by Skylar Cross
Most amazing thing ever.
One final checkmark.
He comes fast. I come after him, but still fast.
It's like we had been working up to it for so long that we just couldn't ride it out.
The orgasm that we both wanted to share had been hiding inside for so long, begging to be unleashed.
Then he just laughs, continuing to stare into my eyes.
I laugh back.
He kisses me, his spent cock still inside me.
Today is turning out to be a good day.
A very good day.
Chapter 39
Damien looks ridiculous in his Cincinnati Cubs baseball cap and sunglasses. He says it's his favorite airport disguise, but I don't buy it. I'd recognize him in a heartbeat.
He leans over and kisses me.
I'm in a dress he bought from a little shop not too far from the hotel. It doesn't fit and it's ugly. Dark blue with flowers all over it.
But there was nothing we could do about it. The one I had planned to wear was... well... you know.
"Ready for the parade?" he says. "There will definitely be fans here."
"Let's do it," I say.
I look out the window. I'm always amazed at the endless rows of little orange square roofs, each with its own little blue square pool, that is Miami from above.
As the jet bounces onto the tarmac and the airbrakes make their ferocious whooshing sound, I feel invincible. I don't know if it was the trip to South America, all the confessions, or the brief but amazing sex.
Actually, I know what it is. I have a mission. A purpose. I'm not just writing Damien's book. I have an idea for an empire he could build.
I haven't told him about it yet because I need to do some more research. It needs to take form and gel properly in my mind.
I also need to confront my mom about my new apartment, visit Marcellina, and talk to Steve.
My work is cut out for me.
We taxi to the gate. We're in First Class so it should be easy to sneak off the plane and down to the waiting limo Jasmine sent.
God, Jasmine. I haven't talked to her since that night. Maybe I should have called her or something. I don't know the protocol for all this sex between friends shit. Although I have a feeling Jasmine will be okay with almost anything.
Then there's Isabella. I texted her a couple of times from South America. There's something wrong with her. Don't know what it is, but she's disturbed about something. Got to spend a little time with her too.
The flight attendant picks up the microphone. A clacking noise precedes her voice over the loudspeaker.
"Attention passengers," she says, "there is a momentary delay at the terminal. Please remain in your seats. We will be leaving the plane shortly."
I hear a communal groan from coach.
What the fuck is all that about?
One of the other flight attendants goes to the door of coach, effectively blocking it.
Next thing I see somebody outside the door. The flight attendant who spoke moves toward the door and opens it.
Standing outside are two uniformed police officers. Next thing I know the flight attendant is pointing at Damien and me.
My heart skips a beat as they walk over to us.
"Mr. Cage," says one of the officers. "Please come with us."
"What's all this about, officer?" says Damien.
"We will explain. Just please come with us."
Damien looks at me with a solemn expression and gets up.
The officer on the right takes out his handcuffs and starts to put them on Damien.
"Hey!" I say. "What's going on?"
"Am I being arrested, officer?" says Damien.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Cage," says the first one. "But yes you are. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"This is ridiculous!" I say, a torrent of anger rising within me. "What is he being arrested for?"
"Annika," says Damien. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."
"But this isn't right! There's some kind of mistake!"
I'm right up in the first policeman's face. He places his arm on my shoulder, pushing me back.
"Don't touch me!" I say, slapping his hand away.
They lead Damien to the door. I grab my hipster satchel and his carry-on and follow them.
Once we're in the terminal, I see a squat Latino man with tight short black curls. He's wearing a brown sportcoat, light blue shirt, blue striped tie, tan slacks, and brown shoes.
"Annika Spenser," he says.
I recognize the voice.
"Detective Gomez," I say. "All the fucking way from Brimford, Massachusetts, huh?!"
"I want to thank you," he says with a snarky smile. "The last person we would have ever considered for the murder of a two-bit thug is a rock star who lives on a bayfront estate in Miami. But thanks to you, justice is being served."
I slap his face. Hard.
He looks down.
"Miss Spenser," he says, "I understand you're upset so I'll overlook that. But don't force me to arrest you."
"He didn't do it!" I say. "He told me what really happened."
"Of course, Miss Spenser. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get Mr. Cage booked here so we can take him into custody in Massachusetts."
I run to catch up with Damien.
"Damien!" I shout.
"Annika," he says, "get hold of Jasmine. She knows what to do."
As we emerge onto the street, what seems like a million cameras click.
Oh God no.
The fucking paparazzi!
Reporters are everywhere. TMZ. The Smoking Gun. Access Hollywood. Rolling Stone. All to get a glimpse of the famous rock star Damien Cage.
Frontman for the Platinum-selling band Eon Sphinx.
As he is shoved into the back seat of a Miami-Dade police cruiser.
Arrested for murder.
* * *
Watch for The Cage Sessions Book 5, available soon from Skylar Cross
Here is a sneak preview of Tattered Angel (prequel to The Cage Sessions) to be released as part of the Seven Dirty Sins boxed set:
Chapter 1
She knocked me out cold the first time I saw her.
Those eyes.
I fell right into them.
Tripping. Falling. Downward. The core of my soul slipping away.
Nobody had ever done that to me before. Just reached into me like that.
Me.
Damien Cage.
Rock star frontman of the Platinum-selling band Eon Sphinx.
There is no fucking way a girl like Marcellina Montero could break me down. Tear me in two. Shred me. Then leave me the empty husk that I am now.
Are you fucking kidding me? I eat girls like Marcellina Montero for lunch.
No fucking way.
And yet she did.
* * *
Phoenix, 2:12 p.m.
I always love landing in Phoenix, the majestic purple mountains in the distance. Make me think of Mars for some reason. Not that I've ever been to Mars. Although one night tripping... oh, never mind.
Two girls are on either side of me, the three of us tucked into first-class seats. Fuck if I can remember their names right now. All I know is the one on my left has a pierced left tit and the one on my right is wearing a butt plug with a diamond in it.
All three of us are exhausted, having fucked ourselves into a supreme mess the night before. And this morning. Throw in a blowjob from Diamond Butt Plug in the tiny airplane bathroom.
Hey, I'm Damien Cage. I fuck girls. It's what I do. I'm a rock star.
Think I need a pussy break, though. I can't seem to taste it anymore. If there's one thing I love, it's smoldering gash juice.
But lately my tongue just isn't working or some shit. I ate out both of these chicks like a madman but couldn't get any flavor. I'm okay with food, just not my favorite elixir. Maybe I need to call my doctor back home in Miami and fly him
out here.
We were supposed to have been on the bus with the others back in Santa Fe, but we got sidetracked. Pierced-Tit had never heard of the Puye cliff dwellings of the Santa Clara Pueblos.
So I showed her. It's a must-see. Anna Price, my tour and public relations manager, was fucking pissed.
Fuck her.
I needed to educate a poor tit-pierced slut about a proud people and their history.
So we took too long... so what? Not hard to do there. So I told Anna to get the bus on the road. The girls and I would spend the night in Santa Fe and catch a flight the next day to Phoenix.
No problem. I'm Damien Cage, rock star. Remember? I get what I want when I want it. All it took was a call to Jason Everton, Anna's assistant.
I try not to speak to Anna Price as much as possible. Personality of a Third World dictator-general. Jason is my saving grace. He makes my life easier by acting as a buffer between the two of us. Good kid.
As the plane taxis to the terminal, I look at the two girls I'm with. God, I love girls. I really do.
But lately, I've been astounded at their stupidity. I'm usually not picky, but once the banging is over I just want them to go the fuck away.
And yet they don't.
So I usually end up kicking them out.
Whatever.
Goes with being a rock star, I guess.
Although I'm beginning to believe that all women are dumb. Hot ones, anyway. I always thought that a bright shining star would emerge from the pack, with a rapt intelligence hidden inside a body with an ass that won't quit.
Seven years at this touring gig and no such luck.
Sometimes I can't wait to get alone with Jason, who is well-read and insightful. I've taken him under my wing, somewhat away from Anna Price's domination. We talk about self-empowerment, history, politics, culture, social hierarchy. Shit, in many ways he's become my best friend. Lots of ambition. Full of energy. Gets shit done.
The plane stops. The jetway extends.
"Yo, wake the fuck up!" I say to Pierced-Tit. She grumbles and shifts a little.
I turn to my right.
"Yo! Up!" I say to Diamond Butt Plug. Nothing. No movement.
Fuck this!
I undo my seatbelt and get up, throwing both girls off me.
"What the fuck?" says Pierced-Tit.
Diamond Butt Plug just rubs her head.
All our stuff is on the tour bus, so we have no luggage. That's a plus.
And we're in first class, which means we'll be the first ones off the plane.
But I don't have my usual disguise with me. A light denim jacket and a Cincinnati Cubs baseball cap usually get me through airports without attention.
Which means I'm going to have to walk through the airport as Damien Cage.
Might get ugly.
All we need to do is get to the limo Jason set up for me on the lower level. I've been to Phoenix many times so I know exactly where it is. I think I might even remember a shortcut.
The girls finally get their act together. They both look like shit. I love it when a girl looks like shit after a good Cage reaming. How life should be.
Hmm, how to do this? Maybe I should hold them in front of me as we walk.
Oh, fuck it. I'll just deal.
If anyone asks me for an autograph, I'll do it. I have to. It's what I do. My fans got me where I am so I always stop and sign.
"Have a nice day," says the brunette flight attendant with a big smile and fuck me eyes.
The three of us walk through the jetway to the terminal. The heat is incredible.
It doesn't take long.
Seconds after stepping off the jetway, arm-in-arm with the half awake girls, two bouncy blondes run up to me.
Lots of ohmigods and it's Damien Cages.
Then suddenly we're surrounded by a gaggle of teenagers, holding out pieces of paper. One kisses me on the cheek.
Okay, how to do this?
I'm going to walk and sign.
Walk and sign.
Pierced-Tit and Diamond Butt Plug aren't with the program yet.
So I lead like a dancer leads.
Left foot forward. Sign. Right foot forward. Sign. Left foot forward. Sign.
Better now. We're developing a rhythm.
Almost out of the security area.
Not like that means anything because outside the security area a new gaggle of teens have formed. Word spreads fast.
Shit, what do I do? Blow past them? Say it's an emergency?
No, I gotta stop. They're my fans.
So I stop.
I can't help it.
After about ten minutes the crowd is so large that airport security moves in.
"Okay, folks, break it up," says one cop. "We have a security issue here."
I see Jason Everton walking toward me. Tall, good-looking black kid with soft features. Tough but effeminate. Weird combination.
But it works. Jason knows how to handle situations.
"Hey!" he shouts. "Mr. Cage cannot sign any more autographs right now."
"Okay, ladies," I say. "I gotta go. Thanks for everything!"
Three girls have broken into Drifting in the Sky, our biggest hit. Reached #3 on the Billboard charts last year. (Fucking pisses me off we didn't make #1. Yet.) Soon it seems like everyone in the terminal is joining in.
Jason effeminately rolls his eyes.
Two cops stand on either side of the escalator that leads down to the lower level, motioning us through. Looks quiet down there, thank God.
Going down the escalator, Pierced-Tit and Diamond Butt Plug flop into me again. Another effeminate eye roll from Jason.
"You have a meeting with Anna," says Jason. "Four p.m., remember?"
"Fuck Anna," I say. "What the fuck does she want to meet about?"
"It's Trent. He's at it again."
"Fuck," I say as the escalator reaches the bottom. I'm about to take my first step forward.
And then I see them.
The eyes.
Big and brown-yellow. Like they're glowing from within.
Surrounded by the most gorgeous face I've ever seen. Black hair with golden highlights. Big thick lips. Delicious nub of a nose. High cheekbones. Dark eyebrows that slant upwards. Light caramel skin.
And... what is that?... could it be?... a flash of intelligence behind those amazing eyes?
I'm instantly hypnotized.
So much so that I completely miss her fist as it slams hard into my face.
Pow!
I sway backwards, my arms splaying. My head hits the cold tile of the terminal floor.
I told you.
She knocked me out cold the first time I saw her.
I wasn't kidding.
* * *
Seven Dirty Sins releases on September 2, 2014! Look for it at all major online retailers.
* * *
Thank you for reading. Please take a moment to write a review at the site from which you downloaded this book. I appreciate and encourage feedback!
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Also by Skylar Cross:
Indecent (The Cage Sessions Book 1)
Depraved (The Cage Sessions Book 2)
Sinful (The Cage Sessions Book 3)
Controlled by His Voice
Mastered by His Touch
Also by Skylar Cross, writing as Taylor Shade:
Eyes
Lips
Also by Skylar Cross, writing as Adriana Cruz:
Wanda Awakened
Devoured
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