by Gina Whitney
His breath was short and labored. “Thank you, baby. You have no idea what this means to me.” He kissed my ass, throwing the spreader onto the floor with a thump. He sat beside me, rubbing the rope indentations from my wrist.
My eyes were heavy. I was having a hard time fighting exhaustion.
“Sleep, Beauty. You did well. I’ll clean you up.” His words whispered sweetly as sleep took me under…
Waking up with my beauty this morning was nothing short of wondrous. The light from the window casted an ethereal glow upon her naked form. Her hair, perfectly fanned on the pillow top, produced a halo effect. She was nothing short of angelic. However, she had the mouth of the devil. And that pussy of hers…the mental and physical grip it had over my cock. It was a wonder I had a coherent thought left in my brain. She rendered me utterly speechless.
A mental slap was what I needed. The boys wouldn’t believe it. Fuck, who am I kidding? They knew I was pussy whipped by Beauty. It was more with her. So fucking much more. My craving for her never sated. My cock constantly in a state of pain. I needed to chill. Care for her. I worked her hard the night before. She deserved my confession aloud. Not in the throes of passion. What I had to say was heartfelt and sincere. I needed to do it the right way. She deserved the fairy tale after the way she grew up. That, I could give her…
The backs of my fingers traced the curve of her hip up to her perfectly rigid nipple. The rogue in me wanted to take her hard. The man in me concurred. The lover in me disagreed.
I got out of bed, shrugging on pajama bottoms. I needed to plan the day’s activities. I knew she wanted to see the gang. Especially, Cindy. We’d start with that. I had Chance arrange a private breakfast on the grounds of the hotel. Chance had an exceptional eye for detail…much like my mother. He’d see to it that our meal had an abundance of fresh flowers. Which brought me to my next thought…she loved peonies. I wasn’t sure if they were seasonal. I never cared to know such things. I cared now. She mattered.
I woke Beauty up with a fresh, steaming pot of coffee. We both shared our addiction to caffeine. Speaking of addiction, where was that prescription bottle? Checking my pants from the night before, I found my gold. Bingo. I shook a few in my mouth like Tic-Tacs, swallowing them whole. I moved to the coffee service…pouring an ample amount of cream into her cup. I sat beside her with her cup in my hand waiting for her brain to catch up to her nose.
As she started to stir, the sheet fell off her lower body, revealing that fucking magnificent, bare pussy. I swallowed hard. It wasn’t supposed to be about me. Cup in one hand I adjusted the dragon with the other. Fuck me. I was harder than stone.
“Problem I can help you with?” She giggled. Her eyes focused on my cock. Damn. She grabbed for the cup of coffee in my hand…blowing over the rim as the heat billowed off the top. That voice. Those swollen morning lips. That motherfucking hypnotic, tantalizing signature scent of Gia drew my balls up tight. I needed a cold shower or we’d never leave the room— ever.
“Funny girl, aren’t you? I have a few surprises today. How are you feeling?” Fuck, I was babbling. I couldn’t deny myself any longer. Just a taste. I moved my mouth closer to hers. She moved back awkwardly from my kiss. What the fuck?
“Morning breath. Sorry.” She shrugged sheepishly. Totally ridiculous.
“Beauty, my cock was deep in your ass just a few hours ago. And you’re embarrassed about your breath? I couldn’t give a fuck about your breath. I eat your pussy and kiss you, right?”
She looked with disgust. It was true wasn’t it?
“You’re one crude motherfucker.” She rolled her eyes taking another sip of coffee.
“That’s me…crude, but truthful. Are you going to deny me?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Huh. Imagine that? How’d I guess you’d pull the Dom card to get what you wanted?” She wriggled her nose at me.
“And I’ve showed you before what happens when you use that fresh mouth. You wore my fingerprints last time. Would you like a repeat?” I grabbed the cup out of her delicate hands, depositing it on the nightstand. My hand grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her to me. “At some point today, you’ll be on your knees, sucking my cock. Here’s the catch…it will be out in the open.” Her eyes opened wide at my words. “Yes, with people around. That should cure you of your modesty.” I kissed her long and hard. Her forehead. And then her pouting mouth. Good morning to me. It was going to be a perfect day.
My breakfast surprise was met with wet kisses all over my face. The boys witnessed Gia’s display of affection, rolling their eyes and snickering pussy comments to each other. Fuck them. They’d have their day soon enough. It happens when you least expect it. Right in the middle of any ordinary day. Bam. Love fucks you right to your face. Then follows it up with a punch to your balls.
We sat under a white canopy bursting with pastel flowers. Not my idea of rock romance, but it wasn’t for me. Chance was more in tuned with what colors women preferred. I saw Woody eyeing the fine china and flatware. I laughed to myself. It was fucking beyond feminine. I’d never hear the end of it. I’d probably end up blaming Chance, anyway. They knew his attention to detail when I asked him to do something. It was never simple…more often than not, it was over the top.
Gia sat on my lap as I fed her by hand. She wanted to argue the point. However, with her punishment for being fresh that morning looming on the horizon, she was learning to pick her battles.
“Christ, lads. Look what this little fuck-stick has me using.” Woody lifted a tiny spoon.
I had to laugh out loud. I knew the tiny spoon was used for espresso. I was taught at any early age the importance of a place setting. I never gave a fuck about a salad fork. My mother did. And because she did…my dad did. It didn’t make sense to me. Why she chose to empathize the importance of table manners. She was neurotic like that. I guess I didn’t have to understand. Instead of trying to understand or faking my way through it, I chose body art. Tats and piercings were one way I dealt with the privilege of overbearing-self-important-social-climbing parents. Woody had no fucking clue how fortunate he was to live simply.
“Mr. Wood. My name is Chance. While I love the fact you call me a fuck-stick, I refuse to be sexually exploited.” Chance flitted around the table, prepping for more mimosas. The table broke down in damn near hysterics. Woody even cracked a smile twirling his implied fuck-stick…his spoon.
“Keep your trousers on, Chance. Yer not gettin’ near my fuck-stick anytime soon.” Woody pulled Cindy closer, as if Chance was challenging his manhood.
The boys were too homophobic to have a gay assistant. I was liberal when it came to that. I didn’t give a fuck about sexual preference. Just as long as I had my preferred, and plenty of it.
Ender and Jake were catching a rap with two waitresses. They didn’t have any problems getting a girl to warm their beds. Being on tour was a cornucopia of babes. Being that we were rockers was an instant chick magnet.
I was glad to see Cindy and Gia enjoying themselves. However, the selfish prick in me wanted my girl to myself. I didn’t want to do the traditional Eiffel Tower tour. Romantic, yes…but not me. I wanted something representative of me and my love. I had Dave call in a few favors to make this day extraordinary for her. I grew up cultured. I fought it at every turn, but I knew art. After all, I am an artist. I had a deep appreciation for it. And I was chomping at the bit to share it with her. Finally, something I’d use from my private-school upbringing.
I pulled an errant curl that sprang back to life. “Ready, Beauty?” I whispered in her ear.
She turned her head to answer. “When you are.” A note of happiness was in her voice. The curve of her neck begged to be kissed. And so I did. I kissed along the column of her throat. A moan escaped her partially opened lips.
“Hostia, Conseguir una habitación!” Ender exclaimed from across the table.
“Fucking English, dude. Talk English.” Jake grabbed him by the neck in a headlock. Here we go. Was there ever
a place that we could inhabit without our words coming to blows?
Ender shrugged Jake’s arm off. “Jesus Christ…get a room!” He threw his napkin on the table, looking to exit. I guess he was done.
I threw my chin at him…like saying what’s your fucking problem. “Esse, the Parisian pussy’s not doing it for you? A bit uptight today, huh?” I laughed. The table joined in as we traded insults at each other.
“Don’t worry about my cock A. We’re just doin’ just fine.” He said his goodbyes and promised to meet up with the gang later. Said something about errands…yeah right. Most likely meeting up with a little afternoon delight with the doctor or the waitress.
Cindy stood up and yelled, “Ender.” He turned. “Hello, notch, meet bedpost.” She winked.
“Ha ha. Fucking hilarious. Why you so concerned with my sex life?” He winked. Cindy sat right back down again, blushing profusely. “Wood, you’ve got to be asking yourself why she’s so interested in my romance. Watch your girl, dude.” He turned, leaving that thought to hang uncomfortably in the air.
“I’m so not interested in his sex life. He’s such an asshole.” A pout donned her face.
Woody hugged her from behind whispering something I couldn’t hear in her ear. She smiled sweetly. I was happy for Wood. He had been alone for a while, refusing to fuck just anyone. Said he had particular tastes and shit. Didn’t we all. We were all shades of grey.
“Excuse us, guys.” I slid my chair out. “We have a date.”
We stood. Beauty kissed Cindy, doing the girl thing while giggling. It was sweet. I said later to Wood, Jake, Dave, and Chance.
Chance had grabbed my arm before I made my way to the car. “I’m so excited for you. It’s like your first date.” He beamed. “Where are you taking her?” He bit his lip nervously. His eyes were wide and waiting. “Oh my God, tell me. It’s killing me not to know. You know how I am.” He clapped. Christ.
“First of all, man the fuck up and stop jumping.” Sigh. I looked to make sure Gia wasn’t listening. “I’m taking her to Sainte-Chapelle,” I told him.
“The church?” he questioned. I was used to be questioned by anyone else but my father. And I fucking hated that shit.
“Yes, the fucking church. Why? You have something against churches? Are you forgetting we all attended catholic school?” I answered. Why was he questioning me?
“No, that’s not what I’m getting at. Do you think it’s a little bit out of her depth? I wouldn’t want her to feel…well underprivileged. She didn’t grow up in our circle. Did you ever take into consideration how she’d feel that…well, you’re so worldly, so young?” he explained.
Well fuck. I never thought about that. It never crossed my mind. While Chance went to school with us, he wasn’t exactly privileged, either. He was a ward of the state. His teenage parents gave him up for adoption. He went to school for free…attended the best university for free. I befriended him because he was different— cool. He partied and basically did whatever I wanted. He became not only my friend, but a PA as well. He handled all of our band shit early on. Organized everything. Put us on a schedule. It was good to have that support. I or we owed him a lot.
Woody wasn’t a big fan, he swore the priest made him gay and it was sacrilege having him around. Woody, being from the catholic part of Ireland took religion to a whole new level. Yea, fucked-up, right? We’re tatted, addicted, sexual deviants with religion…go figure? He had a big homophobe problem. He also never trusted him. We chalked it up to Woody being Woody and outvoted him. Thinking back to some of our early conversations we had while we were stoned, I had to laugh. Truly unbelievable.
“You know what? I disagree. She’s more cultured than you think. And I think she’ll love it. I’ll let you know how it goes, man.” I slapped his back a little harder than I anticipated. He had an odd look on his face that rubbed me the wrong way. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was jealous of Gia.
“As you wish,” was all he said and then walked away.
Huh? Whatever. I didn’t have time for his estrogen tantrums. I texted Renee the address of where we would be. We both made sure our walkie-talkies were on and charged. Renee insisted on coming, said he wouldn’t be seen or heard. Fucking perfect. Gia was safe. I could relax and enjoy myself.
I held her tiny hand in mine, explaining the royal medieval gothic chapel.
“This chapel was commissioned by King Louis IV of France in 1239. It holds one of the most treasured passion relics.” My words were a whisper. I did remember my schooling. I wasn’t a total asshole of disrespect for the church.
“Passion relic?” she whispered back. She was asking questions. She was actually interested. I was thrilled to explain the knowledge bestowed to me from early on. We sat in a pew just across from a stained glass scene of the Life of John the Evangelist. The scene was a somber one. However, it was perfect to the point I’d be making.
“Passion, in Christianity, is the short period of time before and up until Jesus Christ’s crucifixion. It all has to do with his suffering, Beauty.” My words were heavily weighted. Damn, my parents would be proud. “One of most important relics in all of Christianity is here. Christ’s Crown of Thorns,” I explained.
“No? The actual thorns?” Her mouth in a perfect O.
I nodded. I know, it was fucking mind-blowing. I answered every question she had with exactness. I was blown away by the feeling I had from sharing all this knowledge. I loved theology in high school. I was always fascinated by it. Until my mother tried to convince me there’s no shame in being a priest. Ugh. Fuck. She was a crazy bitch. I loved her all the same. However, her thought process was fucked. Why I couldn’t show natural interest without wanting it to be a career was beyond me. So, like anything else requested of by my parents, I dropped it.
We spent hours speaking about Peter of Montereau. The Goth architect of the chapel, Notre Dame and Abbey of Saint-Germain. How the fuck did someone actually have the intelligence, balls, insight, and material to build such sites? See? We spoke the same language. The language of love, passion, and desire. That’s what mattered to me.
I decided to take her to Le Voltaire. It was very chic. Very French. And very me. We sat outdoors across from the La Seine River.
“We could have eaten at the Hard Rock. It’s on Zagat, too.” Her smiled bloomed beautifully. That fucking smile.
“I don’t think so, Beauty. I want you to see Paris. Dine on real Parisian food. Anyone can go to the Hard Rock anytime and have wings. When will you be here again?” I clarified.
Her face dropped. Her eyes fixated on her hands. “You’re right. I’ll never be here again.” Her gaze met mine and my heart fucking broke into tiny fragments.
I grabbed her hand from her lap. “Not what I meant, Beauty. What I meant to say is…I wanted a place just for you and me. A place to call ours.” God, I felt like a douche. I meant the words. But, it was foreign to utter them.
Without asking, she put her napkin on the tabletop and approached me. “You, Abel Gunner, are the most romantic man I’ve ever known.” She ended her statement with a searing kiss that I felt down to my balls and up to the deepest depths of my mind. I knew without a shadow of a doubt she’d one day wear my ring. That’s how profound that moment was for me.
I’ve never woken up to the feeling of being emotionally whole before. But that was exactly how I felt waking up next to this man— complete. I had a serious hero complex going on. Him being my hero. To save me from a past so tragically emotional, it was utterly fucking excruciating. The pills worked and yet they didn’t. I wanted something to make me forget. Something to wipe the slate clean. I was told it was a process. I needed time. I just couldn’t help but feel that time would never relieve the pain of my past. Erase my mother. The memories. The abuse. It was a wonder how I was able to have a normal sexual relationship. Self-sabotaging and self-mutilation were all I knew. It actually made me feel better. Sick. So fucking sick. With him, it was different. It came natura
l. It wasn’t forced. I didn’t feel forced. Yes, it was bondage. However, I felt free. I didn’t fully understand it. No. Nevertheless, it was the honest truth. My first real truth. I needed it. I needed it with him.
He surprised me with an elegant outdoor breakfast. The table was set with fine bone china that was decorated with twenty-four karat edges. The flatware was solid gold. My favorite flowers, peonies, blanketed a white gazebo. Princess? Princesses had nothing on this. He treated me like a queen. His queen. Chance was behind the decorations. He told me so. I knew Abel didn’t actually decorate. However, I also knew he had a hand in putting it all together. Maybe not the execution. But the intent was all his.
“Christ, you must be some knob-gobbler.” Cindy laughed and I elbowed her.
“You’re so crass,” I shot back.
“Crass? Tell me you just didn’t use the word crass in front of me? I’m gonna puke. I swear to fuck.” We both laughed. Why that came out of my mouth, I had no idea. Usually, I prided myself at my use of sailor slang curses. Abel must have been rubbing off on me. He was all rough around the edges. And yet, cultured. A double negative. It made no sense. And yet, perfect sense at the same time.
“Seriously. How are things with Wood?” I leaned my shoulder into her. Abel’s hands were behind me, steadying me. He was always there to steady me. My titan.
“Damn, girl, I’m royally fucked.” She shook her head. I read that statement loud and clear. I felt the same way. “I mean, he’s all about those God-damned drum sticks. Fuck, the things he does with them,” she gushed.
I quickly looked around and then back to Abel to see if he was eavesdropping. He was wrapped up in the next and last concert there. They played one more night. Then on to Germany.
“Damn, girl.” I shook my head. “I don’t even know what to say…but congratulations.” I smiled, pulling her into a hug.
