Hating the Rock Star

by Hamel, B. B.

  He releases my wrists and rolls me over. I fight him again, not because I want to get away but because I want him to pin me down and fuck me again. He laughs as he grabs my wrists, pulling me onto my back. He gets my hair out of the way and pushes me into position, my legs spread wide, my body pinned. He thrusts his cock inside of me and grabs my wrists, putting them above my head as he fuck me.

  One hand easily pins both my wrists down. With the other one, he slowly teases my breasts, that spark in his eye never going away.

  “I like it when you struggle,” he whispers. “But I like it even more when you give in. You like to pretend, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes,” I say. “And sometimes, I just want to piss you off. Make it hard for you.”

  “Good. Make it hard. I like to work for it.” He thrusts deep, making me moan, punctuating his words.

  He keeps me pinned like that, fucking me rough. I move my hips in time with him as it builds again, relentless, unending. He bites my lower lip, kisses me, lets his tongue slide into my mouth. He kisses my neck and bites my shoulder and puts his free hand on my throat.

  I want him to squeeze. I gasp, a sharp intake of breath, feeling his fingers against my skin. I feel a second of fear, but he doesn’t push down. I think he can tell what I really want, and that’s just the image of danger, the play of it. Not the real thing.

  Joss, though, he’s the real thing. I know what he’d do to me, if I asked him. He seems to know what the rules are without me saying it. His hand stays there, one pinning my wrists, the other on my throat, and he fucks me rough.

  I take him, groaning, gasping. He’s unrelenting, rough. There’s something angry, almost desperate in him. I want to feel more of that. I want to feel all of his frustration.

  He fucks me like an animal. I beg him for more, the words spilling out from my lips. I feel pathetic, weak, desperate. I don’t care. I can’t care. The only thing I can focus on is that bright spot of pleasure between my legs, getting more intense with every thrust, every grip of his hands, every whispered word.

  Slowly, the orgasm builds. I groan, legs tensing. His face is serious, like he’s doing a job that needs total concentration. I move my hips now, grinding against him, eyes locked on his as I start to come.

  Pleasure moves up my legs and makes everything tense, every muscle in my body. I gasp, moaning, groaning, breathing in and out. I say his name, again and again, and that seems to spark him hotter. He fucks me faster, deeper, rougher. I’m panting and groaning and my orgasm makes me nearly see black as my world shrinks to the size of a pin.

  And then it’s back, everything rushing back in, and I’m breathing deep. He groans, pulling his thick cock from my pussy. He releases my throat, my wrists, and he strokes himself. He comes in thick ropes along my stomach and my breasts, and I moan as I watch it all cover me.

  “Fuck,” he says, panting. I realize we’re both covered in sweat.

  He gets out of bed, walks into the bathroom, and comes back with a towel. I go to take it, but he cleans me up instead, almost tender. I’m surprised by the way he makes sure he gets every drop. When he’s done, he kisses me gently.

  “Did you get what you want, little wife?”

  I glare at him. “Almost. Now I just need you to get out of here.”

  He laughs softly, lounging on my bed. “Really now? You’re breaking my heart.”

  “Whatever.” I groan and stretch. I’m sore in that incredibly good way, still floating from the sex. “You’ve serviced me. I’m satisfied.”

  “Good. Another happy customer.” He cocks his head at the look I give him. “My last customer, don’t worry. You are my wife now, after all.”

  I roll my eyes but I can’t help smiling. He’s a jerk, an asshole… and he makes me feel amazing. He’s my husband. This rock star, this asshole.

  I married the rock star. I hate the rock star.

  And now I can’t help wanting more.

  16

  Joss

  Back on the bus, and the tension’s there.

  It feels like the end of the last tour did, and we’re only two cities down. We have a bunch of stops still to go, with Chicago coming up next.

  The bus speeds down the turnpike, heading out west. I’m on the couch across from Nathan, and although we’re barely talking to each other, we are working. Landon’s in the back, sleeping off a hangover, and Chase is watching a movie in his bunk. Grace hovers nearby, reading something on her phone, probably obsessing about the last gossip article about us.

  Obviously, I didn’t think about how this was going to affect her life going forward. Now that we’re out in the public, she’s forever going to be linked back to me, online and in the real world.

  I don’t know how I feel about that. On the one hand, I’m possessive of her, strangely and intensely. I don’t mind having her name linked to mine forever.

  But on the other, I understand how it might terrify her. Frankly, it terrifies me a little bit, too. I’m not about to back down and walk out on her or something, but if I were a weaker man, I could see it happening.

  It still surprises me that she’s with us. I thought she’d be gone by now. It wasn’t until we slept together that I was sure she wouldn’t go anywhere. Even though she said she doesn’t hate me, I can still sense a lot of anger, a lot of resentment. And I think there are all kinds of hate.

  Maybe she’s experiencing a new one for me.

  Truth is, I don’t care. She can be angry. Actually, I want her to be angry. If it means she’s going to fuck me like she did, beg for more pain, fight me, push back, well, she can fucking despise me for all I care.

  I keep thinking about her body, her long legs, the way she pushed against me, moaning my name, whispering it over and over and…

  “Joss.”

  I blink and look up. Nathan’s frowning at me.

  “What?”

  “You missed it.”

  “Huh?”

  He sighs. “Get your head in the game, man. I’ll start from the top.”

  He plays his little travel acoustic guitar again, and this time I come in at the right spot. I sing the lyrics I’ve been working on, the melody shaking around in my head ever since I tasted Grace’s skin.

  Nathan stops and frowns a little. “That was good,” he says. “When’d you come up with that?”

  “Recently,” I say, glancing at Grace.

  He notices and gives me a tight little smile. “I feel like I should be annoyed right now.”

  “You’re always annoyed.”

  “True.” He sighs. “But for good reason.”

  “What reason is that, Nathan?”

  “You’re distracted.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, I’m confused. Didn’t I just come up with a killer melody?”

  He puts his guitar aside. “Coming up with melodies is like drinking water to you. It’s nothing, takes no effort. Building these songs with me, that takes real effort. You’re not here right now.”

  I fucking hate when he’s right. “I’m here,” I say. “You can see me.”

  “Don’t play stupid, it’s just annoying.”

  I stand up and stretch. “Whatever. I don’t have time for this.”

  “We’re stuck on a bus. We literally have all the time in the world right now.”

  I walk away from him, and I catch Grace’s eye. She looks concerned but I quickly glance away. I don’t feel like having her worry about me, and I definitely don’t feel like having Nathan condescend to me.

  I don’t know why that pissed me off so much. I guess because he was right. I was distracted. I was more interested in daydreaming about Grace’s body than I was in writing a new song with Nathan, which is pretty much the most important thing in the world for us, or at least it should be. Making music should be my first priority.

  Right now though… it just isn’t. I’ve made a lot of music already, toured and played and did that whole rock star thing. I plan on doing that a lot more, but sometimes I j
ust need a fucking break.

  Not Nathan. He’s a fucking machine. Single-minded. I don’t think I’ve so much as seen him take a break since this all started.

  It drives me crazy. Just because he’s a robot, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be. And I don’t see him getting on Chase or Landon for this. I mean, I guess they don’t really write any music and don’t seem particularly interested in it, but still. It’s always my ass he rides.

  I reach the back of the bus, away from the guys on their bunks. I tuck in on a seat against a window near the bathroom and stare at the road flashing past.

  I don’t know when I became such a bitch. Nathan never used to worry me this much. I used to ignore him, let his dickness roll off my back, but ever since Grace joined up…

  I sigh. Maybe she really is going to Yoko Ono this shit, and she doesn’t even mean to.

  I hear some noise coming from the sleeping area, someone coming back toward me. I figure it’s Grace, but instead Nathan steps through the curtain and looks down at me.

  “What the fuck?” he says to me.

  “Go annoy someone else for once,” I say to him. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “You just stormed off like a little baby.”

  That pisses me off. I glare at him and slowly rise. “Back off,” I growl.

  He doesn’t move. “What are you gonna do, beat me up? Come on, Joss. Be a fucking adult.”

  I want to do it. I want to hit him, strangle him, kick him. But… I can’t.

  The anger slowly leaks from me, like it always does when I get like this. When I remember what I did to him, how it broke him.

  I made him the way he is now, and I have to pay the price. Sometimes I forget.

  Good intentions aren’t enough.

  “You need to get your shit together,” Nathan says. “I know Karl’s been telling you to get rid of the girl, and I agree.”

  “Of course you do.” I say it flatly, as calmly as possible.

  “He can’t keep pushing because of all this media attention, but I can.” He gets in my face but I refuse to take the bait.

  “This is important. This tour, these songs, it’s really, really important. We’re on the edge, right on the fucking edge. We can tip over to one side into total fucking obscurity, or we can push into the next level. We can be famous, make whatever the fuck we want, do whatever the fuck we want. We’re this close.”

  “What does Grace have to do with that?”

  He sighs. “You can feel the tension, right? I know it’s not all her fault, but she’s adding to it.”

  “Grace isn’t adding to anything.”

  “She doesn’t mean to. Honestly, I like her, I think she’s probably good for you.” He stares me down. “But she’s bad for the band. And that’s all I care about.”

  “So she’s bad for you.”

  “You too, in another way. You just can’t see it because you’re obsessed with getting some pussy.”

  My nostrils flare and fists clench. “You better watch your fucking mouth.”

  “I get it, you’re married. But you know that was a fucking bet, right? How would she feel if she found out about that?”

  I stare at him, breathing like a wild horse, eyes wide. “You gonna tell her?”

  “Maybe,” he says. “You gonna be in this, get your shit together?”

  I stare at him, not saying anything. Our whole history flashes in front of my eyes: the years we spent as best friends, starting the band, breaking each other.

  “If you threaten me with that again, I will leave,” I say softly to him. “Losing this band won’t destroy me, but I don’t think you’ll get over it.”

  He frowns at that. “You’re so immature.”

  “You keep your mouth shut, and I’ll be in this. I’ll sing, make this band fucking great, because we both know you need me for that. Grace stays, and you don’t say a fucking word about it.” I lean toward him, anger still seething, but starting to cool now. “Do you hear me? Not a single word.”

  He takes a second, watching me with those dark eyes of his.

  “Come help me finish the song,” he says finally. “It has potential.”

  I nod. “In a second.”

  He nods back, turns, and walks away.

  That’s the most I’ll ever get out of him, and I know it. He went too far and nearly pushed me to my limits, but I kept it under check. I kept myself under control because I know that I deserve all this and more.

  My past is always haunting.

  I shake my head, trying to push the memories from my mind. I sit back down for a few minutes, getting myself together.

  When I’m calm, I get up, and I head back out to the main room. Grace and Nathan are both there, neither of them talking. Nathan’s strumming his guitar and making some notes on a sheet of paper.

  I look at Grace and she smiles at me a little hesitantly. I smile back and suddenly it hits me, what I was willing to do back there.

  I was willing to burn this all just to keep her. I was willing to throw it all away.

  I don’t know what I’m thinking. She’s my wife, but not really, but maybe she is. I’m so fucked and confused and broken, been broken for so long. Now Grace is here and I’m supposed to try and put myself back together.

  Or at least I want to try.

  “You ready?” Nathan asks.

  I look way from Grace. I focus on him, on the music. “Yeah,” I grunt. I sit back down and he starts to play.

  I come in and start singing, Grace’s eyes on me the whole time.

  17

  Grace

  The drive to Chicago takes about thirteen hours, so we split it in half. We spend the first day on the road, and I basically float between lying in my bunk, staring at my phone screen, and sitting in the living area watching the guys passive-aggressively make music.

  There’s so much tension I can barely handle it. Whenever I try to talk to Joss, he always seems to have something to do. I feel like he might be avoiding me, but that can’t be right.

  I don’t know what I did wrong. After we slept together, we spent another few hours in bed, flirting and laughing and teasing before he had to go. Now though, it feels like he forgot all about what we did.

  It doesn’t matter. He’s a bastard. I have to keep reminding myself.

  He’s not a good guy. He’s not kind, or gentle, or even particularly nice. He’s just a rock star, a front man, a singer. Those are a dime a dozen.

  Except they’re not, of course. Watching him and Nathan write their new song is honestly incredible, and it takes everything inside of me to keep from geeking out the whole time.

  I mean, I was a fan before I somehow found myself in the middle of their lives. I’m still a fan, deep down.

  Still, he’s a bastard. He’s a jerk.

  Joss and Nathan are constantly at each other’s throats, despite working to write new songs. I don’t know how they manage to get anything done, but by the end of the first day, they have a whole song sketched out. It’s rough, but it’s starting to sound pretty good.

  We sleep on the bus. I didn’t expect that. I sorta figured we’d find some motel, get real beds, but no. We stop in this RV rest stop area and the guys just all climb into bed. It’s strange, sleeping in a bunk bed that feels like a tomb surrounded by four guys, but somehow I fall asleep.

  And early the next morning, we’re back on the road.

  Mile after mile. It feels like we’ll never get there. I’m antsy and I want a proper shower.

  “How are you holding up?” Joss asks after a breakfast of microwaved oatmeal.

  “Not terrible,” I say. I’m sitting at the little table at the far end of the living area. He sits down across from me.

  “Good.” He gives me a weak little smile. “This is what it’s like, unfortunately.”

  “Lots of boredom.”

  “Boredom, punctuated by shows.” He cocks his head and looks back toward the kitchen. “You want coffee?”

  “Sure, t
hanks.”

  He comes back with two mugs, sliding one across to me. “Careful.”

  I sip it. Just instant, but it’s still what I needed. “I guess I thought it would be different.”

  “Thought the bus would be one long party?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “It was, the first half of last tour. But we quickly got over that.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “It’s even harder when this place is packed. We had a talk and decided that the bus is meant for the band only.”

  I don’t need to ask him to interpret the look he gives me. “I guess that’s why Nathan’s been acting like I don’t exist.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “What happened between you two, anyway?” The question comes out like a rush. I’ve been holding it in for a while now, and I don’t know why it finally slips out.

  He sips his coffee, his face not giving anything away. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he says finally. “I’ll tell you that I made a mistake, and he hasn’t let me forget it.”

  I bite my lip. I have a million questions. “Okay,” I say. “If you ever want to talk…”

  He shakes his head. “I’m done talking about that. What’s past is past.”

  “You two just seem to hate each other.”

  “Yeah, well.” He sighs. “Can’t be helped. Anyway, I need to work with him all day. So I’ll probably have to ignore you.”

  “Ignore me?” I laugh a little. “Why?”

  “To keep him from getting pissed.” He gives me an apologetic look. “Just… trust me. Okay? We’ll be in Chicago soon.” He stands and walks back over to the other guys, sitting down next to Chase.

  I look over at them, not sure what to make of that. He’s telling me that he’s going to ignore me, but apparently he feels bad about it? I don’t know what to think at all.

  True to his word though, he acts like I don’t exist, just like Nathan. At first it doesn’t bother me, but after three hours of driving, I’m starting to go insane.