Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Georgie

  I want the ground to open up and swallow me the moment I follow Sloane onto the plane. They are all there and every eye is on me. They know what Sloane and I have been doing.

  Baseball cap turned backwards, gold hoop earrings gleaming, and dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and boots, Sloane is relaxed. Meanwhile, I’m fucking sore and beyond frustrated with the way he left me on edge and then watched me like an eagle.

  People make love every day, so I don’t know why I’m feeling so shy. It probably has to do with making out with Kiln and then promptly fucking Sloane.

  “Are you taking a fucking seat, so we can take off or what?” Jaeger snaps.

  Sloane’s already seated in his usual spot, but he frowns in Jaeger’s direction, so I don’t utter a word, and go to Kiln. They’ve made me sit next to him whenever we’re on the road.

  “What are you fucking doing?”

  Sloane’s voice blares over my pounding heart. I’m searching for the words to apologize to them, especially Kiln.

  “I’m sitting down,” I answer.

  He shoots from his seat and yanks me toward him, shoving me in the empty seat next to him.

  “Unless I tell you otherwise, sit next to me from now on.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I fix my mouth to cuss, then I recall the condition he’s set if I want to come later. Bastard hasn’t let me out of his sight, so I haven’t been able to sneak somewhere and finish myself off.

  However…

  We’re on the plane now, not alone, so I’ll be able to get away from him. Smug in my newfound knowledge, I strap myself in. The flight won’t be long. We’ll be in the air and touching down again before the hour is up, so the moment we are level, I jump to my feet.

  “I need to use it,” I mumble.

  “Fine.”

  I think I’m home free, until I feel his presence behind me. I spin, forgetting myself. “No fucking way!” Widening my eyes, I clap my hands over my mouth, hurrying behind him when he turns on his heels and beckons me to follow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

  He folds himself into his seat and pushes me into mine. “Tough fucking shit. You need to think before you say whatever the fuck you want to.”

  “You’re a hypocrite. You’re cussing a blue streak as you’re ordering me not to.”

  “I’m a fucking man. You’re a girl. Girls don’t fucking curse.”

  I wonder if it’s possible to emit steam from the ears. I’m so fucking mad, I feel as if I’m accomplishing that feat. We’re whispering amongst ourselves but the guys are eyeing us with suspicion. “Girls do whatever the fuck a man does, dickhead.” Why hold back? He’s already angry and will withhold my pleasure. Double fuck him.

  Furious blue eyes glare at me and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Keep it the fuck up, Georgiana, and I won’t allow you to have an orgasm for a week.”

  Mortification races through me. I can’t believe he whisper-yelled that to me in front of the guys. My face burns in shame and I lift my knees, burying my head between them.

  A voice clears. “Are you thirsty, Georgie?”

  It’s Maitland, and his tone is soothing. I also hear the resignation as if he’s aware of our lovemaking, wishes to change it, but knows he can’t.

  I shake my head. No one can prove Sloane had me, because none of them saw us in bed together. Still…I’m embarrassed to my core and can’t meet any of their gazes.

  “Look at him when you respond,” Sloane tells me. “Don’t hide from anyone.”

  “Sloane…”

  I can’t believe I hear disapproval in Kiln’s voice. It’s almost as if he feels sorry for me.

  Sloane fists my hair and forces my head up. His hold isn’t particularly painful. When I see them all watching the spectacle we’re making, it takes everything in me to hold back tears of shame. One escapes, though, and I sniffle.

  He only anchors my head in place for a moment before letting go. He knows I’m not going to look away since he’s ordered me not to.

  “Now, answer.”

  I’ve forgotten the question or who asked it. I’m humiliated and I’m angry and I’m confused. “You sound like a creepy dungeon master.”

  That muscle ticks in his jaw again and he glances away. “You either listen to me or not.”

  He returns to whispering amongst him and me.

  “What happens if I don’t?”

  “The same thing that will happen if you pleasure yourself when I’ve told you not to.”

  He won’t allow me into his bed anymore. He’ll take away the intimacy and the feeling of belonging to him. He’ll just leave me cold.

  Pressing my lips together, I turn my back on him and curl up.

  Sloane

  Kiln wants to bash my head in. I wish he would rush me. I could fuck him up, and release some of the anger I’m feeling. Anger and disappointment. I’m angry that I didn’t impress the threat of my punishment on Georgie enough where she’d heed me, and disappointed she failed. On her behalf and my own.

  Our trip is over before we have time to settle in good. When we deplane, the tarmac is wet and the skies are gray. Georgie trudges behind me, head down, not talking.

  She’s embarrassed. Even before my display, the fact that they were all staring at her when she walked on discomfited her. She added offense on top of insult when she plopped next to Kiln, and injury to the pile when she attempted to slip away from me and go to the bathroom.

  The drive to the hotel is silent. Georgie is staring out the window. Kiln is driving and Quint is in the passenger seat. On the second row Maitland and Adam aren’t saying anything, either.

  “Your tutor should be at the hotel when we arrive.”

  For a moment, she doesn’t answer. “Just another pussy for you to fuck.”

  “Shut up, Georgie. I meant what I said about your filthy language.” I don’t bother to respond to her assumptions. For all I know, Jaeger has hired a ninety-year-old man.

  “Fuck you,” she spits on a whisper. “What more can you do to me? I’ve decided I don’t want the dick of a thousand ports. Wherever in the world it lands, it seeks and finds pussy, so keep your cock. And I don’t want a fucking tutor. It’s beyond fucking creepy that you’ve fucked me today, and tomorrow you’ll be fucking quizzing me on world fucking history.”

  She’s struck me right in the heart and split my conscience open. Glaring at her, I grip her thigh in warning. The others are too close for us to have this conversation.

  “Please, let me call my grandmother,” she finishes in a small voice that’s thick with tears. “I want to go.”

  She needs to go. It’s just that I don’t want her to.

  “Fine,” I lie. “We’ll do the concert and then I’ll get you back to Houston.”

  I remember all that Helen has hanging over my head. Incarceration for starters. Attempted murder or some shit with Crowell. Statutory rape of Georgie, whether I’ve fucked her or not. And exposure. Exposure of all the skeletons in my closet. My family ties to Kiln and Jaeger. Steffie’s death due to the horrible “accident” of she and I falling into the water, and my father being unable to save both of us. She’ll expose it all, crucify me. I feel sick to my stomach, because it would be just the icing on the cake.

  Georgie will discover I fucked her mother twice.

  More than anything, she’ll let the world know I destroyed Kiln’s marriage to the one girl he ever loved. The one person he could love.

  And I did it purposely, methodically, and with stone-cold totality.

  Chapter Twenty

  Georgie

  I’m laughing my ass off, even more so at Sloane’s furious expression. We’re sitting in the hotel room, and Jaeger has just barreled through the door with my tutor.

  He’s more like a god. Reddish blond hair and gorgeous blue eyes. I’m tempted to ask if they’re faking. Maybe, Jaeger has hired him to fuck with Sloane, before introducing me to my real tutor.

  But, Sam’s all mine, and we’re
sizing each other up. He seems as shocked by my appearance as I am by his. My much needed laughter dies away as tension rises. The moment was good while it lasted. Now, it’s gone, and I’m reminded about our conversation on the ride to the hotel.

  My head and my stomach are hurting, and the urge to cry once again overtakes me.

  “I’m ordering pizza,” Adam announces to no one in particular. When there’s no comment, he looks at me and I paste a smile on my face.

  “Pizza is fine.”

  I find a seat until the pizza comes, ignoring the small bits of conversation floating over my head. An hour later, four, hot, delicious, cheesy pizzas, overflowing with pepperoni arrive. I snag one before they can get to it.

  At the first bite, I moan and close my eyes. “Oh my God, so good.” I’m almost purring. I’ve been deprived of pizza for weeks. I take another bite and moan again.

  “Stop it, Georgie,” Sloane growls, ruining my pizza-induced near orgasm.

  I narrow my eyes at him and take another bite, swallowing back my pleasure with effort. I don’t want to flame his temper, with him being pissed already.

  Finished with my first piece, I get up and take a beer from the counter, popping it open and drinking deeply.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Drinking a beer, Sloane,” I answer dryly, finishing it off and crushing the can. Spying a trash can, I bounce on my feet and try to slam dunk. As usual, I miss. I go to grab a second one, but one look at Sloane and I change my mind. “Sweet baby Jesus, but you’re uptight.”

  He growls. When he’s coming in me, I love the sound. Directed at me outside of bed, not so much.

  “You excel at growling. How’d you get so good?”

  He smirks at me. I scowl at the unspoken insinuation that he learned the art of growling, as he honed his mastery of fucking.

  To forestall an argument—especially with an outsider there—I turn to said outsider. “Do you want a beer?”

  He dabs his napkin over his mouth. “I don’t drink.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Do you smoke?”

  Not surprisingly, he shakes his head.

  “What do you do?”

  “Teach,” he says simply.

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend?”

  Sloane jumps to his feet. “Georgie, we need to talk.”

  “Several,” Sam answers evenly. I don’t know if I like him or not.

  I sigh when Sloane begins to drag me toward another room, but dig my heels in. “Can we dance or something?”

  “Dance?” he echoes, like I’ve just suggested he roast a small animal.

  I nod. “Or go out, maybe? I have several fake IDs.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  I glare at Kiln’s tired sounding words. “Maybe, because you’re a dickhole and you’re suspicious of everything?” I say sweetly.

  “One of these days, your mouth will get you into deep trouble,” he returns.

  Sloane doesn’t say anything, but his face is red. Satan is possessing him. The only reason he hasn’t blasted me is because of Sam’s presence.

  Sloane snatches a beer and opens it, pacing as he drinks. Kiln’s eyes are roaming between the two of us. Sam looks out-of-place in his button down shirt, bow tie and black pants.

  “Here, Georgie,” Adam offers. Music suddenly sounds from his iPad.

  Mysterious Ways by U2. “Come on, Sloane,” I encourage, raising my hands above my head and rolling my hips to the music. “Dance with me.”

  He doesn’t touch me, though. He watches my movements, the way my hair swings and blankets my arms and back. I hold his gaze for as long as possible before the dance I’m doing around his body forces me behind him. I stop and flatten my palms against his back, tempted to feel him and grip his cock.

  Is he hard? Does he want me like I want him? Right now, I’d give my soul to have him inside of me again. Yes, I’m sore, but I need him. The only time I know he’s completely mine is when we’re joined.

  But I can’t touch him. I don’t know how Sam will react. I’ve already given him more than enough cause to suspect something, so I do the only thing I can to divert his attention.

  I move away from Sloane and head to Sam, as Throwing Your Arms Around The World starts to play.

  Sloane

  I’m. Going. To. Fucking. Gut. Jaeger.

  And then geld Sam. For all his attempts at stoicism, his dick is hard, pressing against his zipper as she dances around him, purposely touching him because she can’t touch me. I don’t trust her not to tug his head down and tongue kiss him, to fuck with me.

  She uses her sexuality to get her way. That’s what Crowell taught her. That’s what I decided would help me to control her, using her desires against herself. But…fuck. The prospect of Georgie discovering my affair with her mother is powerless against my draw to her. The promise of Helen divulging Steffie’s death and my father’s version of what happened to her, the exposure of the systematic way I seduced Dietrech with sex and drugs, the fact of my real reason for cleaning up, doesn’t matter. Despite the extremes I’ve gone to, to protect my sister and sister-in-law, not even they matter to me if it means Georgie won’t thrive, or will become lost in the shuffle. I even fool myself and insist I’ll soothe Georgie, if she ever discovers I fucked her mother. All of it, sanity, just brushes over my head.

  Attraction. Concern. Desire. Saving her. My roles meld until I’m lost to all the ways she’s claimed me and tied my emotions together. I forget all I have at stake. Except jail time.

  If Helen discovers I’ve slept with Georgie, she’s pressing charges. She’s counting on my roving dick. This is the greatest setup of my life. I was a fool to accept the challenge.

  The war I’m waging to straighten her out is tearing down each of my carefully constructed walls. I’ve already given in to the inevitable and fucked her.

  She’s a free spirit and almost untamable. Helen needs me to keep her with me until she deals with Cassandra and Parnell. She counted on Georgie choosing me. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if she hadn’t. None of them have deemed her important enough to call. Once Helen says she wants Georgie back, I’m supposed to follow the orders. She’s through with all my change of plans. After Denver, I have to say goodbye to Georgie.

  Or else.

  I can’t see her returning to people who don’t give a fuck about her. Maybe, I can broker another deal with her grandmother—beg on Georgie’s behalf—and send Georgie back to Ocean Springs, when I leave for Europe.

  Although our affair is morally and legally wrong, I do care about her.

  Raising her hands above her head, she thrusts her hips and slides her hands along the curve of her waist.

  I narrow my eyes to Adam and he pauses the music. Georgie glares at me. Sam looks relieved, as if I saved him from jumping out of his skin.

  “Nice meeting you,” I tell him.

  He’s thrown completely off-kilter. I know the fucking feeling.

  “I was thinking of getting a head start tomorrow,” he says. “Give Georgie pretests to see where she’s at academically.”

  To hide my wince, I slide my hand over my face.

  She smirks at me. “Will I have cute little school uniforms to wear? Plaid skirts and white blouses?”

  She’s picked up on my jealousy and she’s fucking with me. I can’t wait until Sam leaves. I give her a cold smile.

  Curiosity lights his eyes. He’s wondering what the fuck this girl is doing with a bunch of fucking rockers. The first time he gets her alone, he’s going to question her.

  Why would Helen leave it to me to hire a tutor, instead of using her scary determination to intimidate someone to her will, and send the person with us?

  My dick has always gotten me into trouble. It has this time around, too. There it is. Helen’s true motives, and none are for Georgie.

  Cassandra.

  Not much perturbs Dad, so Helen somehow discovered something about Mom. Nothing else would encoura
ge my father to spill family secrets he’s so carefully hidden.

  Rage infuses me as it all runs through my head. Coupled with Georgie’s antics, I’ve worked myself into an irrational state, so the moment Sam leaves, I crook my finger to Georgie. When she reaches me, I take her by the elbow and drag her toward the bedroom I’ll use. As I slam the door closed, I release her.

  “Follow me.”

  Even as I direct my feet toward the bathroom, I’m flinging my clothes away. By the time I lean in to turn on the shower, I’m naked. When I turn around, Georgie’s still dressed.

  Defiance is brewing in her eyes, so I waste no time in tearing her shirt off her. I shove her in the shower and she screams at the frigid temperature. Standing behind her, I turn her toward the flow of the water and hold her, allowing the stream to hit her chin, chest, and belly. Her jeans are plastered to her and her Chucks are soaked.

  “Stop, stop, please. It’s too cold.”

  At my wit’s end and frustrated to the extreme, I place my lips against her ear, chinning away some of her hair. “You’re a hot little bitch, aren’t you? Do you tease dicks for fun or to jerk my fucking chains? Which is it?”

  She’s shivering and sobbing.

  “I told you not to fuck with me. I told you to fucking listen. Didn’t I?”

  “Y-yes,” she says through chattering teeth.

  “Are you going to fuck with me again?”

  She shakes her head vigorously and I spin her around. Hand on her shoulder, I push her to her knees, hissing when the cold water hits me. Hot water in hotels are fucking cold. Cold water is fucking freezing.

  I tap my dick against her lips. She opens for me, sucking me in. She may be freezing, but I’m suddenly burning up.

  Once she finishes me off, I instruct her to get out and remove the rest of her clothes. Her skin is ice cold. I pray she hasn’t gotten hypothermia. Other than using my belt on her, I have no fucking clue on how to get through to her.

  I add in hot water. The slight warm up feels good on my skin. We’ve stopped in Charleston mainly to pick up Georgie’s tutor, so the hotel we’re staying at isn’t quite as luxurious as what I’m accustomed to.