Rock (Hard Rock Harlots #4) (13 page)

A
n hour later
, the band members board the bus in pairs. Jillian brings up the rear, her grimace even more dour than usual. Shades flashes me a
do-not-fuck-with-her
warning. Guess I’ve got another time-out session coming. I head to my bunk, but Jillian stops me.

“Band meeting first. Then you can go back to your corner.”

I manage to pass her without flinging the curse poised at the tip of my tongue. Ten points to Leprosy Letty, Bringer of Gloom and Doom to the Killer Buzz Float team.

Shades sits beside me on the couch and winds his fingers between mine, then brings the ball of our hands to his lips for a kiss. At least I still have him. Even if I’ve lost everything else, Shades is mine. For the first time in a while, I’m comforted. I lay my head on his shoulder.

Jillian puffs on her electronic cigarette and blows out a heavy breath. She focuses on me as Rax, Eve, Jinx, and Toombs settle around us. “You weren’t lucky enough to witness my … discussion with Richard, so I’ll fill you in.”

Judging by the sad sack faces, none of which will turn my way, somebody lit the methane frosting on top of the shit cake. God, can it get any worse?

Of course it can. Brace yourself.

“Rumor has it that Socket, the energy drink sponsor, is considering pulling their endorsement if Killer Buzz Float sticks around.”

KA-POWEE!

I glance to my band members. No one will look at me. Except Shades. I’m not completely alone in the storm, but neither of us has an umbrella. The last thing I want to do is drag him and our bandmates down with me. I hate feeling like an anchor.

Jillian continues. “I don’t make business decisions based on rumors, so we’re gonna pretend like everything’s hunky-fucking-dory and put on the best goddamn show we can tonight. Agreed?” She looks at each of us in turn.

A few grudging nods break up the monotony of stillness.

“This is bullshit,” Jinx says.

I whip my head her way.

“You know what? I’m sick of this crap. Letty’s right. Anna
did
badger me during her interview. I didn’t witness what happened afterward between her and Letty, but I’ve been thinking long and hard about it. That woman was pushy. She intended to stir up trouble.” She turns to me. “I believe you. I don’t know how to prove you innocent, but I believe you.”

My heart stutters. I squeeze Shades’s hand as I sit up straighter. “Thanks,” I say.

“I believe you too, pussycat.” Shades kisses my fingers again. “Never had any doubts.” My hero.

“So what can we do?” Jinx asks.

“I’ve already petitioned Megamusic to turn over the raw video, but they claim the file was corrupted and it’s unreadable,” Jillian says.

“Wait, what? You went to bat for me?” No way. No fucking way she did that.

She clobbers me with a “Duh!” scowl. “Of course I did, you idiot. It was the first thing I did when you told me your side of the story. I’m your manager. This is the kind of shit you pay me for.”

Oh, right. Because me being the butt of jokes and the pariah of rock music wouldn’t be conducive to Jillian getting paid. Still, I’m shocked she even bothered. She seemed so convinced of my guilt.

“I call more bullshit,” Jinx interjects. Damn, she’s full of fire today. Maybe Letty’s Lepers team has expanded to three members. “You asked to see the only known piece of evidence, and they conveniently claim ‘corrupted files’? No.” She shakes her head. “Not buying it for a second.”

Jinx stands and looks thoughtfully out the window before continuing. “The media has gotten out of control over this. Bloggers are eating Letty alive. And it doesn’t affect just her. It affects the whole band. We’re all under scrutiny. We have no privacy. Our words can be taken out of context at any time for any reason. They can make us look like angels or demons, depending on their moods, and the fans hang on their every word.

“Something’s gotta be done to stop the abuse of power. Members of the media are supposed to conform to a code of ethics, and Anna blatantly defied the code. She intentionally
ruined
Letty’s reputation—and our reputations. And now we may be forced to leave the tour we just joined because of someone else’s jealousy? Fuck that.” Jinx falls to the cushions beside Toombs.

Nobody moves for a few seconds. I think that was the fourth time I’ve ever heard Jinx drop an F-bomb. Whoa.

“Jinx is right,” Toombs adds. “I don’t know what Letty really said, but this seems a little too convenient.”

Rax leans forward. “Regardless of whether she’s right or wrong, shit has gotten crazy. I’ve been following the drama on social media. One group of haters started the hash tag
#DeathToDillinger
. They’re encouraging people to bring rotten tomatoes to tonight’s show. Even if they were joking, it’s gotten fucking serious. One of the guys from WitchSMUT told me they had to up security because of the threat, and they’re checking everyone’s bags before they let ’em inside the doors. We need damage control, and we need it fast.”

“Seriously? Because I said some shit that made their truth-allergic ears break out in hives?” I shake my head. How do comments made by a relative
nobody
incite so much hatred? What the fuck is wrong with people?

Rax looks away and shrugs.

I don’t want to admit it, but he has a point. Our careers are on the line. If sponsors start pulling funding, we’ll be forced to leave. I will not walk away from this tour shamed.

“What do the sponsors want, Jillian?” I ask. “What the fuck can I say or do now that will change their minds?”

“You can apologize.” Her stern expression reeks of judgment.

I cross my arms. “Apologize? For what? Answering a goddamn interview question and having my words turned against me? If anyone deserves an apology, it’s me.

“You may not want to believe your precious Lizzie would ever do anything to hurt you, Jillian, but you know as well as I do how much she hates me. Anna’s been sucking her dick since the documentary crew showed up. Hell, maybe Anna’s competition for you. Maybe she’s screwing
you
too, and not in the good way.”

Jillian’s face doesn’t move a millimeter.

I grit my teeth to keep from screaming. “I got news for you. I will
not
apologize for shit someone else took out of context. Not now. Not ever.”

“Then you may want to consider a statement,” Jillian replies calmly. “You’ve remained quiet for days as I told you to, but the situation has escalated instead of slacking off. It’s time to take some kind of action.”

My blood boils at the thought of giving in to these fuckers. “What kind of statement?”

“An explanation. Tell your side of the story. Without anger or finger-pointing. Something neutral.”

“So, it’s okay for
her
to make me look like a fool, but I’m the one who has to play it cool?” Fuck this. Fuck it a million times.

“Have you watched the video, Letty? You don’t look like a fool. You look like an
animal
going after the cameraman.” She pauses a moment to let the words sink in. “Yes, you need to play it cool. Show your fans you’re reasonable and intelligent rather than a rabid wolverine flying off the handle with jealousy over another band’s success.”

“This is so much bullshit, Jillian, and you know it.”

“It may be. Doesn’t change the fact that you need to respond. And your response needs to get your fans—and your haters—to believe, and hopefully, forgive you.”

What pisses me off the most in all of this is Jillian’s never once fessed up to believing me. The members of the band seem a little more willing to take my side, but Jillian is blinded by lust or love or whatever the fuck she has with Lizzie. Her cold shoulder routine smarts like a bitch.

“Only in America—the land of the free—can an innocent person be forced to plead the Fifth for exercising their First Amendment rights. Say what you want, but you better shut your fucking pie hole if it offends someone’s delicate sensibilities. These idiots are robotic sheep, and there’s not a goddamn thing we can do to make them see how faulty their programming is.”

My audience stares up at me, silent, acknowledging, not trying to change my mind.

I stand. “Looks like I have no choice. Sure, I’ll ‘make a statement.’ I’ll be my own scapegoat. Ain’t nobody else gonna do it for me.” Drawing my fingers from the center of my lips to the corners, I pull an exaggerated and obviously fake grin over them. “I’ll put on a pretty smile and try to make nice with the fucking trolls. Maybe you could write my speech for me, Jillian. I mean, to make sure I don’t go off topic or put my foot in my mouth again. We certainly don’t want any more misinterpretations, do we?”

I wait for her answer.

She stares at the floor.

Fuck her.

I bolt off the bus into the cool night, inhale a deep breath, and shout at the top of my lungs, “Yeah, it smells like America, all right!” And off I wander into the darkness, wishing I had a bottle of tequila to keep me warm.

Until I met Banging Betties, I was a strong-willed, take-charge kind of girl. In the days since the “scandal” broke, I’ve been a pathetic worm, lower than dirt. Wriggling on the ground, rubbery, soft, and defenseless, I desperately tried to get out of the rain and avoid foot stompings amid a crowd of thousands wearing steel-toed shitkickers and waving pitchforks. But I couldn’t escape either. It’s a good thing worms have five hearts; otherwise, I’d be long dead.

I glance toward the Banging Betties bus, and my gut quavers as it has every day for the better part of a week. Lizzie and Anna stole a part of me from myself. They took my spunk and left me vulnerable—naked, and not in the good way. I’m ready to take back what’s mine. I might have to do it knocked twelve rungs down the ladder, one erect womancock shy of a third-class badass, and nursing a stomach perpetually on the verge of an eruption, but at least I’ll be alive.

And alive is a hell of a lot better than what I am now.

The familiar cadence of Shades’s footsteps hits my ears. He curls himself around me from behind, strong arms crossing my chest, head on my shoulder, breath tickling my ear, cock pressed to my ass. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

My Rock believes in me. He’s the only one who matters.

“I may be down, but I’m not beaten,” I say. “They can take a lot of things away from me, but they’ll never have my soul.” I thump my chest. “They’ll never have The Rock. They don’t know the meaning.”

His arms tighten, and he kisses my cheek. “There’s my girl. The physical embodiment of The Rock. A goddess among soulless, jealous fucks who don’t matter.” He turns me to face him and runs a thumb over my bottom lip. “And she’s all mine.”

Those four words set me free. Because they ring perfectly true. I
am
his. And he’s mine, and nobody can beg, borrow, or steal what we have. It’s between
us
.

Despite all the troubles we’ve struggled through as a couple this last month, we’ve lived through it and come out stronger. That
says
something.

My Rock. My heart. My soul.

“I love you, Todd Armstrong.” I tug his lips to mine and hold him there through a couple of tears and a fuckload of raw emotion.

“I love you too, Letty Dillinger.” He wipes the streaks away, and I feel a little lighter. “I know you’re in a bad place, but there’s some shit I’ve been wanting to say.”

“Okay.” Great. Is he mad? Gonna lecture me?
Please don’t lecture me, Shades.

“You’re the one who’s been pushing to make it big ever since we hopped this train together a year ago. I get it. You want to be recognized for the work you put in. We all do. You’re also very vocal about not selling out.

“This past year has proven that in this business, we can’t have both our art and the money. So, I’m gonna offer a suggestion. Let it go and be happy you have the ability to make amazing music that touches people’s hearts and leads them out of dark places into happy ones.

“I think I speak for the whole band when I say if we never hit the Top 40 or win a Grammy, we’re okay with it because we
know
we have talent and drive and a fuckload of moxie. Our fans know it too. We don’t have to prove ourselves to anyone, least of all, ourselves.

“We may not be millionaires, but we make enough money to get by. We got fans who love us. And we’ve got each other. If you’re gonna settle for anything, then settle for me, pussycat. Let me love you and take care of you—as much as your stubborn ass will—and treat you like the queen you are. Forget about all the bullshit, and let’s focus on what you said: making art, not house payments.”

How does he read my mind so completely? He can finish my sentences, jump into a half-hour jam session with only two notes of prompting on my end, and incite my heart to race with little more than a look. And we make a hell of a Pictionary team too. Sharing a brain does that to people.

I flatten my tits against his chest. “You saying you never want to settle down with me and exist like real people in the suburbs? No retirement home? Just live life on the road like a couple of sex-starved vagabonds?”

A cunning look consumes his face. “Actually, aside from the not-settling-down part, it sounds pretty fucking awesome.”

After a moment’s thought, I agree. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll convince you to marry me one day. Maybe even to squirt out a kid or two—”

I interrupt the line of bullshit with a frown backed up by a growl.

“Or maybe no kids.” He laughs. “But for now, I’ve got a dick that’s been out of commission way too long, and the rest of me is craving some undivided Letty attention. I’m pretty sure I can make you forget your troubles for the rest of the night if you give yourself over to my trusty hands. Whaddaya say, pussycat? You in the mood for a little banging of our own?”

My heart swells. “I’ll bang you till my love gun’s outta bullets, officer. Then I’ll bang you some more.”

Shades’s eyes light up. “I’ll grab the billy club.”

S
hades
and I snuggle up in my bunk and stare at each other for a few moments under the weak illumination from my genius phone’s flashlight. The bus is quiet aside from a few soft words volleying behind curtains. Pretty sure Jillian’s returned to her new den on the Banging Betties bus. Freddie’s snoring in the top front bunk. Jinx and Toombs are settled in the space in front of mine. Rax and Eve are across from us. All is right in our traveling home. At least for the moment.

I can’t remember the last time Shades and I just hung out together. No words, no fights, no crazy sex acts. Only him, me, and our battles, which have ironically brought us closer over the last couple of days.

“Know what I love most about you?” he asks.

“My uncanny ability to squirt. Possibly on command. Say the word,” I reply. Yeah, I’ll bet I could do it on command.

“Nope.”

“My all-natural tits.”

“Nope.”

I pout. “What’s wrong with my tits?”

“Nothing. They’re just not my
favorite
part.”

“My ass, then. You gotta admit, I take it up the ass like a pro. And when you hit me just right …” I wriggle out of my jeans and kick them to the floor outside the curtain. “You make magic happen between these cheeks.” I slap my bare butt.

He grabs a handful and squeezes. “You do have an amazing ass, but it’s still not my favorite.” After a couple seconds of struggling, he gets his jeans off too and slides a hand up my shirt to rest between my tits. “It’s your soul that speaks to me, Letty. Your take-no-prisoners drive to be the best you can. Your stubbornness and willingness to fight to the death for what you believe in.

“Jillian and the rest of the band might be pissed you won’t give in and make a damn apology, but I’m not. I’m fucking proud. If you’d gone down easy, I’d have been really disappointed.”

My heart swells, and my face warms. I think Shades made me blush. First time for everything.

“Well, there are
some
people I’m willing to go down easy for.” I puff out my chest a little and stroke his soft cock to attention.

He stops me. “I mean it. I’m proud of you, pussycat. And I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now.”

My breath catches, and I smile. “Ditto.” Uncharacteristic self-consciousness overcomes me. “Turn over on your side,” I say.

He does. I tug his shirt over his head and follow suit with my own. I rub his shoulders hard. He complains sometimes about the right one hurting after we play a bunch of gigs in a row. The shoulder strap supporting the weight of a bass can dig in and throw your back out of whack. I know from experience. I knead the muscles to the tune of his relieved sighs while I trace the skeleton pattern covering his backside. He has lots of tattoos, but this is my favorite. It depicts every bone from his heels to his neck. And it’s anatomically accurate too. He said it took several daylong sessions to finish the whole thing. I’ll bet it hurt like a bitch.

On a lark, I pick through his hair to see how far the needle went. Holy shit! I always assumed it stopped at his nape, but the ink extends into his scalp. I keep digging, searching for the end.

“Damn, Shades. I had no idea this tattoo covered your head too. Those are some serious balls you got.”

He shrugs. “I’m nothing, if not committed. Once I start something, I can’t rest till I finish it.”

“Is that why you’ve stuck with me for so long? Still trying to fix me?” I tease.

He turns over to face me. “Not at all. You’re the one who fixed me.”

“Don’t bullshit me, babe. We both know I’m better at breaking things than fixing them.”

“Not this time. I’m only whole when I’m with you.”

“What about when I’m with you and four other people?” I venture.

“As long as I’m the one you love when you’re with them, I’m okay with it.”

God, how I adore this man. “Does that mean I get my wish on my birthday?” After watching Rax fuck the living hell out of Toombs, I’ve decided I enjoy a good peen jamboree a little more than I probably should.

Shades. Toombs. Rax. Together. He has no clue how bad I want to see the three of them going at it. Any combination works for me.

“It does.”
Fucking squee!
“But don’t forget,
my
birthday is right after yours.”

I swallow the glut of spit flooding my mouth. “Goddamn it, you turn me on with your promises. If you make my wish come true, I’ll do any fucking thing you ask.” I snatch his hand and swipe it between my legs. I’m fixin’ to stage an emergency evacuation of female bodily fluids.
Battle stations!

“Oh yeah?” He shoves his slippery fingers between my teeth and curls his palm under my chin like I’m a horse, and he’s the bit controlling me. I bite down hard enough to let him know who’s really in charge. He doesn’t flinch.

Okay, so maybe the power exchange is mutual.

No more wasting time. I yank his hand out. “I’m hurtin’ for a squirtin’ and need your cock in my pussy. Now.”

“Fuck the doctor’s orders,” he mumbles and spears me with no warning.

I’m so loosened up and ready for him, his dick’s about as useful as a sausage in an alleyway. He falls right out amidst an overabundance of natural lube. I giggle. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little excited.”

He cocks a brow. “A little?”

“Aside from the Killer Buzz Float orgy and angry hotel fucking, it’s been a long couple of abstinence-filled weeks. Can’t blame a girl for being a nymphomaniac after an extended dry spell.” I glance between us. “Why don’t you put this front lube to good use on the back end and let me squirt out my sexual frustrations?”

“I’m gonna fucking meat-hammer you, pussycat. You ready for me? ’Cause I ain’t gonna be gentle.” He shoves his fingers into my twat, gathering some liquid love, and slathers it from the head of his cock, down his shaft, to the heavy, low slung balls eager to slap my clit into a frenzy.

I lick my lips. Yes. Balls. Hitting clit. Please and thank you.

“I’m gonna need more space. Come on.” I roll into the aisle and drag Shades behind me to the couch in back. Man, this leather has seen a lot of fucking in the last year. And I’m about to add some wear and tear to the cushions in the form of a ’gina jizz-nami.

I shove him into the seat. His erection springs straight up as if saluting God himself. I spit on my fingers and rub the wetness into my asshole. Assuming the reverse cowgirl pose, I mount his lightning rod with my thundercunt long enough to get him really good and greased up. Then I pop him out and let my starving ass devour his length.

Normally, I’d take him in one big bite, but it’s been a while, so I absorb each inch in slow increments, throwing in a few seconds of adjustment until his balls kiss my clit, just as I planned. His legs are spread under me with my bare feet planted on his thighs. Cool air hits my gaping pussy, and a few droplets make their way south to further lubricate my ass.

He slowly guides my hips up. Bracing my hands behind me on his straining chest, I squeeze my muscles around his length on the way down, and he groans.

“God fucking damn it, Letty. You’ve got ass panache. You’re so tight. I missed the hell out of butt-fucking you.”

“I didn’t miss it at all,” I joke quietly over my shoulder. “Now, why don’t you flip the ‘on duty’ sign and drive this ass taxi home?”

“My fucking pleasure.” He leans forward, gropes my tits, and squeezes them. I bite off a retort, instead, lifting my butt and plunging down hard on his rod. He tenses.

“What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll break your cock all the way this time?”

“It’d be worth it.” Clutching me around the waist, he lifts me to my feet, bends me over, and shoves me face down into the couch, never breaking the seal on our ass pact. He presses his chest to my back and whispers in my ear, “I won’t be able to hold out long.”

I smile. “I’ll cut mine loose whenever you do.”

He gathers my hair and twists it around his hand. Yanking my head back, he stares into my eyes upside down and grabs my exposed throat with the other hand.

Thrust.

I gasp at the suddenness, the brutality of the jab that I can almost taste on my tongue. The extreme, conflicting sensations of the cock violently commandeering my ass, the pain of nearly ripped-out hair follicles, and the sudden loss of oxygen sends my blood rushing into survival mode. Control is relative, I guess. I thought I had it seconds ago, but Shades proves to me I have anything but control. He’s in charge. I’m his to use just as I was a toy for Eve’s enjoyment in the hotel room.

In any other situation, I’d protest at the very least. Nobody controls Letty Dillinger except for Letty Dillinger. I could easily exercise my power to refuse him with a strongly uttered, “Stop!” and he’d obey without question. But I don’t. Because Shades needs to feel empowered. We all do. Things have been pretty fucking crazy for him lately too with the baby and our relationship staggering around in a potential death throe. He needs to feel like he’s got control of at least
one
thing in his life. And I need to let him. Because really, if I’m honest with myself, Shades is the one person besides me who owns the fuck out of me.

So I submit to his vicious pelvic onslaught, spreading my cheeks wider so he can angle in deeper.
Fuck me, Shades. Fuck me and fill me and love me and fuck me some more.

In the absence of air, I mouth the words,
I love you.
I love you so fucking much.

As fog claims the outskirts of my vision, he lets go of my throat, and my lungs beg desperately for oxygen. He tugs my hair again, a friendly reminder of who’s in charge, and I smile.

His tight, hard thighs smack the backs of mine. I’ll have bruises galore tomorrow, but I don’t care. As promised, his balls thwack my dripping cunt as my ass endures the beating. Gross sounds of wet splatters echo through the tail end of the bus. If anyone’s awake, they can totally hear us going to town. Again, who fucking cares? It’s not like they haven’t seen it—or done me—before. I have no problem putting on a show for anyone, especially if it gets them off too.

Shades’s breaths increase in frequency and depth, sure signs he’s nearing his climax.

And then it hits me. The last time we had sex this good was when we were role-playing cops and drunk drivers. The scene was remarkably similar to this one, minus the uniform, ex-wife, and baby. But, like now, we really connected sexually.

I recall forgotten song lyrics I meant to write down, but never did. And new words form in my mind. I sing them aloud as Shades wraps things up:

He squeezes my ass, then reaches around and smacks my tits. The pain wakes me from the comfortable place I’d slid into.

“I want it on my pussy, Shades. Come on my pussy,” I beg. “And I’ll hose your fucking face, motherfucker.”

He flips me over and tosses me to the cushions. I spread my legs and diddle my clit while he works his dick with brutal pumps.

“Ass panache!” he yells. And the cum flies—
spurt, dribble, spurt, dribble, blob, spurt
—the heat perfectly sweet on my open lips.

I savor the moment, unwilling to let my own cum out of the house until he’s had a chance to recover.

A curtain sluices open, the metal rings breaking what would otherwise be silence. “Shut the fuck up unless you plan on letting everyone else in on the action,” Rax hollers, peering from his bunk through the dim light. Though the words sound harsh, his expression is soft.

Our gazes collide, and respect passes between us, despite my legs being splayed and hooked around either side of Shades’s thighs as he hovers over me. Rax’s slight grin lets me know he’s not mad at me—for keeping him awake or for ruining the band. Maybe I won’t have to walk on eggshells around him anymore. Eve’s hand drops to his chest, and her head appears beside his. She’s smiling too.

All’s forgiven,
they seem to say.

What a relief.

I flip Rax a teasing bird, turn to Shades, and laugh. “Ass panache? Really? You’ve got problems.”

“I do have problems,” he agrees. “I’m not eating your pussy right now, and that’s a problem.” He drops to his knees between my legs and dives into the creamy mess he made.

“Fuuuck me,” I moan, fingers twisting through his fauxhawk, our audience forgotten. I grab a handful and squeeze as his tongue laps ferociously at his cum, my cum, prying me open wider and wider. He jabs two fingers in and works me from the inside while his mouth creates a hell of a ruckus biting and flicking my clit. “Gonna blow, baby. Gonna blow—”

I push, and sexual magic happens.

He had fair warning. He could’ve backed up and finished me off with his hand, but stubborn Shades stays right where he is. His jaw swings open, and he takes the full spate straight down the gullet. He shakes his head like a wet dog barking at the stream jetting from my cunt, soaking his hair and skin. He laughs through it.

“Fuck yeah, pussycat!” he yells, wiping his face. He slaps my cunt, and I jump.

Rax and Eve laugh from his bunk. The two of them clap appreciatively. He catches my eye and shoots me a thumbs up as Eve snags him around the shoulders. The curtain slides into place, and smooch sounds emanate from behind it.

Freddie’s still snoring up front. Jinx giggles. Toombs probably mauls her. I grab Shades by the ears, lick myself off his nose, and kiss him long and deep. I know it won’t last beyond tonight into tomorrow when I have to make amends for speaking the truth, but all is right in my world. For now.