Strum: virgin captive of the billionaire demon rock star monster (The Squirm Files) (2 page)

Dangerous Bob throttled back and the bike glided to a halt outside the entrance gate to the
Rockschlock
gig. Strobing lights and thunderous riffs blasted from a distant stage somewhere at the far end of the huge conference hall. She’d been surprised when she’d seen the address. Purgatory playing at a dismal hall out in the suburbs? Crazy.

Here was the man
that Bob said they needed. Zagan Grimm. A major planet in her universe of rock stars. The man, himself. Only Bob thought he was a demon. Those – rock star and demon – seemed a little mutually opposite, but hey, she wasn’t arguing with a man with an artificial cock who possibly ate bricks for breakfast.

Virginia hopped off the bike, clutching her bulging handbag to her side. The lines of people trying to get in were atrocious and as hungry looking as a snake waiting to gulp down a mouse.

“Fuckitty,” Bob murmured. He knew the potency of his swearing. Girl attractant el supremo. If he spoke too loudly, they’d be knee-deep in squealing girls.

“I’ll be okay.” She inhaled, determined. “You sure you can’t come in?”

He jerked his chin at Security, who were sweeping everyone with metal detectors. Then he smacked his palm onto his groin and shook his head.

His artificial cock would never get past that security check. This was her mission, her problem, from here on in.

“Point taken.” She was on her own, except for her wits, her wiles, her mostly virgin pussy, and the card Bob had given her. “I’ll text you.”

He nodded, switched on the bike but stayed there, watching, as she walked away.
The lycra of her octopus motif tights gripped her so firmly, they seemed likely to cut off circulation to her legs. It occurred to her to pull down the pink T-shirt and show some cleavage, or she could maybe waggle her ass, if she wasn’t worried about popping out somewhere. No. She wasn’t a loose woman. She’d get past security without that.

“
Whoah, bitch!” A man’s voice from the queue. She put her nose in the air. “Look at that octo-pussy! Show us what you got in there, girl!”

That did it. She focused on him and glared. “Shut your filthy mouth!”

“What? Have you seen where that octopussy has
his
mouth? He’s eating you out, slut. If you don’t like him, I’ll do it!”

The crowd laughed.

She fumed. Wearing these had been a bad idea. She’d thought they’d make her look like a rock chick. Sadly, the octopus did seem to be sucking on her crotch. Bob’s taste was a bit lewd. She held up a middle finger, waggling it at the bald guy with the big mouth, a few feet ahead. “You, you...”

Her smart ass reply died away.

As she approached, she lowered her aim and looked at his groin but her normal schlong-hunting and appraising hobby had lost its attraction.

Ha
h. A
s
even point five incher.
And sadly she was half a virgin. A woman in
no man’s land.
Or was that no-cock land? Who cared how long his schlong was.
Though,
hmmm
, she tilted her head, and ran through the calculations. The man needed her aid.

“Twenty-nine point two seconds to ejaculation and a problem with maintaining an erection? See a doctor about that, mister.”

“What?” His lip trembled and he shrank back into the crowd.

She sighed and walked onward without any further comments about his schlong. She was adrift. Without her complete and undisputed virginity, the world had lost something, a spark of sorts.

As she went past, a few of the men added width to their leers, patently staring at her pussy, correction, her octopussy. Behind her she heard a not-so-subtle snarl from Bob. Some hard looking men moved his way. If anyone could take care of themselves, it was Dangerous Bob.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
She kept going.

As she approached the gate,
bypassing the queues, the smell of spilled stale beer tainted the air.

A security guard held up his hand, palm out. “Sorry ma’am, you need to get into line.”

“You need to look at this.” She handed him the gold-edged card.

Once Bob had figured out this was who they had t
o see, he’d tried contacting Zagan only to be repeatedly knocked back. This was their last resort, a black market, backstage pass to a Purgatory gig.

The guard tilted an eyebrow and added his leer to the crowd’s. “It’s not a backstage pass but it will get you in
, if you go around the side to the right. Next gate.” He wiggled the card.

“It’s not?” In the alternating flash of intense lights then gloom, she couldn’t make out the writing. “What is it then?”

He grinned and held it up to her eyes.

B
ACK ENTRY PASS.
Then in smaller writing:
The holder guarantees anal sex to Skoll Blade.

Her mouth fell open.

“Yep, use this pass and know Skoll expects to use your pretty little ass good.”

Jeez
.
Mouth firm, eyes hard, she said angrily and perhaps a little too loudly, “Let me in this way then.”

“No. Not a hope. If you
ain’t got a ticket and you want in, you sacrifice your butt. Which is it? You’re holding up the fucking line.”

Just as she opened her mouth to say something bad, a motor bike revved loudly and shouting erupted.

“Fuck!” The guard sprinted past her along with his three cohorts.

A crowd milled around where Dangerous Bob was flailing about with fists and his trusty four by two...
where in hell had that come from
...laying out his attackers with precision and grace. The roar intensified as the guards joined in, but Bob only hooted and waved to her when he noticed her watching.

“
Awww.” She smiled. Sweet man. He was making the fight last so it was a diversion for her. Ah least he was having fun. She swiveled on the heels of her stilettos, managed not to fall over on her nose, then sauntered in through the unattended gate.

The first step Virginia took inside the hall brought her smack bang up against a man with a face like a creature from a dog pound.
Squarest jaw ever, slightly jutting out, with beady, deep-set eyes. To be precise, she’d gone smack bang, nose-first, into his white-shirted,
Security
-tagged chest – a chest that was so broad she’d need an airline ticket to circumnavigate it.

Past his shoulder was where she needed to be. Smoke and too many multi-colored floodlights made the stage at the far end of the hall seem to float on a fog of agitated, waving fans. As the song ended, a high-pitched decrescendo riff punctuated the drama of the moment. The crowd screamed, roared
, and thumped its feet on the seating stands to either side and above her.

She blinked a
nd resisted the urge to retreat, or to get out something long and nasty and poke him with it.

He smiled down at her.

Eeek.
She sucked in a startled breath.

Teeth.
Big. Sharp.
Pointy.
Teeth.

Who the fuck in
psychofuckadelic land had triangular teeth? Cross out the something long and nasty, she needed a cage and a bunch of zoo keepers.

She was used to all Karl’s Sea Wolves bikers, most of
whom, despite their liking for leather and motorcycles, could shift to become scary sea-living monsters.

Could this guy shift? And if so, what was he, a shark?

“Where do you think you’re going, lil tasty thing?” The rumbles from his voice made the floor quake, though that was possibly her knees knocking.

Sometimes her mouth did bad things before she could stop it. “You file those in your spare time, or did your mama have intimate relations with a lumber mill?”

Inwardly she was pleased.
Good mouth.
You didn’t show fear before guys like this or they stomped on you.

He chuckled.
“Har har de har. No.” He leaned in and sniffed her. “Oh, baby. You smell good. I eat things that smell this good.”

Oh my
.
Next time she’d sew her lips together.

“Either you show me that ticket you must have somewhere on you.” His gaze lazily perused most of her from breasts to legs, and back to her breasts. “I can even help you find it. Or I get to throw you out. Or...”

Fuckitty, as Bob would say. “Or what?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized she shouldn’t have said them. She’d admitted she wasn’t here legitimately.

“Or you let me fuck you behind the stands and I’ll let you go watch the show after.”

Making a small unhappy noise only made him focus on her sharply. If she twitched, he’d pounce. He came closer, aiming to edge her under
the framework of the stand.

“You don’t say nothing and I’ll take that as a yes.
Mm Mmm. I’m going to like this. I’m big so you’re going to have to spread those pretty legs a looong way so’s I can get in deep in your wet, tight pussy.”

“I’m taken,” she squeaked out.

“Yeah, you will be soon.”

Horrible man.

Would he reject her if she told him she might not be so tight anymore after coping with tentacles? Not that she believed Bob. The man had been smoking something. He actually thought Karl had tentacles.

Her thoughts scurried about like lost sheep.

She stared at him, trying to think, and sucking on her lip like it was a favorite lollipop. She’d broken herself of the biting-the-lip habit. Maybe she needed a patch. Like a nicotine patch, only with a mouth instead...

A lip patch.
Yeah.

“You want some of
this
? My deadly trouser snake?” He came so close she could hear the tinkle of metal under his shirt. From glimpses of something shiny, he was wearing a ton of silver necklaces. “It bites.”

Despite his words being vile, her pussy was flooding like a basement room with a busted pipe.
Alpha men always made her go all squishy.

You are
disgusting
, her inner voice muttered.
And that busted pipe analogy? Get a plumber before I throw up.

She didn’t have time for this. Her inner voice needed a
smackdown now and then.

“Shut up or I duct tape you again,” she sieved the words between her teeth, unintentionally out loud.

Oh shit.
He was looking weirded out. Her mind went quiet.

Then h
er inner voice giggled-snorted.

Dammit.
“Shhh!”

“Are you okay?” The man peered at her worriedly.

“What?” Virginia spat out. “You don’t like crazy women?”

He shrugged.

“Take a look at this.
Baby.
” Exasperated beyond hope of normality, she whipped out the Back Entry pass.

“You know what that is?” The stock issue leer, that all the men here tonight seemed to have bought, sneaked onto his face.

“Yes! I do. Take me to your fucking leader.”

“Okay.” He shrugged again, though the leer only faded to a know-it-all smile. “Follow me.” He grabbed her hand and set off for the stage with her in tow. “I’m not risking you changing your mind. I’m T, by the way.
You?”

Change of agenda. Now it was introductions? She struggled to keep up without tripping over her own heels. If she fell from this height
, she’d likely burn up in the atmosphere.

“That’s it, just T? I’m Virginia Chaste.”

“No shit.” He chuckled. “You won’t be chaste for much longer. The T is for Tyrone. Last name Rex. Mr. T. Rex if we’re being formal.”

No. No, no. no.
For the first time she noticed how short his arms were. Functional but short.

“You’re not...”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Not what?”

“Not...” She couldn’t say it.

“Catholic? No. Circumcised?” He grinned. “Not that either.”

And all the while inside her head, her inner voice was hopping up and down, screaming,
Dinosaur. Dinosaur!
Like some host on a kid’s show before they broke into song.

For once, she was too stunned to smack it.

Maybe he didn’t know he could shift?

Maybe he couldn’t?

Yeah, she was dreaming up nightmares for no reason. She guessed having a
theoretical tentacle monster fiancé could do that to you.

Even so, one thought blasted across her brain
, as glaring as a highway sign being flattened by a truck.

She’d nearly fucked a dinosaur.

She wouldn’t have.

Not really.

Damn. A dinosaur!

Would that make her
more a slut than being,
haha
, tentacle fucked did? This was like the chicken and the egg question. The philosophy of fucking monsters.

H
ow big was dino dick?

Wait. Wait, wa
it, wait. There was a logic problem here. She believed in the possibility of dino-shifters, and recalled the Sea Wolves shifting, but she couldn’t conceive of Karl tentacle loving her?

Oh fuck. Shut up with the logic.
Tentacle love was just dumb. End of story.

I
magine where they could go though.

Hmm.

Why were her panties even wetter?