Rock Dirty (Rock Candy #2)

by Virna DePaul

  Nik didn’t talk much on the ride back to my hotel room. I didn’t mind. She stayed curled up at my side in the taxi and the feeling of her soft, warm body flush against mine was more than enough to keep me happy and satisfied during the ride. I figured that dealing with that Hermes guy was hard for her, when what she really needed was peace.

  But was peace what I could give her?

  I wasn’t sure what I was doing with her. I knew that I wanted to help her and that despite what she’d said, some part of me was channeling my inner white knight and hoped to save her.

  That wasn’t me. Sometimes I’d have a girl a second or third night in a row, but I hadn’t had a real relationship since high school. Why limit myself, right?

  Then I’d seen her. And more importantly, Nikki Lorenz was more than just a hot good time. She was a woman wearing her heart on her sleeve, who was literally balanced on the edge. Things started to change for me when I saw her dive off the stage. She had a wild, free spirit and I wanted to help her make the most of it—without letting it consume her.

  She could tell me pretty stories all she wanted about how balancing made her feel alive, but no one would do that without at least seriously considering the prospect of being hurt or killed. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been there, but I felt it was at least even odds that someone would have been fishing her out of the river. I truly believed that.

  So she needed me.

  And if she didn’t want to talk on the way to my hotel or go over whatever bullshit Hermes had to say on behalf of the Wicked Witch, that was cool by me. Frankly, I didn’t mind having her soft body pressed up against mine, not in the taxi, and not when she leaned on me as we took the elevator to my room. I figured she’d be wiped. That she’d want some rest.

  But I could tell from the way she was already nibbling on my left ear lobe that while she wanted to use the bed for a variety of things, sleep wasn’t one of them. I was definitely on board. Blood was flowing fast to places other than my brain, and I could feel the denim of my jeans growing tighter.

  Nikki moved from my ear down the line of my jaw, her kisses feather-light teases, promising me so much more. I reached down and cupped the curves of her ass, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh between my fingers. Nikki squealed a bit and kissed my lips, her teeth grazing over my bottom lip. I shivered as I guided her into the room and then immediately started walking to the bed.

  “So I was thinking we might try something different tonight,” she teased.

  I laughed. “Yeah? Well, I’m definitely up for anything you want, Nik.”

  She grinned back at me and pressed her hips against mine. “I can feel that.”

  “I bet you can feel a lot,” I said, leaning down and kissing the hollow of her throat. “But we can do whatever you want. If you just need to sleep, I understand.”

  She shook her head and grazed her fingers over my torso, her nails digging through the cotton of my t-shirt. My cock jerked and I moaned.

  “I know what I want, Tucker, and I need more right now. Let’s not talk.”

  “I—”

  She leaned up and bit at my lower lip again. “No, I’m calling the shots here. Get on the bed and enjoy it. I don’t need my head shrunk tonight.”

  I knew by now not to fight Nik when she didn’t want to talk. The woman could be a total brick wall when she wanted to be. Besides, she was sexy as hell as she shimmied out of her clothes, revealing the black lace bra and matching panties underneath it. I wanted her, and she wanted me, but I knew what we wanted most wasn’t physical release. It was a true connection.

  Connection.

  Grinning back at her, I curled my upper lip even as I stripped down to nothing as well. “So, what are you going to do with me, Nik?”

  “Everything I want,” she replied. “Now, seriously, you don’t have to talk.”

  “Maybe I like to mouth off.”

  “I want that mouth doing other things,” she said, pulling down her underwear and exposing those soft curls at the apex of her thighs to the moonlight all around us.

  My mouth went dry at the sight of her, at all those soft curves and perfect pale skin waiting for me. She reached behind herself and unhooked her bra and I licked my lips upon seeing those lush breasts of hers. “Now, get ready, Tucker.”

  I sat on the bed, my back against the headboard, and wrapped my fingers around my dick. “Oh I’m ready for you, baby.”

  She slipped onto the foot of the bed and then crawled across it, and it was like watching a jungle cat stalk her prey. She was all control and focus, the muscles of her arms and legs rippling as she crept closer. My tigress was going to pounce, and it was going to be everything I’d ever wanted. After quickly suiting me up with a rubber she produced out of nowhere, Nikki straddled my hips but didn’t press again the part of me that wanted her most, not yet. She was teasing me, the bitch, and I had to admit that I was loving every minute of the slow burn. I could feel her thighs against mine as well as the wetness coming from her, telling me how ready she was for me to fuck her.

  Reaching up, I covered each of her dusky rose-colored areolas. I loved the feel of her soft mounds, of the pebbling of her nipples under my palms. I leaned up and let my tongue lave at her breasts, tracing a pattern over the left nipple, feeling it grow to a hardened peak under my efforts. She mewled and then repositioned herself, sliding slowly onto my cock. I hissed at the heat of her, at how welcoming she was. My tongue increased its rhythm even as I began to rock my hips, but I felt her hands on my shoulders.

  “No,” she purred. “I’m setting the pace.” She lifted herself up and down quickly for a nice, hard fuck on my dick. “Just like that.”

  Every moment with Nikki was unadulterated pleasure and the last thing I wanted was to discourage her or to stop what was happening between us. She rode me hard and fast, her thighs slapping furiously against mine as she moved. Her breathless cries grew in intensity as her pussy tightened around me, and suddenly she was shaking in my arms with her release. I moved my attention from her nipples to her neck and trailed my teeth gently along the ridge of her clavicle, the taste of her salty slick skin making my balls tighten and need surge through me.

  Her nails scraped against my back, the final bite of pain and pleasure that I needed to come, shaking beneath her as she continued moving up and down, as if she was riding me for all she was worth, determined to milk every last drop of come from me. Maybe she was. It seemed to be what she needed to forget whatever bullshit had tried to follow her from Hermes and her mother.

  After our bodies had settled and our breaths had calmed, Nikki slid off of me. Quickly, I disposed of the rubber, then returned to bed, where she curled up against my body, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, just don’t say anything. I just need to feel.”

  I couldn’t resist the opening she’d given me. I flexed my hips and poked against her, relaxing as she giggled and I kissed her temple. “Sure, it is possible for me to be quiet.”

  She didn’t speak for a moment, and then she said, “Actually, I changed my mind. I don’t want you to be quiet. I just don’t want to talk about anything.”

  I frowned. “Come again?”

  “Would you sing for me, Tucker?”

  Her request shocked me, and I felt my instinctive resistance. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sing, but I was usually back-up vocals even if I helped write a lot of our songs.

  “You heard me sing at Sacre Bleu, remember?” I’m not sure what I meant by that, just that I was stalling and had to say something.

  She nodded and caressed my chest. “I know. But I want to hear your voice again. Something sweet and personal. Please,” she said, her voice quiet.

  My mind ran through a bunch of possible songs and stopped on a ballad I’d been working solo on, something I’d hoped to play for Liam and suggest we incorporate into our next album. After only a brief hesitation, I started off a low, mellow lilt.


  Nikki smiled and snuggled in closer to me, then closed her eyes. Bit by bit, her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed. Soon, she was asleep.

  She looked so damn vulnerable and sweet, yet even in sleep her passionate nature and vital energy couldn’t be completely hidden. Her red hair was tousled everywhere and fell over her pillow in a messy way, a very visual reminder of the fire that burned inside her.

  And the fire that stirred within me whenever I was near her.

  God, I wanted to help her, but I had no idea how to do that. I wasn’t sure that fucking her until she passed out was the right therapy she needed. I just knew that I needed her not to fall off a bridge or hurt herself, that I wanted her to get through the next two weeks in one piece no matter what her mother and her stooge kept putting her through.

  I’ll try and protect you, Nikki, but you need to help me out here. Stop doing the craziest shit you can.

  Turning over onto my side, I curled my arm around her and prepared to sleep, as well. However, my cell phone started buzzing on the nightstand. Carefully, I slipped out of bed and grabbed the phone, glad that Nikki didn’t even stir. She needed as much rest as she could get.

  Checking my caller ID, I was shocked to see the caller was Liam. He hadn’t emailed or texted me in almost a week after all. I pressed the talk button and headed into the living room.

  “Hey, Liam. Do you know what time it is?”

  “It’s only eight p.m., dude, what’s up?”

  “On the east coast,” I countered. “It’s two a.m. in Paris.”

  “Shit, man, that sounds awesome. What are you doing there?”

  “I’m actually not sure,” I said even though I hadn’t intended to be that honest. “How about you? What are you and Abby up to?”

  “Abby? Not Asian Persuasion?”

  I shrugged. “She’s your girl and I need to respect that, right?”

  “Uh, right.” I could tell I’d surprised him. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, we’re in upstate New York seeing some of the falls and enjoying private times at the cabins here. Still, you side-stepped my question, man, what are you doing in Paris?”

  “Um, I met someone at the airport. Nikki Lorenz.”

  “Nikki…? You mean that fashion chick?”

  “Shoe designer.”

  “Whatever. Isn’t she supposed to be a hot mess?”

  “She’s not,” I defended. Sure, Nikki had some stuff to deal with, but none of that was Liam’s damn business. “She’s great, man, and you’re hardly one to judge. You ran off with our cello player.”

  “And it’s been the best thing I’ve ever done. Can you say the same for Paris?”

  In all honestly, I couldn’t. Not yet. Because I didn’t know how things between me and Nikki were going to end.

  “Liam, it’s okay. I got this. I just… Hey, when are we going to be in the studio again? Do you know?”

  “Well, I want to get Abby settled into her own place. Then there’s her audition in September. How about—Shit, sorry. Abby’s calling me for dinner. I have to go, Tucker. You and I will talk later, okay?”

  “Yeah but when?”

  “Soon, I promise. In the meantime, enjoy Paris. And your girl.”

  “Liam—” I said, but there was a click and the line went dead.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nikki

  “You know, at least people liked the Mona Lisa. I bet that Da Vinci didn’t have to worry about people making fun of him or shitting all over his designs.”

  “I guess not, but he wasn’t making art you could wear,” Tucker said.

  I sat down beside him and looked at the crowd huddled around the surprisingly small frame of the Mona Lisa. “Maybe, but I think this week has done more to prove my mom right than anything else.”

  Tucker frowned but didn’t say anything. What could he say?

  Over the past week, I’d loaned shoes to four designers for their fashion shows; twice the response to my shoes had been lukewarm, and twice downright disdainful. I had my own show coming up in a week but considering how badly my shoes had flopped on four different runways, I was expecting a massive crucifixion—all witnessed first hand by my mother, who’d probably smile at me the whole time to really rub it in.

  I was dreading it so very much.

  A protracted death by a firing squad I couldn’t avoid.

  “I wouldn’t have thought it,” Tucker said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “That you’d have such a thin skin. You’ve got to toughen up, Nik.”

  He side-eyed me, which should have clued me in that he was deliberately baiting me, but of course I fell for it.

  “Excuse me,” I said, my voice a deadly whisper. “You don’t know how I feel.” The instant the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Because…

  “I think I do,” he countered, smirking back at me.

  I swore that grin should be outlawed. That expression should be illegal in all fifty states because it made it incredibly easy for Tucker Benning to talk anyone into anything.

  “Look,” Tucker continued. “We had a shitty sophomore album, sold out a lot to the studio and almost came up with a boy band sound. We got raked over the coals pretty damn bad. We had tweets hating on us, our forum crashing, all the hate mail you can imagine. I know exactly what it’s like to have people shit on something you worked hard on. And come on, your stuff is hardly mainstream.”

  “But that’s not what high fashion is about. My designs are pushing the boundaries. Establishing new frontier.”

  “Is that from your site?” he teased, his eyes twinkling back at me. “Your pending PR material? You don’t have to sell me that your shoes are intense,” he said gesturing to the ones I was currently balancing in.

  They were from the new line, of course. The shoes were black leather and adorned with silver-plated studs on every conceivable inch. They had a rounded body like a clog but then slid down to concave platform heels. It was only four or five inches, not the back-breaking eight I could sometimes pull off, but they were as intense as anything else I created. They were what the world was expecting from me.

  “Then I don’t understand how you can see them and get it but the Paris fashion scene can’t.”

  “You make your stuff for the people who love it, not the ones who don’t. Just try to remember that.”

  “I guess,” I mumbled.

  Tucker stood and took my hand in his. “Hey, let’s keep going. I want to see more of the Louvre than crowds anyway. I’m sure you can show me a good time.”

  “That sounds like a come on,” I replied, snorting a little but leaning my head against his shoulder anyway. “Sure, we can go to the sculpture section.” As we walked, I was silent for a minute before saying, “I just…I want to be someone good. No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want to just be ‘good;’ I want to be legendary. I want people to think of shoes and my name is literally the next thing that comes to mind. I want to…” I stopped then. I couldn’t tell even Tucker the next part. That all I wanted was for my mother to respect me, too. That I wanted to make my past up to her.

  We strode into the main collection of busts and statues in the Louvre, which began with the ones from the ancient Greeks. “Hellenistic” was the word I learned back in high school. I only remembered it because it made me think of Helen of Troy and how much I wished in high school I could be like her, shed that awkward period and launch a thousand ships.

  “But maybe you need to mix things up and not try as hard,” Tucker said.

  I frowned. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Of course, if I’d wanted some passive yes man at my side, I wouldn’t have started whatever this affair was with Tucker at all. I liked his lack of restraint, that wild side of him that called to my own.

  “Look, Nikki, I think you’re this amazing and elegant woman. Your designs are kickass but some are over-the-top. What if you pulled back a little on some of them? Made them less like stilts. Take off a few studs,” he sai
d, gesturing to my shoes.

  “But this is my calling card. Being extreme, pushing boundaries.”

  “Yeah, but does it represent who you are? In your soul? Because from what I know of you, it doesn’t seem to. I mean, you’re fun as hell, wild and passionate, but you’re classy and down-to-earth, too. Where’s that in your designs? Point Break got reamed because we were trying to be something we’re not with our sound. You’re doing the same thing. You have this amazing, classy eye and you’re just creating something so over the top that it doesn’t match you at all.”

  “You can’t know that,” I countered, wandering through the rows of massive statues, the white marble dwarfing both of us. “I’ve worked so hard to be different, to have an edge and not just be a crowd-pleaser.”

  “I don’t think that going simpler is necessarily about being a crowd pleaser.”

  I shook my head and stopped at a statue standing on a pedestal about two feet off the ground. Reading the plaque, I smiled to myself. It was “Winged Victory of Samothrace” and the brass placard mentioned that sometimes it was called Nike, like the goddess of victory and, well, now one of the most famous shoe brands in the world. Still, this might be the closest to actual victory I’d ever get, just standing besides its statue. It didn’t seem very victorious now because while you could see the body in her flowing white robes and the massive wing spread out behind her, the head and arms were gone.

  A battered victory.

  Probably the best I could hope for.

  Impulsively, I slipped off my shoes and set them on the stand in front of the statue’s feet.

  Giggling, I looked back at Tucker. “See, someone likes what I’ve created.”

  He pulled out his phone and took a few flash pictures and inspired me to do the same. “Nice. A famous model in the Louvre posing with an original Nikki Lorenz design.”

  “Excuse me, Madam,” the nearest guard barked at me. He was a thin, reedy man with a huge mustache, bushy and outdated. “You can’t just put your shoes there.”

  “Just a sec,” I said, and continued taking pictures.