So I Married a Rockstar (13 page)

"Leave it," he growls. God, I love his growl. I love that I
make
him growl.
 

The corset severely limits my ability to move freely, so I'm basically at his mercy. Yummy! I lay back and watch as he undresses for me.

First the tank goes flying into a corner, revealing his beautifully defined and intricately tattooed muscles. My fingers itch to pet the pretty but it would take a crane and possibly a wizard to get me upright enough to take advantage. Soon enough...

It's no surprise, but certainly a delight, to find he's going commando again as he steps out of his leather pants. I marvel once more at the beauty of what he's packing. I've never been one to think men's junk is pretty, but there's something special about Drax. So very big and special!

"Rock out with your cock out," I say, dissolving into a fit of giggles at my raunchy language.

Drax, every inch of him, stands tall and proud. "I do believe I'm a bad influence on you, Lola."

"Thank God," I mutter, the giggles fading fast at his hungry look.

The bed compresses when Drax kneels over me. I try to wrap my legs around him, but the corset pinches in an awkward spot.
 

"Ow."

"Should we take it off? Would you be more comfortable?"

I'm taken aback at his tenderness and caring. I imagined he'd sort of throw me around like a ragdoll, overcome by his animal instinct. But his eyes are suddenly filled with concern. Far from being a turn-off, I'm filled with even more need for him.

I shake my curls and smile up at him. "No way, I just need to find a different position."

All worry leaves his face, replaced by a dangerous smirk. "I think we can manage that, Miss Raines."

Just as I'd imagined, Drax flips me over onto my belly like I weigh nothing. When he reaches over me for a couple of pillows at the head of the bed, his cock bounces along my upper back and shoulder blades, leaving a hot trail that I wish I could lick off.

But he has other plans. Grabbing my corset by the laces, he lifts me up and stuffs the pillows under my stomach. When he lets go, I land with a surprised 'Oof'.
 

"Hey," I protest. "You just dropped me!" I flip my head around to glare at him but my curls hide him from me.

"Very perceptive, Miss Raines. But I don't care much for your tone. I think you deserve a spanking..."

"Nooo!" I squeal, squirming away from the hand lightly rubbing one cheek. The threat is titillating but I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of thing.

I jump when the hand is replaced by lips and he drops a loud smooch on my ass. It tickles and I can't help barking out a relieved laugh.

Drax spreads my knees as wide as they'll go, and I sense that he's devouring me with his eyes. I wonder what he sees. I know what
I
would see, but he seems to like my big ol' butt. As if to drive the point home, the bed dips as he moves into position.

Nothing happens at first, but then I feel something hot and soft skimming along the contour of my hip. It slides along the crease of one cheek before traveling to the other hip. Then it's moving along my inner thigh toward my entrance but jumps over to the other thigh, missing the sweet spot entirely. Then it lands on my lower back and slides slowly, forcefully down the entire length of my cleft.

Need pulses through me and I can tell that Drax is barely restraining himself. His breathing is labored and ragged, and I'm sure he wants nothing more than to plunge balls deep into me. I want the same and wiggle my ass to show him.

"Fuck me," he breathes.

"I'd love to," I whisper back. "Condom?"

He leans over me again, fumbling at the nightstand, and pulls back. I hear the sound of a packet being ripped open in a hurry, and a moment later, I feel him pressing into me.

The pressure is intense and unrelenting and I hope it never stops. He's so much larger than my ex -- larger than the dildo Pepper bought me last year -- that I'm not sure he'll fit. But I slowly stretch to accommodate his girth and in one swift motion, he's buried to the hilt. I scream so loudly from pleasure that I can barely hear his moan of ecstasy.

Now that he's well-seated, Drax grabs hold of the sides of my corset for better leverage. Slowly at first, he starts sliding in and out, giving me time to adjust to him. Little does he know that I've been waiting for this moment since the second I saw him.

I slam myself backward as hard as I can, as fast as I can, and Drax matches me thrust for thrust. I've never felt so filled in my life, so complete. I can't get enough of him. If I'd known it would be like this, I would have jumped his bones in my dads' store!

We rock together in unison, each of us crying out at different moments. Drax reaches one hand between my legs and circles my engorged nub. The fingers of his other hand bury themselves in my laces so I'm completely at his mercy. I writhe like an animal caught in a trap, a trap I never want to be released from.

His movements speed up and I can feel him thickening inside me. I never knew you could feel that but I do now and I send up a little thanks to the universe for this newfound knowledge. Then all thought is blown out of my brain by the most intense feeling of pressure.
 

The climax comes fast and furious. I cry out over and over, clenching Drax inside me to the point I wonder if I'm hurting him. Judging from his own frantic movements and grunts of joy, probably not. With one final thrust, he shouts my name so loudly, I'm pretty sure the blue hairs in the next space over don't need their hearing aids to hear us.

We're both panting and covered in a fine layer of sweat. He slips out of me and rolls on his side to gather me in his arms. Snuggling into him, I can't help but feel like I've come home. A sweet sadness envelopes me, knowing this won't last.

Stop future-tripping, dummy. Live in the now!

The little voice is right. I need to spend the rest of tonight acting as if there might not be another. More of this is definitely in the plan, but it's still pretty early.

"You want to go meet the guys now?" I mumble into his chest. His tattoos are fascinating, and I can't stop tracing them with my finger.

"That's about the last thing I want to do right now," he sighs, totally relaxed.
 

For whatever reason, I'm suddenly full of energy. I feel like I could dance all night.
 

"What, are you scared you won't be able to keep up with me or something, bigshot?" I tease. "I thought you were a rockstar."

Drax pops open one eye at me. "Girl, that's not a game you want to play," he warns.

"Hmm, sounds like a dare to me..."

I plaster the most evil grin I can muster onto my face. Turnabout's fair play, right? It only falters when he grins back, more sinister than ever.

"Oh, Lola...it's on."

It's dark and stuffy behind my puffy sandpaper eyelids. My head is full of pulsing red pudding that threatens to dribble out my ears. A hot curdling sensation moves its way up my throat and I swallow hard to keep it down. Every part of me aches. What the hell is wrong with me?

Oh, right. I'm hungover.
 

Most people enjoy this delightful rite of passage in college, but I managed to avoid it. While my friends were moaning in their beds on Sunday mornings, I was either studying or off serving food at homeless shelters.
 

Some of those shelters offered Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and I sat in on a few. Something I heard once throbs to the forefront of my memory. This younger woman who lived in her van had just received a chip for reaching six months of sobriety. She was deliriously happy, despite her circumstances. Everyone in that circle knew that things were only going to get better for her if she continued with her program.
 

"You know," she said through a grin, "I never wake up in the morning regretting that I
didn't
get drunk the night before."

Only now, all this time later, do I fully understand what she was talking about. What I'm feeling now can only be described as utter misery and I can't imagine ever drinking again, if this is the punishment.
 

I try to open my eyes but the tiny arrows of light shooting in around the black-out shades are too much. I groan and roll away, which brings on a surge of nausea. I choke it down again and concentrate on my breathing.

Kill me. Kill me now.

Lying perfectly still, I kick my brain into gear, trying to remember what happened the night before. After Drax and I made love -- finally! -- we met up with the rest of the band at a dance club on The Strip.
 

It was absolute chaos! The beautiful bodies of the young and the horny were mashed together out on the dance floor, and the noise level was even louder than Roadkill's concert. I didn't think such a thing was even possible.

We found the boys in a booth in a far corner with four girls jammed in with them. Four! One empty bottle of champagne was upside down in an ice bucket and Jake was slopping another bottle over the girls' waiting glasses.

"Lauren! Our hero! Let me get you some, too!"

A glass of bubbly was shoved in my hand as we pushed our way into the booth. The girls were all pert and adorable and teensy, whereas I...I still looked like Frankenstein's big sister.

Their plasticky smiles faltered when they saw I was with Drax -- his arm was draped casually but possessively over my shoulder -- but they quickly realized that being rude to the lead singer's...whatever I am...wouldn't end well for them.
 

Aw, snap, bitches!
 

The next thing I knew, a tray full of tequila shots arrived at the table and the party really started. I have no clear memory of how many I might have thrown down my gullet. Two? Twenty? It's lost in a hateful haze of hangover.

It's not like me to drink so much. My head is throbbing and my mouth tastes like battery acid and cat poop but I try to puzzle what drove me to match those little groupies drink for drink. I guess I had something to prove. I wanted to show them I deserved to be at that table every bit as much as them. Wow, how sad is that?

There I was, snuggled up to Drax, who felt no qualms about showering me with attention. Yet I still felt the need to prove myself to total strangers who I would almost certainly never see again.
 

Regret and shame take turns pounding my head and my gut. Regret over drinking too much, of course, but also of betraying myself. I became a different person last night, a person I don't like much -- and not because she was the reason I feel like a giant turd today.
 

Drax seemed to like that Lola a lot. Fragments of memories flash through what's left of my brain cells. Kissing. Lots of kissing. In front of people!
 

See? That's what I'm talking about. I don't do that kind of thing, and I don't intend on starting now. I'll leave shocking shows of PDA to my dads, thank you very much.

I was just so jacked up from the success we had after everything looked so bleak. I turned it around for Roadkill. I booked an impossible gig. I sold all that merchandise. I saved Frank's ass from being chewed up and spit out by a mobbed-up bookie. That was all me, so why not let loose and get a little wild? Another wave of nausea reminds me why.
 

I can't do this again. First off, yuck. But more importantly, I don't feel like I was true to myself last night. Having a glass of wine or even a shot or two of tequila isn't the problem. I'm reasonably sure Dad was right that I don't take after my mother in that way. It's just that I was so caught up with what I thought I
should
be doing to celebrate, I totally blanked on the importance of celebrating the way
I
wanted.
 

This entire Vegas adventure has taught me a lot about myself. Maybe Pepper was right that I need to cut loose more often, although maybe a little less 'loose' next time. Papi was definitely right that I could do with a makeover, though corsets are definitely not going in my closet. But I can't ever allow myself to forget what Dad always said, either: "Always maintain your personal dignity, Lauren."

I can't say I've done that. I've pushed some of my boundaries to the point of breaking. The drinking, the corset, the PDA in front of what I now seem to recall was a crowd. All in an effort to pretend like I fit in.
 

The cold, hard truth is that I don't. This isn't my crowd. I'm a stay-at-home kinda gal, not a hard-partying metalhead. The travel doesn't bother me, and I adore coordinating events, but all the rest of this nonsense isn't for me.

Something else grips my stomach in a tight clench. Grief. As dumb as this sounds, I've developed feelings for Drax. Just one more example of how I didn't protect myself enough. This was supposed to be a quick fling, no harm, no foul. But I let myself get wrapped up in him.
 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

This all has to end. I'll tell them on the way back to San Francisco. Frank has to take some time off anyway, so that will give them plenty of time to find a real manager.
 

 
But what about Drax?
It's not like this guy is even remotely a long-term prospect.
Pepper's words ping around my aching brain, and I know she was right.
 

A tear slips down the side of my face and disappears in my hairline. It's going to hurt like hell to say goodbye to him, but it's for the best. He'll be free to do his rockstar thing and I'll go back to my life above the record shop, only with a little more sass and a lot more style.
 

The decision doesn't make me feel better, but a sense of calm does settle into my skin like a soothing balm. It'll hurt like pulling out a sliver but eventually the pain will fade and my bruised heart will heal.

Carefully and oh-so-slowly, I turn to Drax's side of the bed. In the dim light, I can barely make out that he's not there. He must be used to feeling like this and got up to make coffee. Lots and lots of very strong coffee, I hope.

Like a zombie, I shuffle around the tiny room and shrug on the robe. It's too dark to really get a good look at myself in the mirror -- thank God -- but I manage to smooth my hair into something a little less Einstein-esque.