Read Online Ruin Porn by SJD Peterson, S.A. McAuley - Free Book Online

fucked-up and banging?”
    “Never really been my thing.” Finn didn’t elaborate, but Evin swore there was much more to his explanation than what he said out loud.
    “What about hitting the restaurant or something? That local fare they had backstage didn’t look too appealing after the stagehands had their grubby hands all over it.”
    “Oh gods, please tell me you’re not a germ-a-phobe,” Finn groaned. “I can only handle one Mom reminding me to wash my hands every thirty minutes, and Ritchie’s already got the job.”
    “No one is as bad as Ritchie.” Evin chuckled and closed the door behind him. He threw his cap on the table and ran his hands through his matted hair.
    “So damn true,” Finn agreed. “You want another beer or you ready to move up to the good stuff?”
    “What’s the good stuff?”
    “Hello, vodka,” Finn crooned, grabbing a fifth from the side bar.
    “Sure. I’ll have mine with orange juice.”
    “Screwdrivers are for wussies,” Finn laughed. He dropped a couple ice cubes in the glasses and poured a good measure into each. He brought one to Evin and clinked his glass against it. “On the rocks is the only way to rock.”
    Evin brought the glass to his nose and sniffed. “Whew, never had it straight before.”
    “Well you’re in for a treat.”
    Evin eyed the drink for a moment longer. What the hell. He tipped it back and guzzled it. The liquor burned his throat all the way down to his gut. He scrunched up his face in disgust.
    “Damn, dude. You keep drinking it like that I’ll be peeling your ass off the floor.”
    “Don’t worry, there will be no ass peeling. I don’t think I’ll be having any more of those. That was gross.” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.
    “There’s tequila and bourbon there if you’d rather,” Finn informed him. He took a seat on the couch and sipped his vodka before setting the glass down and picking up his acoustic guitar, the name Gabriel emblazoned across the bridge in gold.
    Evin pulled a beer from the fridge and popped the top. He’d never been much into liquor—he was a total lightweight—and he damn sure wasn’t about to embarrass himself around Finn. Evin sat in the club chair across from Finn and sipped his beer, listening to Finn strum a quiet melody. It sounded familiar, but no matter how hard he tried to remember where he’d heard it, he couldn’t place it.
    “What song is that?”
    “‘The Times They Are A-Changin’.’ Know it?”
    “Hell, yeah, I’m a Dylan fan. Now that’s some old-school.”
    “Dad had dreams of me being a concert pianist. He was always insisting I play Beethoven and Mozart. But Dylan is one of Ma’s favorites. It’s how she talked my dad into buying my first guitar,” Finn said with a slight grin.
    Evin’s body heated, a tingling sensation running straight to his groin. Shit. That humble smile got him every time. His mouth dry, he took another big gulp of his beer and shifted in his seat. Maybe choosing to spend the evening alone with Finn wasn’t the best idea. Stop focusing on your dick and this will be infinitely easier.
    Evin sighed internally and set his beer aside. “You’re lucky that your mom was cool. I got stuck listening to Culture Club and New Kids on the Block.”
    “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” Finn sang, then broke out playing a riff from “The Right Stuff.”
    “Oh God. No!” Evin shouted in mock horror and covered his ears. “Please no, anything but that.”
    Finn’s grin turned to just this shy of wicked, and then he started strumming and singing “Karma Chameleon.”
    Evin grabbed the accent pillow from behind his back and threw it, hitting Finn in the head. “Hey!” Finn protested.
    “Serves you right,” Evin said unapologetically. “Bringing back my childhood nightmares. Shame on you.”
    Finn tossed the pillow aside and held up his hands in surrender. “My bad. Grab that other guitar and we’ll play some Dylan.”
    “That’s better.” He grabbed