Punishing Me (Shaft on Tour #6)

by Cat Mason

  “You got it, boss,” Hunter says, giving him a thumbs up. “Hey, Tiger Lily, would you be open to renewing our vows in Vegas so that we can be eternally joined by the marital bond of bacon?”

  Chase’s face regains its color with Hunter’s words. Her brows knit together and she turns, glaring at him. “I’ll give new, very painful, meaning to the words hog tie, Hunter.”

  “Okay,” he nods, meeting her eyes and wincing. Closing the lid on the computer, he places it back on the table. “So I’ll probably wait to call your brother about booking the church for us. That’s totally fine.”

  “Well,” Cam says, pushing to her feet. “If the meeting is over, I have some other calls I need to make and some venues to confirm with. I’d like to get that done so that we could head over to the hospital.”

  Dominick nods, standing as well. “Mike will be here by noon. I’ve asked him to help out during the day until we leave. Whenever you’re ready to go, he’ll take you over in the ‘Burban.” His eyes fall on me, warming as they do. “We have a discussion to finish,” he says, sending a tingle up my spine.

  Yeah, I don’t think so.

  “Sorry, it’s girl talk time, Dominick.” Shaking my head, I open my notebook. “Besides, I have some ideas I’d like to get down before I lose them.”

  “Have it your way, your Highness,” he says, giving me a little bow. His gaze narrows on me when he straightens to his full height again, but he doesn’t argue. Grabbing the side of the couch, he leaps onto the cushion beside me. “I could use some time to catch up with my favorite women,” he says, getting comfortable. Leaning back into the cushions, he extends an arm behind my head and props his sneaker covered feet on the table.

  Murder is illegal, Ireland.

  Crossing one leg over the other, I force a smile. It’s not that I am enjoying being defiant. Well, not completely anyway. I don’t trust myself alone with him. Secondly, if Dominick Bradford thinks he, and his newly appointed power of authority gives him the right to boss me around like some sort of puppy, he has another thing coming.

  “So,” I say, awkwardly trying to find something to talk about. Girl talk isn’t something that I do. I can bullshit with the best of them, but other than that, I am clueless. I didn’t have many girl friends in high school. I found the girls my age to be immature and vicious. Hell, some of those snarky little bitches made you question if they were bordering on the edge of sanity. It is like the second they hit puberty, girls are encouraged to stab any other girl in the back at the first opportunity.

  Then you have girls like me. I spent so much time wanting people to like me that I was a target for people to use me and toss me away. And they have.

  You’d think I had a sign on my forehead or something…

  Even when I played bass guitar for Cuntpunting Cassandra, it was awkward. I didn’t fit in and I knew it. I could see the train wreck coming ahead, and I held on, watching the warning signs go off all around me. Still, I tried with everything I had to make Cassie and the other girls like me. It ended with me doing all the work, getting none of the credit, and hating them all because they tossed me away like trash the moment the album was done.

  I have a serious catch-22 in my life.

  “Ooo!” Daisy exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Tell us how Mack was as a kid.”

  “Yes! He hears all the stories on us and we know nothing about him before he came on to help Henry,” Chase adds. “You have to know some juicy stuff. Well, since you guys grew up together, or whatever.”

  “Or whatever,” Dominick and I mumble in unison.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed there was very little growing up on Dominick’s part,” I blurt, my eyes widening when I realized I said that out loud.

  “Ha!” Chase laughs. “I like her. She’s spicy as hell.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Dominick huffs in frustration. With the ice now broken, conversation comes easy. The girls are all too eager to tell me stories from time on the road with the guys. Crazy shenanigans and wagers gone wrong. A lot of them involving pranks pulled on either Hunter or Dominick.

  “The ladies loved him,” Daisy laughs, gasping for breath. “He was the Stud of the Month on the website for four months running. There was even talk of a calendar.”

  I bite my lip, trying not to laugh at the idea of him being chased by horny old women on those motorized carts, but fail miserably. “Is there really a video of him being attacked by crabs?” I ask, making him groan.

  “Sick motherfuckers,” he mutters, only making me laugh harder. “I can’t even look at seafood without my stomach knotting up now.”

  “Yes,” Aiden whoops from behind me. “It’s on the Shaft YouTube channel.”

  “How have I not seen this?” I ask, grabbing my phone from my pocket. “I feel like my life is lacking substance.”

  “Nope.” Dominick grabs the phone from my fingers and leaps from the couch. “Not happening.”

  “Give me my phone, Dicknipples.” Easing around the coffee table, I take a step toward him. “Quit being such a baby.”

  He looks around the room, frantically. For an escape route, or some kind of help, I don’t know, but no one moves. Everyone is way too entertained watching this craziness to do shit. Shoving it down the front of his pants, he grins. “How dedicated are you to your cause, sweet cheeks?”

  “No,” Daisy gasps, shaking her head in disbelief. “You did not just shove that down your pants. You’re older than six, aren’t you, Mack?”

  “Hey,” Hunter shouts, defensively. “The six-year-old in the house is not the one shoving her hand, or anything else for that matter, down her pants. If you have an issue, take it up with your own spawn, woman.”

  I shrug, “Dedicated enough to kick your ass, take my phone back, then look up the video later and post it on all my social media sites since it’s obviously not going anywhere,” I reply, winking at him. Realization dawns all across his face. Biting back my laugh, I step closer. “Now, are you gonna give me my phone back, Mr. Gingerpants, or am I going to have to use force?”

  Lifting the front of his shirt, he exposes the tight ridges of his abdomen. The lines of his pelvis, and that fucking V, couldn’t be more prominent if they had stage lights and flashing arrows. My mouth goes dry, but everything south of my belly button starts humming like a finely tuned engine.

  Damn him.

  His eyes follow my gaze, to where the skin disappears beneath the soft, red and black cotton of his pants. Looking at me through hooded eyes, he smirks. “Go for it. Unless you’d rather do this in private?”

  “Holy shit,” Hunter says, slapping Aiden on the back. “She refuses to eat bacon, but she’s gonna touch his cock? Women, dude, I’ll never understand them.”

  Reaching out, I run my fingers along his abdomen, circling his belly button slowly with just a feather light touch. “Is this what you want, Nicky?” I purr, meeting his eyes. “To flex your muscle?” Stopping at the hem of his pants, I run my index finger slowly back and forth before letting my fingers linger on the skin just above the drawstring. “Does it make you feel like a big, strong man to manipulate me in front of everyone?” I ask, running my fingers over the exposed red hairs of his happy trail. “Know what?” leaning in, I tilt my chin up and lick my bottom lip. Smiling, I yank the hairs between my fingers, ripping them clean from his body. “You don’t intimidate me.”

  “Ow,” he yelps, slapping my hand away when I go for more. “Shit. Fuck. Damn. Ouch!” He jumps back, and just like I knew it would, my phone falls down his pants leg and onto the floor.

  Bending down, I grab my phone with two fingers and shove it into my pocket. Straightening, I wink at him before looking to Daisy. “I think I’m going to go for a swim.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Darryl is a Dick

  Mack

  “So, how long did you and Ireland date?” Chase asks, arching her brow at me.

  “And what did you do to fuck it up?” Daisy asks, shaking her
head.

  “What?” I ask, rubbing at the sore patch of skin on my pelvis. Damn that woman. Who the hell does that to someone?

  And why in the hell are people so insistent on removing all the hair from my body today?

  “Seriously,” Chase says, studying me. “I thought maybe you two were fucking, but this makes so much more sense.”

  “We are not fu—“

  “Ew,” Daisy shudders. “Please don’t use the term fuck. We need another word. And we can’t use his name, either.” Shaking her head, she covers her eyes, as if that is going to help somehow. “It just can’t be him doing anything to anyone that I have done, or could ever plan to do. Let’s picture that guy from the zombie show Aiden watches. You know, the one with that big cross bow and the Harley?”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I shout, throwing up my hands. “That dude hasn’t washed his nuts in at least three years. But, you’d rather picture him and his raunchy dick than me?”

  Chase and Daisy look at each other in silent question, then back to me. “Without a doubt,” they nod in unison, making the guys laugh.

  “That’s just wrong on so many levels,” I mumble, scrubbing a hand over my face.

  “Now, Darryl,” Daisy, says, looking anywhere but at me. “Can I call you Darryl?”

  “No!” I shout, throwing up my hands. “You can’t.”

  “In all seriousness, though,” Chase interrupts me before I can tell Daisy exactly where to stick the invisible crossbow I know she is picturing me with right now. “I don’t know how I didn’t catch on before, but there’s history there. So spill it.”

  “He probably popped her cherry on prom night and never called her again,” Aiden laughs and my whole body tenses.

  “Oh my God!” Chase gasps, throwing an ink pen at me. “You did, didn’t you? You’re such a shit!”

  “No,” I argue, holding up my hands in my defense. “It wasn’t prom.”

  “Real dick move there, Darryl,” Hunter scolds. “Someone ever tries that shit with Jasmine, I’ll carve out his balls with a rusty soup spoon and hang them from the rearview mirror of the tour bus.”

  “Would you stop calling me Darryl?” I shout in irritation. Rolling my eyes, I look at Hunter. “And are you seriously going to lecture me on my past sexual exploits? You’re not known for calling the next day either, you know?”

  “You’re right, I’m not.” Hunter takes a step toward me, all humor leaving his voice. “I never made promises of a future with a woman until Chase. Sex is supposed to be about orgasms, not heartache.”

  “I’m not sayin’ it was right,” I say, turning for the door. “But, for fuck’s sake, neither is punishing me for the rest of my life for a mistake I made when I was seventeen.”

  “She fell in love with you, didn’t she?”

  Chase’s question hits me so hard it could have been a concrete block that weighed a thousand pounds and done less damage. At seventeen years old, the idea of anyone falling in love with me was unthinkable. I refused to believe it was possible. She was good and sweet. Ireland had dreams, where I was just roaming around hoping to catch a break.

  “She did,” Daisy agrees, her eyes widening in realization. “You know it. Then you broke her heart. Oh, that poor thing!”

  “Poor thing, my ass,” I fire back. “She’s not innocent by any means.”

  “So you’re saying she asked for it?” Chase snarls, her face hardening.

  Shit.

  “That she deserved to see something worth falling in love with you, only to be crushed by the lies you dropped on her at a time when she was completely helpless and vulnerable?” Daisy asks, pressing a hand to her chest. Her eyes well with tears, spilling over the sides and down her cheeks. “You’re a bastard.”

  “Uh oh,” Gray winces, taking a step toward Daisy, no doubt to comfort her since I have managed to piss off almost every woman in the house today before lunch. “Warning. This is not a drill. Take cover. Emotional female death stares in three, two, one…”

  “Right,” Aiden agrees, swallowing hard. “If a woman is mad enough to cry, you better run. Run far. Run fast. Run right fucking now.”

  “You can’t be serious, Mack,” Chase says, shaking her head. “It’s called falling in love for a reason. If you fell off a roof, do you think you’re going to walk away from that shit without it leaving you fucked up?”

  “She did not fall in love with me,” I snap, tired of this conversation and their unwanted opinions. “When the hell did it become gang up on Mack day? I have shit to do, so do you. None of us have time to sit and have this stupid fuckin’ discussion.”

  Making my way down the hallway, I try to get a handle on my temper. No, I am not proud of every decision I have made in my life. But they were mine to make. I also do not appreciate being put under the microscope so that everyone can put their two cents in either. My life: my way. Even as a kid. I took the responsibility of my own choices and didn’t have a board meeting with everyone I knew about color choices and fabric types every time I changed my fucking underwear.S

  I may have made a mess of things in my life at times, but I never took anyone down with me.

  Since coming to work with the band, I have had a mirror held up in front of me. Every ounce of me in clear view to be appraised. As time goes by, it gets closer and closer, everything becoming more clear to me. And the more I stare into the reflection, the more I question everything about what I see.

  This is not okay with me on any level.

  Halestorm blares loudly through the sound system on side of the house where the pool is. My hands fist at my sides as I make my way to the backdoor. Stepping out, I round the porch and spot her diving into the water. The tiny scraps of red fabric, barely covering her body, taunt me like waving a flag at a raging bull.

  “The fuck is your problem?” I shout over the wailing guitars and hypnotic lyrics of Lzzy Hale. Flinging open the black iron gate to the fence surrounding the large in-ground pool, I shove the brown lounge chair, sending it slamming into the glass table. Her white towel falls to the concrete and stone.

  I’m mad at her.

  At me.

  At the entire goddamn world.

  But, right now, all I can see is her.

  Her arms and feet cut through the water as she swims the length of the pool, heading toward me. Reaching the edge, just feet from me, she reaches out and grabs the stone ledge. Standing to her feet, she slowly opens her eyes and smiles. “Oh, hi, Dominick. Didn’t see you there. Something wrong?”

  “Are you in love with me?” I blurt, louder than I mean to.

  “What?” she asks, the color draining out of her face.

  “You heard me,” I argue. “Yes or no.”

  She blinks furiously. “Are you drunk?” she asks staring at me like I should be committed. “Or just an arrogant son of a bitch?”

  “No,” I snap. “I asked you a question.”

  “One that I’m not dignifying with an answer,” she replies, turning her back to me. “Go exercise your new authority where someone gives a damn.”

  Kicking off the wall, she swims for the other side of the pool. My blood boils. “You wanna play games, baby,” I say, turning and grabbing the chair. “You best be prepared for return fire.”

  The chair flies through the air, landing about halfway out in the water with a huge splash. Though it was nowhere close to Ireland, her body lurches back in the water mid-stroke. She screams, spinning around to face me. Her eyes narrow, her entire face hardening.

  “What the fuck is your problem!” she screams, pushing through the water, headed straight for me. “Are you crazy?”

  “I was wonderin’ the same thing about you,” I fire back, kicking her sandal across the stone, sending it down the steps into the water.

  “You’re gonna regret that, Asshole.”

  “Not the first, won’t be the last, sweetheart. Bring it on,” I challenge, not giving one shit that I’m baiting her.

  Climbing th
e steps, she lunges for me with a roar. This time though, I’m ready. As always, her knee goes straight for my dick. “Oh no, you don’t.” Grabbing her arms, I spin her, pulling her back against me. “Gonna have to be faster than that.” She struggles, her wet body making it hard to keep her still. “Keep fighting me,” I growl into her ear. “I like it and I think you do too.”

  “Fuck you, Dominick,” she spits, her chest heaving with her accelerated breathing.

  I smile against her skin. “I think you’d like that, too.” Tugging her earlobe between my teeth, I grind my cock into her ass. She hisses out a breath, but I don’t miss her hips as they press back into me. “But, you’ll have to ask nicely.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to piss on me if I were on fire,” she seethes in response.

  “How come I don’t believe you?” I ask, thrusting my hips into her ass again, smiling victoriously when she lets out a little moan. “You continue to push me, Ireland, but you have no idea what you’re asking for.”

  Spinning her around to face me, I grip her jaw with my fingers. My other hand slides down her wet body, stopping on her ass. “Stop,” she breathes, but it lacks any conviction.

  “If you really mean that, Ireland,” I say, running my fingertips along the edge of her bottoms. “Say it again.”

  Looking up at me, she blinks slowly. Her mouth opens, just enough for her tongue to sweep out over her bottom lip. With every breath she takes, her nipples press into my chest, only confirming what I already know.