Consume

by Jessica Prince

  But instead of picking a fight simply for the sake of it, I let it be and concentrated on my job. Tonight was the concert with Usual Suspects to kick off the band’s Ashes to Dust tour. We were set to leave for Asia in a few days, and with everything that came with that, I more than had my hands full. I didn’t need to make things worse for myself by going head-to-head with Kill at every available opportunity.

  I was rushing around backstage like a madwoman when someone called my name. Stuttering to a stop, I glanced back and grinned at a smiling Marco as he headed my way. “Hey,” I greeted once he reached me.

  “Bomboncita.” His hand came up and brushed a tendril of hair behind my ear. The touch was gentle and familiar. And even though it gave me flutters to have such an attractive man’s attention, it wasn’t as strong as the rush of endorphins a similar touch from Killian could stir. Part of me wished I could feel the same intensity—or more—from Marco. The other part felt like I was betraying Kill in some weird way for thinking like that. “You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart.”

  His fingers stopped at my jawline, and his palm came to rest on the side of my neck. He gave it an intimate squeeze before dropping his hand altogether, and my skin erupted into a furious blush at his ministrations.

  “Th-thanks,” I stammered, casting my eyes down shyly. When I was getting ready earlier, I’d told myself I was only putting in so much effort because I was the personal assistant for Civil Corruption, and I needed to represent the band well. But the truth of it was that I had Killian and that last kiss on my mind the entire time I was styling my hair into loose, fat curls and taking great pains with my eyeliner to create the perfect winged look. I’d fretted over my wardrobe for well over an hour before finally deciding on a soft jade shift dress that hugged my curves and brought out the golden tones of my skin and eyes.

  The heels I’d chosen for the night were already murdering my feet, but they gave me a little extra height and made my calves look fabulous.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I said, tugging playfully on the lapel of his standard black suit. I could see the outline of his chest and stomach through the charcoal shirt, which only made me wish I was drawn to him even more. “Ian’s definitely got good taste in uniforms, that’s for sure.”

  He took a step closer, those crazy beautiful eyes of his sparkling. “I’m glad I ran into you tonight. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you since LA.”

  My belly tangled into knots, and I had a sneaking suspicion I knew exactly what he was going to ask. I clasped my hands in front of me and did my best to hide my frayed nerves. “Oh?”

  “I want to take you out, bomboncita. But I need to know, you sure there’s nothin’ going on between you and Everett?” His hand rested on my hip as he continued, “Not sayin’ your answer’ll change my mind. I’m into you enough that a competition won’t scare me off, but I’d at least like to know what I’m up against.”

  I didn’t have the first clue how to respond to that. I was flattered and anxious all at the same time. Fortunately I was spared from having to reply just yet when Tate called out to me.

  “Oh, thank god, G. There you are.” She scurried to me like a hyperactive squirrel. “Hey, Marco. Good to see you.” Before he could reply, she spun on me and grabbed my hand. “Come on, the show’s starting any minute.”

  I managed a quick apologetic glance over my shoulder at Marco just before Tate yanked me into the dressing room that was bigger than my entire apartment.

  “Okay, you guys ready?” she chirped as soon as she crossed the threshold.

  The lead singer of the opening band, Maddox Sheppard, gave Tate a cute, playful grin. “Just about.”

  “Great! Wait….” Her attention darted around the room. “Where the hell’s Killian?”

  Mace slugged back a mouthful of whiskey and answered, “Probably getting sucked off by some chick with no gag reflex.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, my veins filled with ice. My skin grew clammy, and my stomach twisted violently at the thought of Killian off with some other woman. “Excuse me,” I muttered to no one in particular before bolting out the door. It was an unwanted reaction, but I felt like I was going to be sick. I had to get out of there.

  Killian

  I couldn’t remember a time in my life where I’d felt such unbridled rage, not even when I’d found out Cara—the woman I’d asked to be my wife—had been fucking around with a guy she thought could get her further in life than I could.

  That realization surprised me only a bit less than my reaction to the sight of Marco’s hands all over Gina.

  Getting to the dressing room would have required passing the two lovebirds, and after witnessing their close, intimate whispers, I needed a goddamn drink, so I spun on my heels and started in the opposite direction.

  “Omigod,” a feminine voice squealed. “You’re Killian Everett!”

  I shot the brunette the same cocky smirk I gave to all the groupie whores gagging to get at my dick. She was dressed the same way so many of the women I’d fucked after a show typically dressed: skintight miniskirt that showed a hint of ass cheek when she turned around, and a barely there top that hugged her tits to the point I could see the perfect outline of her nipples poking through. She was trolling, no doubt about it—looking to fuck a rock star so she could brag about it to all her friends. “That I am, gorgeous. And who might you be?”

  “Holy shit. You’re so much hotter in person,” she breathed in a sultry voice. “I’m Tiffany. I’m, like, your biggest fan.” She didn’t hold even an ounce of the class Gina had in her little finger. When I first spotted Thumbelina in that green dress that made her hair and skin glow like spun gold, I’d gotten hard as a rock. Then she let that motherfucker put his hands on the body I’d spent hours memorizing and worshipping.

  Chicks like this Tiffany would never hold a candle to a woman like Gina. But that was fine for me. I didn’t need her to compare, I just needed a distraction.

  “That so, baby? How big a fan?”

  She fell for my suggestive tone hook, line, and sinker and closed the distance between us, placing her hands on my chest and dragging her nails down my abs. “Why don’t we find someone a little more private and I’ll show you?”

  A voice was screaming in the back of my head, telling me this was a huge fucking mistake, but I was too far gone in my anger to pay it any attention. Taking her by the arm, I found an empty storage room and pulled her in, closing and locking the door behind me. Leaning back against the wall, I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down the zipper.

  “Well? What are you waiting for? Show me what you got.”

  Dropping to her knees eagerly, she pulled my cock from my pants and swallowed it whole. Normally I’d have been hard as stone at just the thought of some chick sucking me off, but this one had to work for it. She sucked and licked with an abandon that didn’t feel anywhere near as good as it should have.

  Nothing about this scene was right. Her hair color was wrong, she was too tall, and the peaches-and-cream skin of her ass poking from beneath her skirt was a few shades too light.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I let my head fall back, and when the image of golden skin and blonde hair flashed across the backs of my eyelids, I got hard enough to pound nails. “Yeah, baby,” I groaned. “Just like that. Suck me hard.”

  The lips around my dick pulled harder. My hips started thrusting, fucking her face at a brutal pace. Gina’s lust-darkened eyes filled my vision and stayed there as I blew a minute later. I grabbed hold of her hair, buried myself balls deep, and came down her throat “Fuck yeah. Christ, Gina,” I moaned as I forced her to swallow my cum. Once I finished, I released the hair tangled in my fingers and drooped against the wall. When I finally opened my eyes, the blonde was replaced with brown, and reality came rushing back in.

  “Tiffany,” the woman pouted, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Huh?”

  “My name’s Tiffany. You ca
lled me Gina.”

  Fuck. As I tucked my softening dick back into my pants, the euphoria of getting off disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  “Yeah, sure. That’s what I said,” I grumbled as I zipped my fly and unlocked the storage room door.

  “Wait.” The groupie jumped to her hooker heels and reached for my arm. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”

  “Got a show to do, babe. But thanks for a good time.” That voice in the back of my mind was even louder now, calling me a fucking idiot.

  I pulled the door open and stepped out while buttoning my jeans, and immediately came to a screeching halt at the sight of Gina a few feet down the hall. Her eyes and mouth widened in surprise, her gaze traveling down to my hands at my waistband before shooting over my shoulder. The color slowly leached from her cheeks as Tiffany shoved her way by, and then in a flash, she spun on those strappy sandals and took off.

  “Shit,” I hissed, running after her. “Gina, wait!”

  “Let me go,” she barked, wrenching her hand from mine when I tried to stop her.

  “Sweetness, just let me explain—”

  “What you do with your groupie sluts isn’t any of my business,” she said, the vicious snarl belying her indifferent words. “But at least do me the courtesy of washing your hands before you touch me.”

  The turmoil was back in full force, raging inside of me like a dark sea during a storm. “You gonna do me the same favor?” I bit out. “Wasn’t more than a half hour ago you had that son of a bitch’s hands all over you.”

  Her pretty face screwed up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Marco,” I growled. “He was all over you.”

  “Oh my God,” she gasped, letting out a quiet laugh of disbelief. “You’re insane. Marco’s a friend!”

  “He wants to fuck you!”

  “So what if he does?” she snapped back. “You’ve got no right casting stones, Killian. You just screwed a girl in a goddamn broom closet!”

  “I didn’t fuck her,” I insisted, desperate to right and unfixable situation. No matter how hard I tried, I just kept screwing up at every turn.

  Gina’s face went blank as she stared up at me shaking her head. “You’re a child, Killian. An immature little boy being led around by your dick. You’ve proven it time and time again. I’ll never be able to take you seriously.”

  She couldn’t have caused more pain if she’d cut me open and torn my guts out. “Thumbelina,” I said quietly, taking a step in her direction.

  She moved back to maintain the distance between us. “You need to get ready. You guys are going on soon.”

  With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me reeling miserably.

  And I had absolutely no one to blame but myself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gina

  Things had been a whirlwind since the concert earlier that week. The band’s old manager spread some despicable lies about Tatum to the papers, making her look terrible. Civil Corruption’s hardcore fans went nuts, one of them even going so far as assaulting her. That led to her temporarily quitting as their manager—and I say temporarily because there was no way in hell Declan was letting that slide.

  He’d gone all out to ruin the guy who’d hurt her, then tracked her down and dragged her back from San Francisco. The Asia leg of the tour had been delayed by a few days, but now she was back, the two of them were crazy in love, and we were all set to leave for Tokyo in the morning.

  The entire tour was going to take three months at the very least. I’d never been away from my mother for that long, and my stomach churned with a fear I couldn’t assuage at the thought of leaving her for such a long period of time. But this was something I’d known was looming in the very near future when I chose to take the job, and there was no way I could back out now. All I could do was spend as much time with her as possible before we flew out, so I’d decided to head to Whispering Pines to spend that last day with her.

  My phone pinged from the cup holder in the center console of my car as I drove. Stopping at a red light, I picked it up and swiped across the screen to find a text from Marco. We hadn’t had any time to talk the past several days, and he hadn’t been around the guys since the night of the concert. I had a sneaking suspicion it had been that way because of Killian, but seeing as I wasn’t talking to that jackass either, I couldn’t be certain.

  Marco: Morning, bomboncita. Hope you’re having a good day.

  Letting out a heavy exhale, I typed out a quick response before the light changed.

  Me: I am. Hope yours is good too.

  If I were being honest, I’d been avoiding Marco just the same as I had Killian over the past week. The last time we spoke, I’d been gearing up to decline his request for a date as politely as possible, but after seeing Killian come out of that storage closet, everything had changed.

  My phone pinged again.

  Marco: Let me take you out. I’ve heard Tokyo has a great nightlife. ;)

  I couldn’t help but smile. He was just too charming of a guy.

  Me: You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? So I take it this means your banishment’s come to an end?

  Marco: Only when it comes to something I really want. And the guys need all the security they can get on the tour, so I’ll be there whether Everett likes it or not. So what do you say?

  I was being torn in two for no good reason. There was nothing between me and Killian—he’d made that perfectly clear. I had one man who was sweet, charming, and made me feel good. Then there was another who treated me badly and made me feel awful. My brain told me there was no comparison at all. However, my heart refused to get on board.

  As far as I was concerned, my heart could go screw itself. I let my brain take the lead and typed out a response just before the light turned.

  Me: I say I’m looking forward to it.

  After a quick goodbye, I placed my phone back down and drove the rest of the way to Whispering Pines.

  I needed to forget about all the bullshit swirling around in my life and concentrate on my mom. And that was exactly what I intended to do.

  “Ooh, girl. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

  I gave Lucille a tired smile. “I feel like I haven’t. Things have been kind of crazy.”

  She smirking knowingly. “Mmhmm, I just bet they are. I’ve seen pictures of those boys you’re working for. Child, if I were ten years younger….”

  I finished signing in with a laugh and took a guest tag, sticking it on my chest. “She in the rec room?”

  “That she is. Just head on back, sweetie. You know the way.”

  My heart clenched just like it did every time I say her. God, I missed her like crazy. She sat in a chair by the window, looking out with that same blank stare she’d been wearing for years.

  “Hey, Mom.” I took a seat in the chair cattycorner from her and rested my elbows on my knees. “It’s me. Are you feeling okay?”

  She didn’t respond to my voice or question, not that I really expected her to. She’d had a stroke six years back that had caused severe brain damage. The mom who’d raised me was long gone, and it was the memories of my that mother that I clung to with a vice grip, making seeing her this way hurt so damn bad.

  We’d never had much money when I was growing up, but Mom had done everything in her power to make sure I never realized what I was missing. When I got made fun of for not having the newest name brand clothes, she found the patterns and sewed them for me herself. When all the girls started getting highlights and fancy haircuts, she’d squeeze lemon juice into my hair and lie out in the backyard with me for hours so we could work on our tans while my hair lightened naturally. She read to me at night and checked over all my homework. Every dinner we had was at our tiny kitchen table where we’d share our day with each other. She took the time to teach me the importance of skin care, and how to properly apply makeup. She was the best mother a girl could have possibly asked for, and losing that version of h
er broke my heart.

  The only time my mother wasn’t catatonic or drowning in sorrow was when she was having one of her paranoid fits. The stroke had caused severe neurological damage that changed her into a completely different person.

  My once happy, fun-loving mother was swallowed up by debilitating depression. When she wasn’t depressed, her paranoia caused outbursts and behavior so violent she would have to be sedated. I couldn’t understand why the doctors and medications weren’t helping, until one day a neurologist explained the damage to her brain in a way I could actually understand.

  I hadn’t lost hope until that conversation. It was then that I finally knew there was nothing that could be done. The only thing the meds could help with was keeping her mood swings on a tighter leash.

  “We leave for the tour tomorrow, Momma. Tokyo. I’m a little nervous, but really excited. I’ve been looking up all these places I want to visit in the cities we’re stopping in.”

  I tried to smile as she continued to stare off. “I still have your snow globes,” I said, hoping to see a flash of life in those flat, emotionless eyes. “You know, the ones you collected from all the places you wanted to travel to one day? I’ll get you more during this trip. I’ll get you one from Asia and Italy, the Netherlands… anywhere you want. You just say the word.”

  I got nothing. “Wouldn’t you like that?” She blinked and slowly turned her head in my direction. “Please, Momma,” I pleaded on a whisper, placing a hand on her arm. “Say the word.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, confusion making her voice quiver.

  My heart sank. I’d have rather had her not speak at all than not recognize me. “I’m your daughter, Mom. I’m Gina.”

  “No.” She shook her head frantically and snatched her arm back. “No. You’re one of them. You’re one of them! You aren’t taking me! I won’t let you take me!”