by Amity Cross
“You’re not losing me,” I reassured him.
“Really?” He grimaced and glanced around at the dressing room. “All this…”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the excess he’d gone to since signing with Galaxy Records was a Band-Aid over the pain of losing his mum. He’d told me early on that she’d passed away from breast cancer, but apart from that off-handed comment, he’d never mentioned her again. Then there was his father, who’d abused them to the point it was either leave or Sebastian was going to kill the guy.
His greatest fear was laid out before me and I could either help him medicate or be part of the solution. Lust or love… I had to choose, and so did he.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmured.
“You don’t have any family,” he went on, “you’re alone, and I’m forcing you to be even more isolated,” he scoffed and raked his hands through his hair. “I’m screwing this up.”
“You’re not.” I tugged at his wrists. “We knew this was going to be hard.”
“I promised I’d help you find your link. I promised and—”
“Shh,” I murmured, “you will. As much as I want to find out, it’s not going to happen right away.”
“It did for me,” he argued. “Juniper, you’re what binds everything together. You were what was missing for me, but what if I’m not enough for you?”
“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. I don’t give two flying you-know-what’s about your fame or money. Those things don’t make you who you are.” I placed my palm over his heart. “If I didn’t like what was in here, I wouldn’t have shown up at that concert back in Melbourne.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I did, but I have no idea what comes after the getting the girl part.”
“Neither do I. You’re my first serious relationship, you know.”
“I forget sometimes,” he said. “You’re so fucking wise and strong.”
“Me?” I shook my head. “I think those things about you.”
“You’re crazy.”
“So are you.”
His gaze drilled into mine and he fisted his hands in my hair. “Juniper, I-I feel like I’m spinning out of control again.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“All these fucking games…”
I wish I knew the answer because I was getting sick of them too.
I kissed him then, my tongue stroking his in desperate caresses. His grip tightened as he answered my plea and his mouth was rough against mine as we fell into a heap on the couch.
His thigh pressed between my legs and I moved so my clit ground against him. When his hand cupped my breast underneath my T-shirt, I let out a moan, my mind on one thing.
Sebastian was a mess of hands as he tore at my boots and jeans. I was stripped from the waist down and left open as he grabbed for his cock. I circled my clit with my fingertips as he rolled a condom over his length. I lifted my hips off the couch, desperate to feel him inside me as he found my opening and thrust.
I cried out as he filled me, a sharp bolt of pleasure bringing my body to life. Once he’d claimed me, he didn’t stop to relish. He fucked me hard, his cock gliding through my wetness as his lips found mine.
I didn’t know what was going through his mind as we succumbed to our lust. Maybe he needed to feel something real in this moment, or maybe he just wanted to reassure himself that I was still here. Whatever his reasons, we fucked hard and we fucked fast. When it was like this between us, the pleasure was insurmountable.
Too soon, I was writhing under his onslaught, lost to a blistering orgasm. Sebastian grunted, jerking as he emptied into me, and his ragged breathing mingled with mine.
When the shudders subsided, we held each other, drowning in the intimacy of our embrace.
Knocking at the door snapped us back to reality and I sighed, the motion causing Sebastian to catch me in a swift kiss.
“Sebastian?” Vix’s voice filtered through the door. “If you’re in there, they need you for sound check.”
Trust Vix to be the one to shatter the illusion for us. Things had been going so well—I’d hardly had to deal with her at all so far.
“Since when do they need me for that shit?” Sebastian grumbled, his cock still inside me. “I haven’t needed to sound check for years.”
Vix’s knocking came again, this time louder. “Put your cock away and let’s go already.”
“Sorry,” he said to me as he pulled out, “I better handle this.”
I nodded as I wriggled out from under him and fumbled for my jeans. Dressing, I shoved my feet into my boots as he zipped up his fly. He took one look at the door, then wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. Our lips met in a blistering kiss that did nothing to dampen the heat between my legs.
“Feel better?” I murmured as we tore apart.
“Much.”
There was another furious knock and I rolled my eyes.
When Sebastian finally opened the door, Vix glared at me, but I turned my back, pretending to busy myself with the ice bucket.
“What do they need me for?” I heard Sebastian say. “We have people for this.”
“I don’t know who these morons are, but they can’t hook up a rig to save their lives. They’ve got all your monitors back to front.”
As their voices faded, I ran my fingers through my hair with a sigh. Picking up my jacket, I stepped out into the hallway, fully intending to rejoin the party, but I froze when I saw a figure that made me want to hurl.
Mallory Grigorio. The Mallory Grigorio. I blinked, but unfortunately, she wasn’t a mirage.
It was like I was standing at the end of the Victoria’s Secret runway, and Mallory was striding towards me with her long legs, tiny dress, and million-dollar smile as her fans showered adoration on her. She was perfect—flawless, unblemished, beyond compare. She didn’t falter as she approached me and her confidence in her presence, her sexual prowess, and her fame was a slap in the face to someone like me. I suddenly felt less than ordinary.
Her cascading dark chocolate locks flew behind her as if she had an imaginary wind machine at the opposite end of the hall. Exotic looks gave her a haunting air of mystery, and her model thin body was the stuff men’s dreams were made of. Her black mini dress left little to the imagination, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyeballs. Her nipples pressed against the clingy fabric, her breasts bobbing with every step of her stilettoed feet.
It was in that moment I realised there was no sound check. It was a ploy to get me on my own so Mallory could bare her claws where no one would witness it. The queen was here to teach the peasant a lesson.
“So you’re Juniper Rowe,” she purred, her icy gaze raking over me. When she lifted her eyes back to mine, her lip curled in distaste.
I was obviously found wanting and it wasn’t hard to see why.
Not one for dressing up, I wore a pair of skinny jeans, combat boots, a Nirvana tank top, and a leather biker jacket. I’d done my makeup—my favourite smokey eye look—but compared to Mallory’s airbrushed foundation, I may as well be a clown about to stuff myself into one of those tiny cars.
Her lips curved into a smug smile. “He’s got a nice cock, doesn’t he?”
“Excuse me?”
Her appearance had blindsided me, otherwise, I would’ve thought of an epic one-liner. Fuck, who was I kidding? No matter the scenario, I would’ve stood there like a stunned mullet and taken whatever beating she was handing out, then asked for more.
“You better enjoy it because it won’t be yours for long.”
Whatever she saw in me must’ve been enough to cast her judgment because she didn’t say anything else. She just smirked, stepped around me, and strutted down the hall.
I stared after her, a sick feeling of dread pooling in my heart. I was no competition, none at all. Then it hit me—Sebastian had already seen her. She was what triggered him.
At the end of
the hall, a group of similarly clad women were waiting, each of them as beautiful as the next—Damon’s sister, Victoria, amongst them—and as Mallory approached, they began sniggering.
It was high school all over again. I was the dork with zero social skills, and they were the girls who ruled the corridors with their iron fists labelled humiliation and manipulation.
“Pop stars,” a familiar voice drawled behind me, “you gotta love to hate them.”
Turning, I glared at Josh and his man bun. His smart-arse commentary was the last thing I needed right now.
“Don’t worry about her,” he said, jamming his hands into his jean pockets. “Seb’s with you.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. Sebastian had spoken to her and didn’t tell me. He’d just had a breakdown and fucked me in his dressing room to make himself feel better.
“Aw shit, don’t do that.” Josh made a face and gestured for me to accept his hug. “C’mere.”
“No thanks, but all that might be contagious.”
His lips quirked. “That’s the Juniper I know.” Nodding towards his dressing room, he added, “Wanna come humiliate Damon some more? I can get him to bet something better than his stupid Rolex.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Like streaking across the stage while the support band’s playing to a packed stadium. His cock will be out, and we’ll be the outrage of the nation come morning. I can see the headlines now and they’re all glorious.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat and smiled. “You sure know how to cheer a girl up.”
“It’s my pleasure, Juni.” He glanced over my shoulder. “When life hands you two-dollar hookers with auto-tune assisted singing careers, you’ve gotta make wild, rock ‘n’ roll lemonade.”
I tilted my head to the side. Josh didn’t like Mallory? That was a surprise considering she was probably his type.
“I’m all for having a bit of fun, but when it comes to all that other stuff…” he feigned choking, “relationships…. She was bad for him.”
I didn’t really want to get into it with Sebastian’s best mate, so I shrugged and began to walk towards his dressing room.
“Juniper?”
Turning around, I took a few steps backwards and gestured for him to follow. “You promised me a nudie run, Josh Carroway, and I expect you to deliver.”
17
Juniper
It’s been a quiet month for the wild Australian rock band Beneath on their latest US tour, but the full-frontal nudity displayed by Damon Whittaker at their Las Vegas concert last week was a step back towards their risqué reputation. But was it a step too far? There are calls for them to be banned from playing the T-Mobile Arena…for life.
I snorted and handed Josh back his phone.
“What did I tell you?” he said grinning from ear to ear.
“I can’t believe you’re proud. They want to ban you from Las Vegas, the home of sin.”
“Not Vegas, the arena. Las Vegas can handle a little cock. The suits at corperate need to lighten up. It could’ve been worse…”
“How?”
“He could’ve had a hard-on.”
I groaned and turned back to the posh party that swirled around us.
It wasn’t exactly a black-tie affair, but it was the closest thing a bunch of musicians who liked shock value could get to it. I was wearing a slate grey Vivienne Westwood ruched velvet mini-dress, black heels, and smokey eyes with ultra-straight hair. Most other women had edgy outfits on and the guys had donned the ultra-relaxed tuxedo look.
We’d taken a private jet back to LA for some awards show where the band had been nominated for five different categories—best album, best live performance, best music video, best single, and most popular artist. After taking out three of them—the three that counted the most—we’d made our way to an after-party somewhere in the depths of the glitzy Californian celebrity scene.
Josh waved one of Beneath’s award statues at me and melted into the crowd, chasing a pair of female legs halfway across the room. In a turn of unlikely events, the manwhore with his hipster hair was growing on me. They all were—Damon, the butt of all jokes, and the quiet yet devilish Nate.
The entire night had been a blur so far. The red carpet, the ceremony, the idle chit chatting with other musicians and record company people, all flashed past in a whirlwind of colour. It was hard to focus when my mind was on other things—things named Mallory Grigorio, ultra-bitch.
I didn’t want to admit it because I’d given up everything to be here with him, but I was struggling. I’d never really fit in anywhere—from school to running the shop in the Point—and it was becoming clearer by the day that I especially didn’t fit in here. I was an imposter who was slightly out of sync with the world around her.
After a great start at the album launch party, everything had slid downhill. I might be on Sebastian Hale’s arm, but that didn’t make me a force to be reckoned with. I was playing the part to help him keep his contract intact, but it wasn’t me. The face I put on for the media was eating away at my soul like acid.
Who was Juniper Rowe? I didn’t know anymore.
Besides, Sebastian still hadn’t told me about Mallory and I hadn’t told him I’d seen her backstage. As far as I could tell, Josh hadn’t mentioned anything, so life went on as per the usual routine. I waited around while Sebastian was out ‘working.’
Scanning the room, I saw Mallory talk to a male singer I recognised from the tabloid, Stargazers. Besides Sebastian and me, he was also in their rotation as cover model. No doubt there’d be a story about Mallory moving on with him. I narrowed my eyes as a photographer took their photo.
“Who are you glaring at?” Sebastian asked, standing beside me.
“No one,” I replied, turning away from my arch nemesis.
He shrugged but followed my gaze anyway. He’d been steering me away from Mallory all night, not realising I already knew she was here. Was he trying to protect me, or was he trying to cover his own arse? I hated myself for jumping to the conclusion that he was fucking her behind my back. I also hated myself for letting her make me believe I was worthless.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said.
“Hey.” He gasped my hand as I went to step away. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and tugged my fingers free, but I wasn’t fooling anyone.
All this—coming on tour, being together, getting to know the people in his life—was us trying to see if this thing between us would work, if it was more than just a fleeting connection on a lonely beach. So far, it was a flaming disaster. The sex was great, but true love wasn’t made of a cock and a vagina alone.
There was no line at the bathroom when I finally found it. I opened the door and paused when I saw Mallory and Vix standing in front of the mirrors. Great.
“Don’t worry,” Vix said. “She won’t see it coming.”
They turned and glared at me, Mallory’s disdain at my appearance oozing out of her pores. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and strode past me, her shoulder colliding with mine as she passed.
The door swung shut and I was alone with Vix—my favourite person on the planet. Not.
“She really hates you,” she declared, raising her eyebrows. Turning to the mirror, she began to reapply her lipstick like nothing was amiss.
In that moment, I hated her. A white-hot ball of loathing bloomed in my chest and it was all I could do not to smoosh that stupid red lipstick into her face.
Vix’d never gotten to know me, never even tried. I suppose it was a little hypocritical of me since I hadn’t sought her out either. However, it was hard to give someone the benefit of the doubt when they’ve been hostile towards you from day one.
“What did I ever do to you?” I demanded.
Vix sighed and put her lipstick back into her clutch. She snapped it shut and turned to face me, her gaze raking over my outfit.
“Crushed velvet?” she asked, curling her lip. “Who told you
to wear that?”
I didn’t miss a beat. “I was asking myself the same thing. Heroin chic went out of fashion twenty years ago.”
“Bad blood always outs,” she said mysteriously before stepping closer. “Let’s get one thing clear—you are bad for Beneath’s image. The dangerous bad boy who everyone wants to fuck is what sells records year in and year out. Take the hottest member of the band out of the picture and those sales will dwindle.”
“They just had their biggest release ever,” I fired back. “Without any pre-sale marketing.”
Vix sighed and shook her head. “You just don’t get it, do you? You poor, sad little girl.”
“What you don’t get is the fact there’s zero evidence to suggest that my being with Sebastian has had any negative effect on the band at all. All that is just speculation based on your selfish conclusions.”
Sebastian had told me everything—mostly. How Vix was playing them all for fools, twisting their passion into a money-making exercise—the faker, the better. She paid off paparazzi and tabloids, orchestrated empty relationships, and thought she was the goddess of their fucking world. Blackmail was her weapon of choice. The way he held Sebastian’s contract over his head like a guillotine made it obvious. In her mind, Beneath was nothing without her and she’d keep her claws in them for as long as she could.
But I wasn’t part of Beneath. I wasn’t under contract, so I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.
“I’m selfish?” she scoffed. “Seb was selfish the moment he disappeared. He was about to walk out on his career and destroy everyone else’s. It’s not just the band that would have been impacted. No, it would have ruined the lives of management, roadies, assistants, and even the poor bitch that works at the online merchandise store. You mightn’t have triggered it, but you were the reason he didn’t want to come back.”
“I convinced him to come back!”
“Yeah, right.”
“Anyway, you’re the one blackmailing him. You’re using his contract to make him miserable.”
