Rock (Hard Rock Harlots #4) (10 page)

Wrinkling my nose with glee, I say, “That makes it even hotter. I love you and your adventurous spirit, Shades.”

“I love you too, pussycat.”

“So, starting over?” I offer my hand.

He accepts and shakes. “Starting over it is.”

Thank The Rock.

He lowers the squirming baby to the cradle of his arms and touches her chin. “I’ll find out what I have to do to get the paternity test.”

Nodding, I gaze at Gabrielle’s chubby round cheeks and the nose that’s neither Eliza’s nor Shades’s, the eyes shaped like her mom’s but colored like someone else’s.

A stab of regret squeezes some of the air from my lungs. After all the soul cleansing and healing and reestablished affirmations of love, I’d take no pleasure in shattering Shades’s dream of being a dad. But, I’ll bet my left tit and a bottle of tequila the kid’s not his.

A
fter all the nasty
, hot fucking at the hotel, the Killer Buzz Float set tonight sizzled. I swear, it was the residual sexual energy we conjured earlier coming back to haunt us in the best possible way. We fucking killed it! I only wish Shades had been a part of the lust-fest. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. I think he was honest when he said he was okay with me banging the rest of the band. And secretly, I’m glad he watched.

As the five of us bounce off the stage and wind our way amid hand slaps and high fives from fans through the corridor toward the green room, Shades cozies up to me. “My cock is in need of attention, pussycat. Now that I know I can use it, I feel like I have a lot of lost time to make up for.” He lifts a pierced brow and grins suggestively at me.

“Fuck me,” I growl. “Yeah, I could be down with some of that.” Then a filthy thought springs to mind. I slide a finger down Shades’s sweaty cheek. “But let’s sweeten our reunion, shall we?”

“I like the sound of this. Where?” He knows from plenty of experience when the light bulb goes off above my head, dirty public sex is imminent. It’s our thing. We can’t help it.

“Banging Betties’ bus. I wanna leave them a little present.”

His eyes widen. “You’re not still mad at Eliza, are you? Come on, Letty. Give her a break—”

“No, it’s not about her. It’s Lizzie. She’s a straight-up cunt, Shades. I saw her doing an interview for this documentary earlier, and she wouldn’t even acknowledge Killer Buzz Float when the reporter asked about us. She acted like saying anything nice about us would cause her to break out in hives.”

“What documentary?”

“I don’t know. Some chick was interviewing them outside the bus when I got back. Jillian probably has the skinny. Not that she’d tell us or anything.” I flip a bird to no one in particular in her honor.

After a moment of consideration, Shades concedes, “She has seemed … distant lately.”

“Something’s going on with her and Lizzie. All the more reason for us to raid the bitch’s bunk and make some memories for us
and
her.” I laugh. I’m seeing cum stains galore. Maybe I could squirt my name on her sheets.

Shades casts furtive glances around. “Let’s go do it now while everyone’s busy. Maybe we can lure away whoever’s watching the bus.”

Eve falls in step with us, toweling off her arms. “Hey, guys. I wanted to make sure we’re good. I’m sorry if I caused any trouble for you today.”

Shades and I pause and exchange looks. “Nah, we’re okay,” I say, turning to Eve. “Was it worth it? I mean, did you ever get off? It’s your birthday, after all.”

She smiles knowingly. “Let’s just say I got what I wanted. Thanks for making my day a great one.”

Hmm … maybe she snagged some good lovin’ after I left. Rax joins us and grabs Eve around the waist. He lays into her with a panty-melting kiss. Lots of tongue. Lots of heat. And damn the bulge in his pants is about to give his zipper what for. He runs a thumb to the left of her lips and gazes at her with savage longing so strong, I can feel it.

“It’s still your birthday, babe. Got any last-minute wishes we need to explore?”

Z-z-zap!
Another light bulb. I push between them and slide my arms around their shoulders. Guiding them down a deserted hallway where no one can hear us, I say, “Have you two ever tried public sex? I highly recommend it. Remember the time you, Shades, and I did it behind the tour bus, Rax? Maybe you should take Eve for a spin like that.” I look at her. “I’ll bet we could find someone to watch too.”

Her eyes glaze over, and guarded recognition spreads across her face. Guess I pegged her right. Eve’s both a voyeur
and
an exhibitionist. Which totally makes sense, her being a former stripper and all.

Rax leans toward me. “I’ve been dying to get inside her all day, but the bitch wanted me to fuck everyone else. Do you have any idea what kind of torture she put me through?”

“Hey, let me enjoy my fantasy,” Eve pipes up.

“No complaints,” Rax says. “But I
would
like to fuck my own woman on her birthday if Her Royal Highness deems me fit to.”

“It’s all about the wanting, Rax. Watching you screwing everyone got me so wound up, I could come right now just thinking about it.” She cuts a saucy glance to Shades and me. “But if you three wanted to go at it yourselves,” her brow hops suggestively, “I’d rather you prolong my misery.”

The question bounces between Shades and me.
Repeat of the behind-the-bus banging with Rax?

He lifts a shoulder with a
whatever you sa
y shrug.

“It’s your birthday, Eve. If that’s what you want, we’ll do it. Or we could get the old Raxy warmed up for you and then leave you to your devices.” I pat Rax’s chest and wink at Shades.

Rax leans into Eve’s mouth. “I’m not sure I can wait till midnight after everything you made me endure today.” He rubs his crotch slowly against her pelvis.

“What was your favorite part?” she breathes against his lips.

“Watching you watching me. Yours?”

“The same.” She wriggles her long fingers through Rax’s sweaty hair and hikes a leg around his thigh.

“Okay, lovebirds,” I interrupt, checking my watch. We’ve only got about an hour before Banging Betties get offstage. These two are giving my womancock a hard-on to rival Rax’s. It’s been two long weeks since Shades clubbed my clam, angry hotel sex earlier notwithstanding. “Let’s take this behind the bus, shall we?” I fire off an urgent series of blinks at Shades, and lead everyone to the main hallway.

As we pass the green room spilled over with fans wearing Banging Betties T-shirts, Jillian squawks something behind us about a meet-and-greet. I toss over my shoulder, “We’ll be back.”

Her silence tells me she’ll be after us in about ten minutes, so we’d better make this quick.

We get to the bus, and I waste no time. “Cocks ahoy!” I drop to my knees before Rax and stare up at him as I reintroduce his mighty snake to a forked tongue of my own. Eve stands close by, drowning the parking lot lights with her shadow, watching intently. I grab Shades by the zipper, yanking his fly open as I suck Rax. My man’s cock falls into my open hand, hard and thick. I stroke him for a few beats, and then blow him while beating Rax off.

Back and forth I go between them. When I stop for a few seconds to catch my breath, they’re kissing. Not nice and gentle, but rough and unforgiving. Angry man kisses. My favorite kind. Man, I want to see Shades take it up the ass from Rax or Toombs, but it’s not my birthday. Yet.

Eve seems entranced by the aggressive male mouth battle too. I start to wave her over so I can finger bang her, but I remember she doesn’t want to be touched by anyone but Rax, and leave it alone. Damn shame. She has a rockin’ hot body I wouldn’t mind putting my tongue on.

Eve nudges Shades out of the way, and assumes his vacated spot in front of Rax, devouring him, grinding against his dangling, dripping cock. I back away, take Shades by the hand, and say, “You kids have fun. Happy birthday, Eve.”

Rax slams her against the metal, pinning her arms and fumbling with her boy shorts. They don’t seem to notice as we slink toward the Banging Betties bus. Mission accomplished.

The driver is standing outside, talking to another guy, smoking a cigarette. Perfect! As we pass, I say to them, “Holy shit, there’s a couple fucking behind our bus. Seriously hot!” I fan myself with a hand.

The two dudes exchange looks. Shades and I keep going, but I turn around to see if the driver took the bait. Sure enough, after a quick discussion, the two of them head toward our bus, leaving Banging Betties’ unattended. A quick scan of the parking lot assures me the coast is clear. Everyone’s inside watching the gig.

Shades and I sneak up the bus steps and have a look around. Their ride is a lot like ours, but with much more expensive accessories and lots more privacy. Bunks on both sides, a kitchen, common areas in front and back. I peek into the trundle drawers, looking for clothes I’ve seen Lizzie wearing and find a familiar shirt. Bingo! I pull Shades into the bunk and slide the curtain in place. He whips out his dick in .356 seconds while I survey my nemesis’s bedicle. The sheets are rumpled, and it smells like Jillian’s perfume in here.

“That bitch,” I say, not believing my nose.

“What?” Shades demands, thumping my ass with his rigid cock.

And look. A pack of cigarettes tucked under the pillow. The brand Jillian smokes—or
used
to. I thought she’d quit the leaded variety. Maybe she started again because Lizzie smokes.

I hold up the box for Shades’s inspection. “Jillian’s been in here. This is where she’s been going at night. Smell her perfume?” I wish I could say I was surprised, but I knew it all along.

Shades sighs. “Okay, so she’s been here. So what? I thought we were gonna fuck.”

Much as I’d love to spray paint Lizzie’s bed with a “fuck you” in Letty cum splash deco, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite for sex.

“She’s sleeping with the goddamn enemy, Shades. Fucking bitch sold us out.”

“You’re paranoid. Maybe she’s using Lizzie to spy on Banging Betties. Ever thought about that?”

I shake my head. “I’ve seen how Jillian looks at her.”

Footsteps clack up the stairs. I grab Shades in a death grip. If we get caught in here, we’re done for.

“I understand you’re trying to protect your band,” a male voice booms, “but you need to ease up.” It’s the Banging Betties’ manager. “You’re spending too much time over here, and we both know why. You’re not gonna get any more airtime for Killer Buzz Float on the documentary.”

“I’m not interested in airtime, Richard. And I’m not coming here for them. I’m coming here for me.” Jillian, the lying sack of twat.

A pause follows. “I see. Lizzie.”

The rip of a lighter flint ignites the silence.

“She doesn’t like Letty. If you want to stay on good terms with her, I suggest you find a way to shut your singer up. Take her down about twelve notches.” Dick’s underlying threat is evident.

“I’ll shut her up,” Jillian assures him.

Oh, the hell you will!

Shades urges me to keep quiet with a quick arm squeeze. He can tell I’m cranking up.

“Good. It’ll be better for all of us if you do. You don’t want to piss Lizzie off. She has friends in high places. She could make one phone call and
ruin
your band,” the
pop
of snapped fingers resounds down the aisle, along with the smell of burning tobacco, “like that.”

“Then, let’s hope it doesn’t come to blows, shall we?” Jillian’s cool tone makes my stomach roil.

“I know what it’s like to manage these … eccentric personalities,” Dick says. “They have huge egos, and feelings get hurt when one band outdoes another. But Killer Buzz Float needs to remember their place on this tour. They’re second in line to the throne. We’re the queens around here.”

I stifle a snort. Queens, indeed. ASSHOLE.

“It’s about respect,” he continues, his words thickening with threat. “I let Killer Buzz Float come on to this tour in good faith. Now, I want them to back the fuck off. We won’t be upstaged.”

Is he fucking
kidding
? Hold on while I pull out my tiny violin and thrash her shit like a T. rex preparing a shake-and-bake triceratops. Aw, the poor Betties don’t like competition? Well, I’ve got a pair of leaded boxing gloves I’ve been dying to break in. Bring. It. On.

“I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Jillian assures him. “Let me grab my cigarettes, and we can head back. I think Lizzie borrowed them.”

Shit! As her footsteps near, I throw the sheet over Shades and me, and push the smokes close to the edge of the bed. The curtain slides open, a hand reaches in, and Jillian grabs the pack without comment. I can’t make out more than vague shapes through the covers, but I don’t think she saw us.

“Be very clear. No more confrontations. No more trying to upstage us,” Dick warns.

“They know their place.” It’s a good thing Jillian’s voice is moving away because if I hear her kissing this motherfucker’s ass one more time, I’ll jump into the aisle, tackle her, and beat the living fuck out of her, tour be damned.

As soon as their footsteps quiet, and their voices trail into silence outside, I slip out of the bunk. Shades follows, stuffing his now limp dick in his pants and zipping up. He smooths his hair into place and sighs. “Letty—”

“Don’t even. You heard what they said. He wants us to ‘remember our place’ and dial back on our music so they can shine? Fuck that, Shades. It’s an insult to The Rock. I’ll
never
give it less than 100 percent. The day I fake it is the day you bury my ass.”

He guides me down the aisle, keeping low to the floor in case anyone outside sees us. The coast is clear. We book off the bus real fast like and head toward our own.

“I get it, pussycat. I do. But this tour is a chance for us to prove ourselves. Our big break could come out of this.”

I stop and square off with Shades. “So, you’re saying we should bow to this bullshit? Let them have all the limelight because ‘we’re not worthy of it’?” I’m fuming.

“Not at all. But if you want to get ahead in this business, you have to play the game and follow the rules, even when they’re fucking stupid.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for us to bow meekly before a band
that can’t even fucking play instruments
because their manager says we’re off the tour if we don’t? Dude, they squirted out their bullshit album like a Montezuma’s Revenge drive-by on crutches, sprayed some Febreze on it, and acted like it was fucking Grammy-worthy. That’s not music. It’s overproduced diarrhea with
E. coli
garnish. How do people not see it?”

“But their fans like it,” Shades says. “And they have a lot more fans than we do.”

“It’s shit.”

“Maybe. But it’s also what sells. You wanna make art or you wanna make money?”

I stomp my foot. “Both.” We’re good enough. We’ve busted our asses. We’ve paid our dues.

We deserve both, goddammit.

Shades brushes my cheek, and his face falls. Reminds me of the piteous looks people get when they tell others they have cancer. “You know as well as I do it doesn’t work that way.”