Rocker Series

by Gina Whitney

  “I’m as serious as dick cancer,” I answered, preparing to take the plunge. I nudged her opening, smearing my semen and her cum around her hole, and leaned in a bit to push the tip of my head in. Christ. Her pussy sucked the head of my cock, swallowing it. With fast, stabbing movements, I ravaged her hole with just half my cock. Her cries permeated the air, along with her pussy scent.

  “You like that, Beauty?” I growled. “You want my whole cock in you, don’t you? Tell me,” I gritted through my teeth.

  She was fighting for breath. “Yes, I want that gorgeous, girthy fucking cock to rip me open.” She didn’t even get the last words out of her naughty mouth before I fell into her, going as deep as I could without losing my balls. Fuck, if I could fit those in there too, I would.

  “Fuck. You … fucking … own … me,” I jabbered, gripping her hips and lifting them slightly. Over and over again, I took her hard, bouncing off her ass. Animal grunts and pants filled the room. She came so hard her pussy cut the blood flow to my dick. I pumped a few more times for good measure, to make sure I gave her every last drop of my cum. I leaned over her limp body, resting a minute. I kissed the shell of her ear, sucking on her dangling earring.

  “Fuck, Abel. You’re crushing my lungs. I can barely breathe, babe,” she gasped. I stood up, fingering my hair out of my eyes. I was a mess—a sweaty pig of a mess. I untied the ropes and helped her up to a sitting position.

  “Water?” I offered.

  “Please.”

  I grabbed a paper cup, filling it up with bottled water from the machine. It was cold, thankfully. I handed it to her. She drank it down in one shot, holding the cup to me for a refill. I gave another cupful. She drank that down, too.

  “Holy fuck. I feel like I’ve been hit with an IED. I don’t think I can walk out of here. Now that gives you reason to be a caveman. I may need the day off tomorrow, an IV drip, and pain killers. What’s gotten into you?” she asked, trying to pick her clothes up off the floor. I gathered them for her and helped her dress. I had taken her so hard, I felt guilty.

  I pulled her to me by the nape of her neck. “I’m so sorry, Beauty. Forgive me.” I sucked her lips, offering my apologies.

  She winced when I let go of her neck. “What’s the matter?” I asked, concerned. I was such an asshole.

  “My neck is killing me, I think from holding it up,” she said, rubbing it. “I’ll be fine. I just need to use the ladies room.” She leaned up to kiss me. I insisted on waiting for her.

  “Go back to the table. I feel bad. We left them alone so long. We’re terrible friends.” She pouted. “Please?” she begged. Of course, I agreed, kissing her again. We walked to the ladies room door, where I promised to give her a few minutes.

  Thankfully, Wally made sure I had some privacy in the bathroom. I had to pee in the worst way. I limped in, squatted ever so carefully. Fuck, my pee burned. Grabbing some toilet paper, I could only dab my sore lips. They were swollen and battered. He really was a fucking caveman. Who even fucks like that? I smiled to myself, thinking about it. Imagine, this is my complaint? Life wasn’t that fucking bad, or I should say, that fucking good. I sighed, standing to flush, shimmying my jeans up to button them. I heard the bathroom door fly open, hitting the wall. I zipped my pants and unlocked the door, stepping out. Morgana.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I yelled, stepping up to her. Fuck this bitch. I wanted to kill her.

  She rushed me with a knife in hand. She grabbed a fist full of my hair with one hand, and holding the knife to my throat with the other.

  “You fucking skank. You smell like him,” she bellowed, sniffing me. She pressed the knife harder against my throat. “You think you’re gonna waltz in here, taking my place? Huh?” She tightened her grip on my hair. “I’m speaking English, bitch; answer me.”

  She was gritting through her teeth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I closed my eyes, thinking of what I could say to get myself out of this. I didn’t struggle. I submitted to her. Maybe appealing to her dominant side would soften her. But she was a sub, right? What the fuck did I know? I’d go with it.

  “I didn’t know he belonged to someone. Belonged to you, I mean,” I whispered. “Tell me how I can make this right?” I let a tear fall. Surely, she had a compassionate side.

  “Don’t fucking cry to me. I know exactly who and what you are. Had myself a little chat with mommy dearest after the surveillance report came back on you.” She pulled my head by my hair, bringing my face up to hers. “You and you mother are grifters.” She shook her head in disgust. “I knew you weren’t in his league, but a fucking con artist? Holy fucking shit. He’s going to fall hard when he finds out. Guess who will be there to pick him up?” Then she screamed, “Guess?”

  I cried, salty tears running into my swollen lips. My heart was breaking in two. I needed to talk to him before this fucking bitch ruined everything. I’d tell him everything. Then I’d go with him on tour. “You? You’ll be there to pick him up,” I sobbed breathlessly. “Please. Let me tell him. If you’ve ever cared for him, don’t hurt him like this—please.” By then, I was hysterical at the thought of losing him.

  She lowered the knife, dragging the point down my neck to my collarbone, and along my breasts. She licked her lips greedily. “You have some nice tits. I’ll give you that,” she said, eyeing them ravenously. What in the fuck was going on? “You have one fucking week. That’s all I’m giving you. One fucking week to come clean, walk away, and never turn back. Have I been clear enough?”

  I nodded rapidly. She folded the switch blade, putting it back in her bag. I stepped over to the mirror to look at my neck, keeping my side vision on her. Fuck. There was a cut across my neck. It was superficial, but noticeable. I turned to grab some paper towels from the wall holder. Facing the mirror, I extended my neck for a closer look.

  “He’ll hate you. You know that, right?” I turned to her, still shaking. But she was gone. What the fuck? I walked to the bathroom door, opening it, looking right and left down the hallway. Where the fuck did she go?

  Wally was catching a wrap with some girl. He turned around, asking me if everything was okay. I nodded and said I’d be right out. I shut the door behind me, leaning against it heavily. Devastated, I felt as if my heart had been pulverized. I touched my chest. My heart was still pumping. I broke out into a cold sweat. I moved to the sink, splashing water on my face, blotting my mascara under my eyes. I added some hand soap, wiping my raccoon eyes free of the residue. Digging in my jeans, I pulled out my lip gloss and applied it. I hit the hand dryer, flipping my head under it to fluff my hair. I needed to pull myself together. I needed to think, to come up with a plan. Fuck. I needed a drink.

  I left the bathroom, thanking Wally for guarding the door. He walked me back to our table, leaving the girl he was speaking to in mid-sentence. I saw Abel pouring himself another shot of JD. As I walked through the crowd of picture takers and patrons, I couldn’t help but look for Morgana. My anxiety was hemorrhaging throughout my body. I walked up to him, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him in close. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead while brushing my hair back with his beautifully tatted hand. I allowed his scent to take me to my sweet spot of security and happiness. Would I ever feel this way again? Would this be the last time we would hold each other? I realized Cindy and Woody weren’t in the booth.

  “Um, where are they?” I pointed to where they had been sitting.

  “Actually, they left. Dave texted earlier, but I was a little busy,” he smirked, kissing my nose. “He reached out to Woody. He called a meeting at the studio in an hour.” He motioned for me to take a seat. I did.

  “We got offered a show in Amsterdam,” he explained. Yeah so? What’s the problem? “It’s this weekend. We’d have to leave Friday, Beauty, if we’re going to make it. This is a big deal for the band. We have to jump on it. So, we’re meeting at the studio to finalize the arrangements.”

  He gulped another shot down. I was speechless. In two d
ays’ time, he’d be gone. I put my head down on the table. I needed a breather. I couldn’t take one more fucking surprise today.

  “I’m hoping you’ll come, Gia.” He grabbed my hand, stroking the tops of my fingers. “Look at me, Beauty.”

  I picked up my head, the tears threatening to fall. “Come with me,” he urged. “I want you by my side. I won’t leave you here. Please.”

  He stuck out his bottom lip, giving me a pout. He kissed my hand, then pulled me out of the booth, into his lap. My mind was racing. I felt manic. Could I go? Could I just get the fuck out of the country? When we were out of the States, I could tell him everything. I’d hide nothing then. I’d bare myself to him.

  “Yes. Yes, I’ll go with you, Abel,” I assured him, turning to hug him tightly. His scent warmed the coldest depths of my soul. “Now what?” I asked, releasing him. Looking into his eyes, I felt I could spend a lifetime there without ever getting tired of them.

  He grabbed my chin with his finger, kissing me gently. “Now, I drop you off and you pack. Leave my father to me. Besides, he likes you—and he doesn’t like anybody.” He gave me a few pecks on my lips. I was excited. Fuck everything: my job, my mother, and especially Morgana. She wouldn’t win this battle. I would.

  He dropped me off, promising to text me after his meeting. I flew in the door, breathless, throwing my keys on the table. “Cin?” I yelled out, walking through the apartment.

  “G, is that you? I’m in the shower. Come to the door,” she shouted over the spray.

  I laughed. She always asked if it was me. Who the fuck else would it be? “Hey, chick!” I opened the door partway, poking my nose in. God, the bathroom was steamed out.

  “You’re going, aren’t you?” she asked, sticking her head out the glass door. “I can hear it in your voice.” She continued washing. “I would, too, if I were you. Just saying. He’s totally in love with you, girl. Anyone with a set of eyes can see that,” she said, washing her hair.

  “You think? I mean, I’m head over heels for him. But I’m scared,” I whimpered. And that was the truth—and it was with good reason that I felt that way. “I’m kinda freaking out, Cin. What about us?” I started to get choked up. She shut the shower off, and stepped out, wrapping a towel around her.

  “You’re fucking joking, right? I’m not going anywhere. The apartment will still be here when you come back. And your boyfriend’s flying me out to catch some shows. I did request a private flight. I won’t do commercial anymore,” she said, beaming.

  I hugged her tightly. “There will always be a you and me, sweetie,” she reassured me, patting my back. “Besides, I’m kinda dating his best friend. So either way, we will be hanging.” We jumped around the bathroom like idiots. I couldn’t have planned it better. Once I told him everything, it would all be behind us. I’d have the rest of forever to make it up to him.

  “He really said he’d fly you out?” I asked. Boy, he was full of surprises, wasn’t he? “Did you happen to see the sweet Porsche in the parking lot?” I asked, smiling. She was going to lose her shit.

  She nodded. “Abel’s? I figured. It fits him.” She busied herself with towel-drying her hair.

  “Nope. Not Abel’s. Mine! As in, he gave it to me.” I jumped up and down. She dropped the towel on the floor.

  “Get the fuck out!” She was stunned into momentary silence. “Holy fuck, that boy’s got it bad,” she murmured to herself. “Don’t get me wrong; you deserve everything and then some, but dayum…” She whistled low.

  “He took it home to park it in his garage. If I’m going with him, there’s no sense leaving it in our parking lot. Right?” I asked. She agreed. I didn’t want to worry about the car on top of everything else. God forbid my mother found out; she’d look to sell it for cash.

  Cin and I chit-chatted for a bit before going downstairs to the storage basement for my luggage. It wasn’t great luggage, but at least it matched. Shit. I was even worried about what my luggage looked like. There was a bigger problem looming—two of them, actually: Medusa and Morgana. They sounded more like Game of Thrones characters then two people trying to destroy me. I really wanted to go to my mother’s and tell her the fuck off. However, if those two were talking, that was a really bad idea. Hopefully, we’d get on the plane in the morning without incident. I’d hang in there until then, staying low. And then I’d pack my clothes and get the fuck out of there.

  “Chinese?” I asked Cindy, who was folding my clothes suitably for packing. She insisted she was an expert packer. Whatever made her happy!

  “Sounds delish,” she chirped, giving me her order. I called it in. An hour later I noticed it was after midnight. And I still hadn’t heard from Abel.

  So I texted him: Hey! xx

  He didn’t respond for ten whole minutes, which tied my stomach in knots with worry. I couldn’t relax with Morgana roaming around, and my mother cruising the town in her car.

  Finally Abel replied: Jammed up at the moment. Decided to get in a practice. I’ll send a car for you in the am. The driver will bring you right to the tarmac. No more commercial flights for my girl. ;) See you 2moro, Beauty. Xx

  I was overjoyed: OMFG!! Really? I’ve never flown in a private plane. The car isn’t necessary. I’ll ask Cin or take a cab. Xx

  Abel came right back: Abso-fucking-lutely not! The car will be there at 9am. Be ready. Dress sexy. Gotta go. Xx

  He won. I returned to my room to help pack the rest of my hair products. One whole bag was for makeup, hair, and shoes. I had never packed a bag for more than an extended weekend. Cindy helped me gather together several really sexy-ass outfits. We fell asleep on my bed until sunup. It was a true sleepover. Sometimes you just needed your best-girlfriend. That night I had needed Cindy. I had wanted to purge my soul clean, to tell her everything—starting with my mother’s obsession with wealthy men. I knew she had her suspicions. However, I was positive she’d never suspected how deep the well ran. I was determined to figure out a way to make it right. Luck had never really been on my side. But truth? Even if it was late in coming, truth would not let me down. Abel loved me. That was the truth. I knew it. I felt it in my heart. I felt it in his kisses, in the tender way he brushed my hair out of my eyes. I saw it in his smile. And especially knew it when he took me. There was something more than attraction at work between us. Much more. I would tell him the second I saw him. I would tell him how in love with him I was.

  I was full-on in love with Gia Mastro. Denial, my best friend who usually hitched a ride, couldn’t even refute that. The moments with her took my breath away. Her very presence was a light shining brightly on my badly damaged soul. I needed to feel her warmth, her pureness, to be fulfilled.

  I’d never looked to anyone for comfort. However, I looked to her for it. She calmed me. Her soul spoke to mine. My muse gave me all of herself, expecting nothing in return. This was unfamiliar to me. Someone always wanted something from me. And I felt things when I was with her. She had awakened my heart, and now it beat only for her. That’s an experience I’ve never had. It was earth-shattering, rocking me to my core.

  With my guitar resting on my knee, I was scribbling lyrics to a song asking Gia for her hand. Yes, I planned to ask her to marry me during the tour, to make her Mrs. Abel Gunner, my perfect other half, my better half. She was everything to me. Without her, I couldn’t breathe. Yes, it was premature. However, my mind was made up. I knew I’d never feel like that again. I didn’t want to lose it. Everything with us was emotional. As hard as I took her during sex, I never felt like I was fucking her. She owned me. Owned my dick. Owned my cum. Owned my soul. I made love to her. As soon as I put that ring her finger, I’d get her under me slowly, showing her how very much she meant to me. She’d feel the difference in my slow strides. Fuck, even my heart beat differently. Yes, it still pushed blood through my veins, but now it fortified me with love, nurturing my being. Gia Mastro had brought me back to life.

  Motherfucker, if this bitch didn’t stop texting me, say
ing she needed to talk to me. Morgana always needed to talk, was always looking for an excuse to take her clothes off, to submit to me. I would never fall into that trap again.

  So I let her have it: I’m changing my number. It’s fucking pathetic: you just don’t stop. I will never be with you again. What aren’t you getting?

  Morgana shot back: What if I told you, you were being played out by someone close to you? True story.

  I wasn’t about to fall for that one: I’d say you’re full of fucking shit and desperate.

  But the bitch persisted: 1 minute of your time = finding out who’s fucking you to your face. Really, is Abel Gunner gonna get played the fuck out!

  Abel Gunner gave an inch: 10 seconds, that’s all. Colorado airport, our usual gate.

  Morgana took it: Ok.

  Fuck me! Why did I even agree to that? She was full of fucking shit as always. However, I had a weird feeling there was some truth to it. I prayed I was wrong. So help me God, if one of the boys was fucking us out of money, I’d end up in lockup before lunch.

  The driver let me off, transferring my bags to the plane. The psycho walked down to the tarmac in six-inch heels with her pussy peeking out. Fucking whore. She opened the door, closing it behind her. I moved to the other side of the limo, not wanting to be on the same seat as her. What the fuck was she up to?

  “Hi, babe.” She reached for my knee. I moved it away.

  “Speak! You’re not here for any other reason,” I said. I was real fucking tired of this game with her. It was getting old. “I’ve got a plane to catch,” I said, sickened. How I had ever even fucked her was beyond me. Her beauty was eaten up by the ugliness that dwelled within her.