Scandinavian Heartstrings, in Drop D.

Chapter 2.5 Lucky Bitch

Skwisgaar procured himself all the groupies he could reasonably fit in his room. The music was loud, the booze was flowing and bare breasts and thighs decorated every surface and corner of his room. Some of the younger girls were snorting cocaine off a mirror at the end of his bed. One of them was in her early twenties with long, straight, chestnut coloured hair. Skwisgaar drank some more of his Vodka lemon as he watched her hair skate across her back as she bent down over the hand mirror then came back up, patting her nose gently. She looked at him with glassy, sky-blue eyes and smiled invitingly. He put down his glass, crawled across the bed, drew back her hair the colour of tree bark, and kissed her neck. A comfortable sigh resonated in her throat, as if she were slipping into a warm bath, and she exposed more of her throat for him to touch. The second girl of the trio giggled at her face, whereas the third simply scoffed into her cup of fruity concoction.

Skwisgaar ran his hands down her shoulder blades and under her hair. Every woman was different, and yet all were the same. Each had their own strings he played as skilfully as his guitar. Each had their own desires, their own kinks, the little things that made them blush and flush with passion. Yet all of them were drawn to his bed for the same reason. The promise of a few moments of serenity without angst or judgement. Where their mind could release and revel in the primal joy found in hot sweat and hard flesh. Skwisgaar knew this, because he was no different.

His hands came under her arms and cradled her breasts. He bit down softly as he squeezed her nipples and she arched back into him with a long, deep moan. They fell together, slowly backward, and he rolled her over onto her belly. She flicked her hair aside to give him access to her neck again. His lips ran down the back of her neck and along her deltoid. He kissed and nipped in time with the music at different places on her back, lifting the skin up with his teeth like an animal in some places. She made more noises of encouragement and he pushed his hot, hard manhood against her smooth inner thigh. She arched her hips up, begging to be entered. Skwisgaar came to his knees and ran two fingers down the length of her spine, indicating that she should do the same. Her long hair slid over her back as she came up onto all fours. She moaned loudly as he guided himself into her slick warmth and began to slowly pump at her.

Pushing her hips back into him, she demanded more. He scooped up the majority of her hair and wrapped it around his fist to use as an anchor. She called for more and he pounded her hard enough to make his bruised midsection ache. But the primal sound she made confirmed she was getting what she came for. She pressed her face into the pillow and muffled her loud, high pitched screams as she clawed at the bed. Skwisgaar leaned forward and placed both hands on her shoulders to forcibly pull her up and back onto him. He gave a few very hard thrusts and she screamed out in either pleasure or pain, he wasn't quite sure she considered there to be a difference. It melded perfectly with the loud metal music and fed Skwisgaar's own primal urge. He dug his fingers into her hips as he pumped his way, hard, into climax. He let out his own moan as he completely filled her cavity. Her arms gave way and she let her chest fall to the mattress with an appreciative little laugh and some words of astonishment.

Skwisgaar folded over to lay on her back, a panting animal. His bruised midsection throbbed and filled his thoughts once again with fluorescent lighting, IV tubes, and empty apologies from a chestnut coloured moustache. This hadn't been the escape he had hoped for.

The girl flipped herself over but had miscalculated and fell off the bed. She assured the room she was OK but that she'd probably be down here for a while as her legs were useless. The third girl at the end of the bed threw an unamused look in her direction.

"Lucky bitch." She commented.

Skwisgaar eyed her as he lay on his back with his vodka lemon again, catching his breath. The black hair with purple highlights, pierced nipples and tattoo on her lower back were all pretty standard, but she still had purple and black striped arm warmers on an otherwise nude body. Skwisgaar had been around enough naked women to know that this meant she was a cutter. There were other faint scares around her body too.

"Yous wants to be nexts, den?" He said, still searching for his hit of mind eraser.