The green room door swings open and my eyes search for her, disregarding Rafe and the trail of girls he has with him.
“The fuck? I asked Toby to bring her. Where is she?” I say to no one.
Cash is in the corner lifting weights. He does this before every show. Ammo stands strumming his guitar, laughing at something a girl said.
The large flatscreen that displays our opening act reads Five Minutes. Then the camera pans to the mass of people stuffed into the United Center.
My cock hardens. This is my church, my one true love. The music I hear in my head, put on paper, and record.
For some crazy, fucked-up reason, people buy it. I never set out to be famous. I wanted it, but I was happy to be able to touch one person.
Playing in front of twenty-six-thousand loyal fans is a high like no other.
Reaching for my guitar, I ignore the hopeful faces of women who seem to all blend together now. I step toward Rafe who’s deep in conversation with Devon, one of our PR agents.
“Where is she?” I don’t care if I’m interrupting. I have to go on stage in under five minutes and I want her.
Rafe frowns and stops talking to Devon but doesn’t answer me.
“Gia, where is she? I told Toby to bring her.”
“Excuse us, Devon.” Rafe walks a few feet away from a confused Devon who instantly pulls out his phone.
“What’s going on, Granger? Need I remind you who her family is? We don’t need this,” he gripes.
I shrug and stare him straight in the eyes. “She’s my muse.”
Turning to Ammo, I say, “Let’s do this… Cash, Nuke.” I take another swig of Jack and nod at our cameraman, Bobby, who films us as we walk down the long corridor and out onto the stage.
“Turn on the cameras.”
I hear Rafe cursing. Doesn’t matter. I’m in my zone.
“Yeah, let’s do this.” Nuke jumps up and down cracking his neck. The intro music is at a level that no one should be near without earplugs, yet that’s nothing compared to the roar and energy of the crowd.
The door opens and we start to walk. BT and our road crew follow close, along with Fred helping Bobby not trip over anyone, since he refuses to use a dolly. He insists he likes the look of the camera moving along with us.
Screaming, stomping, it all vibrates through my chest. Nuke’s already on stage, the roar alerting me. As I turn, I see her. Christ, she can’t be real. My eyes travel up and down her body.
Gia Fontaine knows how to own a room as she walks straight up to me in a red slip of a dress, her hair up, allowing me to feast on her stunning face.
Hunger.
I lift her chin so I can see those eyes of hers. “I’ve been waiting for you.” I don’t yell. It’s not necessary. Even with the noise, Gia gets it.
“I’m here.”
“Granger? Man, you ready?” BT hands me my ear monitor, though my eyes never leave hers.
I want to fuck her, bury myself so deep inside her that we stay locked away for days. Grinning, I put the piece in my ear and walk out onto the stage.
The crowd erupts, like it’s just been recharged.
Not gonna lie. I love it.
“Merry fucking Christmas, Chicagoooo.” And like I’m some fucking god, my followers scream and feed me with their love.
I close my eyes and open them as I give them what they want.
Me. All of me.
The lights zigzag into lasers and smoke fills the stage.
I sing the words that at one time seemed powerful but now feel like a lie. Empty words that rhymed. What I feel now is real: alive like a spark that ignites and bursts into flame. My arms tingle and my chest burns.
My goddess.
My muse.
This hunger that I have for her might never leave me, but tonight I’m fucking feasting.
GIA
Past – Eighteen years old
Chicago, Illinois
I can’t look away. He owns the stage, ensnaring me with his voice. I reach for my camera. Tonight is different and I want to capture every moment of him.
Rhys is different. I look through my lens and zoom in so that all I see is him as he does what only a handful ever can.
He loves them. It’s in every note, every word he sings.
This. His music: that’s his real love and he adores it. My body feels as if I might have a fever even though it’s freezing outside.
“Ms. Fontaine.” I bring my camera down slightly so I can turn to Rafe, but before he can spew anymore of his bullshit, I snap numerous shots.
“Are you done?”
“With you? Yes.” I turn back to the stage. BT walks up with headphones for both me and Rafe, and Rafe, of course, waves his off.
“I’m not the enemy, Gia. In fact, if these last couple of performances were brought on because of you…”
I turn to him. “An hour ago, you bought me a plane ticket,” I yell over Nuke’s drums. It’s so weird that Rafe never seems to yell but you can always hear him.
“Yes. Keep that.” He brings out his phone and starts typing. I guess he’s done. Such a shame he’s a complete ass. He is fucking hot in his own way.
Not hot like Rhys, but hot. I see him with a ton of women, but same as the boys in the band, he seems to have a new one at every stop.
“Why do I need to keep the ticket?” And I want to kick myself for playing right into his game. God Gia, you’re slipping. Never show weakness.
“For when all this comes to a brutal and ugly end.” He motions with his phone to Rhys.
I straighten my shoulders. “And what if it doesn’t? What if Rhys and I are actually happy?”
He looks up from his phone, his blue eyes pinning me to the floor.
“This will end. You will not be able to live the life that he needs, and he’ll not be the man you need.”
If he had slapped me, I think I would have liked it better. No matter what Rafe has achieved or whatever his goal is tonight, those might be mere words, but they sting, and my chest hurts as if I’m already preparing myself.
Bad juju.
“I guess we’ll see,” I say and aim my camera at the crowd, completely putting up a mental shield against this man. He’s testing me, waiting to see if I’ll falter, or at least stumble.
“Yes, hold on to that ticket.” I don’t see him walk away but know he’s gone by the way my body relaxes.
“Fucking asshole.”
My eyes pass over the horde of groupies drinking with the roadies. It’s a whole family in a fucked-up way.
These people spend more time together than they do with their spouses. I look back at the stage and my heart skips a beat.
He stands with a spotlight on him, and I reach for my chest as he sings my favorite song of theirs. It’s a ballad and Rhys’s gravelly voice makes goose bumps travel down my arms and my legs.
As he lets the words flow out of him, not just singing them, but feeling them, he’s breathtaking. Cash walks up and takes over as he lets his bass sing.
When Rhys looks over at me, suddenly I can’t breathe. I may pass out because he’s coming for me. Like a dark god he moves, determined and fierce. His energy is electric and so intense that I take a step back.
Breathe.
I need to breathe because he’s coming for me. Holy fuck. I might pass out at the way his eyes look at me.
One.
Two.
Three.
He doesn’t stop. There’s no hesitation. He takes my face with both hands, and then he kills me.
I’m lost as his mouth claims mine. I cling to him as I let his fierceness consume me. This is not just a kiss; it’s raw and primal, stealing my very soul. My lips are tender. Groaning into his mouth, I allow his tongue to twist with mine.
“I’m gonna fuck you now.” He lifts me up. My legs wrap around his waist and I lean into his neck. He’s sweaty, and I want to suck and lick it off of him. His body heat seeps into me and I barely recognize my own voice.
“Yes,” I groan. I’m spinning. My back hits the cold concrete wall and he takes my lips again.
This is insane.
I try to look around, but his hand is already lifting my dress, and before I can even mention that we might get caught, his fingers are inside my panties.
“Fuck yes, Gia, look how wet you are for me.” It’s a growl but he’s right. I’m soaked as he finger fucks me hard, rough.
“Rhys,” I murmur, digging my nails into his neck.
“Spread your legs wider.” I do as he rubs my clit hard, and I’m gone, soaring as I come.
I open my eyes. He’s not holding me anymore. My hands slap the concrete as I watch him undo his jeans and push them down. Grabbing my left leg, he thrusts himself deep inside me.
I think I scream but can’t be sure. All I hear is music. I have no idea what happened to my headphones.
“Christ.” He freezes, letting me adjust to his giant pierced cock. “Fuck. This tight cunt is mine,” he rasps into my mouth.
“Yes,” I chant.
He pulls out and thrusts in again as I claw at his chest. He grabs my chin roughly. “I’m gonna fuck you hard.”
I can’t respond as his tongue fills my mouth and I taste the Jack he must have been drinking earlier. His other hand holds my legs so I don’t fall over as his cock pounds in and out of me.
“Fuck,” I snarl, reaching up to bite his lip. He ruts into me as my body contracts.
“Who do you think is watching me fuck you?”
My eyes jerk open as my core pulses. I try to stop it, but I’m gone, soaring as I cling to him.
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m gonna fill this cunt up.” He thrusts into me hard, then stops as his body jerks.
“Christ.” He kisses my forehead. “I couldn’t wait.” Our breathing is harsh as if we’re in sync.
I nod, trying to piece together that I just got fucked, standing up in the middle of his concert.
“You’re so cool.” He looks down at me and raises an eyebrow as I laugh, our mouths inches apart.
“You have to get back onstage,” I say, trying to sound fierce as he pulls out of me, then buttons his jeans.
I straighten up, only to discover my panties are soaked. I should probably take them off, but I’m trying to get my mind and legs to work.
“You stay where I can see you at all times.” He takes my lips again.
Unsure if I can stand alone, I hold on. Somehow I put one foot in front of the other. He leads me back to where I was standing before he wrecked my life. Because after that, I’ll never be the same. After that, I know for a fact that I’ll love him till the day I die.
My bag is on the ground, along with my headphones, but that seems like a lifetime ago. In seconds, my world has changed, and I’m never going back.
RHYS
Past – Twenty-seven years old
New York, New York
“Rhys, honey, I need you to sing for Mommy.”
“I’m tired. I need to sleep. Why can’t I sleep?”
“Don’t be silly. You can sleep later. We need to get you ready. You and Mommy are performing tonight.” My mom spins and spins as she picks up a feather boa, a white one, and drapes it around my neck. It tickles my nose and I hate it.
I hate all of it. I need to find my grandfather. He’ll make her stop.
But my grandfather is gone, and I’m hungry.
“Mommy?” I yell, but no sound comes out. “Mom?” She’s gone and I’m alone, always alone.
I bolt up. The room is dark. Taking a breath, I try to figure out where I am. My hand reaches for her, but she’s not there.
“Gia?” I swallow down the remaining hangover I have after having that dream. “Brat?” Standing, I don’t bother with jeans and walk to the bathroom.
“The fuck?” My mind instantly wakes up enough to figure out I’m in New York and Gia’s not in my bed.
Where is she? Goddammit. I storm out of the bedroom and into the main area of the lavish suite.
I grab my phone and am about ready to call when I see her. “Fuck.” I throw my phone back on the coffee table and lean against the wall to catch my breath and watch her.
She’s on the balcony, smoking, in what looks like one of my black T-shirts. The fluffy white robe hangs open. My eyes trail down her form and my chest burns as I take in the sight of her wearing my black combat boots.
If I live to be a hundred, I don’t think she’ll ever be more stunning than at this moment. She looks up at the dark, early morning sky and the moonlight kisses half her face along with the smoke. Her steamy breath circles her as if it knows she’s the beauty it seeks.
I push myself off the wall, grab my aching cock, and stroke it as I open the glass door. One of the best things about having money is that you can step out onto a penthouse balcony equipped with heat lamps to warm you.
Don’t get me wrong. The Christmas night is almost magical with all the lights of Manhattan, the horns, and the excitement of the city.
“Looking for Santa Claus?”
She smiles and turns, her eyes going directly to my cock, which stands straight as I stroke it and slowly rub the precum all over my piercing. “I’m hoping I’ve been a good girl.” She licks her lips and smiles.
“Eyes on me,” I command and watch her battle with wanting to do her own thing and listening to me.
It’s irrational, this sense of possession I have with Gia. As soon as I stopped fighting my conscience about fucking my childhood best friend’s baby sister, I went all in.
Sometimes when I’m with women, I dominate them. Not full-on, but I can get into spanking and tying them up. It’s fun and an adrenaline rush to have someone at your mercy.
But with Gia, it’s altogether different. I need her. I want her to be as addicted as I am. The more we explore, the more it turns me on.
Tomorrow is Christmas, or maybe it’s already Christmas. Whatever, I plan on spending it balls deep inside her all day.
This is the first Christmas I’ve celebrated in years. Fuck, it’s definitely the first time I’ve ever bought a woman a present.
I reach for her neck and wrap my hand in her thick hair. “I guess we will have to see if you’re a good girl.” I bite the bottom of her puffy lip. She moans as I suck it and taste a slight hint of blood. The metallic taste makes my cock throb. Letting go of her, I trail my hand down her neck to the collar of the robe and pull it off her shoulders. It flows to her feet.
We both look down at it and I glance at my boots, which are ridiculously big on her but sexy as fuck.
“Nice boots.”
“You like?”
“I do. Give me the cigarette.” She does and I put it out in a large plant.
“Take off the shirt, Gia.” My voice sounds harsh in my ears. My nostrils flare as she slowly lifts the shirt, allowing my eyes to feast on her waxed pussy.
“I can’t decide if I want to shove my cock down your throat or suck on your cunt,” I husk.
“Rhys,” she whispers, glancing around as if someone can see us. I grab her hips and bring her chest to mine. Her full tits and fucking hard nipples make me groan.
“Take it off.”
Her breathing is harsh. Licking her lips, she slowly removes my T-shirt. And there my pretty baby stands, fucking naked in the New York winter, wearing only my boots. I have to fight myself not to make her kneel while I jerk myself off on her tits and face, claiming her over and over.
Fuck that. That can come later. Right now, I’m gonna eat and suck on her wet pussy, then fuck her. After that, maybe I’ll jerk off on her tits.
“Sit on the couch, Brat.”
I smile as her ass drops right down. “Open those fucking long legs.” She does and I sink to my knees, pulling her to the very end and slinging both over my shoulders.
“Now we shall see if you’re a good girl.” I go straight for her plump clit and suck on it hard.
“God,” she pants out, her hands slapping the metal base. She arches her b
ack like a cat.
I’m about to command her to spread wider when she moans and shoves her cunt deep in my mouth. Her slick juices drip onto my tongue, and I greedily use it to fuck and lick her. I’d love to finger fuck her ass, but not tonight.
Gia has zero patience and it’s my fault. I fuck her hard and fast, becoming borderline obsessed with her magical pussy. I want my cock inside her twenty-four seven.
As soon as I let go and stopped fighting myself, things became clear real fast. Gia, on the other hand, is so caught up in her lies that she insists she have her own room. Not that she’s ever in it.
I know it’s because of Axel. She’s paranoid. I’ve humored her the last week or so. But it’s getting old fast. I’m not scared of Axel. I’m sick of hiding her when we leave, worried photos of her face are gonna be in The Enquirer.
Fucking come clean. I intend to deal with all this shit. We have a week off before we play Madison Square Garden on New Year’s Day.
Hunger.
It’s not abating. If anything, I’m like a man who has been given his favorite meal and allowed to feast.
I lightly bite her clit and feel her start to contract. She’s slick and wet and fucking perfect as I send her over the edge. Her hands grab my head while she whimpers and pulses in my mouth.
Lifting my head, I gaze at her. She’s fucking magnificent: legs spread, lying back spent on the recliner. The moonlight and lights of Manhattan kiss her skin. I crawl up her body as she smiles and reaches for my cock, jerking me.
I take her mouth, wanting to savor her, not rush this time. She tastes like mint and delicious smoke.
Thrusting my tongue deeper, I want all of her. Always wanting more—that’s me. Forcing her for more. I’m a greedy fuck, and I want her soul.
I want her to breathe only for me.
Think only of me.
I slide inside her honey walls and my eyes roll back in my head at how fucking amazing she feels. Her tight cunt squeezes my cock and I try to go slow, letting my body have this moment.
This is fucking ecstasy.
In and out, I torture us. Music floods my head as I take her ragged breath and inhale it back inside her. Our bodies are in sync, and I’m ready to blow my load.
Rise: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance (Rock God Book 1) Page 12
