by Gina Whitney
“I need a nap,” Jake said, yawning and covering his mouth with his hand. Ender gave him the thumbs-up. They were out. I looked at Woody, who looked indifferent. I stood up, grabbed my phone, and started toward the door.
“Why don’t we hook up at 2:00?” I counter-proposed. “Meet at the studio. I could use some eats though. Dave? You in?” I threw my chin at him, waiting for his reply. He was a typical redneck—always up for food and beer. Thank God Colorado didn’t have a demand for boiled peanuts. Garlic or hot sauce were his two favorite flavors. And that shit stunk up the place. We kicked him off the tour bus two months ago; made him ride with the roadies. We were all gagging at the noxious smell those peanuts gave off.
“I already said I wanted to eat. So, obviously I’m in,” Dave answered, then went back to texting. He was addicted to our Facebook fan page. In fact, he answered a majority of the questions fans asked when we were gigging or rehearsing. He was our official social media stalker.
“Ok, I’m out. Later.” I walked past them, readying the elevator for exodus. As I waited, I made sure my eyes made contact with Gia’s. I didn’t need words. What I needed didn’t need verbal justification, my eyes conveyed my message. For a few heartbeats, our eyes danced seductively, hinting at erotic things to come. My posture was pensive. I was suddenly fighting a hard-on again. I wanted to spank that sweet, tight ass of hers for doing that to me. She had the nerve to wink at me. Oh, this chick was going to get a nice spanking in the future. And I’ll enjoy watching my handprint blossoming on her ass …
My attention was derailed as the boys approached raucously. Ender grabbed Woody in a headlock. The elevator came. We all stepped in. I hit lower level. Ender blew Gia a kiss, and then the donkey kicked me after.
“What the fuck, man?” I pushed him against the elevator wall. Woody and Jake got between us before fists started flying. We loved each other completely. But we also frequently got on each other’s nerves. That led to a whole lot of punching and posturing.
“Bollo,” Ender spat, trying to break free.
“Go fuck yourself, esse,” I cursed back.
“Puto, I’m not Mexican, asshole. I’m from Spain,” he corrected.
“You’ve been an asshole all morning. What’s your deal?” I asked. Oh, I knew this was just his alpha macho shit. Everything with him was a competition. Who had more allure? What the fuck ever, already. Get over yourself. I needed to count to motherfuckin’ ten or he was going to eat my fist. One of my many therapists over the years suggested this technique for managing my anger issues. I disagreed that I had issues. I was just surrounded by assholes.
“Lads, I’ll break your faces if ye no’ stop acting the cunting maggot. You little fuckin’ arsehole cunts,” Woody shouted. This wasn’t a rare comment for Woody. In Ireland, they called everyone cunts. It’s almost a term of endearment. But we all loved hearing it, and so we cracked up laughing. And that’s how most of our arguments always ended—in laughter. We needed this reprieve—even if it only lasted a few minutes. It lightened up the vibe considerably.
The elevator door opened and everybody took off except for Dave and me. We hoofed it over to the diner to fill our bellies and talk of our impending festival dates later in the month. While he talked, I fantasized about Gia. There was something about her. Something that made me itchy. It annoyed me. Either way, I needed to scratch that itch. I would soon find out I should have left that itch alone—should never have scratched it, should have just fucking ignored it. But there was no leaving her alone. I had the feeling she and I would always have unfinished business. We were made to be broken. I’ve since come to realize this, but I still can’t accept it. Over the next few weeks, despite my denials, I made a habit of grabbing an extra non-fat latte with two extra shots of espresso for a certain someone every morning. My old man was in trial over the next few weeks. So, that meant he wasn’t in the office most mornings. That lined up perfectly for our sunrise dates. I never woke up early for any chick—ever. Gia was magnetic—dangerously so. That was the only word to describe her. She drew me in with her essence, coiling around my core with enough torque to destroy me on a molecular level. That was some fucked-up deep shit—the type of shit you can’t even explain to a dude. Not unless I wanted said dude to commit me to a mental hospital. A man knew these things. Men knew when they were done for. I knew as soon as I tasted her pussy, there would be no going back.
Gia wasn’t your usual stateside fan-girl. We all had those in every state. She was the type of girl you wanted to be your girl. She tried to act like a badass chick. But she wasn’t. She was pure. Pure to the acts I wanted to involve her in. To the world I’d ask her to be a part of. That pureness fed the beast. The beast didn’t want to court anyone. Didn’t want to go slow. He wanted her bound and screaming. Normally, I didn’t do Lilly White chicks. Hated them, in fact. Didn’t take on new subs. I never had to. Never wanted to. She made me want to. I wanted to spend the time it would take to do so. However, I was conflicted about that, too. Being someone’s first—of anything—was an emotional suicide. There’s no getting around that. Especially with chicks. First kisses, first loves, and first fucks were all complications. I didn’t do complications. Bottom line: Gia was bad news—trouble. But her smile did me the fuck in. Her smile lit up my shit brighter than Aurora Borealis. It did things to me. Had me thinking fucked-up romantic shit. On the other hand, I was writing the best music I had written in a real long time. I’d found my muse, my sub, my soul.
I was feeling electrified, stimulated, and alive for the first time since I could remember. I had purpose. A goal. And God willing, I would achieve it with open arms. Especially if those arms were Abel Gunner’s. Abel had been bringing me coffee every morning, which had me swooning big time. My body pulsed with excitement, so much so, I could barely sleep at night.
I watched him move to the elevator, as he departed his father’s office. He looked into my eyes, and in his, I saw deep desire with a hint of menace. I wanted to sign up for it ASAP. Damn, that boy was some fine, grade-A man candy. His probing gaze never faltered. My insistent eyes were up for the challenge. I wasn’t going to blink first. I let my eyes peruse his body slowly, thoroughly … I smiled and winked before his band mates found their way to the elevator. Then our moment was gone. As they stepped inside, Ender’s voice rang out as he shouted his goodbye, sealed with an air-kiss. I responded with a smile and a wave, not wanting the sound of my voice to linger on Abel’s ears. I wanted to leave the words unspoken between us. I was looking forward to the weekend’s festival, mainly because I would be running into him. Abel would be front and center for my private concert dwelling within my subconscious. This attraction was undeniable, and most definitely unavoidable. And I wanted to take nasty to a whole new level. Game on!
“Damn, Gia. That was some serious eye fucking right there, babe,” Cindy observed, inching her chair closer to mine. She had a cautious smile on her face. She loved a gorgeous man just as much as the next woman, but as my best friend, she wasn’t supportive of my plans concerning Abel. Since Mama Lioness was in the house, I decided I wouldn’t be as forthcoming as I normally was. She would be on a need-to-know basis in regards to any of my future endeavors concerning Abel. Her unwanted opinions would drive a wedge when there was no need for one.
“Yep, he has been properly eye-fucked by yours truly. There will be no confusion as to what I want,” I said confidently, smiling in amusement. She leaned in awkwardly, giving me a one-handed hug.
“Babe, you know I just want the best for you, right? I’m protective of you. And I’m especially protective of your heart. That boy there is dangerous, Gia. Please just promise me you’ll be careful.” I wrapped my arms around her and nodded in the affirmative. Her heart was in the right place. But I was driven by certain needs—and it wasn’t my heart I was worried about.
“Of course, chick, I know. And I appreciate your concern—more than you know.” I kissed her cheek and gave her a final squeeze before disengaging fr
om our embrace.
The day went by without incident. It was quite boring after the interesting morning I’d had. I got my paycheck, headed to the bank, then home. Eager to file the day away, I moved to the next task at hand: to plot the next four days’ worth of vixen couture. My attire needed to be both thought- and boner-provoking. The floor of my room quickly became a mess of clothes and shoes. I needed something jaw-dropping that would get me past eye-fuckery and into the paint. Yeah, I’d go hard in the paint for this man. I fell asleep amongst the piles of fuck-no’s, eh-maybe’s and hell-yeses. Cindy’s gentle voice brought me back to the land of the living.
“You ok? You slept on the floor all night? WTF?” she shot at me. I attempted to stretch. Damn, I had slept through a dreamless night. I hate when I don’t dream, or when I can’t remember them.
“Apparently so! I guess I was more exhausted than I thought.” I sat up, groaning. I wanted to go back to sleep, but it was Friday morning, and that meant a few hours of work followed by a weekend of getting down and dirty—with any luck.
“Cin, bring some coffee, please. I need a swig before I can even shower. I’m still that tired, dude. Please?” I begged. I had zero energy—not to mention, my neck was stiff. Hopefully a hot shower would remedy that. I had to be kink-free for this weekend. Walking around with a stiff neck is not a good look. The last thing I needed was to look like C-3PO.
“No prob, baby girl. Get your ass in the bathroom and into the shower. I’ll bring it in there. You don’t have all morning to lay around. Got to get ready. I want to start this day already. I’m pretty psyched for tonight, myself.”
She smiled widely, extending her hand to help me from the floor. Thankful for her help, I slowly found my way into the bathroom, then put the shower stream on full-blast. Cin returned with my coffee. I took it in the shower with me. Yes, I drink coffee in the shower. I also drink wine in the shower. It relaxes me. And I use my favorite woodsy, male body wash—another defect in me. I loved men, loved their scent. So much so, I bathed and deodorized in it. I relished the scent caressing my body, while it provided some much-needed aroma therapy throughout the day. It didn’t take very long to be in a vivid and hot daydream. That morning’s was a real doozy, even for me. But, daydreams were a part of my life. They were how I worked things out. Often times, I found peace and happiness there. Who would begrudge me that?
Ok, back to him. His hands found their way to my ass, roughly lifting me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his trim waist to balance myself. He leaned into the wall for leverage, gripping my cheeks and spreading me for entry. He pushed me against the shower wall to open my legs wider while spreading my ass cheeks with his hands, prying them open. He positioned his hard dick at my opening. I rolled my hips in invitation. He licked his lips, turned on by my gesture. He entered my channel in one rough thrust until his balls were flush against my ass. He allowed me a moment of adjustment before starting the endless waves of deep, rolling thrusts.
“My cock belongs in you—longs, aches for you, my balls kissing your ass, my piercing kissing your cervix. I’m home with you,” he sang his filthy words into my ear in the sing-song way that was undeniably Abel. The filthier he was, the wetter I became. He rubbed my nub like he was playing his favorite song. A song he wrote especially for me. A song only he knew the words to. He was an expert in all things Gia. And when it came to my body, he knew it better than I did.
“Gonna get rough, babe. Lock your ankles together and hold the fuck on. I’m not stopping for anything.” His gruff voice had me at “rough”; my brain was mush. Whatever the fuck he said was of no consequence, just as long as he continued his brutal assault. I had no words. I couldn’t formulate anything articulate. Thoughts swirled around the empty space inside my cranium. I couldn’t latch on to a single one. I shook my head, desperately trying to free up a notion. Anything. I was officially lost in this man.
“Gonna come deep in this pretty cunt of yours. Leave you with something of mine. I want to see it drip down your legs.” His decadently sexy voice spoke words of possession in my ear. He pushed his weight into me, leaning me against the wall. With his freed-up hand, he wrapped it around my throat, applying pressure. He loved it when I screamed his name. But the air was barely making its way into my mouth. My voice wouldn’t sing his praises. Instead, he got something more valuable—my complete submission. My clit throbbed as my pussy fisted his cock. Blackness softened around the edges of my vision. My legs started to quake. He removed his head from the crook of my neck to look me dead in the eyes. Tearing up, I quirked a smirk. His eyes glazed over. He knew I was ok. It was our signal. I couldn’t be a wiseass if he was being too rough.
“Oh fuck! Uh … Gia. What the fuck are you doing to me?” He rode out his orgasm, long and hard, as I whimpered mine. Christ, what was I doing to him? This beast of a man kissed me ardently, grabbing my face with both hands while pinning me to the wall with his chest. I accepted his delectable tongue, opening fully for him to explore, our tongues doing an erotic dance of passion, his teeth gnashing against mine. We were both fighting to hold on to the moment a little longer. I could feel him getting wickedly hard again. I wiggled. He smirked, gently putting me down.
He grabbed the soap to wash me—another act of adulation. It gave him great pleasure to bathe me, shampoo me, and dry me off. Taking care of me was his first concern. He was grateful for my submission. His gratitude squeezed my heart. I wanted to submit all over again.
“Gia, there will be no hot water left. What the fuck?” Cindy yelled through the door. That was the best daydream yet of him. With my hands braced against the shower wall and my head leaning on the cool tiles, I needed the feel of something tied to this earth—something real. The ghost of Abel was already haunting me, seducing my mind, squeezing my heart.
“Yep, just getting out, babe. Give me a minute. I’ll be right out.” I bit my lip, needing the sting of pain to feel alive. My feet firmly on the ground, I got ready quickly and headed to work.
Cindy and I shared a light lunch. We felt much like little kids, bursting with joy and excitement. It was a relatively quiet day—thankfully. My head was not into work. I was flying with the clouds, my feet never touching the ground. I was high on Abel. By the time five o’clock rolled around, we were punch-drunk and laughing hysterically. I begged Cindy to stop at Starbucks for a quad of espresso. She passed on the coffee, opting for a smart water instead. I needed caffeine.
We pulled into the lot of our building. We lived in a nice part of town. The rent was a little more than we could afford separately. So, rooming together was a no-brainer. It was your standard two-bedroom. Nothing to write home about. It was respectable and I was proud to call it home. The furnishings came compliments of Ikea. We picked out modern art, deco-style pieces to show our unique taste. The walls were painted a rich rust and went perfectly with the artwork I had selected.
None of it was to my mother’s taste, and since she absolutely hated leaving her gated community, there was little chance she would be visiting—which suited me just fine. By no stretch was there any love lost between us. For the most part, we were at each other’s throats. People assumed because of her alluring smile and natural beauty, she was a warm, caring mother. But there was nothing natural about her. It was all an act. A very public act. Behind closed doors, she was an abusive, manipulative, controlling, demonic Jezebel. My greatest fear was stepping into her shoes without thinking—becoming her …
They say you’re a product of your environment. My environment was tolerable, only because I escaped it inside my head by turning my pain into laughter and sarcasm. Only another fucked-up person would be able to see through my veil—my mask. And those people were few and far between. My days consisted of pushing the pain and ugliness behind the closed doors of my mind, sweeping them into neat little piles and shoving them inside, locking them away. If I got lucky, they would never surface again. But my past told me that I would never, ever, get that lucky.
Cindy
came out of the bathroom dressed to kill. She was wearing a black leather mini-skirt paired with a silver, backless, lamé top. Her black five-inch heels finished her look epically.
“Damn, you look kick-ass, chica.” I let out a low whistle. She blushed, but smiled brightly. She had bought this outfit for last New Year’s Eve, but never got the chance to wear it. She got the flu instead.
“Ooh ooh, I want you to wear my Cartier bracelets. The silver and gold will be a nice contrast,” I called out over my shoulder as I walked into my room. They were my mother’s. She had begrudgingly given them to me, because she couldn’t stand the gold-plated bangles I loved. Bitch.
“Thank you, Gia. I would’ve never thought to ask,” she said, playing with them on her wrist.
“Ok, my makeup’s done. Give me a minute to get dressed.” I went to get my clothes hanging perfectly on the hanger. Stripping my tank top and shorts off, I put on a nude lycra/spandex, thigh-high mini dress. The front and back were cut very low. The nude color gave the illusion I was wasn’t wearing anything. This dress was entirely too much for this venue. I was overdressed, but ask me if I cared. I needed to close the deal tonight with Abel. And sure as fuck, this dress would seal it. I bent over the mirror to apply one final coat of gloss. Perfect. Grabbing my bag, I left my bedroom for the big reveal, not caring what Cindy might think about my choice of clothing. Life was about decisions. And I was deciding to look jaw-dropping, mouth-watering, boner-inducing, drop-dead gorgeous.
“Christ on the cross!” She patted her heart, fanning herself obnoxiously. “Hun, I think I have a lady-boner.” We both laughed at her theatrics. “Seriously G, I need a panty-liner if I’m going to be next to you all night in that.” She motioned her index finger up and down.
“Deal with it, babe.” I laughed. “All kidding aside, let’s hit it. We still have to get our tickets from the ‘will call’ window.” I grabbed my keys and proceeded to the door. Luckily for her, she was right behind me, because I would’ve left her ass. She had a nasty habit of walking slow. But I had a quick gait, so she was always ten steps behind me. We would end up fighting. I was always walking too fast. However, if you asked me, she was always walking too slow.
