not much else—the lad was naked above the waist and wearing a pair of shiny gold booty shorts that could have been pinched from The Rocky Horror Picture Show).

A man has his limits, and I had reached mine. During our last song before the encore, I couldn’t help myself anymore: restraint equaled KO’d. I was fed up with Cade's merciless cock-teasing poses and attention-stealing antics. So, I decided to simultaneously reclaim the audience’s attention and give him a taste of his own medicine. What could possibly go wrong?

Belting our slow, sexy rock bop “I Want to Make You,” I stripped off my spiffy bomber jacket, revealing my plain white button-down shirt beneath it. I tossed my jacket into the crowd. Instantly I regretted it (that faux-fancy shit cost 10 years’ worth of quarters stolen from Mom’s laundry fund); but the fans went wild, so I gave the audience a cheeky grin and did something truly obscene with my tongue. Then I pointed at Cade, singing:

I want to make you

Hunger for me

Underneath

Sweat dripped down the nape of Cade’s neck. Just one itsy-bitsy lick couldn’t hurt. Sidling closer, I relished his surprised expression when he noticed how little space there was between us. He continued pounding his bass, the swoon-worthy chords reverberating through my body like the pulse of an impending orgasm. I reached out and caressed his flexed bicep as he finger-fucked his instrument. He flinched but kept his composure.

I sang the chorus, chaining Cade in place with my strong stage presence.

I want to make you

Hunger for me

Underneath

Get you wet

That collar of sweat

Beggar, beg

If you say please

I'll give you me

The crowd murmured, excited by our prolonged proximity. Encouraged, I boldly licked a strip of Cade’s saltwater skin in the hollow of his collarbone, where perspiration pooled and glistened under the bright lights. He played on. The fans' lust-ridden cries were heavy in the sweltering heat. I heard a few baritone boos, but they were quickly drowned out by ear-piercing shrieks of excitement.

Determined to elicit some kind of reaction—any kind of reaction—from stoic Cade, I slipped directly behind him. My voice resumed, throat thick with desire.

Let yourself belong to me

Gripping his shirt, I pulled him into my chest with adrenaline-fueled, lust-drunk purpose. Shamelessly I began to hump him.

At this point, people were actually throwing things onstage, the majority of which was probably moistened underwear. Their depraved enthusiasm was almost louder than the song.

Wow. I really knew how to work up a crowd.

Speaking of working up, Cade was a hot mess. His muscles were rigid, his body feverish; his face was a shade short of scarlet. Instead of relieving his embarrassment, however, I fiendishly plotted to further undo him.

“Why don’t you just give in already?” I murmured into his ear during Rem’s drum solo, speaking away from the mic so the audience couldn’t hear me.

His jaw tightened in response.

I want to make you

Want me harder

I thrust against him, singing my nuts off, searching for Cade's answer to my question in his body language.

I want to make you

Writhe double-time

As I throbbed against his ass, I could've sworn I heard the slightest moan spill from his open mouth. His playing never faltered, even when I roughly rubbed against him. I had to admire his self-control, as it was me grinding on him and not anyone else in the band. I was the horniest, Clive was the slinkiest, Rem the cutest, and Ashley, the prettiest.

Cade, though...Cade was something else entirely. He was the darkest, the deepest, the most forbidden.

I want to make you

Tattoo my name