Read Online Ruin Porn by SJD Peterson, S.A. McAuley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: SJD Peterson, S.A. McAuley
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Finn’s other guitar from its stand. Finn started to play “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” and Evin joined in.
Song after song they played until Evin’s fingers began to cramp, and still he played. He couldn’t stop, didn’t want to. He loved being around Finn, but it was also frustrating as hell. He couldn’t watch Finn’s face too long, the expression of bliss as he lost himself in the music made Evin’s dick hard.
He also couldn’t stare at Finn’s hands too long without his mind wandering south, scraping the bottom of the gutter, and thinking of other things those magic fingers could be playing with.
Evin tried closing his eyes and concentrating on notes, frets, and strings, but those gutter images popped into his head, getting more vivid as his buzz settled in and making his dick even harder.
Fuck.
Just… fuck.
Everything about Finn made his dick hard.
He played the last note of “Hurricane,” held it, and stared up at the ceiling. He was so completely screwed. This was going to be the longest four months of his life.
CHAPTER FOUR
Amsterdam
I T HAD taken too long for the label to set up the first official interview of the entire band. Miah let his distaste for their inaction show in his patent dismissal of the label PR rep attempting to coach them as they waited in the green room. Rez was three shows into the Made in Americana tour and they had yet to do any promo. With “Chene” moving up the charts, and “Assisted Blankicide” ready to drop midtour, that was poor planning and execution on PR’s part. Combined with the out of control social media reception to their Live Lounge appearance, the lack of public relations was a spectacular failure.
On a normal day Miah would have had no issue pointing that fact out, but today he didn’t have to. Sid was out in the hall of the radio station on his cell giving Schaffer hell himself. All of them, maybe the whole station, could hear Sid chewing him out. Besides making sure Evin was hired on, it was the first thing Sid had done on this tour that couldn’t have been done by a monkey. Harsh but true. Perhaps Miah needed to ease off him, though. Very few people dared to face up to Schaffer at all.
Josh—who had to be KMA Music’s youngest public relations person—glanced at the door as Sid let out a collection of creatively strung together insults and threats.
“Don’t worry,” Ritchie reassured Josh. “He can’t actually reach through the phone and rip Schaffer’s head off.”
Josh adjusted the tweed cap on his head and wiped the sweat from his brow.
In the far corner of the room, perched on the edge of a big comfy chair, Finn picked at the guitar in his hands and eyed Josh. “I think we’re more capable of handling this than you are, son.”
Miah barked out a laugh. A frustrated Finn was a bitey Finn. Much more fun for all of them, as long as he didn’t snap in their direction. It didn’t matter that Josh was maybe a year or two younger than all of the other members of Rez, Miah and his boys had been handling their own PR when this kid was still in middle school.
“Right,” Josh conceded. “I think you’re right.”
“Did they tell you to placate us?” Miah asked, surprised with Josh’s ease at admitting defeat.
He shook his head. “I’m a fan. Nervous to be here, honestly.”
Finn chuffed and looked at Miah. “When do you think they’ll stop sending the interns?”
“I’m not—” Josh started, but Ritchie stopped him with a shake of his head.
“They’ll stop when we get to number one and stay there,” Miah answered Finn.
“Which would be infinitely easier if we had some goddamn support from our own label’s public relations department,” Finn added. He was using his Matthew McConaughey tone—the one where he could get away with something that would generally be considered dickish or at the very least combative, but the words just rolled off his tongue with down-home parlance. Or the
Song after song they played until Evin’s fingers began to cramp, and still he played. He couldn’t stop, didn’t want to. He loved being around Finn, but it was also frustrating as hell. He couldn’t watch Finn’s face too long, the expression of bliss as he lost himself in the music made Evin’s dick hard.
He also couldn’t stare at Finn’s hands too long without his mind wandering south, scraping the bottom of the gutter, and thinking of other things those magic fingers could be playing with.
Evin tried closing his eyes and concentrating on notes, frets, and strings, but those gutter images popped into his head, getting more vivid as his buzz settled in and making his dick even harder.
Fuck.
Just… fuck.
Everything about Finn made his dick hard.
He played the last note of “Hurricane,” held it, and stared up at the ceiling. He was so completely screwed. This was going to be the longest four months of his life.
CHAPTER FOUR
Amsterdam
I T HAD taken too long for the label to set up the first official interview of the entire band. Miah let his distaste for their inaction show in his patent dismissal of the label PR rep attempting to coach them as they waited in the green room. Rez was three shows into the Made in Americana tour and they had yet to do any promo. With “Chene” moving up the charts, and “Assisted Blankicide” ready to drop midtour, that was poor planning and execution on PR’s part. Combined with the out of control social media reception to their Live Lounge appearance, the lack of public relations was a spectacular failure.
On a normal day Miah would have had no issue pointing that fact out, but today he didn’t have to. Sid was out in the hall of the radio station on his cell giving Schaffer hell himself. All of them, maybe the whole station, could hear Sid chewing him out. Besides making sure Evin was hired on, it was the first thing Sid had done on this tour that couldn’t have been done by a monkey. Harsh but true. Perhaps Miah needed to ease off him, though. Very few people dared to face up to Schaffer at all.
Josh—who had to be KMA Music’s youngest public relations person—glanced at the door as Sid let out a collection of creatively strung together insults and threats.
“Don’t worry,” Ritchie reassured Josh. “He can’t actually reach through the phone and rip Schaffer’s head off.”
Josh adjusted the tweed cap on his head and wiped the sweat from his brow.
In the far corner of the room, perched on the edge of a big comfy chair, Finn picked at the guitar in his hands and eyed Josh. “I think we’re more capable of handling this than you are, son.”
Miah barked out a laugh. A frustrated Finn was a bitey Finn. Much more fun for all of them, as long as he didn’t snap in their direction. It didn’t matter that Josh was maybe a year or two younger than all of the other members of Rez, Miah and his boys had been handling their own PR when this kid was still in middle school.
“Right,” Josh conceded. “I think you’re right.”
“Did they tell you to placate us?” Miah asked, surprised with Josh’s ease at admitting defeat.
He shook his head. “I’m a fan. Nervous to be here, honestly.”
Finn chuffed and looked at Miah. “When do you think they’ll stop sending the interns?”
“I’m not—” Josh started, but Ritchie stopped him with a shake of his head.
“They’ll stop when we get to number one and stay there,” Miah answered Finn.
“Which would be infinitely easier if we had some goddamn support from our own label’s public relations department,” Finn added. He was using his Matthew McConaughey tone—the one where he could get away with something that would generally be considered dickish or at the very least combative, but the words just rolled off his tongue with down-home parlance. Or the
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