Rocker Series

by Gina Whitney

  The boys made their way to our favorite lunch spot while I hung back. They refrained from commenting, but the sideways glances were plain to see. Just as well. I didn’t really feel like sharing. It was none of their business. Ender would be the first to argue that point. Anything to do with a member of the band, personal or otherwise, was band business. As per my rules. Which was why he strutted in there like a peacock that morning. He, Jake, and I had some heated words in the mastering suite. Until I had control of my temper, I couldn’t speak to him. Brother or no brother. Band or no band. That was basic fundamentals. She was fucking mine. He knew that, and he fucked around regardless. He needed to be kept away from me for the day. I would find my way to him when I was ready. The studio wasn’t the place for fighting. However, he and I were going to sort this shit out one way or another before the end of the day. Dave was in the booth keeping a watchful eye. Feelings: that word I had true distain for. There was no way around it, though. I was feeling something for this chick. She had become my muse. And because of that, I rocked it hard that day. Wrote some great tunes.

  “You writing again, dude?” Ender entered the studio sucking a blow-pop. What was it with him and lollipops? Some kind of oral fixation. Chicks dug it, but I thought it was a punk move. I didn’t need props to gain attention from the babes. He insisted Dave keep a bag of them around the studio.

  “Is that what you really want to ask? Am I writing? Are you going to start this convo insulting my intelligence? Really, bro?” I uncrossed my knee, moving to my feet quickly, my fists balled at my side.

  “Yo, dude. Chill the fuck out. I’m not looking to insult you. I was honestly asking. You’ve been struggling these past few months. I was happy to see you with your journal today. That’s all I meant.” He was holding his hands up defensively, yet his eyes never wavered. “I want to apologize for last night. I meant no disrespect, bro. Truth.” He pounded his chest, his stance pensive.

  “And you know damn fucking why I’ve been blocked. That cunt Morgana playing media games with my life. I can’t write when my heads in a bad space. Besides Gia, I haven’t had proper time to get my shit off. And you meant no disrespect? What would you call grinding your dick on my girl’s ass?” I stepped forward.

  “Your girl?” He laughed, stepping forward. “Now she’s your girl? Since the fuck when?” We were nose to nose, eye to eye, neither of us wavering.

  “Hey! Back the fuck off, both of you,” Dave broke in, his cigarette ash hanging long from the side of his mouth. “You break any of this studio-owned equipment and you pay for it. You break each other—you live with it.”

  “That’s right, esse. I stuck my cock in her, which makes her mine,” I said, grabbing my cock.

  “Dude, I didn’t know you fucked her. I must be on your pay-no-mind list. Did you tell me? How would I possibly know you laid claim to her? Was I hanging with you guys? Did I partake in a threesome I don’t recall? No!” he stated flatly, rolling his eyes.

  No one moved. Dave’s ash still hung long from his cigarette. The smoke was annoying me. The tension was thick. Testosterone had both of us amped up. We didn’t distrust each other. However, this fucker was always being an asshole. Though it was funny and shit.

  Dude, seriously.” He extended his hand. I waited a beat, still staring warily at him.

  Finally, I extended my hand. He pulled me into an Ender man-hug, kissing my face. A weight lifted. Forgiveness was a beautiful thing. I didn’t easily forgive, but then again, Ender had never given me a reason not to trust him. And I hoped he never would.

  Woody and Jake filed in, arguing over what the next single on the album should be. And just like that, we were one again and back to making music. Ender lingered with his arm around my neck a bit longer than necessary. But, that was Ender. Very touchy-feely. Maybe I’d be different if I had grown up in a warm, loving home, full of passion for life. My home was filled with superficialities and false niceties. Being born with a silver spoon in your mouth made for a lonely, isolated existence. Music made me feel alive. Fucking made me feel alive. Eating pussy made me feel alive. I was finally waking up. The beast within me was waking, and needed to be fed. My nourishment was a delicious Italian girl with a pussy that called to me.

  “You twats chill?” Woody wrapped one arm around each of us. “Who wants to get pissed?” he asked with a lazy tongue.

  “Did you have a liquid lunch, Wood?” I asked, cracking a smile.

  “Don’t be a chancer, Abel. You two sorted?” A sluggish smile pulled at the corner of his lips. His eyes were glassy. But Woody could hold his liquor just fine. He was enjoying the festival revelries this weekend. He was one big party, most days. An event like the festival was like spring break for Wood.

  “We’re sorted, esse.” Ender kissed Woody’s cheek. Only Ender could get away with that shit. Woody was a homophobe.

  “You’ve got some fanny balls, Ender.” Woody laughed as he walked back to his kit, twirling his sticks between his fingers. Jake put his guitar strap over his head. The boys were ready to jam.

  The studio was our sanctuary from life. We loved expressing ourselves through our music. We spoke to each other through our rifts, vocals, and beats. That night, on the second day of the festival, the massive crowd of fans would be all the high we would need. Fame was a blessing that had been bestowed upon us, and for that, I was grateful. We all were. Most musicians never see the success we had achieved. And it didn’t come to us by accident. My name was my cross to bear. I’m sure the guys didn’t see it that way, but I sure did. I lived it. I was gifted with the last name Gunner. With that came certain obligations—one of which was to be successful. The other big one was to preserve my father’s legacy. His behind-the-scenes string-pulling had landed us a platinum record deal. He was a manipulative, cunning fucker. Transparent as the day is long … at least to me. This kind of shit didn’t happen to struggling musicians. Even though we were gifted musicians, we had been given a break. Dave thought he was the goose that laid the golden egg when we were offered such a sweet deal. He beat his chest proudly. Truth be told, the deal was most likely negotiated behind closed doors in my family-owned building. My father didn’t want a musical artist for a son. It was bad enough that I was a wild, tatted, and pierced mess. But imagine a Gunner being a struggling one, at that? Made me sick what an un-accepting elitist he was …

  I was just starting to warm up my vocals when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Smiling, I dug it out, hoping it was Gia. I wanted to meet up with her before the show that night.

  But it was Dad. The text in all caps, WILL YOU ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE, ABEL!

  I’d been ignoring his calls as of late. My father only reached out when he wanted me to do something, or if I had done something that would reflect poorly on the family. In either case, I didn’t want to hear it. Ignoring him was really an incredibly bad idea. He would come looking for me. Most likely embarrassing the fuck out of me. At that thought, I stiffened, and not in the way I wanted, either. It was not good. But, I didn’t give a fuck. I was tired of his constant tampering in my life. My younger years had been fraught with doubt, insecurity, and self-loathing. Back then, my life meant nothing to me. If I lived or died meant zero. I preferred washing pills down with alcohol over my home life. My friends, of course, didn’t get it. To those who didn’t have money, having it was the solution for every problem. Death was my solution—legacy be damned. Death would be the final fuck-you to my father. However, it was music that saved me. My boys saved my life. They knew it, too. My frankness about it left them unnerved. Music was everything to me; it was my salvation. I was grateful to have been blessed with these guys. I had so much to live for. I had learned controlled self-reliance. As long as I was in control, I was at peace. The body I had was tuned to perfection. When I had anything heavy to deal with, I did so with carnal desire. I took what was mine. What I’d earned. Simple brute fucking kept my head straight. Being a Dominant—having that control to do whatever I wanted to with my partne
r, whenever I wanted—got my rocks off like nothing else.

  Speaking of getting off, I wanted some play time with Beauty before we went on stage. And then afterward, I would need another fix.

  So, I texted Gia: Beauty, I’ll be by at 4:00 to pick you up. Pack a bag for the rest of the weekend.

  Shortly, she replied: Caveman much? LOL! See you soon. Xx

  I came back: You haven’t touched yourself today, have you? I’m the only one who has that privilege.

  She was ready for me: I can still feel you. Besides, it feels so much better when you do it. ;) I’m putting together an Abel survival pack.

  I was a bit confused: ?

  She explained: Ice packs, icy-hot soothing gel, pain killers, Devil’s claw, Fireball, Kind bar, and EOS(lips) *giggle*

  Now I got it: LMFAO! Devil’s claw and Fireball? Sounds more like a sci-fi flick. I should get a patent on this, stat! See you soon, babe.

  She had the ability to make that hollow feeling in my chest disappear. My world seemed lighter around her. I was looking forward to being with her. She didn’t know it yet, but we were all going to eat before the concert at Finns, a local ribs, pulled pork, and brew place we loved to kick back in. It was down-to-earth and chill. Perfect spot to ease her into the chaotic world of touring. A few weeks after the festival, we would be going back out on tour and heading to Europe. I wanted her to go with me. I didn’t want to be on the road without her. She would come with me; it was that simple. I was sure my old man would have a few choice words for me. But fuck him. She was mine. No one would take her from me. Especially my old man.

  I decided to take my bike. I couldn’t live my life in a bubble created by the paps. It was a gorgeous day out. There was a chill in the air, but the sun was shining brightly. Perfect tee-shirt and leather jacket weather. My leathers I wore while riding exuded rock star appeal. And I did enjoy being a rock star. Fuck, yeah!

  My driver was going to pick up Gia’s bags while I was gigging. Right now all I wanted was her delicate arms wrapped around me, her heat against my back. Life sure was a bitch. Why did I feel like some romantic asshole I usually made fun of? That’s Karma for you.

  I pulled into the Terrace apartment’s driveway, expecting to wait for Gia. I was surprised to see her waiting just outside the vestibule, ready to jump on. Her gorgeous full lips begging to be kissed. Not wanting to wait another minute to feel them, I grabbed the back of her neck, drawing her to me. Pushing my tongue deep into her mouth, I could feel her sigh. She relaxed into me, taking everything I had to give.

  “Mmm, so fucking good, Beauty,” I murmured, almost unintelligibly. Licking and nibbling her lush lips. Which made my cock press painfully against my zipper. I had to withdraw from her embrace to adjust myself.

  “Oh my God! You really are a caveman.” She slapped my hand away from my dick. “Damn, I have neighbors, rock star. I’m sure millions of women would love to see that make the cover of one of the celeb magazines. Abel Gunner adjusting his anaconda on his Harley.”

  We both laughed. That would be pretty epic. Paps had tried to pay many of my paramours for an exclusive picture of my tatted, pierced cock. I don’t let chicks take any pictures of me—ever. Let the elusive anaconda stay exclusive to intimate settings.

  The helmet I had bought Gia looked fucking hot on her. Her chocolate eyes were wide as saucers with want, and need—for me. The look of adoration she was giving me did nothing to ease my painful hard-on.

  “Hop on, Beauty. You keep looking at me we’ll never make it out of here.” I helped her balance herself as she swung her leg over the seat. I swore under my breath when her hot box pressed up against me as she wrapped her arms around my waist.

  “I’m not wearing panties, babe. Aren’t I such a good listener?” she whispered.

  “Fuck, Beauty.” I grabbed my dick really hard, trying to strangle it into submission. The fucker had a mind of its own. With no relief in sight, I needed a plan B. I checked the time; we had forty-five minutes until I was scheduled to meet up with the crew. Where could I pull off to for some privacy? Her hands were already underneath my tee-shirt. Christ Almighty, this chick was killing me.

  “Hold on, babe.” I revved the bike. The exhaust was loud. The chrome screamed sex. I wanted sex. It was a carnal pleasure-seeking motor vehicle. I needed my Gia pussy fix—now. My cock was a heat-seeking motherfucking missile. Her pussy was its target. We weaved between traffic, her nails biting into my stomach. I pressed my hand over hers to calm her.

  “Put your goddamned hand on the handle bar, jackass. I’m not trying to become road kill!” she yelled in my ear, nearly losing it.

  “I got this, babe. Relax. Not the first time I’ve ridden a bike, Beauty. You’re good with me.”

  My tone soothed her until she relaxed her weight onto me. Her statement had me laughing really fucking hard. She had fucking balls, talking to me like that. She was comfortable. Normally, that had me running the opposite way. You let a chick get chill with you, and before you know it, you’re dealing with incessant nagging and ultimatums. Not my idea of a good time. Fuck that drama.

  The state park was off the next exit. I took it, my cock thickening just thinking of her pussy. Forget about the smell of it. I’d blow my load for sure. The park was crowded with Wall-Street-Journal-reading executive geek families. Not my usual haunt. But I was desperate to tear that pussy up. Taking the next left through the parking lot, I drove toward an isolated parking area. Bingo. I rode over the grass to park next to a cinder block building. There were chains on the entry doors. That was my cue that it was unoccupied. I turned the bike off and took off my helmet, running my fingers through my sweaty hair. Gia used my shoulders to balance herself while getting off. I turned to help her, when all of a sudden she slapped my arm—hard.

  “Are you a crazy, motherfucker? Answer me? If you think I’m getting on that death machine ever again, you can kiss my ass, Abel.” She slapped my arm again while yelling. Her face was white as a ghost. Oh shit, she was terrified. I needed to diffuse this shit, now. This was not how I had intended this to turn out.

  “Come here, Gia,” I called, extending my hand. She stared at it like I had leprosy. I didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

  “Come here, Gia.” I nodded for her to take my hand. She took it warily. “Come here, baby girl.”

  I lifted her from underneath her arms until she was astride me. “Listen here, Beauty. I would never put you in harm’s way. I’m sorry I scared you. I can assure you that was not my intention. And yes, I am a crazy motherfucker. Crazy motherfucker for that pussy of yours. That’s what’s got me all knotted up. Feel this…”

  I lifted my tee-shirt so she could see my piercing sticking clear out of my jeans. Now, that was some crazy shit. She moistened her lips, her eyes fascinated on the pre-come beading on the slit of my head. She looked up. Our eyes connected in a silent, heated battle. Her pupils dilated and turned darker.

  “Forgiven.” She leaned in, kissing me like she owned me. Maybe she did. Maybe for the first time in my life, I wanted to be owned by someone—by her. She melted into me while her thumb swirled, playing with the juice on the head of my cock. My body was fraught with pent-up sexual tension. Explosion was imminent.

  “Babe, I’m going to make a big mess of myself if we don’t take a walk right the fuck now,” I said, helping her off my bike as she giggled. I grabbed a blanket from my saddlebag. I took her hand in mine as we walked. If I could have carried her into the woods running—I would’ve. But I needed to chill. She had already called me a caveman and a crazy motherfucker. My behavior wasn’t exactly screaming chill. I was acting like a crazy, caveman motherfucker. Biting my lip to the point of bleeding pain in order to stop the obsessive emotions I was experiencing, I wondered if one of the guys was fucking with my dosage again. After the last meltdown, you’d think not. But they were assholes sometimes—well, most times.

  I walked us over to a beautiful, blooming tree. I shook out the blanket, straightening t
he edges. I turned to Gia to strip her bare ass, but was met by a face filled with pain. Those beautiful brown, bedroom eyes were welling up with tears. What in the fuck? What could I have possibly done now?

  “It’s not you, it’s me. That sounds so cliché. What I mean to say…” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “What I mean to say is … you’re so perfect, Abel. We’ve only just met. You’ve showed me more affection than …”

  She cleared her throat. I moved to her, grabbing her chin. I wanted to look into those eyes. I needed to look into those eyes.

  “What’s not to adore, Beauty? Huh? Why the tears? Who did this to you, babe?” I wanted to know, needed to know. I demanded to know.

  She shot me an indecisive look as she stiffened. Not a good sign. I knew when someone was keeping a secret. And she was definitely keeping one. She had all the signs. Something or someone was making Gia suffer. That was for fucking sure. I was conflicted. Part of me wanted to know—but part of me didn’t. So I did what I do best, what my body was built for. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb, I brought it to my lips to taste her. Fuck, even her tears tasted sweet. Staring into her eyes, I ran my fingers through her hair, grabbing a tight handful and tugging her head down. Her nipples hardened. Her pupils were ebony pools. She unbuttoned my pants, hooking her dainty fingers in my waistband, watching me the whole time. She yanked them down. Without hesitation, she bent over and drew the head of my cock into her warm, wet mouth, making tiny lip movements over the piercing on my head.

  “Fuck, Beauty,” I growled. “What are you doing to me?” That was less of a question and more of a plea. Her purring on my cock was going to get her a mouthful of come any second. A shudder rolled up from my toes through the base of my spine. Lacing my fingers through her hair, I started to fuck her mouth.

  “Beauty, you keep sucking like that, I’m gonna give you something to swallow real soon.” She made a ravenous little slurping sound that set my shit off like Grucci fireworks. I came hard and fast. She swallowed my whole load. Damn, if that didn’t make me fall just a little bit more. Fuck me. She looked up at me with those sinful eyes, licking her lips like my shit was the tastiest shit she had ever had. Yeah, she was my girl.