ROCK STAR

by Daiko, SC

  He stuck his jaw out, hiding his obvious pain. “My dad won’t talk to me. Blames me for what happened to Ella…”

  “I’m so sorry.” My eyes blurred and fresh tears clung to my lower lashes. “I wish I could help.”

  He jumped up from the chair where he was sitting, lowered himself next to me, and kissed the tears from my cheeks. “You’re so sweet, Phoenix. Don’t be upset for me. I’ll work things out with him when we’re in the UK.”

  My heart was breaking for Axel. “I’m here for you, honey. That’s what friends are for.”

  “Friends?” The creases in his brow deepened. “I hope we’re more than that.”

  Without waiting for a response from me, he got to his feet and went to pick up his guitar. Standing in the center of the room, he started strumming.

  I saw you across the room

  And I wanted to say hi

  But you’re like an enchanted bird

  A goddess from the sky

  You fly like an angel

  In a magical moonbeam

  And I’m a mere mortal

  Living in a dream.

  Ah. Ah. Ah.

  Baby, all the barriers I put between us

  Will fall if you just say the word.

  I know I’m not worthy.

  I’m so fucking unworthy,

  I want to be worthy.

  I want you to love me.

  But you’re an enchanted bird.

  A goddess from the sky.

  And I’m a mere mortal

  Living in a dream.

  “Oh, wow, Axel,” I clapped my hands. “That’s so beautiful. I love it.”

  “See how you inspire me?” He cocked his head to the side. “It needs more work, of course. Layering up with the guys before we go into the studio.”

  “Well I think it’s just perfect.” And I did. It had a rawness to it that spoke to my soul.

  He put down his guitar and came up to me. Ran a finger down my cheek. “I want to take you on a date tonight, Firebird. We’ll tell everyone I need to experience Paris by night as inspiration for a song. What do you say?”

  I twirled a lock of hair around my finger, pretending to think about his proposal.

  But I didn’t need to think.

  Not for one second.

  I’d just been serenaded by Axel Wainwright.

  He’d written a song inspired by my name.

  How could I refuse him?

  I didn’t even want to refuse him.

  “I’d love that,” I said.

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “Good. Now we need to work on a riff about a girl who avoids walking on the cracks in pavements and has a pathological fear of thunderstorms.” His breath was shallow and warm against the shell of my ear. “That one’s proving a tad more difficult to write.”

  “Let’s do it then,” I said, although I had no clue what it would involve. I was excited to learn, however.

  And I was even more excited about going out on a date with Axel tonight.

  16

  “Where are we headed?” I asked Axel as he helped me into the back seat of a chauffeur-driven Renault SUV after our song writing session. We’d taken a quick shower in our separate suites, followed by a change of clothes. He’d said to dress casually—he hadn’t wanted us to draw too much attention to ourselves—so, I’d put on the pair of designer jeans Hayley had bought me in Barcelona, and a gorgeous white cotton embroidered blouse. I’d left my face free of makeup except for lip gloss and a touch of mascara… Axel had said he liked me like that.

  “Thought we’d go to Montmartre.” He sat next to me in the seat behind where Mike was riding shotgun. “It’s the most romantic part of Paris.”

  He held my hand and I stared out at the busy streets. I was starting to learn that Axel was, indeed, romantic.

  A poet at heart.

  “A good song writer draws on life experience and what he feels in his soul,” he’d explained earlier while noodling on his guitar. “My songs evolve organically. They start with an idea. The music comes to me and then the words.”

  Of course, he was romantic. He wrote songs about love, mostly. I wondered how many times he’d been in love before. The thought pierced me, panged in my gut with a sharp pain.

  Silly.

  I was being silly.

  Even if I had fallen for him, he wouldn’t have fallen for me. Not in the same heart-wrenching way that was turning my life upside-down. He’d probably fallen in and out of love hundreds, if not thousands of times. I’d only done so once before, and, compared with how I was feeling now, my so-called love for Zander, my ex, had been lukewarm.

  The relentless heat between my legs when I was with Axel made me want him to own me.

  Made me want him to love me, despite myself.

  This wasn’t part of my future plans and it was tearing me in two.

  I focused on looking out the window. There seemed to be a café on every corner, and the architecture! Just, wow! We were driving past the white domes of a beautiful old church, lit up by spotlights.

  “The Sacré Coeur,” Axel pointed out.

  Then, in complete contrast, we passed the gaudy red lights and windmill of the Moulin Rouge, and I let out a gasp. “I can’t believe I’m actually here, seeing this.”

  “Believe it, baby,” he squeezed my fingers. “This is just the start.”

  “The start?”

  “I’m going to take you on a date in every city of the tour, show you the sights.”

  I melded into his side, needing him to kiss me, but we’d already pulled up at our destination.

  Mike leapt out of the car and opened our doors.

  “I’ve arranged a private spot for us, away from prying eyes.” Axel took my hand. “This isn’t a posh place, but I think you’ll like it.”

  We walked into the prettiest greenhouse at the back of the restaurant, complete with chairs colored the deepest of reds. Shielded from the view of curious fellow patrons by thick greenery, our table was waiting for us.

  “Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” our server said. “What can I get you to drink?”

  Axel glanced at me. “Would you like some champagne?”

  I remembered getting drunk on that Prosecco in Milan. “Just a glass.”

  “We’ll have a bottle of Dom Pérignon,” he told the waiter.

  I tried to understand what was written in French on the menu. Such a sexy language to listen to, but impossible to read. “What do you recommend?” I asked Axel, not wanting to show my ignorance.

  “You can never go wrong with steak, salad and chips in France,” he said.

  “Medium rare for me, then.”

  Our waiter reappeared with the champagne, popped the cork, and poured a little into a glass for Axel to taste. He gave his approval and placed our order.

  “Cheers, Firebird. Here’s to us!”

  We clinked glasses and I took a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose.

  “Where’s Mike?” I inquired.

  “Enjoying a slap-up meal in the front part of the restaurant with our driver.” Axel took my hand.

  “This place is perfect,” I said, smiling at him. “How did you know about it?”

  Please, don’t tell me you’ve been here before with another woman.

  “I found it online, like anyone else,” he smirked. “But I wouldn’t have made reservations if we couldn’t have gotten this table.”

  “You are so getting laid tonight,” I blurted out. “Oops,” I blushed and covered my mouth with my hand. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  “Ha,” he smirked. “I’m glad you did, because I was kind of counting on it.”

  We laughed together and it felt so free and easy.

  It felt right.

  We chatted about what there was to see in the cities we would visit during the rest of the tour until our food arrived. The steak was tender and delicious. ‘Chips’, I discovered, were what Axel called ‘fries’, and we fed them to each other across
the red and white checked tablecloth.

  I had more than one glass of champagne. Not enough to get drunk, but enough to relax my inhibitions. After we’d finished eating and Axel had settled the check, we left the restaurant with our arms around each other to return to the hotel.

  We had to circle round to the back of the building when we arrived. Word must have gotten out that ChiMera were staying here… there were fans and paps blocking the entrance.

  “Normally, I’d go say hi,” Axel tucked me into his side behind the heavily tinted windows. “But not tonight.” His smile was wolfish. “Tonight, I have other plans.”

  We rode the elevator up from the basement. “Your suite or mine?” He repeated the question he’d asked in Barcelona. Had it really only been three days ago?

  “Mine,” I answered like I did last time, using the same excuse that my room was so pretty. But, to be honest, I wanted to avoid the walk of shame in the early hours of tomorrow morning.

  I tapped the keycard on the reader and opened the door. As soon as we stepped inside, he pressed me up against the wall. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the past couple hours,” he growled, reaching for my wrists and lifting them above my head.

  My purse fell down my arm and hung on my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I stuttered.

  He silenced me with a hard, possessive kiss. “Claiming you as mine.” He ran his lips down my neck.

  My hands were still pinned to the wall above my head, and it was hot.

  Freaking hot.

  He bit down, then sucked away the sting.

  I wrapped one leg around his hip and dragged him against me, curving my body.

  He kissed me again, even harder. He tasted of sweet champagne and Axel.

  With a groan, he released my hands. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

  I let my purse fall to the floor and wound my arms round his neck, holding him tight. “So are you.” I slid my fingers into the hair at his nape.

  He clutched my ass and thrust his tongue into my mouth, grinding the bulge in his jeans into me. “I want you, baby.”

  “I want you too.” I dropped my hand and caressed his chest through his dress shirt.

  It wasn’t enough, so I grabbed a fistful of the fine cloth and pulled it out of his waistband.

  Ridges of muscle met my palm.

  “You’re driving me insane,” he muttered, but I carried on with what I was doing, running my fingers into the furrows between his abs and up to his ripped pecs.

  With a satisfied smile, I skimmed my hands around his waist and stroked them down over his tight denim-covered asscheeks, squeezing.

  “Enough,” he grunted, “or I’ll come in my jeans.”

  He lifted me against his strong chest and, bending my knees, carried me across the suite toward the bedroom. The scent of the pink roses in a vase on my dressing table perfumed the air.

  He laid me on the gold silk covering the bed. “I’m going to undress you now.” His eyes smoldered. “Then I’m going to make love to you.”

  I held his gaze. “Yes, please, make love to me.”

  He unzipped my jeans and I lifted my butt while he slithered them down my legs, followed by my panties. I sat up and he unbuttoned my blouse. I could have done it myself, but it was hotter having him do it for me. Next, he unclipped my bra. He played with my breasts and tugged at my nipples, sending jolts of desire through me.

  I brushed his thick hair back from his face and caressed the soft beard on his chin. “Time for you to get undressed,” I dared to suggest.

  Maybe it was the champagne making me bold. Or maybe I had gotten more confident with him. Whatever. He seemed to like it and barked out a laugh.

  “Little Miss Bossy,” he grinned.

  Still laughing, he shrugged off his shirt and removed his jeans, taking his shoes and socks with them.

  He clambered onto the bed beside me.

  Licking my lips, I feasted my greedy eyes on his penis. Rosy on top, veined on the shaft, and nestled in brown fuzz at the base.

  Beautiful.

  He came down on top of me and kissed me ravenously.

  I pushed at his hard, lean body, trying to shove him between my legs.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast,” he snickered, mouthing my breasts and drawing them into his hot mouth.

  My entire body hummed with need. “Please,” I whimpered.

  He raised his head, licked three fingers and, before I’d even registered his intentions, he reached down between my thighs. His gaze holding mine, he slid those fingers over my entrance, massaging me into a frenzy.

  “Please,” I begged again.

  “Since you ask so nicely,” he chuckled low in his throat.

  He slipped his fingers into me. “You’re so wet and tight,” he rasped.

  Shocks ran through me, and I felt myself begin to tighten.

  I arched my back and pressed down on him, panting.

  He told me how beautiful I was and rubbed deep inside me, sliding over my clit and deeper, dipping into me, his fingers moving with a rhythm that echoed a song.

  He was playing me like an instrument. His instrument. And I freaking loved it.

  “Axel,” I moaned.

  “Yes, baby, yes.”

  He bent and sucked on my breast, his tongue flicking my nipple in syncopation with his fingers, driving me higher and higher.

  “I’m gonna come,” I squealed.

  “Yes, come. Come for me, baby.”

  His fingers dipped deeper, pumped even faster, and his thumb found my clit.

  Every inch of me vibrated and I fell off the edge. I held onto his muscled shoulders, crying out with the intensity of coming. “Ahhh.”

  He kissed me hard, his erection digging into my stomach.

  I was still pulsing around his fingers.

  “Not done yet,” he smiled, slipping his fingers out then flipping me over.

  He grabbed my hips and hoisted my ass into the air.

  “Oh!” I gasped.

  I turned my head and watched him sheath himself.

  He eased into me, filling me. I was still sensitive from my orgasm, but soon his long hard strokes had built up the pressure again.

  I rocked myself against him, taking him deep.

  He held my hips and pulled me onto him.

  I rested my weight on my bent elbows and, with rocking movements, slid myself up and down on his penis.

  He wrapped one arm around my waist and yanked me all the way up onto my hands. “Good girl.”

  His fingers moved over the curve of my hip and between my legs. He found my clit and started plucking at it, like I was the string of a guitar.

  The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful.

  “Oh. My. God,” I shrieked.

  I came again.

  Strongly.

  An earth- shattering release that reverberated through me.

  Whimpering, I clutched the gold bedspread in my fists.

  Axel kept on thrusting into me. “That’s my girl.”

  My legs shook with the force of his thrusting.

  “I’m coming,” he cried out at last with a volley of thrusts that pushed me into the mattress.

  I collapsed onto the bed, turned my head again and he brought his mouth to mine, kissing me with such passion it brought tears to my eyes.

  He rolled off me and onto his side, drawing me into his arms. His chest rose and fell under my palms, his muscles contracting and releasing with each breath.

  I felt his heart pound.

  I lifted my head and our gazes locked.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, Phoenix,” he said, his voice serious. “Do you feel the same about me?”

  I stared at him.

  At this beautiful, sensitive man.

  I loved him.

  I loved him heart and soul.

  But what about the band? What about my plans for the future?

  The world around me contracted until it was just me and
him.

  Two people who’d come together against all the odds.

  “I do love you, Axel,” I said.

  “Thank God.” He wrapped his arms around me once more and showered me with kisses. “It will all work out, you’ll see. We just need to keep this between us until the end of the tour.”

  “And afterward?” I leaned away from him. “What happens then?”

  He chewed his lip. “I’m not letting you go, Firebird. You’re under my skin now. I’d be lost without you.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  I wanted to get it out into the open. His reputation had been far from saintly.

  He creased his forehead so deeply it was like a crevice. “Never. I’ve never ever told any woman that I love her. You’ve got to believe me, Phoenix.”

  I gazed deep into his dark brown eyes and saw the truth there. My heart beat so fast I almost stopped breathing.

  Oh, God…

  17

  Six weeks Later

  I snuck a quick look at Phoenix, sitting across the aisle from me next to Hayley. We’d left Scotland one hour ago, and in about ten minutes our plane would land at London City airport. She kept her eyes averted from me… deliberately. Since that memorable night in Paris, we’d done everything we could to appear like we were just friends, even inviting the guys along when we’d gone on our nights out in the various cities we’d visited.

  Sometimes, they’d hung out with us… like the evening before our gig in Norway, at an outdoor concert venue a little like a small Glastonbury. We’d rented bikes and had cycled through a forest, singing the Beatles’ ‘Norwegian Wood’ at her suggestion, laughing so much we had tears in our eyes.

  Most times, thank fuck, they said they’d rather party at a nightclub than join us for dinner at a secluded restaurant. That’s when Phoenix and I really got to know each other. We’d talk about music for hours, go back to our hotel to work on a song and then make sweet love.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. It had been an exhausting tour… I probably wouldn’t have been able to maintain my energy without cocaine if it hadn’t been for Firebird. She’d kept me focused, kept me from falling off the wagon. As ChiMera’s lead singer, I’d always given everything I had when performing and I’d always felt like an empty shell afterward.