Rocker Series

by Gina Whitney

  “Dude, you need to be chill. The photogs are around. You can’t spill that shit out for everybody to see,” Jake said, resting his arm across my shoulders. I looked back at his arm and growled. He removed it, frowning. “I’m just looking out for you, Abel. No need to be a prick about it,” he said sincerely.

  I realized he meant it. I just didn’t give a fuck about anything at that point. I needed numbness to find me. I needed to zone out and party for a bit. No harm, no foul. The guys moved to my sides, forming a wall. They didn’t like what I was doing, how I was acting, but they didn’t want me to completely fuck up our public image, either. Rock and Roll was stigmatized by drugs. We partied hard. However, we kept it on the down-low. Getting drunk was one thing, almost expected. Chopping lines in the middle of a club was another. Whatever.

  Dave had been busy texting someone for the last 20 minutes—no doubt something to do with getting me out of there. When millions were on the line, people sat up, taking notice. I was the face, the brand name of the band. My dudes were gifted, no doubt. However, I was the one who worked the magic on the crowd. Dave placed his phone carefully on the table, watching me intently. I offered him my straw. He declined, as I knew he would.

  I snorted two healthy-sized lines and grabbed the bottle of JD off the table. My phone in hand, I waited, scanning the crowd for her. She knew we were there. Maybe she’d come, and give me a chance to explain. I was playing with my lip ring when all at once, Woody slammed his fist on the table and jumped to his feet. What in the fuck. I got up on my feet, too.

  “Fuck me!” he roared, pointing to the back bar on the other side. My eyes followed his finger.

  “Motherfucker!” I bellowed. Sure enough, Ender was rubbing Gia’s back while she was wrapped up tightly in his arms. Cindy was doing a shot with one of Ender’s boys from back home that he occasionally flew out. The bouncers moved toward us, looking for signs of trouble. We were roped off in the VIP section.

  “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Gunner?” the bald fuck asked.

  “The motherfucking problem is, my friend has my girl wrapped up in his arms. Now, he has me as a fucking problem!” I yelled, while Dave and Jake tried to hold me back. We were causing a big enough scene that people started to take notice. “How many fucking times do I have to warn this prick? How many?” I asked Woody, then turned to Jake. They said not a word. Their silence told me they acknowledged my rage and agreed that I had a right to it. Ender was asking for it. He not only had Gia, but Cindy, too—which meant he had left the venue with them. My mind was processing those thoughts before my mouth could utter them. When I realized what was up, my rage multiplied ten-fold. I cracked my knuckles and neck, ready to kick some motherfucking Spanish Lothario ass.

  “Don’t call my old man to bail me out. You call Chance. Got it?” I told Dave. He nodded.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come it that, dude.” He grabbed my arm. “Not that I don’t think he deserves some shit for acting like a jerkoff.” I got him loud and clear. Kick his ass, but don’t kill him, don’t break up the band. I was always thinking of the band. This all came down to respect. He was disrespecting me with Gia. He very well knew this girl was under my skin. So what does he do? He fucks with me, through her.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea. That’s fucking right: move the fuck out of my way before I run your asses down. I took long, assured strides across the lounge. Cindy’s eyes were wide with fear. She tapped Gia’s arm. Gia started backing up, with fear in her eyes, too. Ender had his hands in the air trying to deflect my rage. There was no deflecting it. He needed to take it like the scumbag he was. I had warned him.

  “It’s not what you think, bro,” he said, backing up against the bar. Now he was corralled. His friend hurriedly pushed the girls out of the way. At least someone had a brain. He knew Ender was gonna get his ass handed to him. The music stopped. People hushed one another. This would surely make the papers tomorrow. It always did. Fuck it. I had a point to make. It was time to drive the point home.

  “Dude, I swear to fuck I didn’t lay a hand on her. It’s not like that,” he pleaded. My first punch had him doubled over, fighting for air. The second punch had his head hitting the bar top. Security, along with my mates, jumped in. Ender was hunched over with one arm wrapped around his stomach, and the other hand massaging his jaw.

  “You feel better now?” he huffed. “I’m not going to fucking hit you back. You’re my boy. I wouldn’t do that shit to you.” He straightened his pose, pushing his chest out. There’s the Lathario. The motherfucking peacock was going to get all chesty on me. He had a reputation to uphold. There’s no fucking way he’d look like a pussy in front of people.

  “She. Is. Mine. You don’t ever put your filthy fucking hands on what’s mine. Ever,” I growled in his face. “If I see you do it again, I will fucking kill and dismember you. I swear to fuck, I will.” I stepped up to him, driving my point into his thick, Spanish skull. I meant every word I had said. I would fucking kill the bastard—I would kill anyone who dared to lay a finger on her.

  “I know, I know,” he surrendered. Imagine that: Surrender surrendering. Never thought I’d see the day. Must’ve been a cold day in hell. His eyes never left mine, never hesitating, never blinking. My mind was contaminated with coke. My senses were heightened. My mind was on overdrive. So when Gia turned to run, I was on her quicker than a hooker could drop her panties.

  “I don’t think so, Beauty,” I said, throwing her over my shoulder. Fuck that shit.

  “Let me down, you skizzy, pervy caveman!” she bellowed, pounding my back with her fists. Cindy moved in front of me, waving her hands like a crossing guard.

  “Cindy, I love you, but I will mow your ass down.” I kept walking past her, back to the VIP area. She frowned, moving out of my way. That was a relief. I didn’t need two pissed-off women to deal with. I looked ahead to see Dave wiping the table off with a bar rag. My man! He always had my back. He was always protecting me. I appreciated that, big-time. For that, he deserved a raise. I decided I’d have a talk with him tomorrow about that. Jake stayed with Ender. While Woody, Dave, and the girls were in VIP, I lowered Gia gently to a standing position. She kept spewing venom from her lips. I asked everyone to leave us for a few minutes. I needed to remedy what had happened—or what she thought had happened at the after-party.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind? Why would you attack your best friend? Why?” she railed. “You’re a fucking brat. If you don’t get what you want, you act like an asshole until you do.” She pummeled my chest. Was I fucked-up enough to actually be turned on by this? Because I was—turned on. God help me, I was. “Well, keep acting like an asshole, buddy. You’re not gonna have me. That’s for fucking sure.” She stood with her arms folded defensively across her chest.

  “One, I’m not a fucking brat. Two, if anyone puts their hands on you, friend or not, they will eat my fucking fist. Three, I lost my mind a long time ago. Nothing new there.”

  I stepped closer, making sure she looked into my eyes. She needed to hear what I was about to say. She needed to understand, really understand, what being mine meant. “You. Are. Mine. You understand what that means? Let me break it the fuck down so you’re absolutely-for-fucking-sure. When you signed that agreement, which meant you gave me your mind, body, and soul, your mind will be focused on me, always. Your body will be under, on top, or spread wide open for me—always. Your soul is entwined with mine, forming one physical body of unity—always.” My breath hitched with that last sentence. What the fuck was I even saying? Yeah, I thought it. But never spoke it aloud. Coke had me spewing my guts for fuck sake.

  She wiped a tear away, looking up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen—eyes I wanted to see every morning, every night, while I was on this earth. “I will never hurt you, ever. You’re more precious to me than you will ever know. Trust, it goes both ways, Beauty. Trust what I’m saying to you. Let these words work themselves into your heart. Familiarize yourself wit
h that feeling. Because you’re gonna feel a whole lot more than that.”

  “What are you saying?” she asked shakily. “How do I know you don’t feel this way for every conquest?” Her eyes welled up again at that mere thought.

  “I never believed in fate, destiny, or love at first sight before. I can tell you with 100% certainty I’ve never felt so utterly fucking consumed by a woman in my life. You take the air from my lungs with your smile, leaving me breathless. I feel I’d suffocate without you in my life. I want to bury my secrets in your skin. I cherish your kisses, savoring each one.” I wiped the tears that were raining down her cheeks with my thumb, then pressed the gentlest of kisses to her lips.

  “God, where did you come from? You’re the sweetest nightmare I could ever conjure up,” she said, kissing me back. “You do know we’re fucked, right? This coupling is fucking dangerous. You make me feel emotions I never thought possible. Never dreamed of feeling. Certainly not while awake. Please don’t hurt me, Abel. It would destroy me. Fucking destroy me.” She sealed her pleas with a kiss.

  “Never.” I drew her in to kiss her so solemnly, so thoroughly, and so completely. This girl was going to be the death of me. I swore to God right then and there. I knew, my heart knew it, my mind had always known it. Now she knew it. Soon, the world would know it. I threw caution to the wind. I was that confident—that totally consumed and pathetically pussy-whipped.

  And just like that, I was horny. Just thinking of a whip had me done for. I said, “My cock has been craving this tight pussy all night, babe.” I leaned in, cupping her pussy with my hand.

  She sighed loudly. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you,” she joked, and we both laughed heartily for a few minutes. I reckoned I really was a caveman. Whatever.

  Everyone walked back over, ecstatic that my head was screwed on right again. We clanked our bottles in salute. Gia was sanity to me. As long as she was near, I would be able to breathe. We partied the rest of the night, Ender-free. That was to be dealt with at another time. We all threw back some shots, including the girls. Cindy, however, continued to give me the stink-eye. She was worried my humping and dumping ways would return, only to fuck over Gia. I assured her that would never be the case.

  The past few weeks had been sublime. He’s opened me up to a world I hadn’t known existed in Colorado. During the days, I continued to work for his father, keeping our relationship low-key. The press had their fun with our hookah lounge fiasco. The attention I had thought I would relish in the beginning turned out not to be so pleasant, after all. My private life was no longer my own. Anything we did made news.

  We continued our morning ritual at the local coffee bean. He called it our “Sunrise dates.” He spent the rest of his day in the studio producing newly written material for the European leg of the tour. He asked me to come on tour with him. I needed time to volley that proposal. I had a job that paid well. I didn’t want to lose that. God forbid things didn’t happen between us as we wanted them to. Nothing was a given in life.

  My mother continued to leave threatening messages on my voicemail about how I was fucking with the wrong person. She kept saying if I didn’t heed her warnings, she’d resort to non-familial help getting what she wanted. Either way, she would get her dues. Reflecting back to a time when I had thought one way about Abel Gunner: in the beginning, I wanted his money, not him. I was coaxed into thinking that a man made you who you were, with his money, his privilege, his social standing. My upbringing taught me to claw my way to the top, to put myself in a position to repay my mother for the luxury of being her child. Medusa’s health was declining. I was a means to an end: to preserve her middle-class lifestyle. Perhaps, provide her with a better one. From an early age, I had been groomed to be nothing more than a whore for her. I realized then that I never knew what love was. What it was to feel love, and to feel loved. I wanted to feel those feelings now more than I wanted anything else. I wanted to rejoice in the freedom to have them. However, I knew it would come at a price. And going against my mother’s will would cost me. I also knew I’d never give up the only man I had ever loved. No way in fucking hell would I do that. He was worth whatever misery she might cause. More than worth it …

  I was bound, but not gagged, because he loved the sounds I made. He stalked powerfully around me. I was at his mercy—a word I’d become very familiar with. My ass was perched high in the air, the way he liked it. The flogger met my backside, leaving tingles across my body. He had desensitized my body by dragging the flogger slowly across my extremities. It never left my body during play. He alternated flogging me with finger-fucking me. He would gruffly probe me with his fingers, hitting my g-spot, bringing me close to orgasm, only to abate. He taught me where my g-spot was. He taught me how to bring myself to a g-spot orgasm through self-stimulation, rather than through my clitoris. My orgasms reached a whole new level. I had never experienced a g-spot orgasm before Abel. However, that was one of many eye-opening experiences I’d come to know under his tutorship. Withholding my orgasms was a fetish of his. Or was it a Dom thing? I didn’t really know. What I did know, was that it was so fucking maddening. The build up to an Abel orgasm was worth the sacrifice. With Abel, I never just had one epic orgasm. He prided himself on giving me several before allowing himself release. He was selfless in that way. He was a beautifully complicated creature—almost otherworldly. He stood formidably in front of my legs, his cock powerfully erect with beads of come leaking from the tip. I couldn’t help licking my now dry lips.

  “What did I tell you about licking your lips, Beauty?” He moved behind me, snapping the flogger across my ass. I let out a scream—not one of pain, but of erotic pleasure.

  “You, you, you, said don’t lick my lips unless I want to get fucked.” I sighed deeply. “You can’t take watching me do that because it drives you crazy,” I continued. God, I hope he is fucking crazy right now.

  “That’s right, sweetheart. It drives me fucking feral. My beast is clawing to get at you,” he growled as he continued to pace like a panther hunting its prey, his cock proudly taut. “Do you want release, Beauty? Beg me. I want to hear what you want. How you want it.”

  One hand carried the flogger, the other hand firmly fisting his cock. The flogger came down across the backs of my thighs. I yelped. I was certain that when the scene was over and he bathed me, my behind would be criss-crossed in different shades of red. And he would revel in its beauty. His marks meant he possessed me. I wore them proudly.

  “I want your tongue on me, Sir. In me. All over me, Sir.” There, I said it. Fire licked my face. I still felt self-conscious about asking for, begging for, or admitting to my desires. It didn’t feel wrong that I craved what he did to my body; it just felt unfamiliar. It evoked feelings. With me, feelings were unwelcome. As my Dom, he saw my pain though my actions. He had never asked me about my troubles directly. He had only said, “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me everything. I’m very much looking forward to getting to know all about you, Gia.” We were working on that. I loved that he didn’t push or pry into my personal life. Sexually, there was no hiding or withholding anything. Mentally, my walls were beginning to crumble. He reveled in my naïveté. I was new to both his social world as well as the BDSM. It pleased him and he thought it was refreshing.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “First, I’m going to eat out that gorgeous pink pussy. Then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me inside you for days.” He settled between my spread legs, lifting my ass up to his face. He smeared my wetness all over him. This man had a penchant for pussy—my pussy. I had no objections to that at all.

  “Umm, so delicious. I’ve missed you, my Beauty,” he said between licks. I was so sensitive from his constant licking and sucking. I couldn’t help but squirm, which only fueled him further. He embedded his tongue deep into me, twirling it as he played, nibbling my clit. My whining increased as I struggled against my bindings, chafing my skin. There was no helping i
t. I was being driven mad by his tongue. He worked my sweet spot until I came on his tongue, screaming as he lapped away all my juices, leaving me clean.

  “That’s it. So responsive. So fucking perfect. I couldn’t have built a better submissive myself. Now, you get my cock in you. I’m going to come deep inside you, leaking out of you for the next few hours.” He nudged his thick, pierced head at my entrance. I was limp, having had no time to recover. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, exhausted from sensations and arousal. He had wrung every last bit out of me—and he wasn’t done yet. He started slapping my clit with his Apadravya, snapping me back to life. The sensation caused my pussy to release fluid. He pushed in so hard I lost my breath. Using the restraints to steady myself meant I could not catch it. I pushed backward, spearing myself onto him as his fingers buried themselves into my hips, pulling me into his thrusts.

  “Jesus Christ Al-fucking-mighty, don’t stop,” I cried out. I was met with silence. I turned to observe him, only to see the pupils of his eyes dilated fully, encompassing the brown; they were large, wild, and dangerous. He was beyond talk. Wildly, he uttered garbled, mangled, hissing expletives. He leaned forward, kneading my breasts, pinching my already sensitive nipples. I screamed his name over and over again, pleas for mercy. Why were my ears ringing? Why did I hear my blood swishing through them? Maybe my screams had broken my ear drums? Whatever the reason was, it was deafening. The sting of pleasure tingled up my spine, signaling yet another orgasm.