Hating the Rock Star

by Hamel, B. B.

  “What?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.

  He spanks me. Pain flashes up my skin, and my eyes go wide.

  “You want to be punished.”

  He spanks me again, palm to my firm ass. I gasp as he does it again, and again. I know my skin’s bright red, and I wonder if it’ll bruise.

  I want it to.

  “You want me to hurt you, make you scream my name. That’s why you’re here. That’s what you need.”

  He spanks me again and as I groan he slides his fingers between my legs and finds my clit. I lift my hips and let him tease me like that, fingers sliding inside and back out onto my clit, rubbing and fucking.

  He grabs my hair, pulling it back. “I’m not sure if you realize it. I think you do. But you’re here because you’re angry, and you want me to make you feel better.”

  “Maybe.” I stare at him, defiant. I hate that he can read me so easily.

  “I’ll give you what you want, Grace,” he whispers softly, rubbing the thumb he used to work my clit down along my lips, making me taste my own juice. “But be careful what you ask for.”

  I gasp as he pulls my hair and slaps my ass at the same time, and I can’t let myself wonder at his words. I can’t let myself question it.

  Right now, I need this, more than anything else.

  I groan as I feel his fingers explore between my legs again. I shimmy my ass toward him, letting him get a better angle as he slides his fingers inside. I groan and bite down onto the sheets.

  “I love how angry you get, but I love how much you melt under my touch even more,” he whispers in my ear.

  I feel his finger sliding in and out then stop. I look back, anger flaring again. He can’t take away my pleasure, I can’t handle that right now. I need it so badly I almost scare myself.

  I watch him slowly take his boxer briefs off. His cock is long and thick and he strokes himself, looking down at me.

  “Nothing sexier than a pretty ass up in the air, waiting for me.” He licks his thumb and suddenly presses it against my asshole. It sinks inside and I groan as he spanks me with his other hand.

  “You’re nice and vulnerable, Grace. You know that? I can do whatever I want to you, and I think you’ll thank me for it.”

  I shake my head angrily. “Don’t.”

  He laughs softly and withdraws his hands. He grabs my hips and hefts them up into the air before slowly teasing my pussy with his thick cock.

  “You can’t change the rules mid-game, Grace,” he whispers, sinking his cock deep inside my pussy.

  I shiver and groan. He’s so thick, he nearly tears me apart and I love it. He starts to stroke inside me, pumping slowly in and out. I savor every inch of him, every hard inch of his smooth cock.

  He slaps my ass and starts to fuck me faster. I know I’ll bruise there for sure now. The thought excites me even more. I want to look in the mirror tomorrow and see his palm print in black and blue on my skin, a reminder of what he can do to me, what he can make me feel.

  He drives himself forward. I pant, gasping his name. He doesn’t relent, pushing deeper and deeper into my pussy, sliding his cock further, harder.

  I flatten my breasts against the sheets, just my ass in the air. He pins me down there, pushing me into the bed as he fucks my pussy from behind. I turn my head to the side, watching as he fills me, takes me. I love his muscular body, his handsome face. Passion fills his eyes.

  I’m groaning his name, practically begging it over and over again, like a plea for more. He slaps my ass, pulls my hair. I move my hips in rhythm with him, letting the pleasure bloom between my legs, start to spark along my skin.

  “Come on, Grace,” he grunts. “Is that all you have? I thought you were mad. I thought you were pissed.”

  I back my hips up faster, gripping the sheets. I’m sweating now, droplets slowly rolling down my exposed skin. He licks some off my shoulder and thrusts harder. I buck my back and hips and ride him, pushing and pushing, taking more and more.

  I need it so badly, I can barely breathe.

  The pleasure peaks all along my body.

  I keep pushing, riding, pushing back along his shaft. I need it, every inch of it, every drop of sweat. I want it all from him.

  I want him to wring me out like a towel. Leave me lighter than a leaf.

  I come hard, gasping his name. He doesn’t relent, doesn’t stop. He fucks me faster, whispering my name as I moan his. Every inch of my skin’s ablaze and it’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It’s a new level, fueled by anger and passion and desire and need, everything that’s happened mingling inside of me, coming through in my orgasm.

  “That’s right, Grace,” he whispers in my ear as it slows. “Feel it. All of it.”

  I groan and have to push forward. I feel him leave me as the pleasure gets to be too much. I turn around, roll over onto my back, and he grabs me by the hips, pulling me toward him.

  I watch him sink himself inside of me. He grabs my legs and starts to fuck me, picking up where he left off. There’s no missed beat, no slowing, no mercy. He fucks me rough and deep, riding into me, pushing and grinding his hips.

  As he reaches peak intensity, he pulls himself from my pussy and strokes his cock, coming in thick spurts up along my stomach and breasts. I’m sweating, panting, moaning as he comes.

  “Fuck, Grace,” he groans, finishing in long strokes. “You drive me insane.”

  I fall back onto the bed, looking at the ceiling. I can feel his cum on my body and I’m tempted to taste it. I don’t know why. I hear him get up and come back a second later with a towel.

  He cleans me off before climbing into bed. “Better?” he asks, his handsome face coming into my view.

  “Maybe.” I smile up at him.

  He smirks. “Sounds like you need some more.”

  “Maybe.” My smile gets bigger.

  He laughs and kisses me. I kiss him back and this time, there’s no urgency. It’s a simple kiss, the kind of simple intimacy you don’t share with many people.

  It’s not what I expected. I thought I’d be angry still, but all that anger’s burned away. I should hate the man kissing me, touching me, pulling me close, but I don’t.

  He’s my husband. He’s the most interesting man I’ve ever met. I want him more than I can even understand. I touch his face and he smiles, almost like he’s not real.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Just, this is nice.”

  “Yeah. It is.” He pulls me closer. “You know I’m not a cuddler, right?”

  “Me neither.” I cuddle tighter against him and he laughs softly.

  I can feel something blooming even more inside of me, but I’m starting to understand what it means and what it wants. I have to decide if I want to feed that feeling or let it wither. I know it could go either way, and I’m afraid of either choice.

  In the end, I stay cuddled against him and I shut out everything else.

  22

  Joss

  The crowd screams as the guitars rasp through the air. I look back and Landon grins, winks, and the drums drop in right on time.

  They boom across the theater, rattling teeth.

  Chase comes in next. His bassline is flowing and deep, a current underpinning everything else. I let the music flow around me, feeling the sound, feeling what we built together.

  Every time we play on stage, we’re making something new. The songs are the same but they’re never exactly the same from one playing to the next. Sometimes we’re into it and sometimes we’re not, and that comes through in what we’re doing. It’s new and we create it every time, and even when it sucks, it still feels good.

  Tonight, we’re into it. I open my mouth and I let my words come pouring out, losing myself to the complete moment.

  * * *

  “That was good, man.”

  Landon grins at me as we get off stage. People crowd around as he throws an arm around my shoulder.

  “You were i
n the pocket,” I say to him. “Right in there. That shit was tight.”

  “Best show yet,” he agrees, eyes shining. “I loved it out there.”

  “Me too.”

  We let that linger for a second. The buzz of the crowd’s still in my blood, like pure joy trying to bounce against the walls of my veins. It’s heady and exciting all at once.

  “Look, man, can I talk to you for a sec?”

  I frown at him. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

  “Just, come on.” He steers me away from the people. I wave Karl off, walking with Landon. He drops his arm from my shoulder and we duck into a supply closet full of old folding chairs, PA equipment, and balanced cables.

  “What’s going on, man?” I ask him. “Why are we in a fucking closet?”

  He sighs and grabs a chair, sitting down. I frown at him, leaning up against a rack of microphones.

  “It’s getting to be too much,” he says finally. “You know what I mean?”

  I shake my head. “What is?”

  “This tour. All of it.”

  “Shit,” I say softly.

  He meets my gaze but he doesn’t smile. I want him to tell me that he’s joking, that it’s all in good fun, ha ha, just kidding, man, the look on your face.

  But no, there’s sorrow there. Real sorrow, buckets of it hiding behind his eyes.

  “I don’t know how it got to this point,” he says. “I stay out every night getting ripped. I don’t bother fucking the girls I bring back. Mostly I send them away with some lame excuse. I walk around alone, thinking about how much I hate my fucking life.”

  That shocks me. I stare at him, not sure what to say.

  I’ve seen the changes. He was always a party animal, always pushed too hard, but this tour’s been different. There’s been a melancholy about everything he’s done, like he feels like he has to put on a show and hates it. That’s partially true, actually, since we do need to perform most nights.

  It’s like the show doesn’t stop for him, even offstage. He’s always performing, one way or another.

  “What can I do for you?” I ask him softly.

  “I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I really don’t know.”

  “Look, man, we have a good life. Touring is hard, but… all the other stuff, it’s amazing.”

  “Yeah, if that’s true, why the fuck am I so miserable?”

  I gape at him, not sure what to say. I search for the words that’ll bring him back from the edge. I want to say that we get to make music people listen to, we’re rock stars, people look up to us. Or it’s the groupies, the drinking, the drugs, the partying. We live in luxury because of the music we make, and walking away from it is giving up on all that.

  But it all just feels so empty. I don’t know how to explain it, but part of me agrees with what he’s saying. If this life is so good, we shouldn’t ever feel miserable.

  But I feel miserable all the time. Maybe not lately, not since Grace came into my life, but it happens.

  “I gotta walk away,” Landon says finally after a short silence. “I’m sorry, Joss. I really am. Of everyone in this band, you’re the one I don’t want to disappoint.”

  “Disappoint?” I blink at him, not sure what to say.

  “Yeah, man. I mean, you give this everything, especially out there. I just… I don’t think I can match that.”

  “Shit, Landon. I’m not disappointed.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I mean, I want you to stay and if there’s anything I can do to change your mind, I’ll do it. But I’m not disappointed.”

  “That’s actually a relief.” He laughs a little bit and looks up at me. There are tears in his eyes. “That’s a big relief.”

  I sigh and lean back again as he wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

  “Shit, I’m such a pussy,” he says.

  “Nah, you’re not. You’re making a huge decision.”

  “I’m giving up a lot.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “But it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “But I can’t say it’s definitely wrong.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess that’s the best I can ask for.” He sighs and stands. “It’s fucked up. But I gotta leave the band. Not just the tour… but the band. If I stay, even halfway, I don’t think I’ll make it much longer.”

  I nod slowly. “Okay, man. You know… you know we’ll replace you, right?”

  “I know.” He laughs, but it doesn’t sound funny.

  “Not like we’ll find someone as good,” I say. “I mean, you wrote these drum parts. But Karl will bring on someone new and eventually we’ll find someone permanent.”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “Slide doesn’t have to die with me. Actually, I’d be pretty pissed if it did.” He gives me a grin, real this time. “I’m just a drummer, after all.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly.

  I walk over and we shake hands. It feels inadequate, like I should hug him or something, but I don’t. I don’t want to make the moment more dramatic.

  He wants to leave, and he’s doing it on his terms. I respect him for it, even if I don’t agree.

  There’s a creak near the door. I don’t look over. “What about the others?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. We’ll tell them soon, I guess.”

  “Will they understand? I mean, losing you is going to fucking suck.”

  “I think so,” he says, and shrugs. “But really I don’t fucking care. I feel free already.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “You know, it’s Grace that sort of convinced me to do this.”

  I go to answer, to ask how, but the door suddenly pushes open and Nathan’s standing there, staring at the two of us.

  “What the fuck did I just hear?” he asks.

  “What are you doing, bro?” Landon says to him.

  “I was looking for where I’m supposed to put this.” He holds up a guitar cable he borrowed from the venue. “And overheard you two talking.”

  “Shit,” I say.

  “You’re leaving the band?” Nathan looks half pissed, half anguished.

  “Nathan, man, it’s for the best,” Landon says. “I was gonna tell you all soon.”

  Nathan’s gaze turns to fire as he snaps it toward me. “And it’s the fucking girl’s fault, of course. Already tearing the band apart.”

  “It’s not like that,” Landon says.

  “Fuck you, Joss.”

  “Nathan,” I say, but he’s already walking away.

  I go to follow but Landon stops me. “Let him go,” he says. “Shit, the guy’s been on the goddamn edge for a while now. I wouldn’t push it.”

  I hesitate and shake my head. “Better go find Grace.”

  “Yeah, you should.” He sighs. “Sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault. I’ll see you later.”

  He nods and I walk away from him. I can feel his eyes on me still as I go to find Grace and make sure Nathan isn’t flipping out on her.

  23

  Grace

  I’m sitting in the green room, sipping a water and looking around for Joss when all hell breaks loose.

  Chase is the only guy in the band nearby. He’s talking to two tall girls, although I’m pretty sure neither of them speaks English. He doesn’t seem to care, since they both have huge boobs.

  Karl’s sitting on a couch nearby, talking into his phone, looking oblivious. I briefly wonder where the hell he comes from and where he stays, but I guess it doesn’t matter. He materializes at the show and disappears again afterwards, which is fine by me.

  I’m tired. My feet ache. My butt aches from where Joss spanked me, which actually makes me smile a little bit. I like having a secret like that. My ass is bruised from Joss spanking it, and honestly, I want it to happen again.

  I’m starting to accept it. If I can just put the marriage stuff aside, I’m starting to see that there’s something happening between me and Joss and fighting it isn
’t going to get me anywhere.

  I might as well embrace it, and try to enjoy it. He’s a rock star, after all. There are certain perks to marrying the rock star, even if the negative stuff sometimes outweighs it.

  I put that out of my mind. I don’t turn my phone on anymore, and that’s for the best. The outside world doesn’t understand any of this, and I don’t need their opinions.

  Hell, I don’t understand any of this, and I’m living it.

  As I’m sitting there, trying to decide why I still want Joss despite everything that’s happened, Nathan comes storming into the room.

  “Karl,” he says, voice cutting through the crowd. “Where are you?”

  I glance over at Karl and he makes a face. I watch him stand and hang up his phone.

  “Right here, kid,” he says.

  Nathan wades through the crowd, although the chattering is slowly dying down. Chase looks over with a big frown.

  “We have a problem,” Nathan says. “It’s about Landon.”

  Karl sighs. “He drunk again? Wandered off?”

  “No. He’s quitting.”

  Karl stares at him for a second. The whole room is silent.

  “Everyone, get the fuck out.” Karl’s voice slices through the crowd. Nobody moves.

  “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” He punctuates each word with a stabbing finger, pointing to the door.

  Slowly, people start moving. They file out, one by one. Chase looks annoyed as his girls follow the herd.

  I stand to leave, but Nathan glares at me. “Stay,” he says. “You might as well hear this, since it’s your fault.”

  “My fault?” I say, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

  Karl sighs and rubs his temples. “Really, Nathan, what are you talking about?”

  Nathan turns back to Karl as Chase slowly walks over. The room’s empty now, except for the remnants of the party: beer bottles, paper plates, napkins, empty glasses.

  “I overheard Landon saying that he’s leaving the band,” Nathan says. “And he blamed it on Grace.”