by Gina Whitney
He rubbed my bottom gently. “Stop over thinking, baby. I like the sound of it being ours…mine.” He leaned over and kissed my shoulder gently— reverently.
“Umm, can you turn that vibrator off, please? I can’t think for shit between that and this conversation.”
That statement elicited another chuckled response. One much darker, which caused my clenching to intensify. “No! The purpose of this lesson, Beauty is to explore. To discover. To take. And to give. My fingers thoroughly explored you. You’re discovering why you shouldn’t have a fresh mouth with me. And I’m taking your orgasms away until further notice. How’s that for demented?” All I could do was blink. As if by blinking, the answers would appear. I had nothing. Just dust moths floating through the fucking air. What do you say to that? Hell, yes, it’s demented…torturous and just plain fucking wrong on all human levels.
He removed the vibrator and turned it off…then set it on the bed next to the flogger. “Okay, baby girl, get dressed. We have a show to go to.” He moved to stand. I was being dismissed. “Tonight’s our opening show. It’s going to be insane.” He beamed with enthusiasm.
“And what about this thing?” I asked, staring at his beautiful eyes while pointing around to the butt-plug. The smirk. The classic fucking Abel-esque smirk danced across his face.
“That stays where it is.” He pointed with his index finger. “I will replace it with a larger one tomorrow,” he said, turning to walk into the bathroom.
“What? I can’t walk or go anywhere with this in me. It’s…it’s…it’s…just not natural. I feel off,” I said, completely astonished.
His head rounded the bathroom doorframe. “Are you trying to top me again? Or are you complaining?” He spoke softly, but the veins in his neck were pulsing? Dom alert.
“No, Sir. I’m not complaining…just trying to understand how this all works.” I shrugged. It sounded good, right? I was complaining. I knew it. And he sure as fuck knew it. I just stood there, looking at my now clasped hands. I wanted to sit a minute. But how could I think about sitting with that thing in my ass?
He approached me with a smile, grabbing my chin. My eyes were still downward. “Look at me, Beauty.” Our eyes locked. “Good, now that I have your attention. Chance will be here in a few moments to escort you to your room. You’ll get ready and meet me backstage. I don’t want you by yourself— ever. Understand? I will have your things brought up here; you’ll be staying with me. We clear?” His hands moved to my lower back, pulling me closer to him. His scent was intoxicating. I’d agree to anything right about then. I nodded. “Now, tell me who your Master is?” His breath danced across my lips.
“You are, babe. If you need some more stroking…just ask.” I said, feeling him through his sweatpants.
To my disbelief, he removed my hand. “Go get ready, Beauty,” he dismissed me. Clearly the conversation or any intentions were over. He kissed my forehead longingly and turned to enter the bathroom once again. Would I ever get enough of him? I wanted to stay in his suite forever. Hide away from the rest of the world and all its complications.
We both had stuff to deal with. There was still my mother and Morgana. At that thought, the hairs on the back of my neck went up. They had to be dealt with if I ever wanted a moment’s peace. One tied to me by blood. The other through Abel. I hated my mother. That was for fuck sure. But Morgana— I fucking wanted her dead. And I mean dead dead, too. Nemesis wasn’t even the half of it. The fact she shared anything with my Abel made me fucking sick to the core. I had to do it right, though. Be quicker on my feet. Delve into the ugliest part of my soul…and crush her. How? Without realizing it, I found myself in the hallway.
Fuck it! I’m an adult. I don’t need an escort to my own room. I had two legs. Time to find my vagina-balls and bring it. Waiting for the elevator, my mind was still contemplating how and what to do to that evil-fucking-hating-bitch-in-heat. There was a yowl in the stairwell to the left of the elevator. Kitty?
I opened the steel door enough to stick my head in. Another yowl, but that time, it had an edge of pain. Fuck. An injured cat. I rushed into the stairwell. “Psss. Psss. Psss.”
I took to the steps quickly, whispering, “Kitty. Where are you?” My heart pounded in my ears as the cat’s yowling grew louder and more frequently. Three floors down in the corner of the stairwell was a beautiful Calico on her side. Her paw in an awkward angle and bloody. Her breathing was labored. She was in trouble. Christ almighty. Her leg was broken. Where was the blood coming from? It wasn’t from her leg. How in the world did a cat get in here? Instead of orange and white, the cat’s coat was tinged red throughout. Weren’t cats normally agile on their feet?
I knelt down and offered my hands submissively, showing her I meant no harm. I cooed softly, but she wasn’t having it. She took a swipe at me. The smell of copper and wet fur made me want to gag. I needed to get help. My phone. I dropped my bag to the floor…rifling through the contents. No fucking phone. I must have left it in Abel’s room. Ugh, God. I did have a scarf. I knelt on my knees, using the scarf to distract kitty. I moved it quickly in front of her along the floor in a snake-like fashion. Her eyes locked on to it. I sprang into action and grabbed her under her belly, careful not to touch her leg. I pulled her close to me and bent awkwardly to reach for my bag. A woman’s cackling shot me up stock-straight with fear.
I moved to the wall to make myself invisible. I knew that shrill voice. But I couldn’t go there. There was no fucking way she could be there. “Who’s there? I need help. Can you call someone, please?” I waited nervously, giving the woman a chance to respond. Hopefully, it was a guest. Maybe they didn’t speak English. “Pouvez-vous m’aider? J’ai un chat blesse.” Can you help me? I have an injured cat.
The sound of heels clicking on the steps had me confident that I finally reached the woman. “In what fucking world would I ever help you, cunt? Imagine that? I want you fucking dead, you scabby-whore grifter. Don’t worry, little one. Soon he will be mine. Have fun with your wounded pussy. You’ll have one just like it soon enough.” Her voice chilled me to the bone. My body drained of all blood. I was sure. I hated the bitch. She was a crazy fucker. Morgana.
I moved to the banister, looking up…nothing. I then ran to the door to open it, needing to get the fuck out of there. My hand was on the knob, twisting it to open. It was fucking locked. I ran down a flight to the next door. Locked. I repeated this exercise until the door on the second floor finally opened. We burst into the hallway out of breath. I slid down the wall until the floor was firmly meeting my bottom. I brought the cat close to my chest, hugging her with all my might. She was still. Too still. Too cold. My eyes closed; I prayed I was wrong. Could that bitch kill a cat? What did she do to her? Security. I needed to get to security. Abel.
“What in all things holy, Gia?” Chance’s desperate voice held an edge of anger. “Where were you? Why do you have a bloody cat in your arms?” He squatted beside me, waiting for an answer. Part of me felt I was way over my head, knee deep in shit. Was I deluding myself? Was I strong enough for the shit-show known as Morgana? I could only wait until Abel found out.
“Morgana’s here, Chance. She’s fucking here. And I’m positive she did this to this cat!” It sounded unbelievable, even to me. His head tilted, curiously looking from me to the cat that was cold and dead in my arms. Oh fuck. I was holding a kitty corpse.
He took his phone out and began texting someone. A few short minutes later, the security team along with the floor manager made their way to take my statement. There was a flurry of French words spit furiously across to one another. Chance barked orders to the staff in perfect French with his menacing index finger in the manager’s face. The manager took the cat from me, explaining it was a stray that usually stopped by for kitchen scraps. After careful inspection of the cat, we were told she was shot and must have fallen to break her leg.
“Shot? That psycho has a gun?” I yelled. “What’s the plan? We have a plan, right?” I looked f
rom Chance to security to the manager. “Well?”
In broken English, he said, “We. Did you see who did it?” He offered his hand to help me up. I didn’t want his help. He seemed cold. Disbelieving even. Fuck him.
“No, I didn’t see who did it. But I heard her voice. Not to mention, she threatened me.”
The bald manager spoke in rapid French to his team, which was standing in the middle of the hallway. A small crowd gathered. Chance stood in front of me, blocking me from prying eyes. Abel’s security giant lifted me off the floor, cradling me in his arms while awaiting instruction from Chance.
I didn’t want to be held like some China doll. I wanted action. It felt ridiculous and awkward. However, I needed to pick my battles. The giant was Abel’s first in command. I was sure his thoughts were on protecting me…along with himself from the shit-storm heading our way once Abel found out. It seemed as though the emotional drought that had always protected me had turned into an emotional tidal-fucking-wave of feeling. I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
“Chance, we need to find her. I have a bad feeling. I really do. I swear.” I shook my head. “I mean, forget about the fact that she wants me dead. What about Abel? God knows what she’s capable of…right?” I shrugged, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. I knew in my heart that bitch was capable of anything…animal, human, or otherwise.
He licked his thumb, wiping away a smudge of blood on my face. “Baby girl, let’s talk while getting you ready. I’m so not dismissing what’s gone on. But we’ve got an alpha on the loose. What it took to get him to the concert was nothing short of kidnapping.” His voice carried an edge of foreboding.
Christ. I was in trouble for one. I left with no regard. Also, I still had that plug stuck in my ass. I felt like smirking. But didn’t want to come off as emotionally unstable. Wasn’t that what I was, though? God, the entire scene was over-the-top ridiculous. No one would believe it. Or that I was being held by a giant who was looking at me like he knew. Of course, he didn’t. However, my mind was conjuring up all sorts of fantastical scenarios. I shook my head in disbelief. Nothing made freaking sense.
“Okay, fine. Let’s go to the show. But I smell a crises looming,” I spoke to no one in particular as the giant strode to the elevator. In fact, no one spoke as we rode to Cindy’s and my floor. I hung in midair with giant arms holding me hostage. The giant stared at the floor numbers on the elevator panel while Chance texted manically to only God knew who.
“I don’t have my phone,” I blurted out. Chance, without looking up, procured it from his pocket. “Gee, thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.
With the arrival of my floor, we exited the elevator to an army of security on my floor. Still texting, Chance led us through the melee to my suite.
“I know you mean well, but you can release me. I can walk from here,” I stated.
The giant looked to Chance, who never looked up but only nodded. I was released and placed right-side up to stand. I thanked him for his help and he left the suite.
“Who are you talking to?” I asked Chance.
“Mr. Gunner. Your clothes are on your bed.” He pointed coolly toward the bed. “You’ll also notice that your stuff has been removed from this room. It was delivered to the broody alpha’s room during your rendezvous in the stairwell with kitty.” He smirked and returned to his texting.
Mr. Gunner didn’t strike me as a mad texter; I saw him as more of a pick-up-the-phone to direct orders kind of man. But, who was I to say? That was only my opinion. Shit just didn’t add up. However, I’d been known to be super paranoid. Whatever.
I left the room in a huff to get dressed. There was a white garment bag laid upon the bed. I unzipped it to find what I would call a long nightgown. It was a long, silver satin chemise that hung to the floor. The front was cut into a deep V with an equally deep V in the back. Actually, I could only tell the front from back by the tiny Gucci tag on the inside.
“Chance?” I screamed. Nothing. No answer. “Don’t you think this is a bit dressy for a rock concert? Is this even a dress? It looks like a nightgown.” I held it up to me in the scalloped mirror beside my bed.
“No. Yes. And No,” he answered flatly. “Now go get pretty, darling. We have a concert to get to.” He walked into the bathroom, adjusting the hot and cold of the shower. I was perfectly capable of running my own shower. Something was needling me. What? It hadn’t presented itself yet. But I was going to be hyper-vigilant.
“I’ve got it from here. I’ll be but a couple of minutes. You can wait in the living room.” I ushered him out of the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
“I don’t fucking care if we’re playing the Bercy. I want to know where the fuck my girl is,” I screamed across the limo. My blood boiled. Yes, I had an obligation to my band. To my fans. However, my first obligation was to my submissive— my beauty.
“Dude, Chance has her and they’re heading over. No worries, man.” Dave handed me his iPhone to confirm he’d been in touch with Chance. Dave was our manager. But more than that, he was family. He got me. Knew my issues. Fuck, they all did. I put the M in mental. When my mind was set…there was no stopping me. My will was strong. However, my need was stronger. And I needed her.
I nodded and flipped his phone back to him, focusing on the minutes until I saw her.
“How’s your hand, man? No problems? What happened to the stitches?” Jake eyed my hand with concern.
“I pulled the fuckers out with my teeth. Don’t need em’. You saw me at practice. Did it look like my hand was comprising me in any way? Besides, between the topical meds and these little fuckers, I’m good to go.” I removed the pill bottle from my jeans, jiggling the white pills of happiness.
“Just as long as you don’t become a wild-eyed bitch!” Woody leaned forward, giving me warning. Cindy’s eyes were still focused on the pill bottle. Best put that shit away. Her phone was the only illumination in the car. I had to wonder who she was texting so intently.
“Fuck off, Wood.” Then I turned my anger toward his paramour. “And who the fuck are you texting, Cindy?” My scowl deepened.
She looked up at me, surprised at my tone. But no fear showed in her answer. “Listen, caveman, I’m talking to Gia. We tend to do that. It’s called friendship. You know about that, right? I don’t treat her like a porcelain doll. She’s a strong woman. Have some trust in her, will you?” She rolled her eyes and leaned into Woody for support.
“Chill, esse. It’s a big night. We’re all on edge. She’ll be here soon. It’s party-time, yo.” He moved in for a man-hug.
I shook a few Vicodin in my mouth. Fuck yeah…party-time. Once Beauty was with me, I’d feel a helluva a lot better. Something wasn’t sitting right with me. Normally, I was possessive of her. But something was different. It was a sickening feeling in my gut. Twisting and turning endlessly. Without another word to anyone, I took in the bright lights of the city as we cruised to the venue.
The city was alive with outdoor cafés, tourists, and neophytes artists. It was rich in culture— beautiful. Something I very much looked forward to sharing with Beauty. Romance was not something I normally did. However, for her, I’d give her that and then some. She was tapped into my very soul. My soul literally ached when she wasn’t near. I no longer had to walk the road alone. We had each other.
I never answered Ender. I didn’t have to. For the rest of the ride, we sat in utter silence. Which was fine with me. I needed to get my head together for the stage. At that moment, my mind was a kaleidoscope of epic fucked-up-ness.
“Put the radio on, Jake.” He sat closest to the dials. Maybe some tunes would help lift my mood. That and the drugs that were serving my system with a nice buzz. I was getting bent. The song “Broken,” by Seether featuring Amy Lee came on. Hell, yes. I was bent and broken for fuck sure. We all got into the song with Woody playing beats on the seat.
I’ve said many times that music cured most ailments. Although temporary, I accepted the reprieve from wor
ry and let it comfort me as we drove in to the venue’s parking garage. Fans lined the driveway, awaiting a glimpse of the band. Security had the place locked down. Good. I wasn’t in an accommodating mood at the moment. An obnoxious fan was likely to get a fist full of knuckles from me. Not necessarily the welcome they’d expect from an international rock star. I removed my shades from my pocket and put them on. I didn’t want any eye contact.
Mr. Clean opened the door, dressed in SWAT team fashion. Fuck, they took that serious shit to the next level. “Mr. Gunner, we’ve got the girl with your assistant secured and heading over now.” He stepped back, letting me step out of the limo.
“The girl has a name, fucker. She’s mine. Make sure nothing happens to her. This is your only job. I don’t give a fuck about myself. There’s only her. Got that shit?”
His blood drained from his face as he looked for any sign of humor. There was none. I was fuck sure on this. “Got it, sir.” He radioed the driver that was with Chance and Gia.
“By the way…I’m not your Sir. Call me Abel.” I pushed past him, looking for my dressing suite. I heard Ender apologize profusely…along with Woody calling him a pussy. That brought a smile to my face. Woody, was badass. He really understood where I was at emotionally.
The stage was set in a macabre of cloth and candles. Dave actually listened to what I suggested. It set the mood for the concert I planned to give. It was anything but uplifting. It was dark and as transient as I felt without Beauty.
It was crazy as fuck that I was actually excited by it. The fans were going to go wild. Most of them were emo’s anyway. Not only did they get it…they felt it, too. The universal language of tragic pasts. We’ve all got them. Sad but true.
I moved to my guitar stand on the stage. It had been out of my sight for a few hours. I picked it off of the stand and cradled it in my arms. Ah, all is almost right in the world. Almost.
