Dirty Rock: A Rock Star Romance

by James, Vicki

  My girl muttered a weak Hey back at JJ but concentrated on her phone like it was her lifeline.

  “The other guys aren’t here?” JJ asked.

  “Just me.”

  “Big, bad Rhett, all alone in America.”

  “Not alone. I have Jules.”

  “Right.” JJ giggled.

  Something lit up in JJ’s eyes, and she took two well-practised steps towards me to close the distance. Her white tailored jacket pulled her in at all the right places, but it still didn’t do a damn thing for me the way Julia’s blazers did. JJ’s was obviously designer and made to be noticed. My Jules wore hers because they were a part of who she was. Everyone else made them look like shit compared to her.

  When JJ draped a hand on my shoulder, her eyes fell to her touch for a long, lingering moment before she fluttered her long lashes and unleashed bright blue eyes on me.

  “But you’re the only one here I’m interested in.”

  “JJ, listen—”

  “An opportunity to have you all to myself with no distractions. Sounds like it’s not to be missed.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but JJ closed the gap and pressed her lips to my cheek instead.

  “I’ll look forward to it, Rhett. You should, too. I’ve gotten so much better.”

  And just as quickly as she came into the day, she turned around and left again, leaving me to stare at her as though she’d just been the cause of a hit, and then she got away in time to cement the run.

  When reality caught back up with me, I turned back to Jules, but she shrugged me off before I could say a damn word.

  “We should get going. Liv Tyler is already on her way to the studio. We need to make a good impression and get there, too. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Jules…”

  “Not now, Rhett.”

  She took off, leaving me with no choice but to follow as another celebrity walked past me, offering me a nod of encouragement.

  I nodded back, not knowing who the hell it was or even caring, but pretty sure that at some point, I may have fucked her, too.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “I’m Rhett Ryan.”

  “And I’m JJ Jones.”

  “Together, we’re here to ask you, America, for your help and donations towards the Tornado Relief campaign.”

  “After the devastating effects of the Quad-State Tornado, our great nation is gathering together to unite and generate aid that will fund families who have lost everything in last month’s disaster...”

  “As well as helping to rebuild towns, cities, while also investing in the emergency services America relies upon during these tragic times.”

  I stared into the camera lens with my hands behind my back and my legs apart. JJ Jones had both her palms resting on my shoulder, her face sombre as she read the lines on the prompter and pressed her tits against my bicep.

  “Your British accent is always so fucking hot,” JJ whispered in my ear when she turned her face my way and hid behind a curtain of her blonde hair. “I think about it all the time to get myself off. The way you pronounce my name is such a turn on.”

  I blinked at the camera, mute, unable to read the lines I was being fed.

  “Cut!” someone called out.

  The second the word was released, JJ dropped away from me, pushed her hair behind her ears and looked up at the guy in charge.

  “Did we do it wrong?” she asked sweetly.

  A fat guy wearing a headset and a chequered shirt came towards me, somewhat annoyed. “Hey, Rhett?” He sighed and looked down at the floor for a second before he caught my eye again. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but…”

  “You sound like you’re being asked to go in for a vasectomy, Rhett!” Julia called out from the darkened sidelines. “Get it together. You can do better than this.”

  Her voice made me smirk, despite knowing I was fucking this up.

  “Yeah. What she said.” The fat dude in front of me smiled awkwardly. “You okay to try again?”

  “Sure. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just…” He looked down at my arms that were fixed behind my back. “Loosen up a little, okay. This is serious, yes, but we also need your charm to shine through. This is a national disaster. We need to connect with the audience to bring in the serious donations.”

  “Got it.”

  I didn’t have shit, but the thought of Jules watching my discomfort and finding it amusing spurred me on. With a roll of my neck, I shook my arms out and pushed them into the pockets of my jeans, making my stance more relaxed. The orders were given, we were counted in, and JJ Jones draped her hands over my shoulder again to make us look like a goddamn Hollywood couple.

  “I’m Rhett Ryan.”

  “And I’m JJ Jones.”

  “Together, we’re here to ask you, America, for your help and donations towards the Tornado Relief campaign.”

  “After the devastating effects of the Quad-State Tornado, our great nation is gathering together to unite and generate aid that will fund families who have lost everything in last month’s disaster...”

  “As well as helping to rebuild towns, cities, while also investing in the emergency services America relies upon during these tragic times.”

  “Alongside my darling rock star here,” JJ cooed, squeezing me tightly. “I’m asking you to dig deep and give everything you can.”

  Relax, Rhett. Relax.

  I slid my arm around her waist, pulling her closer and slipping a hand under the back of her blazer. The contact surprised her, and a little mewl fell from JJ’s lips. She hitched in a breath and pressed her tits against my arm again.

  “In just a moment, JJ and I would like you to take a look at some distressing footage that will highlight the wreckage left behind.” I squeezed my fingers into her skin, making her stumble into me slightly. Her smile tightened as she tilted her head to the camera. “By coming together, we can put this disaster that never should have happened behind us and look towards the future. A future of growth, strength, and standing up to the dangerous side of Mother Nature, no matter how beautiful she can be.” I looked directly into JJ’s eyes as I spoke. “Because beauty means nothing when there’s no peace attached to it.” Turning back to the camera, I delivered my parting line. “Take a look at this.”

  “Cut!” the guy roared out again.

  As soon as the word was free, I let go of JJ and took a step away.

  “What the fuck was that, Rhett?” she hissed at me, no longer the giddy little nymphomaniac she had been a few hours earlier. “You went totally off-script. Beauty means nothing when there’s no peace attached to it? What the hell?”

  I shrugged. “The words felt right.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you were saying. This is so typical of you! You and your stupid, British mind games. You need to grow up.”

  I held my shit together for all of two seconds before I started laughing. “If you don’t want to get burned, darling, don’t cosy up next to the fire. Nobody asked you to rub up on me.”

  JJ’s face paled as she stared at me, open-mouthed.

  “Rhett,” the fat controller sighed again.

  I turned to him, expecting a lecture, only to see him smiling and giving me a thumbs up.

  “Much better. Good thinking on the ad-lib. It sounded sincere. From the heart.”

  “Thanks.” I smirked, glancing back at JJ and offering a wink.

  “I need to get out of here.” She began to unfasten the big, black button holding her blazer together as she looked around for someone to take her aggression out on. “Where the hell is my assistant?”

  “We done?” I asked the guy, whose lanyard read Burt. JJ had had enough of my attention. I was over it.

  “You’re good to go. See you at the live show tomorrow.” JJ stormed off in a huff, and Burt made a face that said he was just about done with this celebrity bullshit. “I hope they don’t put you on stage with her again.”

  “You
and me both.”

  When I turned around, my Jules was standing in front of me, her expression giving nothing away. “Did you just inadvertently tell JJ Jones to stop groping you?”

  I took a quick glance around to see who was looking, and when I thought the coast was clear, I leaned down and whispered intimately in Jules’s ear, “Only my publicist is allowed to grope me now.”

  “Thank you,” she breathed. “She was driving me crazy.”

  “You weren’t the one she was touching up.”

  “Never thought I’d see the day when you turned down a woman like her.”

  I smiled into her neck. “Found something better, didn’t I?”

  “You’ve got to stop talking like that.” The smile in her voice was obvious. I blew a stream of air over her skin and watched on as it pebbled with arousal.

  “Do I?”

  “No,” she sighed dreamily.

  “Didn’t think so.”

  * * *

  We showered the shitty day off of us, and now we were in the hotel suite, listening to Fleetwood Mac’s You Make Loving Fun. Jules looked light as she swayed those hips around in front of me, wearing nothing but a white robe with the hotel’s name embroidered over her left breast. Her wet hair was scraped back, making her look fresh as fuck. She had early 90s Demi Moore vibes going on for days, only Jules made Demi look like trailer trash. She was makeup-free and glowing on life as she sang along to Stevie Nicks, talking about she doesn’t believe in miracles but it’s time to try.

  How she didn’t believe in magic, and she had no idea why.

  Julia turned me on without even trying, and I understood this song better than ever before. I’d listened to it with Ma a thousand times when growing up. It had always been one of her favourites.

  Jules lifted a glass of champagne to her lips and took a drink as she flipped idly through the pages of a Hollywood newspaper that rested on a table in the suite. I was sitting in a wingback chair, content to just watch her.

  I began to sing along to the song.

  She spun around on the heels of her feet, but never stopped swaying that body I loved to do wicked things to. Like this, she was a version of herself I could never have imagined existed. So feminine, natural, pure, with a little twinkle in her eyes that assured you she was capable of destroying everything I ever thought about myself.

  “Goddammit, I love your voice,” she told me. “So much more than I can ever express.”

  Pushing myself to the edge of the chair, I sang along with Nicks, and beckoned Julia towards me with a single crook of my finger. I looked up at her through my dark lashes when she came closer, admiring everything about her as I slid my hands up her silky thighs, and let them disappear under her dressing gown.

  She ran a free hand through my hair and pulled it back to take a look at me, not saying a word.

  Her face, however, said a million. I felt them, even if she couldn’t speak them.

  The track changed to Gold Dust Woman, and I ran my hands over her bare arse cheeks, before sliding them back around down her thighs. I caressed her legs and stomach while the track played on, and I never looked away from that face I’d become anchored to.

  Her face was flushed, and she took another small sip of her champagne. Gripping an arse cheek, I let my other hand slide around to the front of her, and I cupped her where the heat waited, begging for my attention.

  She was always ready for me, hot, wet, needy.

  My lips twitched, and I fought back my smile of victory as I slid a single finger through her folds, my dick growing at the feel of what was waiting for me once I’d brought her to her knees.

  And I would bring her to her knees.

  “I’m going to make you come right here, and I’m not going to stop until your legs give way.”

  “Promises, promises,” she whispered.

  Sliding a finger inside her, my lips parted as I watched her face change and her mouth open. She contracted around me, so tight and ready for it. In sex, Julia was needy as fuck, and I loved to make her beg for her orgasms. My denial drove her crazy, but when I finally set her free, she came harder than any woman I’d ever been with.

  I couldn’t get enough.

  Another digit slipped in, and I curled my fingers around to hit her sweet spot. The glass in her hand shook as she pulled in a breath, holding onto my shoulder quickly with her other palm and squeezing tight. I worked her slowly, then hard, teasing her clit with my thumb before pulling it away and stroking the skin on her thighs again.

  “Rhett,” she breathed heavily. “I want everything.”

  “So do I,” I whispered back. Everything you have to give.

  My fingers went inside her again, and I spent time looking up at Julia in worship as I made her come over and over again until her knees gave out, just like I assured her they would. I knew everything about her body now—every sensitive piece of flesh, and every G-spot she owned. It took no time at all for me to take ownership of that smooth, sweet body, and break it apart.

  The only piece I had left to crack was her heart. If I didn’t hear those words soon, I was going to be the one who broke.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “How’s it going, man?” Presley asked.

  I held my phone to my ear and looked around at the set of the telefon that was going live to the whole of America. “I want a fucking drink. This shit doesn’t feel the same without you guys here.”

  “Dicky said it made sense for you to take the lead on this one. You’re the frontman, after all.”

  I ran a hand through my hair and groaned. “If ever I try to quit the band and tell you all I want to go solo, remind me of this moment right here and how crap it feels.”

  “You can count on it.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Where’s Jules?”

  “She’s…” I spun around to look down a corridor, only to see Julia walking in my direction, giving instructions to a very important-looking man who walked by her side. Her work face was on, and she looked sexy as hell in her tight black jeans and her white blouse tucked in and bagged out over the waist. “Perfect.”

  “Oh fuck.” Presley laughed out loud. “You’re so far gone.”

  I tore my gaze away from her and looked back at the set with a smile on my face. “I guess I get it now.”

  “Told you.”

  I thought back to a night Presley and I had spent chatting away until the early morning sunrise. We’d gone through two bottles of Jack Daniels while Tessa slept in the next room after just coming on the scene. I’d hated her presence, not knowing why, and Pres had pressed me to admit I was lonely. I had been lonely but admitting that out loud when surrounded by so many fucking people sounded stupid, so I kept it quiet. Locked up tight. I tried to be the confident performer, but Presley saw straight through me. He promised me the right woman would make what him and Tessa had seem tame once I had it. I told him to get fucked.

  “Don’t gloat,” I muttered down the phone.

  “Not my style.” I thought I heard a door open and close in the background. “Go kill it, brother.”

  “On it. Tell Tess I said hey.”

  “He says hi,” he said to Tess, who had obviously just entered the room to be with him.

  “Hey, Rhett. Don’t fuck this up.”

  “Cheers, Tess. Jesus.”

  “And don’t be in a bad mood when we see you, okay? I have a favour to ask of you.”

  “What kind of favour?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The two of them laughed, and once they’d said their goodbyes, we ended the call. I tucked my phone into my back pocket only to be greeted by my girl who was standing in front of me, brushing her hands down the black Hugo Boss T-shirt I was wearing. Her eyes drifted down my body, over my ripped black jeans and my thick biker boots, before she looked up and ran her hands through the side of my overgrown hair and down over my jaw.

  “You should have shaved.”

  “Heard the chicks like the s
tubble.”

  Her eyes landed on mine, making her smile come to life instantly. “You ready?”

  “Not even a little bit. Do I have time for a smoke?”

  “No.” She smirked at me.

  “I feel weird as fuck being here without the guys.”

  “You’re worth just as much on your own as you are with them. Go and slay that stage out there the only way you know how.”

  “How’s that?”

  “By making everyone fall in love with you.”

  “Everyone, huh?”

  “Especially those who want to resist.”

  God, I love you.

  That’s what I wanted to say to her, but the fear and uncertainty I’d seen in her eyes on all those occasions stopped me from ruining the moment. I pressed a tender kiss on her forehead and answered all her questions about how the brief rehearsal went earlier that morning. Once she was convinced I was good to go, she guided me to where I needed to be, and the two of us waited it out together.

  The TV segment I’d recorded with JJ Jones was projected onto a giant screen the live audience were watching, letting me know I was up next. The footage of the wreckage played out in front of them to small mutterings of despair.

  “Time to go,” said a runner for the show. He was just a young kid with a headset and mic piece that made him feel important, but I gave him a nod anyway and turned to Jules.

  She ran a hand down my arm. “I’m proud of you.”

  I’d never had someone look at me the way she did when she was bursting with quiet pride.

  I’d never had anyone on the sidelines of a stage, chewing their nails, hoping I killed it.

  Every bit of the cocky, immature bad boy I used to be bled out of me in the shadows of that studio, and I found myself reaching for her carefully. Trapping her chin between my finger and thumb, I leaned down and searched her wide, wickedly beautiful eyes.

  “If I kill it out there, I want you to do me a favour when I come off stage.”

  “What favour?”

  “Be honest about how you feel about me because I can’t hold this shit in anymore. I love you, Jules. I need you to love me in return. If you don’t, I need to know.”