“This is the cherry on the cake, mate,” Wes says, tucking his phone into his jeans pocket. “The moment you were put away, everyone was falling over themselves to say how great you are and what a dumpster fire Striker is. It was as if you sticking to your guns made everyone wake the fuck up.”
Rush just smiles and pulls me closer, and takes an appreciative mouthful of coffee as he looks out at the passing countryside.
“You know what? It’s a beautiful fucking day.”
Over lunch at his home, there’s plenty of food and beer and wine, and once everyone’s loosened up and told Rush how happy they are to see him, many jailbird jokes are told at his expense. Rush laughs at all of them and makes a few of his own and teases the others about crying themselves to sleep while he was gone.
“Fuck no mate, we had some peace for once,” Anders says, grinning and topping up my wine glass.
“Before we all get too drunk,” Rush announces, putting down his wine glass, “we should all take about what happens next with the band.”
“I can go,” I offer, standing up, but the guys wave me back into my seat.
“There are three ways we could approach this,” Rush says, when everyone’s ready. “One. We look for a new label. Given the way things are turning out we could probably get a decent one. Two. We wait. Take a breather. See who comes to us. And three.” Here Rush smiles and glances at Wes, and I guess that this is something they’ve talked about between themselves. “We start our own label. We run it for shit hot talent. We produce shit hot talent. We produce our own albums.”
As the guys start to discuss this, Rush catches my eye and smiles. A warm feeling twines through me. Now he really does seem like himself. Making plans. Tackling things head on. Aiming high.
All four of them seem to be in favor of forming their own label and they start throwing around ideas for a name.
“Phoenix?” I guess, remembering Rush’s letter about needing a name.
“That’s what Dree wrote in her last letter to me before I was released, about us and Palatine. I think only one of you is going to rise out of the ashes of what’s happened this last year.”
Ulf scratches his beard, thinking. “Phoenix. I like it. Rising from the ashes stronger than ever.”
After many more beers and glasses of wine, Rush looks exhausted and I suggest we head upstairs. While I brush my teeth, Rush takes a shower so hot that the room fills up with steam and he sings “Not Only” at the top of his lungs. His voice is just as beautiful as it ever was. Damn, I’ve missed that sound.
I finish my teeth, and Rush reaches out and pulls me into the shower. I’m still in my clothes and suddenly I’m under the spray and pressed against his soaking body.
“Rush!”
“What?” he asks, grinning as he pulls my clothes off me.
“I thought you’d want a rest after you got out of prison,” I tease, reaching down to wrap my hands around his thickening length. I’ve missed all of him, but damn, I’ve missed the feel of him in my hands, and I stroke him up and down.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming about you and swearing that as soon as I’m free I’m going to do fucking everything. Fucking first.”
He turns the water off and carries me, dripping, into the bedroom. He releases me down onto the bed, but I slide off it and keep sliding until I’m down on the floor.
I press my face into his thighs and wrap my arms around his legs.
“Dree, baby?”
“Remember when we first kissed and you tucked me between your legs? And said you didn’t know why we were doing it?”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, stroking my damp hair.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper fiercely.
“Fuck I missed you, babygirl.”
I raise my chin and lick the tip of his cock, and he groans. I don’t know why it feels so good to do what we do, but I haven’t felt like myself since he went away, and I can’t imagine being parted from him like that ever again. I take him in my mouth and suck him lovingly, and work him all the way to the back of my throat. Trying to swallow as much of him as I can.
Rush hisses in pleasure and threads his fingers through my hair. I can feel his gaze on me and I look up into his eyes. His lips are parted and he’s panting hard. When he comes, his body bows and he groans loudly, and I swallow him down.
“I love you,” he says, drawing me to my feet and kissing me. “It feels good to say that now the storm has quietened down and it’s just us. I love you, babygirl.”