DARE: A Rock Star Hero

by Scott, S. L.

  English stubs his cigarette into the dirt. “If this is about that west side chick, I’m gonna be pissed.”

  “Why would it be about her?”

  “Because I’m not blind. I saw how you looked at that high and tight body of hers, willing to fight her battle.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying you wouldn’t help a damsel in distress. I’m just saying she didn’t need your help, but you were right there in her business. What gives, Marquis?” I don’t answer fast enough for his majesty, so he fills in the rest while shaking his head. “Fuck. Tell me you’re not getting attached to this chick. Now is not the time. We’re almost finished with the album. Tonight gets us over the halfway point. Don’t get distracted by great tits and ass.”

  “What if they’re really great? Can I then?” I start laughing.

  He doesn’t . . . at first, but then he does. I knew he’d come around. After a heavy sigh, he says, “We’re so fucked. How much time have you spent with her?”

  “Not enough.”

  “Well, that ‘not enough’ is more than we can spare. Set it aside for a few hours and get back in there.” He starts laughing. “You sucked on the repeat. Hope you aren’t that bad with your girl.”

  “Fuck you.” I flip him off but laugh alongside him as we return. It’s hard to stay mad when they make so much sense.

  Lennox and Romeo return to their spots on stage and are ready by the time I’m plugged back in.

  When I step up, I adjust the mic stand and turn back. “Sorry—”

  “Oh God, he’s going soft on us,” English groans, bringing the humor. “Shut the fuck up and play like we know you can. That’s apology enough.”

  We’ve said our mantra since our first gig, so I’m not going to stop now. “Are we men, or are we heroes?”

  “Heroes,” they say loud enough to catch a few sideways glances from backstage.

  “Fuck yeah, we are. Let’s show ’em.” Stepping up to the mic, I count in, “One. Two. Three. Four.”

  14

  Dare

  My hands move on instinct. Despite the lights shining in my eyes, I step up and start singing. For three minutes, I become someone else. In three-minute increments, I’m who I’m meant to be.

  The Heroes have a ticket to the top. Our band has paid their dues ten times over, and we own every venue we play. With our name on the marquee, the place has filled up for the second set. It’s not only a sea of girls here to watch the hottest band in town, but everyone gets down to our sound, losing themselves in the music and dancing to the rhythm.

  Closing my eyes, I let my mind escape to last night as I sing the melody I wrote years ago. The words have morphed, mean more, and carry a weight of what’s growing between Weatherly and me. The lyrics coat my throat, and I let the words carry the intensity. When I open my eyes, they fix on baby blues that see right through this armor I use.

  I lean in and sing to her. It’s not the first time, but it’s the only time she was standing in the audience knowing it. She smiles with the power of the sun on the brightest day. Her heat reaches me and digs deep inside, setting my soul on fire. I’ll burn for her just as I have since I first saw her talking to Jake.

  We spend song after song locked in each other. She could be standing alone for all I know because I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s a vision too strong to ignore. I couldn’t anyway. I became the musician I am because of a muse I never knew until two weeks ago. Weatherly.

  She consumes my thoughts, besetting my soul with the desire to know her better. Through touch, kisses, and whispered words, I’ve started to open up to the possibility that I’ve met someone I could care about. She’s caressed her way into a crack of my heart.

  There’s no way for the good to shine in if it’s never been broken.

  Broken. My mom and I were broken when we left my dad, but we survived. We left the fear behind. And even when things were tough financially, she always found the silver lining. Weatherly’s light is just the first to shine inside me since my mom died.

  As I hit the final chorus, my arm flies into the air and my head tilts back. The world comes crashing back into reality as applause and wolf whistles fill the venue. “Fuck. Yeah.” I soak in the glory I’m long overdue.

  When I look into the sea of people again, my girl is so easy to find—beauty like hers can’t hide in the dim lights. Her hand is on her chest, and a sweet pink is creeping up her neck. The prettiest rose would falter from the sight of my blushing beauty.

  I’m off stage as fast I can, ready to see her. A tray of beers greets us, and English has polished off half a pint before loading his guitar into the case.

  “Great show,” he says.

  Lennox laughs, his good mood getting the best of him. “It was a killer set.”

  Romeo adds, “Dare’s cat scratch fever from that sweet kitty in the audience is working for him.”

  A, “Fuck you,” accompanies my middle finger.

  English wraps cables and knows all the right buttons to push to irritate me. “The ladies are not going to be happy if he’s off the market.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I don’t even know why I say that. I’ve got my side in her bed already. I need to take my own advice.

  English says, “What’s up? The infamous Dare Marquis doesn’t stick around any one girl for long.”

  He’s right when it’s come to others, but is he wrong when it comes to Weatherly? “Get off my dick all right already.”

  “No one cares about your dick, Dare.” Lennox leans against the wall and looks out into the bar. “Speaking of dicks. Dick James was here again. I don’t see him now, though.”

  “I saw him out there with a shit-eating grin like he can make or break us with a mention. Fuck him,” English replies.

  I’ve been long over the hope of the famous Austin DJ singing our praises on his radio show. I pack my guitar, and say, “Why do we care if he was here or not? He comes to the shows and then never says a fucking word on air the next day.”

  Lennox grabs an amp and his gear bag. He heads for the back door where we parked, but says, “We’re his guilty pleasure.”

  Romeo says, “Fuck him. We do fine without his pimpin’.” He snaps his mouth closed and looks away.

  It’s not like him not to fill the empty space, so I look up and find we have company—the topic of conversation himself—Dick James.

  “I knew you had it in you,” he says.

  I cross my arms over my chest defensively. “We’ve always had it in us. You just didn’t appreciate it.”

  “You weren’t ready before. I’ve waited.” He crosses his arms, resting them on a belly that wants to bust at least three buttons.

  “Same songs, man. What’s so different tonight?”

  Lennox passes behind me with an elbow nudge to the back. The band eyes me having a conversation they’d like to be having. It doesn’t take four of us to sell ourselves to someone who came to us. I can handle it, so I nod to Romeo when he carries his bass drum off the stage.

  “You. That’s what’s different.” Leaning in, he says, “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but guitarists and drummers are a dime a dozen in this town. Even singers. But what sets musicians apart is the way they manipulate their instrument. You’ve got a good voice—rough around the edges, like you. Grittier than other bands that have come out of Austin in the past few years. I dig your sound, but what I dig more is the way you captivate your audience. There’s not a set of eyes not on you when you stand behind that mic.”

  “I didn’t notice. I was too busy playing our music.” I don’t tell him it’s because once my girl showed up, no one else mattered.

  He reaches in front of him and squeezes his hand. Grinning, he adds, “Tonight, you took ’em by the throat and didn’t let them land until the last note. You can use that line if you want.”

  My throat is raw from singing, so I nod with a garbled chuckle. “I think I’m good on lyrics.” I’ve been more than inspired
lately.

  “You good on money, too? That’s what the music biz all comes down to.”

  “What are you saying?”

  He looks behind him and then leans in as if he’s holding all the secrets. Rubbing his chin, he says, “What do you want, Dare? To be a band working gig to gig, a solo career, or a star?”

  “We’re The Heroes, not the Dare Marquis band, but the last part doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “You keep playing like you guys did tonight, and I can get a deal on the table.” Taking a step back, a girl who looks like she could be his daughter comes up beside him. Dick wraps an arm around her, and adds, “I’ll mention the band on air . . . soon. You guys deserve some recognition.”

  “Thanks. We appreciate it.”

  Just past Romeo, Dick stops again and turns back. “Think about my offer.”

  I don’t feel the need to say anything. I already made myself clear.

  English has his guitar in hand and gear in the other but stops on the way to the van. “So what’d he say?”

  “He’s going to mention us.”

  English hollers a yes as he heads outside. Romeo follows him out, shouting his own excitement. Lennox turns around and eyes me. “He was hinting at a solo deal. You’re not interested in branching out?”

  “Only interested in what’s best for the band, Len.”

  His gaze darts to a shadow that reaches my feet. “Is loyalty worth a deal?”

  “Yes. You wouldn’t take a solo deal either.”

  “I don’t have your talent.”

  Weatherly rounds the corner and raises her hand just enough to wave. “Hi.”

  Lennox takes my case, and adds, “Another time.” When he passes, he smiles and gives her a nod. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” she replies shyly. “Great show.”

  “Thanks. See ya, Dare.”

  “See ya, man,” I say, keeping my eyes on her. When we’re alone, I feel the tension soften from my shoulders and give her a grin.

  With just a few feet between us, I could reach out and pull her to me, kiss her hard like I’ve wanted to do since we parted ways earlier today. Ah, fuck it. I’m a man on a mission. Closing the gap, I cup her face. Before words are exchanged or the rest of our problems invade the space, I kiss her. I kiss her so she won’t remember the music or the world that vividly surrounds us. I kiss her so she’ll only remember me.

  With us in need of air, we back away, but I can’t keep my hands off her. Our lips clash together again not caring who sees us or where we are. But I force myself off her and grab her hand. “I don’t want to take it slow with you.”

  “Me either.”

  Thank. Fuck.

  15

  Dare

  Weatherly’s hands push against the marble, her strength and the back of her head pressed to the unyielding tile. An edge of tension splinters from the corners of her eyes.

  I kiss her cheek and then the other. Rubbing her temples gently, I ease the creases formed and kiss her forehead. “Open your eyes.”

  When she does, I change speeds and slow this down by dragging my nose along hers and capturing her lips to kiss her gently. I remove the clip from her hair and watch as the strands fall, the water making them stick like glue to her skin. I set it on the ledge and take her face between my hands again, the frenzy from ten minutes prior still rushing through my veins.

  Our lips were locked. Hands everywhere. Clothes tugged. Heat rivaling the dead of August. The apartment door was opened, and she had me pinned to the back of it before I came up for air.

  My shirt was yanked open, and her hands were rubbing over my abs to the sound of buttons bouncing across the wood floor. Her shirt came off next, but I was nice enough to leave it in one piece. “I could fuck you right here, and it wouldn’t be soon enough.”

  Her mouth left my chest, and she licked her lips. “Salty.”

  “To your sweet.”

  Shower. “Come with me.” I take her by the hand and pull her into the bathroom.

  Fast forward to the now . . .

  Fighting the sound of the shower raining down around us, I ask, “Why are you tense? You still good with this, with us?”

  Her hands move through my hair, her nails making my scalp tingle from her touch. “You’re all I’ve thought about. Weeks of what-ifs became what can be, but I worry—”

  Her eyes are bluer against the white marble and brighter with desire, but worry weighs on her shoulders. “What do you worry about, Pepper?”

  “I saw the look in your eyes, the recognition you couldn’t hide, when you said it’s you.”

  “I don’t know why I felt it, but I know you feel it too.”

  “I thought you came over because of Lloyd—”

  Swift to press a finger to her lips, I warn, “Don’t say his name. No more when we’re like this.”

  I flatten my hand on her chest and spread my fingers, letting water pool and then roll over them. Moving it across her skin, I keep my eyes on the wake my hand leaves as I slide it back and forth through the soap, keeping her slick.

  Breathtaking.

  I caress her neck, the tips of my fingers weaving into her hair. Leaning my head against hers, I whisper, “I don’t want the world to ruin us.”

  Goose bumps ripple over her skin until she’s covered. Her arms loop under mine, and her hands press to my back where she was washing me with care minutes before. I hold her to me but tilt my head to see her eyes.

  “No one but you and me between these walls. Salty and sweet,” she says.

  “Yes. No one but you and me.”

  I kiss her again, drinking the droplets from her lips. Our tongues mingle as I run my hands down the sides of her body. I lean back enough to watch her nipples tighten as her back arches. I have no fucking chance of lasting twenty seconds with this heavenly creature. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I say, but it mixes with the fall of the water. So I look at her eyes—a brighter blue like spilled paint on a white canvas.

  “Kiss me, Dare.”

  “With pleasure.” I start on her neck, the water making it so smooth and easy to glide lower. The top of her shoulder entices me to leave a mark, stake claims, and take her in ways I’ve never wanted with another woman. Something about her speaks to something deep inside me. I’ve never let my emotions sidetrack me, which is a skill that has served me well.

  Until now.

  Until now seems to be a running theme when it comes to Weatherly Beck.

  Moving lower, I take her tits in my hands, caressing them as I leave my mark on the top of her right shoulder.

  She moans, feeling that pleasure I promised. What she doesn’t know is there is so much more to come, including her.

  Wrapping my mouth around a pert nipple, I feel her body shift against me. The taste of soap, water, and every wet dream is savored on my tongue. I squeeze a handful of one breast while sliding my other hand over her stomach and lower until I reach her soft peach.

  The sound of her harsh breath has me watching her like a hawk, not wanting to miss a second of her release. But she teases with those lips parted for me. Fuck me. It’s impossible not to want to push against her leg, needing relief.

  Her body moves so perfectly that the tip of my middle finger slips into her sweet nectar. “Dare,” is murmured in my ear when she leans her head against mine.

  I can’t stop touching her. I want my hands on every inch of this stunning creature, to have those damn pink lips speak into my dick. I run my thumb over her bottom lip one time, putting pressure to see if she’s into it.

  Her lips close around me, and she begins to suck.

  I want to fuck her so badly, but Jesus, I’m not going to survive watching this, so I lower my attention. Circling her entrance, I finally dip inside and watch her reaction. Her lips release me as her tits straddle my arm. Sinking onto my finger, she whispers, “I want you so much, Dare.” My name a kitten purr of a sexy whisper.

  I thrust against her side as my finger pushes inside her body. Tur
ning her so we’re under the pouring water, I take the back of her hair and pull it gently down until all she sees is me above her. “I’m going to come so hard for you, babe. You want that? You want me to fall apart for you?”

  “I do,” she says under a heavy breath. “I do, Dare.”

  “The way you say my name . . .” My eyes drop closed, and I add another finger, swallowing every Dare that follows and swimming in the heat of her as she consumes me—mentally and physically.

  Her.

  God, yes.

  My blue-eyed beauty.

  Weatherly holds me tight as her breath comes on a mewling moan. Her thighs clamp around my hand, and she begins to shiver, sending my orgasm spiraling through my body. I keep thrusting against her and finger fucking her until I’m overcome—“Jesus, fuck.” My eyes seal closed while my body comes hard and fast against her hip.

  When my breathing returns, I catch her as her body comes to rely on me. With red cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes, she tickles my neck with her laughter when she looks up at me. Her weight rests in my arms, and she grins with lidded eyes. “I get it now.”

  “What?”

  “What it feels like to be free.”

  Taking her head in my hands, I kiss the top, understanding what she means. “There’s freedom in falling, for leaving this world even if only for a few seconds. The weightlessness, the ease of burden . . .” I push my emotions down and try to refocus on the physical instead, but when I look at her and see the way her spirit shines in her eyes, knowing I put that look in her eyes, sex aside, I start to fall, just a little . . . or a lot.

  When I release her, she rests against the shower wall. “I’m so hot.”

  “You are.” Taking a handful of soap, I caress her shoulders and start cleaning her body. “So hot.”

  She giggles and fans herself. “I mean, heated. I’m burning up. The water is hot.”

  The water’s been cooling slowly since we got in the shower. So I take her current situation as a compliment. “Let’s get out.” We finish up and turn off the water.

  Her smile lasts while drying off and then longer until she brushes her teeth, making me curious. I saw her get off the other night, but seeing her reaction now has me wanting more than sex with her. I want to know her on a deeper level. “Tell me something that no one else knows about you.”