Hard Rock Roots Box Set (68 page)

“Cohen could barely stand up, could hardly sing,” she says, startling me out of my thoughts. Lola smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. “Used the same stool Turner Campbell took on stage.” She winks at me and pulls away. Reluctantly, I let her go. “This isn't about him, not exactly.” She wipes at her eyes and shrugs her jacket off, tossing it onto the roof of a silver Mercedes.

I reach my hands into my jeans and adjust my junk. Can't help it. I'm so horny, I can hardly see straight. Seeing the sleek curve of her back, the art that adorns her body like the world's finest gallery … I shiver. Logical thought is getting harder and harder to come by.

Lola turns around and slides onto the hood of the car, hooking her heels on the bumper and leaning back. Miraculously, there's no car alarm, and the garage remains silent. I can, however, hear the fans surging outside on the ground floor. No doubt Milo's planned to pick us up in here. I wonder why we haven't been loaded up yet?

“So, listen Ronnie. This is really hard for me to explain, but it's gotta be done before it happens again.” I move up beside Lola, running a hand over the hole in the knee of her jeans. I don't miss the goose bumps that spring up on her arms as I pause in front of her, right between her legs. The position is achingly familiar, reminding us both of this morning. I touch my fingers to her thighs, sliding them up the torn denim until I find an opening near her sweet spot. “Ronnie, don't,” she says, but she doesn't stop me when I slip my fingers under the fabric and move them forward until I hit hot wetness. I run my fingertips down Lola's pussy, searching for her opening. “I have to tell you,” she says, but her voice is so breathy, I can hardly make out the words. I push inside her with my hand, enjoying the look on her face, the switch from melancholy to euphoria.
Oh, baby, yes.

“Tell me then,” I whisper, moving slow, enjoying the feeling of her body raw and sopping friggin' wet. Lola's lips part, but no words come out, just a moan, a purr, like a little kitty cat. “Tell me whatever it is, so I can make things right. Remember, I owe you one from this morning.” I reach out with my other hand snap the
Mrs. Ronnie McGuire
bracelet against her skin. Lola's mouth works, but she still can't seem to get anything out. Two tiny tears prick the corners of her eyes but don't fall. I mistake them for sexual frustration. “Say it.”

“Ronnie,” she says as I pull my fingers out and use her own juices as lube, running them up, straight to the magic fuckin' gumdrop. I might be a deadbeat sack of crap with a lone talent for drumming, but I know how to spell the word orgasm:
c-l-i-t-o-r-i-s.
“Ronnie,” a whispered moan, a snippet of pleasure dragged from the throat of a fucking Goddess. “I'm sorry.”

Chapter 10
Lola Saints

I can't speak the words Ronnie needs to hear. I just can't. I've already failed, so what's the point? His hand feels so good, good enough to make me forget.
Shannon is already dead.
I got a text just minutes after I brought the sleeping beauty back to life.

Deed's done. Make sure he finds out tonight.

I was too caught up in moral debate with myself to take action, and now it's over. Shannon Capone is dead and her body is en route to the hotel. With the baby, with that tiny baby. I didn't fail just her though. Or even her mother. I failed Ronnie and myself. I'm irredeemable now.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper to Ronnie, hoping he'll forgive me, wishing I'd made my decision in time. I could've saved lives and changed fate, but now I'm just here, riding a wave of lies and dirty promises all for the sake of what? For fame? Money? What do those things mean without dignity, and now, I have none. “I'm so sorry.”

“What for, I have no fucking clue,” Ronnie tells me, massaging my clit with one hand, using the other to undo my pants. My body has no clue that there's a moral dilemma going on, that my soul is eternally damned to Hell. All it cares about is the way my pussy feels when he touches me, how good it is to open up, let him in. “But I accept your apology anyway.” His words cut me straight through and bring a gasp to my lips.
Fuck a muff, Lola Saints, you really are worthless. You shoulda stayed in Queensland and got yourself married off to the first random bloke that came along, had a few kids, and stayed the fuck out of everyone else's way. You're like poison.
I really regret not finishing off my bottle of vodka. I want to get drunk, so drunk I can't remember where or who I am, and then I want to pass out and sleep it off. When I wake up, Ronnie will know. He'll have two kids and there'll be two bodies, and he will be lucky as shit
not
to get blamed for all this. I thought Naomi's punishments were bad, or Turner's, but Ronnie might just have it the worst of the whole group.
Why am I doing this? Why is
he
doing this?
Fuck Tyler Rutledge. I might just kill him if I ever see him again.

I slide my arms around Ronnie's neck, playing with his feathery black hair, touching his snake tats. They suit him so well, enhancing the muscles in his neck, showing off the fact that he's got a man's body. He might be a little skinny, but he's big and hard in all the right places. Strong jaw, sexy lips, hands that move across my body like flames.

“Fuck me, Ronnie,” I growl into his ear. “And do it quick. I want it
now.
” I don't tell him why. He doesn't need to know that I'm using him like any other drug. I press my face into his neck, smelling the sweat of a good show on his skin, flicking my tongue across the bright red ink of a rose tat for a taste. He was incredible with those drums tonight. I'd always thought he was bloody brilliant, but this was a whole new level. He wasn't just playing music, he was commanding sound and demanding sacrifice. I wanted to crawl on his lap and feel the vibrations around me, savor the sensation of hot breath on my ear. Ronnie's a master with his kit, and I'd be lucky to learn anything from him.

This is why they have God power and we don't. Why Indecency was headlining the show and Amatory Riot was nipping at their heels. Ice and Glass is good, but we don't stand a chance no matter what we do.

I sag against Ronnie, hiding the tears behind a growl and a bite. I scrape my teeth along his throat, loving the way his muscles turn to jelly beneath my tough. I have the power to melt him into nothing, let him evaporate into the wind.
But I won't do it, not for some ass crack in a suit. Fuck you, Mr. Rutledge.
I might have already failed, but I'm not going to keep failing. I'm not that kind of person, or if I am, I don't want to be anymore. My mum was that kind of person. She'd exploit anyone and anything to get what she wanted. I could die for this, but so what? Somebody already did.

Might as well enjoy myself now.

Ronnie finally gets my pants undone and pulls them down my hips, not far, just enough that he can get a better grip on my chick dick, stroking and caressing with the rough whorls of his fingerprints for texture. He's rubbing my clit gently, not stabbing at it like it's a magic button that'll get his dick wet. He's feeling me, really feeling me, listening to the sound my body makes and, instead of steamrolling over it, he starts up a sympathetic beat. I lean back and look into his brown eyes and trace a nail across his lower lip, stroking him like the strings on a guitar, plucking a shiver instead of a note but getting a beautiful sound nonetheless. Ronnie groans and bites down on my thumb, flicking his tongue over my fingernail and sucking it into his mouth, right up to the knuckle. When he was onstage earlier, he was staring straight at me, channeling my feelings into his music. I tell myself that everyone in the audience felt that way, that I'm nothing special. Still, it felt like I could be.

Can something real ever be built on a lie? I guess I'll have to find out.
If I live that long, of course.

“You sure you want to rush this?” Ronnie asks after I slide my finger from his hot mouth and trace his jaw with saliva, slipping skin against skin. “I don't think there are any cops around this time. We could take our time.”

“And get caught, literally, with our pants down by a group of raging fan girls intent on finding out if you're cut.”

“Let 'em watch,” Ronnie replies, leaning down and cutting my soul in half with a kiss that makes my ears bleed. I swear to the ancient gods of another time that I can hear a chorus of howling devils in my skull when he touches me. He's a bad boy in all the worst ways, a
real
bad boy. Ronnie's not some jersey wearing pussy fuck sauntering around with a few tattoos and a lip ring, riding a bike his trust fund bought for him. He is really and truly messed up. Four kids, four different mothers. No sexual standards – pretty sure he's fucked just about everyone on the tour. He's an addict with chronic depression and a lack of will.

But I like him.

Fuck me swingin', but I really do.

I kiss him back, moaning into his mouth as he slips his fingers back inside, teasing the wetness out, soaking my thighs and the hood of this here beautiful car with my desire. Ronnie manages to get his cock out with his other hand, letting it spring free, stiff and proud, removing his hand from my pussy and using the juices to stroke himself. I watch hungrily, my eyes fixated on him pleasuring himself, seeing the way my body affects him. I hope it hurts, hope it's throbbing for me, hot and insistent, desperate. I want to hear him grunt and groan while he fills me, pounding me like I'm one of his drums.

“Now,” I snap at him, enjoying the foreplay but wishing we could save it for somewhere a little more private. At the very least, I bet that bodyguard's in there spanking his dirty monkey. I'd rather not have him doing it to me, thank you very much. “Have you got a condom?” Ronnie grins and pulls a handful out of his pocket, scattering them across the floor and saving only one.

“Thought we might be seeing more of each other, so I brought some just in case.” He grins and uses both hands to open the package, tearing the wrapper slow enough that I damn near slap his fucking face off. He tosses the garbage to the floor and makes me watch while he puts on a show of slipping the latex over his cock, groaning and rolling his eyes to the ceiling like he's in whore's heaven. All seven sweet inches of him gets wrapped in plastic and we're ready to rock. I'd consider myself a risk taker, but I always like the boys to have a puppet for their Muppet, if you know what I mean. Not that I'd mind riding hard bareback with Ronnie fucking McGuire, but we'd have to work up to that. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asks, reaching down and cupping my ass, pulling me down the hood of the car with a squeak of sweet cheeks against metal. I keep thinking he's going to take my pants off, but Indecency’s drummer has other ideas. Ronnie crushes me tight against him, pushing my knees up to my chest and exposing my lady parts for all the world to see.
Hope they have security cameras because this is going to be an event to remember.
My heels are smashed against his body, just underneath his armpits, my bunched up jeans like a shield between our torsos. “It's a secret nobody else will ever admit to, even though they all know it's true.”

“And what's that?” I ask as he rubs the length of his shaft against my crack.
Fuck, damn, and holy bloody hell.
My stomach's twisted in knots, tight with anticipation, and my pussy's pulsing and throbbing, begging to be filled. Ronnie leans over and whispers softly, just loud enough that I can hear him over the chanting crowd outside the parking garage.

“I'm a better lay than Turner fucking Campbell.”

Ronnie thrusts into me with a single stroke, balls to the wall so to speak. I moan and claw at the hood of the Mercedes, scratching at the metal with my nails. I hope the owner doesn't mind if we add a little character to his ride. He's so deep I can feel him bumping against my cervix, and it's like he's all the way in, inside my belly, taking hold of me, enrapturing me. Tears spring to my eyes with the sheer, raw pleasure.
Oh, God, it's been awhile since I've really, truly just been
fucked.
I think I'm in heaven.
Ronnie moves inside of me with powerful thrusts as the car creaks beneath us, shocks absorbing the motion with a gentle bounce. Don't know if the engineers had this in mind, but damn, they did a good job.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Ronnie groans and my heart explodes in my chest.

“Yeah, that's what I want to hear, baby. Tell me how good I feel,” I growl, goading him on. Little Lola's been known to like her dirty talk.
Rawr.

“So fucking good. You're tight as hell. Must not get out much, huh?” I lean back on the car and watch him, my eyelids fluttering, drooping with the rush of dopamine to the brain. The wet sound of our bodies sliding together echoes around the empty garage, giving me the chills. Ronnie grunts and sweat starts to drip down his forehead, into his eyes, along his swollen lips. I want to see him get as hot and bothered as he did when he was playing tonight.

“Play me like I'm one of your drums,” I say, and he moans, squeezing my hips harder, bruising them in a vise grip. “I want to see your face when you come.” Ronnie throws his head back and closes his eyes for a second. When he drops them back to me, they're full of fire. I can't help it; the look just undoes me, and I start to moan. I don't hold anything back. I don't care if anyone's watching. Fuck 'em.

The car continues to creak and groan as we slam against the hood over and over and over again. The motion sets off the car next to us and a piercing alarm fills the air, masking his masculine sounds, my screams, the slap of skin against skin. I keep expecting the bodyguard to burst through the door with his pants around his ankles, but he never shows up. Instead pounding footsteps echo from further away in the garage, just barely audible over the alarm.

Ronnie and I, we don't give a fucking shit. This is our time.

“Make me come,” I tell him, reaching down between my legs and rubbing at my clit in a vigorous circular motion. I know how I like it. For me, it really is a magic switch. “If you make me wait again, I'll cut your nuts off in your sleep and make ya eat 'em.”