Toxic (Addiction #1)

Toxic

Book one of the Addiction Series

Meghan Quinn

Published by Meghan Quinn

Copyright 2014.

Cover by Meghan Quinn

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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
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Chapter 1

“Ten minutes and you’re on.” Pete knocked on Rook’s door.

Rook shook his head at the cue from his band manager. Pete had, by, far the worst timing Rook had ever seen, always interrupting his important meetings. If Rook knew the slut between his legs at the moment was going to give the worst blow job he had ever experienced, he would have never asked her to join him in his dressing room. If it wasn’t for her massively fake tits bobbing up and down, he would have a serious case of limp dick.
 

She looked up at him while her mouth was wrapped around his barely impressive erection and smiled. She was so pleased with herself. Little did she know a confused lesbian could probably give better head than she could.
 

If he wasn’t so high, he might have kicked her out by now, but he was too chilled out to care that much. So instead, he let her continue to suck him while he stared at her tits.
 

He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels that was sitting next to him, took a long swig and then winked at…well, he didn’t know her name, but that didn’t matter. He would sign whatever she wanted when she finally finished him off and then send her on her way. After the piss-poor suction job she was doing, he would bet two dicks and a nut sack that he would never see her sloppy tits again.
 

What was she doing down there? It felt like she was just drooling all over him rather than licking and sucking. She was moving her head a lot, but was not stimulating him enough. Was he really so high that he had absolutely no feeling in his cock?
 

Her hand slid from his balls to his shaft as she started to pump him up and down. She was barely gripping him; it was as if she was trying to lightly clean a cucumber rather than milk him for all he was worth.
 

“Five minutes Rook…”

Fuck.

He needed to get this over with and get himself clean. He took another swig from his beloved friend Jack and then swatted her hand away from his dick. Utter shock crossed her face, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his hand around his erection and started doing the dirty work himself.
 

She leaned in and gave him a wicked smile. “You don’t want me to do that for you?”

Fuck no! But he didn’t say that.

“I want you to stand in front of me and play with your tits.”

She smiled at him, stood up, and started fondling herself. She threw her head back and moaned when she pinched her nipples. Even though Rook knew she was putting on a show for him, he still got a bit of a kick out of her performance and felt himself start to grow larger in his hand. Finally!

“That’s perfect. Keep touching yourself.”

She squeezed her tits together and pouted at him. “But I want to touch you, not myself.”

“You had your chance, now let me suck on one of your tits. Bring them to my mouth.”

She stumbled for a second and said, “Did you not like me touching you?”

Fuck, he needed to get this over with.
 

“You were awesome, the best ever. My dick is so hard for you,” he lied in a monotone voice, not trying to hide his annoyance. “But I like to watch more.”

That made her smile and, before he knew it, one of her massively large breasts was stuck in his mouth. That was exactly what the erection Gods called for. He fondled the other one with his spare hand and that was all he needed. He threw his head back and groaned as he released himself all over the girl with the weak suck.
 

He pumped himself dry and when he finally stopped throbbing, he opened his eyes and saw the girl start to take off the rest of her clothes.
 

“Uh, what are you doing?” he asked.
 

“It’s my turn.”

Rook stuffed his dick back in his pants and zipped them up, causing her to pout even more. God, he hated pouters. Why women thought it was attractive to pout, he would never know. All it did was irritate the shit out of him and make him want to act out in a violent rage.
 

What did the slut really expect anyway? For him to go down on her? Yeah, fat chance in hell.
 

Rook looked around with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, this is awkward. You need to leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Time to go sweetheart. I have a show, rain check though.” He didn’t mean it, but if it meant she would leave, then he would say whatever it took.
 

He picked up her clothes for her and shoved them in her direction. She quickly threw them on as he opened the door to his dressing room. Pete was just about to knock on his door when Rook escorted the busty blonde out his door. Pete gave Rook a disapproving look, but Rook just shrugged his shoulders and started walking toward the stage.
 

“Rook…”

Shit.

Rook turned around and looked at his band manager, who didn’t look all too happy. Pete sniffed Rook and said, “Have you been drinking before the show again?” Pete then looked into Rook’s eyes. “Fuck, are you high?”

Rook just shrugged his shoulders once again, not wanting to answer his pest of a band manager.
 

“Damn it, Rook. I told you we can’t send you out there drunk and high. How many times are we going to go through this?”

Rook held up his hand. “I’m going to stop you right there before that little vein in your head pops.” Rook touched the ever-beating vein and cringed at the squishy feeling that came from it. “Everyone knows I’m phenomenal on stage whether I’m drunk, high or both. So get off my back and show me where I need to be.”

“You know you have three other guys counting on you.”

Rook got in Pete’s face. “Like I don’t fucking know that? I know what I’m doing Pete, so leave me the fuck alone.”

“Do you know who that was?” Pete asked, nodding toward the blonde with horrible dick fondling skills.

Rook looked down the hall and then back at Pete. “No fucking clue and don’t fucking care.”

“You will…”

“Dude, you ready?” Cruz, the other guitarist in the band asked as he came striding toward Pete and Rook in the hallway. “Did you take the edge off?” Cruz asked while wiggling his eyebrows.
 

Rook smiled at his friend. There were four of them in their band and Cruz was his closest friend. Grey and Landon, the other two members of the band were brothers and were more the goody-two-shoes members of the band. Grey was the sensitive pretty boy, Landon was the goof of the group, Cruz was the bad ass and Rook…well he could give two shits what anyone thought about him and was probably the most disturbed, but most talented out of the four. If it wasn’t for him, there would be no band.
 

Rook was about to answer Cruz when he was pushed from behind and thrown up against the cinderblock wall of the arena they were playing at. Before he knew it, he was turned around and was introduced to Cole Mayer’s fist, lead singer of Mayer’s Men.
 

Pain radiated through Rook’s face which was followed by a blow to his gut, making him cripple over.
 

“What the fuck?!” Rook heard Cruz shout. “Get the hell off of him!”

Cole was ripped off of Rook’s body and pushed into the opposite side of the wall. Thank God for the high Rook was still on or else he would be in some serious pain.
 

“You’re a dick, you know that?” Cole shouted while being held back by Cruz.
 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rook said, while wiping his mouth. Yup, that was going to be a fat lip.
 

“You think you can just stick your cock anywhere you want and get away with it? Bridget is mine.”

“Bridget?” Rook asked. Who the hell was Bridget?

“Bridget belongs to the throat you just shoved your dick down.”
 

Oh, sloppy tits, Rook thought. Cole was going out with her? That confused the hell out of Rook. She was the one who came on to him. Looks like Cole has a hard time satisfying his women…even the slutty ones.
 

Rook couldn’t help it, but a smirk spread across his face.
 

“Well, you can keep her. She couldn’t lick a piece off lint off a dick if she wanted to. She gives horrible head, man. Good luck with that.”

Rook patted Cole on the shoulder, side stepped Cole’s attack and walked down the hallway as he called after his boys. Pete could take care of Cole because Rook had better things to do.
 

He met up with his boys backstage; they grabbed their gear and waited for the cue to walk out on stage.
 

Cruz was adjusting his guitar strap when he turned to Rook and said, “Seriously, can you keep your dick to random girls and not the girlfriends of the guys we’re touring with? That’s just uncomfortable for everyone, man.”

“Jesus,” Grey muttered to himself. He was the guy with the conscience in the group, the morality police, their very own Jiminy Cricket. “Rook, that looks so bad.”

“Shut it, Grey. How the fuck was I supposed to know she belonged to Cole?”

“Maybe if you took two seconds to put down the bottle and notice the people around you, you might see that a lot of the guys have girls on tour with them,” Grey said.
 

“A bunch of pussy-whipped dickheads, if you ask me.” Rook leaned past Grey and grabbed a beer that was just waiting for his lips to attack it. He popped the cap and downed the liquid contents in seconds. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Grey shook his head in disapproval as the band was finally called out. Cheers erupted from the dark and lights beamed, telling them it was time to jump on stage.
 

Rook lived for this moment. The moment when the lights shined down on him, girls screeched to decibels dogs couldn’t even hear, and the first strum of Cruz’s guitar kicked off their set. He might be high off of who knows what and he might be shit faced drunk with a semi-satisfied libido, but the moment he took center stage and started singing the words he wrote, nothing seemed to matter. Not his shitty life, his asshole, mooch of a father, or the mere fact that his mom would rather whore herself out to his friends than take care him. No, the stage was his time, his moment, and his one and only love.
 

“We’re Shattered Souls and we’re fucking excited to be here!” Rook shouted into the mic, as the crowd screamed out their love and gratitude for the band.
 

***

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Willow bitched, as she packed up her bass guitar, rolled up cords, and carted their amps into the van they were able to bum off of a used car salesman who took flashes of Willow’s boobs as a down payment.
 

“Willow, we have to pay our dues,” Maisy said, as she helped Willow pack up the van.
 

Willow and Maisy grew up together with their other bandmate, Kinkaid. They all grew up in the foster care system and were truly the only family each other had. When they turned eighteen, they rented a one bedroom apartment together, shared a bed and couch and worked on their music together when they weren’t working odd jobs to stay afloat. They had been through hell together and playing in shit-tastic bars was just another road block they had to overcome to finally be able to live their dream.