Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Immediately, she stiffens, and my heart sinks. At first, I believe her reaction has something to do with me, us, our relationship. Then, I realize she’s folded her arms over her chest, hiding her tits.

  Before I speak, I guide her to our bed. Once she’s in my arms and still covering herself, I bite her earlobe and ask, “Are you ashamed of your breasts?”

  “They’re leaking,” she mumbles.

  I roll onto her and she opens her legs for me. “They’re beautiful,” I whisper to her, licking the pulse point on her neck. “If you don’t want me to touch them, I won’t. Whatever you want me to do. Whatever feels good to you.”

  Swallowing, she stares at me, gauging my truthfulness. She relaxes slightly because I’ve given her a measure of control.

  She worries her bottom lip. “I-I don’t feel very sexual. I feel like a mom.” Her voice cracks at her admission.

  “You’re both, sweetheart,” I tell her, kissing her forehead. “You’re a mom and you’re a sexual being and you’re a gorgeous girl.”

  Her nerves ease a little more, and her arms lower a fraction, creating a shelf for her breasts and tempting the fuck out of me. Determined to ignore them, I stare into her eyes. She returns my gaze steadily, searching for something from me.

  But I need something from her.

  Smiling at Georgie, I brush some of her hair behind her ear, all I’m willing to give right now.

  After I pour baby oil into my hands from the bottle I placed on the nightstand earlier, I coat my cock with it. Disappointment flashes on her face. Clenching my jaw, I ignore her look and guide my dick to her pussy, grunting as I seat myself inside her.

  I claim her mouth again and insert my hand between our bodies, to rub her clit. Whatever reservations she has about letting me inside her, slips away, and she sighs as I begin slow thrusts into her. I don’t want to hurt her, so I keep my strokes at a steady pace, dazed by the strength of my satisfaction. Georgie holds the power to slake my body’s hunger. No fantasy compares to having her in my arms. No other woman completes me, as she does.

  She runs her fingers through my hair, our tongues meeting. Her hot little cunt pulses around me, and I rub her clit faster.

  “Come for me, Georgie,” I demand, and she complies, crying out and gasping my name.

  “Yes, fuck,” I groan, shooting cum inside her. I pull out and collapse alongside her, blowing out breaths. “Okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she says softly.

  We’ve made a significant step in the right direction by making love. I kiss her again, unable to get enough of her.

  “I need to check on Bryn.”

  The thought to argue with her crosses my mind, but it’ll only push her away from me and make it seem as if I’m not interested in our baby.

  “Let’s check on her together,” I offer.

  Her gaze flies to mine and the faintest smile curves her mouth. “Yes. I think she’d like that. Can…can she sleep in here with us?”

  I rub my nose against hers. “No, sweetheart. She needs to learn to sleep in her own room.”

  “I just feel better with her near me.”

  “I promise nothing will happen to her, Georgie. Trust me about this, if you can’t trust me with anything else.”

  She bites her lip, throwing me a silent plea. I ignore it.

  “You can’t hide behind her,” I tell her firmly. “You have to face life. Let’s check on her and then come back to bed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Half-dressed as usual, Rhea presses her scantily-clad body into mine as she dances around me and, at times, with me. The other two performers move in unison with each other, and to Rhea and I. Ever since I walked in with Georgie, Rhea has been bitchy. Now, she’s using our run-throughs to her advantage, taking it one step farther from sensuality to near dry-fucks.

  No one sees anything wrong with our performance. Except Georgie, though I’ve told her I haven’t once touched Rhea. Nor do I have any intentions to.

  We made it through two songs fine, but we’re on the fifth restart for this third song.

  “Let’s run through it again,” I shout, distracted by Georgie’s presence in the audience. She’s acquired a one-man fan club with one of the choreographers.

  At first, I thought he was after Abby, but Georgie’s giggles and his close proximity is to her. He’s showboating for my wife, who beams with pride as she shows off Bryn.

  Maitland taps a cymbal. “You missed your cue, Sloane.” The amusement lacing his voice pisses me off. The girls onstage scowl at me, upset they don’t have my usual attention.

  “Fuck, Sloane, let’s call it,” Quint snarls. “This is bullshit. We can start fresh tomorrow morning.”

  It’s barely mid-morning now, so I shake my head. My eyes nearly bug out of my head when Abby takes Bryn, and Declan—the choreographer—offers his hand to Georgie and she accepts. It surprises me when he drags her in the direction of the stage.

  “What are you doing?” I demand through the mic.

  She smiles up at me and my heart skips a beat. Her hair is loose today and her eyes are bright and sparkling. When she looks at me, I see no shadows or unhappiness. Yet, I still feel her distance.

  “Declan said I’d be perfect for one of your videos. To prove it, he wants to show me how easy the steps are.”

  I glare at the dancer, who isn’t even head choreographer. He has absolutely no fucking authority to make such decisions. He especially shouldn’t put ideas into Georgie’s head.

  “I’ve already hired Rhea,” I tell her tightly.

  Georgie’s crumbling expression makes me feel like a dickhead.

  Recovering quickly, she purses her mouth. “He didn’t say I would be in the video just that I could be.” Angry eyes fall on Rhea and she heaves in a breath. “I’m not here to take your job, as you’ve tried to fuck my husband. Dickhole,” she throws at me, before turning and stomping to Kiln. “Take me back to the house.”

  “That went over well,” Adam tells me with sarcasm.

  She and Kiln are engaged in a heated argument, none of which I can hear because they’re right up in one another’s faces.

  “Georgie,” I yell, my voice echoing over the speakers. The sound system is fucking awesome.

  Growling at Kiln who’s smirking, she whirls to me. “Master?”

  The dancers giggle and my temper rises.

  “You’re trying my patience.”

  “Fuck you. You try mine. I didn’t want to come to fucking LA in the first place. As a matter-of-fact, I’m leaving! With or without your help,” she warns Kiln darkly.

  “Well, this is blown to hell,” Jaeger groans.

  It sure the fuck is if she walks out. Sighing, I watch as Abby hands Georgie a cell phone. Georgie will leave if I don’t act fast. “Come here, Georgie.”

  As if she doesn’t hear me, she hands the phone back to Abby and begins to furiously gather the baby’s bag and her purse.

  “Please,” I add, an idea to appease her popping into my head.

  She pauses and glances over her shoulder.

  “If you still want to leave after this…” Then tough shit, but I’m not telling her that. She’s closer to the door than I am, and I may not be able to catch her before she gets outside if Abby keeps Bryn. The last thing I need is to have an argument between Georgie and I caught on camera.

  She advances toward me, and I turn around to face Rhea and the two other dancers. “Ladies, take a ten-minute break.”

  “Yes, Sloane,” Rhea says sweetly. The other two whisper amongst themselves, following Rhea off the stage.

  As Georgie brushes past them, she bounces up the stairs and stops next to me. Folding her arms, she lifts her chin. “Yes?”

  “Do you want to dance with me while I practice a song or two?”

  “The way that girl was?”

  “She’s a professional dancer,” I point out, “so I don’t expect those moves from you.”

  Her eyes widen and then narrow, an
d I lift my hands.

  “Stop being so fucking sensitive. What the fuck’s gotten into you?”

  “Since I’m not a pro, I’d prefer to have fun with Declan while you dance with your paid professional.”

  “Come on, Georgie,” Quint coaxes, all his irritation gone. “Dance for us like you did with Sam.”

  “He was as stiff as a board,” Adam adds. “At least, Sloane will be moving.”

  “Fine,” she mumbles, shooting daggers at me.

  Ignoring the look, I count five steps away from where I am. “Start from this point. Move to the rhythm. If you’re out of sync, you’ll either reach me too quickly or too slowly. Midway, we’ll cut out the lyrics for two minutes, and you and I dance together. Adam will join in. You’ll be in the middle. Hip-roll, hip-roll, slide, twist. Understand?”

  “I’m not auditioning for the video. Does it really have to be so complicated? Or are you just explaining this to me so I won’t measure up?”

  Consumed with jealousy, she’s spoiling for an argument. I refuse to indulge her. “Do you want to do this or not?”

  “I can dance, asshole. I just can’t sing.” That pointed out, she stalks to where she needs to be.

  Picking the strings, I play a short riff so I won’t respond to her. We’ll go back and forth forever at this rate.

  “One, two, three,” I say, and start with my run. It’s hard and loud, the melody oozing sex. I’m not sure what I expect of my wife, but when I see her moving her body in rhythm, her hair swinging, it isn’t the luridness she’s exhibiting.

  She can dance and she’s gorgeous. Most of all, she’s sexy as fuck. But she’s only supposed to be sexy for me. No one else should see her almost make love to the beat of my music, gracefully twist and spin her body though her stilettos are at least five inches.

  Finally, she reaches me. She doesn’t touch me immediately, dancing around me until my blood is roaring in anticipation of the moment I feel her body against mine. Unlike the moves Georgie saw Rhea do, she waits until I join her before she touches me. I jerk at the sensation. The sweet relief of holding her, however briefly, rolls through me. She makes a seamless transition twirling from Adam to me, moving as I instructed, and adding some of her own individual shimmies between us. Three, torturous minutes later, the song ends and Georgie finally halts.

  Abby whistles and yells, clapping along with Declan and my band mates. Georgie does a pretty curtsy, beaming at me.

  “You took dance lessons?” Kiln calls, as Jaeger comes on stage and hands her a bottle of water.

  “Thanks,” she says and drinks deeply before offering it to me.

  The thought to throw it down my pants to cool off my cock crosses my mind.

  Jaeger folds his arms and studies Georgie. “Did you take dance lessons?” he repeats Kiln's question.

  “Only for a month. Out of everything, I liked dance and horseback riding the best.” She shrugs. “Mom said I looked stupid, so I’ve always danced in my room. Watched certain videos over and over, until I got the moves. I took piano and know, um…” Counting on her fingers she thinks for a moment, then says, “a total of three songs. Basic. I can’t cook or sew. I suck at singing. If I were paid a million dollars to draw a straight line, I’d probably owe them money for wasting their time.”

  Jaeger checked out of the conversation once he heard how she learned to dance. I know exactly what he’s thinking because the others are as well. I shake my head in warning. No fucking way will I have her in a skimpy fucking outfit dancing as she does in front of millions of people. It isn’t happening.

  Bryn wails and Georgie turns away immediately. “Excuse me.”

  The moment she’s off the stage, I cut the sound to the mics. “No. Don’t even think about it, Jaeger.” I sweep all of them with a dire look. “None of you.”

  “Rhea’s great,” Quint says, “but you with her can’t compare to you and Georgie together.”

  Georgie’s laughter floats to me, the happy sound making me smile. Abby’s helping her to secure a towel over her so she can nurse Bryn. They’re chattering with animation.

  “By the time we go on full tour, she’ll be eighteen,” Jaeger says. “You can have her with you and we can promote it as a way to bring you two closer. The spin I could put on this—”

  “You’re not using my marriage as a publicity stunt.”

  “The band has lost fans, money, and contracts. This may be the only way we can recapture what we had before,” he argues. “And this may be the way to show the world that you and Georgie are close and are in love.”

  Rhea returns, but Kiln whispers to her. She slants him a pouty look and he winks at her, then slaps her ass. The other two girls take seats in the front row.

  “We’re done for the day,” I announce.

  “What about a video?” Jaeger continues, five minutes later when it’s just us left. Everyone else has either gone backstage or left the building entirely. “I thought if she was having fun with Declan you’d perform better.”

  I scowl at him. “You told him to make that dick-headed offer?”

  “What the fuck did you expect me to fucking do? You need to get your shit together and you need to be in the fucking moment to do it. If it means having Georgiana on your lap for the entire fucking concert, that’s what the fuck we’ll do.”

  Sloane moves inside of me. Like the night before last, after every one of my delays failed to deter him, his glides in and out of me are gentle. His big cock fills me. He stimulates my clit, bringing me closer to orgasm. I wrap my legs around his waist, testing this position that allows him deeper into me.

  “Just what I need,” he growls, speeding his pace inside me, his fingers moving faster over my nub. “Opening your pussy more.”

  I shatter, my body a slave to his, the intensity of sensations clearing my head of thoughts, worries, and fears. It’s only him and me. He’s my rapture and my glory, my sin, and my downfall.

  Biting my neck, he shudders and warmth spreads inside of me, his cum cascading into me.

  A little while later, Sloane rises from the bed. I sit up and draw my knees to my chest. He walks toward the bathroom, then pauses. “Get dressed. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “A friend of mine,” he answers cryptically.

  “Okay, I’ll see to Bryn—”

  “No, it’s just you and I.”

  “Umm—” My panic on any separation from my daughter hasn’t changed.

  “You left her to go on your fucking date,” he challenges. “You can leave her to come with your husband.”

  “You’re so childish.”

  He’s also remorseless because he shrugs. “And you’re stubborn. How can you ever learn to trust me, if you don’t give me a chance to prove myself trustworthy?”

  Cheek against my knees, I wrap my arms around my legs. He’s right, but if I’m wrong I lose my daughter.

  “Fuck, Georgie, fine. Get them ready. We all go.”

  Two hours later, I stand with Sloane inside a photography studio. We won’t be long, so Abby and Bryn are still in the car with Jason while Kiln is inside with us. Ignoring him, I gape at the photos of all the famous people.

  “Sloane, love,” a female voice gushes from behind me. I think I recognize her, confirming it when I spin around.

  Photographer to the stars and one of the women photographed with Sloane a few years ago as a rumored lover. She’s a former model, older than Sloane, and as gorgeous as my mother, with a self-assurance both Mom and I lack.

  I scowl at her.

  “Oh my God, she’s gorgeous! The photos I’ve seen of her don’t do her justice.”

  I frown between the two of them.

  “I’m Sedona—”

  “I know who you are,” I interrupt, unable to stop the bitchiness in my voice. “Why am I here? Why are we meeting?”

  “Georgie, the camera loves you.” Sloane kisses me. “I’d like Sedona to take a few photos of you. Afterwards,
she and Jaeger will contact a few people and we’ll see what happens.”

  I blink. “You’re suggesting I become a model?”

  He nods. “Yes. If you agree. We can open doors for you, but it’ll be up to you to do the rest. The moment you’re tired of doing it, walk away.”

  “Legitimate modeling?”

  “Yes,” he answers, his eyes flaring in surprise. He doesn’t know about Kiln’s suggestion that I do porn.

  The thought makes my skin crawl. “You think I can model?” I repeat for absolute clarification.

  “Yes. You’re fashionable and beautiful. Perfect for print modeling. You’re too fucking short for the runway.”

  A thrill shoots through me at his teasing tone and his belief in my abilities. I squeal, bouncing up and down. Laughing, he hugs me.

  “When do we do the photos?”

  “Sedona won’t be free for a few days,” he answers, bursting my bubble.

  “I’ve penciled you in for next Tuesday, five days away,” she assures me.

  I’m still stoked though disappointment tempers my excitement when we leave the studio. I wait patiently while Kiln goes to the sports car parked behind the Lexus. Jason, who’d been guarding Abby and Bryn, joins him. Abby and Bryn are still safely in the back seat and I settle in the front.

  This morning when we were hustled to the car, I expected to see the Escalade. The Lexus SUV, equipped with a rear-facing car seat threw me off.

  Although this is a rented vehicle, Sloane’s taste in cars fascinates me. I had an expensive sports car, but my family sticks to normal people’s cars. Mercedes and BMWs. Lexus is within reach of someone who isn’t a superstar, able to afford cars lavish enough to buy a small house or feed a couple of hundred hungry people for ten years.

  Mom and Grandma think no one’s more elite than them. But Sloane and his family are the elite of the elite, famous for talent and business and wealth.

  Sloane pulls into valet parking at a hotel, thirty minutes later.

  “This won’t take long,” he says. “We’re doing a press conference. The guys and I,” he clarifies, then points to where the paparazzi waits a few yards away. “They aren’t part of it.”