Roxy’s eyes almost bulged out of her head, and this time, I’d finally made her jaw drop. “Jag,” she gasped like she was desperate for air – or maybe it was more of an angry gasp of disbelief. “No. I don’t need anything,” she shook her head as she tried to explain it to the woman. “I don’t want to –”
“Don’t listen to her,” I ordered the woman. I walked to a chair in the center of the store and plopped down. I crossed one foot over my knee and shooed them away with my hands. “Don’t argue with me, princess. Go get you some things. Not leaving until you do. And I’d prefer to not stay here until they close. For once, don’t be stubborn.”
“I don’t need anything!” she protested from behind a shelf of purses.
“Sure you do. You’re a girl,” I sighed. “What, Gucci more your style?”
Roxy’s mouth was still gaping open when the woman grabbed her by the hand. There was a fire behind her eyes as she was escorted through the store. If I’d brought any other woman into a Chanel store and said “Have at it,” they would have gone into a frenzy, foamed at the mouth, and ran through the store frantically snatching up everything. But Roxy wanted to be pissed, because that girl was anything but normal.
I sat there watching her, and with each minute her lips softened, and eventually a smile lodged itself permanently over her face. Ten minutes later, Roxy came back over with the smallest handbag in the store. “Okay. There. This’ll do. You happy now?”
Leaning up in my chair, I allowed a displeased look to fall over my face and arched one brow as I tapped my fingers together. “Where’s the rest of the stuff I told you to get?”
Roxy froze.
“I told you a couple of handbags, perfume, makeup, and clothes. Didn’t I?”
“Yeah…” she said, swinging the purse in front of her.
“I know you can follow directions better than that.”
I called out to her as she walked off. “And you better not be getting any cheap shit either.” That comment got me a few looks from both the employees and the women shopping.
I watched her as she awkwardly browsed through the items the woman handed her. Something about that girl made me want to give. I didn’t bring girls I’d just met out on Rodeo Drive to splurge on them; hell – I had never done that with River, or any of the other girls that expect shit like that. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but some piece of Roxy made me want to make someone else happy. She’s got an amazing fucking smile. Maybe that’s what it is. Selfishly, I just want her to smile because it’s sexy. I figured there had to be some selfish reason to it, because that’s just how I worked.
After several minutes I found my way into the bathroom, where I locked myself in a stall and shoved a few bumps up my nose. I went back out into the store and waited on Roxy to finish shopping. Just as my fucking luck would have it, River strolled in with one of her waiflike model friends whose name I could never manage to remember. I slunk down in the leather chair, jerking my head so that my shades would fall down over my eyes. I faced the opposite direction and prayed River would be so high on pain pills she wouldn’t be able to focus her eyes long enough to recognize me.
I stared at the illuminated wooden cubes with handbags pristinely displayed in them and felt someone looming behind me. Then I heard a high heel tap several times against the floor, followed by, “Ahem.” Ignoring her, I continued to look straight ahead and wiped under my nose.
River huffed. “And just what the hell are you doing here? Stalking me?”
Tipping my head over the back of the chair, I glared at her. Even upside down I could tell she wanted to strangle me. Her face was flushed, her fat-ass lips thinned out in a grimace, and her left eye was twitching. My sunglasses came loose and fell to the floor. Using the toe of her shoe, River kicked them underneath the chair.
“No,” I groaned. “Trust me, I don’t want to be anywhere around you.”
She shifted her weight on her stilettoes. “Then why are you in my store?”
Her friend placed her hands on her hips and chimed in. “Stalker.”
I glared at the friend until she walked off.
Sitting up, I reached under the chair for my glasses, then turned to face River. “Your store? When the hell did you become CEO of Chanel?”
River grunted loudly and stomped her foot on the floor. “Jag! You know this is my favorite store. It’s my store,” she whined like a spoiled kid. “The only reason you’d be in here is to find me.”
“Get over yourself.”
The personal shopper who’d been helping Roxy pranced up and wedged herself between me and River.
“I think we’re ready to check out,” she said, motioning for me to follow her up to the register.
I pushed myself up from the chair, grabbing my wallet from my back pocket and running my other hand through my hair just to piss River off a little. She stood there staring at me, her posture growing stiffer by the second. I casually waved at her as I flipped one corner of my mouth up into a smart-ass smirk. “As always, great to see you. Tell Pax I said fuck off, would you?” Snickering, I called out, “Drummer. What’s next, the stagehands?”
I followed the employee to the counter and saw Roxy standing beside a pile of clothes and handbags. Her foot was tapping the floor furiously, and she was constantly swiping her hand through her thick hair. She kept glancing nervously around and tracing her finger over the edge of the counter. I could tell she felt out of place, maybe even wrong for letting me buy her the stuff now being neatly tucked into the sleek black bags.
I stopped behind her and leaned my head over her shoulder as I swept her hair behind it. Blowing a quick breath over her ear, I whispered, “Find anything?”
Roxy spun around, a pleased grin creeping over her lips. “You know I’m just going to return all of this, right?”
I laughed. “No, you’re not.”
“Why are you doing this?”
I leaned against the counter and shrugged. “Why not?”
Roxy shook her head and cocked her hip out to the side. “You’re really making it hard for me to convince myself that you’re an asshole, you know that?” Her eyes locked on me for a minute. “I really liked thinking you were an asshole!”
The woman behind the counter had almost finished ringing everything up. “What perfume did you get?” I asked.
“I didn’t get any.”
“Hey,” I got the attention of the cashier. “I need a box of Coco Mademoiselle. The perfume, not that eau de toilette crap.”
The cashier gave me a slightly perturbed look, but she walked off and came back with the item. After scanning it she tucked it gently in the bag. “And that will be six-thousand, seven-hundred forty-five dollars and nineteen cents.”
Without a thought, I handed my debit card to the cashier. I felt Roxy’s fingers clench into my forearm. “Oh. My. God. I can’t let you spend that much on me.”
I crossed one leg in front of the other. “You know, the polite thing to say would be thank you.” Leaning on the counter, I signed the receipt and grabbed the bags, nodding toward the door. “Come on.”
“I can’t believe you,” she mumbled.
I shot her a leering look.
She batted her eyelashes. “And thanks.”
As we were walking in the direction of the exit, River stepped out from behind one of the displays. Her eyes darted from me to Roxy, and then her nostrils flared out. Her eyes burned into Roxy as she blatantly sized her up.
Without saying a word, I steered Roxy around River and pushed the door open.
“Wasn’t that –” Roxy whispered.
I swapped the bags to my right hand. “Yeah. She’s fucking crazy. Now, she may very well kill you.”
She released a long sigh. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
“Oh, now, don’t worry about her. She’s malnourished. You could take her. And you haven’t gotten yourself into anything…not just yet, princess.”
****
&nbs
p; We’d gone to the movies. Against my will. I hated movies, especially fucking chick flicks. But there I sat, slumped down in the seat, trudging to the restroom every thirty minutes or so to snort a line. After the torture was over I took her home. We sat in front of her apartment, lip-locked in my car. Roxy’s hands were sliding all over me, tugging at my shirt, gripping my fly between her fingertips. Her breath grew ragged against my mouth when my hands slid underneath the hem of her dress and ran up her thigh. I traced my finger along the seam of her panties and quickly pulled my hand out. I was going to make her so horny she’d damn near rape me. And then – I wouldn’t let her. Building sexual frustration was a gift I had, and one I hadn’t bestowed on anyone in a very long fucking time.
I slowly and sensually closed my lips over hers, pressing hard against her mouth before forcing myself to pull away.
“What?” she asked, breathless. “Why’d you stop?”
“I think that’s enough. For now.”
Confusion flew over her face, and an angry laugh puffed from her chest. “You’re kidding me?”
“Nope.”
Her eyes pulsed open and blazed with that horny-ass look chicks get right before they jump on your dick and ride it raw. A possessed fog of lust flamed over her face. “Hell, no, we’re not!” She grabbed my crotch and just about popped the button from my jeans when she ripped the fly open. I jerked my hips away from her. “I said, that’s enough –”
“Do you want me to suck you dry or not?” She pursed her lips and one eyebrow seductively arched up. “Because just like you say fucking’s your first talent, sucking dick is mine.”
Holy shit! That was not something I expected to flow like honey from those lips of hers. Surrendering, I tossed my hands up in the air and let my seat back. “Well, I mean, if that’s what you want to do, then by all means…”
Roxy shoved my pants down to the middle of my thighs, her hand rubbing down my abs until she reached my dick.
“Shit!” she whispered. “You’re pierced!”
I shrugged. “I’m a fucking rock star. What’d you expect?” Her fingers gently rubbed over me, and I watched her swallow. “Still think the car is trying to compensate for anything, huh?”
Chapter 23
I hadn’t stayed with her the night before. I walked her to her door and made myself turn around, get back in my car, and drive home. Alone.
The guys spent the next day harassing me about going out. There was some party in the Hills at some model’s house and it was supposed to be killer. But I didn’t want to go. I told Rush I had eaten some bad sushi and couldn’t get off the toilet. This was the first time in years I felt so hung up on a girl that I would rather do something with a girl than go to some elite party packed to the brim with drugs and orgies.
After hanging up with Rush, I called Roxy to see if she wanted to hang out. As soon as she said yes, I was shoving my feet into my boots and slinging on some clothes.
I made the mistake of telling her we could do anything she wanted as we stood on the lawn outside her apartment complex.
“Well, what about horseback riding?” she asked.
I pushed my shades up and glared at her. “Really? Anything at all, and you want to go ride a horse? That seems kind of lame. I mean, hell, I could take you to Ozzy Osbourne’s house, or we could go down to Occidental Studios and watch them film Sons of Anarchy – don’t chicks love that blond guy?” I threw a hand in the air. “I could take you to do anything, and you want to play cowgirl? That’s pretty boring.”
Roxy glared at me. “What, you too cool to go horseback riding?”
Shrugging, I stuffed my hands down into my pockets. “Nah, I just haven’t ever done it.”
“What?” Roxy giggled. “How in the hell have you never ridden on a horse?”
“I mean,” I kicked at the ground, feeling like that shy fucking sixteen-year-old again, “I’ve ridden them,” I circled my finger in the air, “when they’ve been attached to a damn pole and trotting around in circles.”
She shook her head. “You’re so weird. Well, you said that we could do whatever I wanted, and that’s what I want to do. Ride horses.” She stared at me with that intense look girls are pros at when they’re determined to get their damn way.
I groaned. “Whatever.”
“Oh, no, it’s not whatever. You do,” she stopped midstride and crossed her arms over her chest, “or you do not want to do something with me. There is no whatever, famous or not.”
I forced back the urge to release another groan. “Oh, excuse me, princess. ‘Whatever you wish’ is what I meant to say.”
Forty-five minutes later, I was standing eye to eye with a horse. I placed my boot in the stirrup and attempted to throw my leg over the beast. Evidently, it had other plans. The horse stomped its hoof, sending dust floating up into the air, and then it reared its head back in defiance.
“Kentucky!” the guide said. “Stay still.”
Roxy glanced over her shoulder as she gracefully mounted her horse. She shook her hair out and shot a daring smile in my direction.
“Oh, I see. You’ve had some practice at this, huh?”
She laughed. “I used to ride horses. Some program for underprivileged kids, you know? It was the only thing that kept me sane, the only place I could find peace sometimes.”
Watching her for a minute, it was obvious that she still held on to a lot of pain; but the way she was able to keep it together, the fact that she wasn’t a complete mess, was amazing to me.
Trying once again to get on the saddle, I lost my balance. “You just want to see me kill myself, don’t you?”
“No. It would be nice to see your dignity take a hit or two though.”
I attempted to pull up on the animal again, and then some random guy with a beer gut from hell shoved his hands against my ass cheeks and pushed me up on the saddle.
As soon as Kentucky felt my weight on him, he was pissed. He stomped his hooves and shook his head from side to side while blowing one of those angry horse breaths through his nose.
The guide looked at me, the sides of his lips transforming into a slow, sadistic grin. “Ah, he’s fine. He always gets a little angry this time of day.”
Holding on to the horn of the saddle tightly, I said, “Maybe you should just give me another horse or something then?”
The guide waved his hand at me, completely dismissing the fear I had. “You’ll be fine.”
Roxy giggled. “What? A rock god scared of a little horse?”
The man made some yelping sound, and we were off.
At first, it was kind of nice. Kentucky was just trotting along at a steady pace, acting like maybe we could be friends. But just when I was thinking that this hadn’t been such a horrible idea, that horse turned into an utter dickhead.
Roxy and the guide were veering off to the right, up a hill, and Kentucky galloped his ass over to the edge of the mountain. We’d been instructed not to let our horses stop to eat and not to stray away from the guide. And what did this fucker do? He came to an abrupt halt and leaned his head down to eat some grass…right by the damn ledge of a mountain. If this horse turned the wrong way, I was going to tumble to my death.
“Damn it,” I huffed, slapping the reins lightly across his back. He let out a breath but didn’t budge. “Move, you stupid fucking horse. Come on.”
I watched Roxy disappear over the hill, and I slapped the reins a little harder on his back. This time he lifted his head and froze. I kicked his sides – nothing. Then I heard the guide shout, “Kentucky!” As soon as the guy said that horse’s name, Kentucky took off.
The fucking horse had to have been going fifty miles an hour. My ass smacked against the leather saddle as he sped up the hill. I gripped his sides with my legs, terrified I was going to fall off. The man yelled his name again, and the horse galloped even faster. Sweat was beading on my brow and I just knew I was about to be thrown from that horse and trampled. What a fucking way to go, death by horse. This is
what I get for trying to be a decent fucking guy and not just jumping in her panties. If I’d just suggested we go back to my house and get naked, I could be riding her, not this demon-possessed beast that wants me dead. Fuck me!
Kentucky picked up speed. My ass pounding the saddle was beyond uncomfortable, so I tried to stand up in the stirrups. I’d barely gotten off the saddle when the horse jumped over a ditch, slamming me back down on his back. My ass hit the saddle hard, right on top of my left nut. My precious ball had been crushed under my thigh. The pain from my mutilated testicle shot up into my stomach, and I let out an agonized groan as I leaned forward on the horse, trying to force down the desire to puke my guts out.
“Fuck you!” I shouted once the pain had subsided. The horse slowed its pace to a nice little trot again and got back in line behind Roxy’s horse.
Roxy’s head snapped around, her brow wrinkling as she focused on me. “Did you just say ‘fuck you’ to a horse?”
My nut was throbbing, my ass was bruised, and I still felt like I was about to puke. Running my tongue over my dry lips, I nodded. “Yeah. This horse is a prick!”
Roxy shook her head and turned back around.
I leaned over and whispered, “You asshole. Don’t fuck with me again,” by Kentucky’s ear. His ear twitched, his head shook, he blew out another blustering breath, I took this as a sign of his continued noncompliance.
Sure enough, I had to endure an hour of horseback hell. We’d be trotting along, then that fucking horse would go crazy and dash away with me clinging onto the reins for my life. There was not a fucking thing about that outing that was peaceful. I spent more time thinking I was near death than I did when I was fucking high. That horse hated me, and it showed. By the time we were finished, I had crushed my nuts three more times. When we got back to the stables, I all but threw myself from the equestrian spawn of Satan.
Roxy’s face was red from laughing at me. “I’ve never heard someone cuss a horse out like that before.”
Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1) Page 16
