by Elle Greco
That sent both Jett’s and my eyes skyward.
“Come on, let’s get your stuff and get you settled so you can crash early,” Vince said. “Enjoy your night off, everyone.” He helped a stumbling Presley—Drama Queening like it was her job—out the door.
“That’s messed up,” Rafe said, still staring at the door where they’d exited. “You mean to tell me you two are okay with this?”
Jett exhaled audibly. “It’s Presley.”
“Yeah, we’re used to it,” I added.
“Doesn’t make it right,” said Dion. “I mean, he’s our father, and he treats us like… well… like we’re you.”
“You?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“The stepkids,” Rafe clarified.
Jett looked at the time on her phone and jumped up. “Shit. I gotta go!”
“Go? Go where?” I asked.
She tossed her stuff in her backpack. “U-Dub.”
“You what?” I asked.
“University of Washington. U-Dub.”
I stared at her. “Why?”
“I heard they have a good English program. And if we signed with Pop Art, would we move up here?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Or not. We can be anywhere, I think,” I stammered. “Fuck. This is what Vince came here to advise us about, and he split.”
“He’s gotta tuck Princess Presley in,” Dion said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, well, I want to look at U-Dub,” Jett said. “But I want to go before it gets too late. Anyone know how to get to the University District?”
“Come on, I’ll help you get there,” Rafe said. He picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “Damn, girl, what do you have in here?”
“Books,” she said, deadpan.
“I’m going to get you an e-reader for Christmas,” he said.
“Won’t use it. I like the way books smell.”
“Do you like being a hunchback too? Because that’s what you’re gonna be if you keep carrying this heavy thing around.”
Still bickering, they walked out, slamming the door behind them. That left Dion and me alone in an awkward silence.
“You’re okay with Presley getting a room at the Four Seasons?” he asked.
“Presley’s been the master of getting her way since she was born,” I said. “If I got mad about it, I’d be pissed all the time.”
He settled at the opposite end of the couch, sitting right on the edge. “Vince pulls this shit all the time too.”
“What? Going to the Four Seasons?”
His face clouded over. “Treating someone else’s kid better than his own.”
“Trust me, Presley can talk a priest out of his collar,” I said. “She’s a master manipulator, especially when it comes to men.”
“So is he. A manipulator, that is,” Dion said, his eyes on the door. “Take Rafe, for example. When we were growing up, I hated the little shit. Because Vince doted on him. And that was when Rafe’s dad was alive.”
“His dad was a hot mess though,” I pointed out. Rafe’s father was Anthem’s bass player and a drug addict. Like Kyle, Rafe’s dad overdosed from smack.
“And after he died, what did Vince do? Adopted Rafe. And you know what? Kyle took that shit hard, man. He was smaller than Rafe, so Rafe was always beating up on him. And then I’d have to kick Rafe’s ass. And he’d go crying to Vince. And I’d get called out for defending my little brother.”
“Most kids are shit, Dion,” I said.
“I hold no grudge against Rafe. I get that he had it tough with both parents being junkies and then his dad dying the way he did. We worked that shit out, and he’s my brother now, for sure,” he said. He reached over from his perch on the couch and opened the mini-fridge. “But until Vince legally adopted him, he treated that boy way better than Kyle and me.”
“What happened after he adopted him?” I asked, taking the beer he handed to me.
“He stopped favoring him,” he said, cracking open his own can. “Now he treats him like he treats me. Like shit.”
I took a deep breath and steeled myself for Dion’s reaction to the truth bomb I was about to drop. “From where I’m standing, Vince seems to be taking care of his own.”
“Taking care of his own?” he asked, his face beginning to cloud over.
“Come on, Dion,” I said. “Bands don’t just get signed with a major label after, like, five minutes of being formed.”
“Is that really how you think it happened?” Dion asked, pitching his voice louder.
A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “Think it happened? That’s exactly how it happened.”
“You missed the hours and hours of band practice, of songwriting, of my father critiquing our performances. This was not garage band fun, like you had with your sisters. This was always serious, from the start. There was no assing around.”
“Dion, Grimm signed Rogue Nation after one show at the Whiskey. One show! Satan’s Sisters had four shows there, and they stuck us on the bill at six p.m., so no one showed up. Plus, we’ve played at least a hundred shitty clubs from Hollywood to Burbank to Van Nuys. Hell, we even played a tattoo convention in Long Beach.”
Okay, that one was kind of not fair, because playing the tattoo convention was awesome. And I got some sweet ink to show for it.
But still. Long Beach.
“What’s your point?” Dion growled.
“Maybe you need to think about what Vince has done for you, rather than what he hasn’t.”
He wiped at the beads of condensation that had formed on his beer can. “And what do you think about what Vince has done for you?”
“He didn’t put me on this tour. This was all Grimm’s idea.”
“Okay, let’s give this one to Grimm,” he said. “Now, what has Vince done for you?”
I bit my lower lip and considered his question. “He got my mom off the groupie grind and gave us a home. And for that I am grateful.”
“Don’t let your gratitude cloud your judgment,” he said.
“Look, I’m no fan. Trust me. But as a stepfather, he hasn’t been awful. He left us alone mostly. Fed us, clothed us, sent us to private school. Didn’t get shitty if we pulled straight Ds. And he’s paying for Jett to go to UCLA.”
“When did you ever pull Ds?” Dion asked.
“Not me. Presley,” I said.
A small smile flickered across his face before disappearing. “Did you notice how he came rushing up here as soon as labels started sniffing around? Watch your back with him, Nik. I speak from experience.”
I sighed. “What could he possibly do to us?”
“Steer you toward a shit deal with Grimm,” he said. “Vince is in Grimm’s pocket. And you’re too talented to settle. Satan’s Sisters has a shot, Nik. I don’t want Vince to blow it.”
My jaw dropped. Did Dion just compliment us?
“Wow, Dion, thanks, but I think I know—”
Dion raked his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know, Nik. You think you know, but you have no idea. Grimm’s not happy with Vince, because of our deal.”
“How can he be unhappy? He’s the one who signed that contract,” I pointed out.
Dion’s laugh was bitter. “See, Nik, you don’t know. The lawyers negotiate, they sign. Vince had A&R by the balls with promises of Anthem going back into the studio, of hitting Coachella, and then following that with a stadium tour. Grimm wants to make money, and this deal… the label takes the risk, not the band? Come on. It’s always the other way around.”
“Sounds like your dad’s looking out for you after all.”
Although it did sound like Satan’s Sisters was in line to get screwed. But that was my problem, not Dion’s. Although he was doing me a solid with the warning. A warning I didn’t really need, since I was wary of any deals coming from Grimm’s camp. But it was still kind of sweet. Like maybe Dion gave a shit?
He nodded toward the beer in my hand. “So you gonna open that or
what?”
“Sure,” I said, happy to leave this conversation behind. I flipped the tab, and cheap beer sprayed all over me.
“Dammit,” I swore as the beer dripped on my skin and soaked into my T-shirt. “This beer is gonna funk up my lucky shirt.” It was a vintage 1980s “Frankie Say Relax” tee with the sleeves and neck cut Flashdance-style. It was the shit, and every time I wore it, I played like Dave Grohl on speed. Now it was covered in crappy beer.
“Take it off,” Dion said.
“Right,” I said, and then commenced the purse-lips-roll-eyes routine.
“There’s a bathroom sink right in there,” he motioned to the tiny room that held a toilet and miniature sink. “Rinse it off with some soap before the beer sets in.”
“Beer’ll wash out eventually,” I said.
“Any idea when we’ll be near a laundromat next?”
He had a point. I was wearing a sports bra underneath anyway. Didn’t exactly scream sexy.
“Come on, give it here,” he said. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ’em before.”
“Fine,” I said, stripping off the shirt. His fingers overlapped mine on the handoff, and it was like the world skidded to a stop. I looked up at him then, our fingers still touching.
But instead of taking the shirt to the bathroom, he linked his fingers through mine and pulled me to him.
“Dion, my shirt—”
Before I could finish, Dion’s mouth was on mine. His lips were gentle, almost unsure. Not at all the kiss I was expecting, but it was exactly the kiss I craved.
“Dion,” I whispered when he broke away, his mouth now moving along my jaw. It ended at the sensitive spot just under my ear, and I shivered. As I pushed his T-shirt up, his abs tightened under my hands. His skin was hot, so deliciously hot, and I wanted to feel it against my own. I found the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head in a fast whoosh.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice rough. He took a step back, evaluating me, while I took him in with greedy eyes.
“Positive,” I said, before I tugged my bra up and began to shimmy my way out of it. While I extracted myself from the bra, Dion locked the door to the greenroom. When he turned back to me, I had liberated my breasts. Dion’s eyelids lowered as he took in my body. Instead of feeling embarrassed, I felt wanted. Desired. Scorching hot.
He pulled me into him for another kiss. This time our skin connected, chest to chest, stomach to stomach. The heat from his body flooded my own, and our mouths reflected this sensation. This kiss was harder, hungrier. Desperate to feel more, I scored his back with my nails.
His hand slid down my ass and between my legs, the firm press of his hand against my sex sending tingles through my body. God, I wanted this. With him.
Dion broke our kiss and pressed his erection against me. With both hands now on my ass, he lifted me to carry me over to the couch, my breasts now in perfect line with his mouth. His soft tongue traveled over the rise of my breasts, and my fingers pushed his thick hair off his face. His mouth latched onto my nipple, sucking it deep, and my fingers clutched his curls. Desire flooded through my body.
As he set me down again, Dion’s rough fingers danced along my back as his mouth worked over each breast. The pleasure was almost excruciating. I needed release.
I unbuttoned my jeans and shoved my hand in. When I hit my clit, I sighed in relief. Dion’s mouth broke away from my breasts. I gripped his shoulder with my other hand as my knees began to buckle.
“Can I?” he asked, going to his knees and giving my jeans a gentle tug. I breathed out a yes, ready to take whatever he wanted to give me. He yanked my jeans and underwear down to my ankles and buried his mouth against my center. His firm tongue pushed my fingers out of the way then teased at my wet folds. My hands moved to his shoulders, and I held them tight as his fingers slid into me and rocked my world.
Dion was experienced, this I knew. But I didn’t think he’d be so giving, so responsive to every shudder, every mew, every hitch of my breath. With each response, his tongue moved faster or slower, his fingers probed deeper or danced just at my entrance. My knees were shaking as he brought me closer to that sweet release.
Intense pleasure overtook me, and just as my pelvis began to buck, Dion pulled back. His hands stroked the backs of my thighs while he feathered light kisses around my clit.
“I want to feel you around me when you come,” he said, before sliding his tongue up and down the length of my folds.
My body quaked at the promise. He stood and lifted me into his arms, then settled me against the couch cushions. He removed my sneakers and peeled my jeans and underwear off.
Hovering over me, his eyes took in every part of my naked body. I should have felt awkward; I should have felt exposed. Instead, it felt hot, almost primal.
He brushed my hair back from my eyes. “You want to do this, yes?”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my pelvis up to meet his to drive that point home.
“Thank God,” he murmured, before his lips met mine for a lingering kiss filled with promise.
The heat from his body left me as he angled up to lose his clothes. His shirt came off, then his hands moved to his jeans. He pushed them down, and I swallowed at the sight of his rock-hard cock. He stepped out of his jeans, and I stared at the bronzed god that stood before me. I opened my legs wider, inviting him in.
He paused. I panicked.
“What?” I asked, a little too fast. He reached for his jeans again, which were crumpled on the floor. “Everything okay?”
His hand dove into the pocket and extracted a condom. “You’re driving me so crazy, I almost forgot.”
Relief flooded through me, and I watched him roll the latex down his length. I trembled at the anticipation of finally feeling Dion fill me.
His body folded around mine, and the tip of his cock teased at my opening.
“You can change your mind,” he said, his breath heavy.
“I need this, Dion,” I said, changing “this” to “you” in my head.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “We can stop. I don’t want to, but—”
Good God.
“Dion, please don’t make me beg,” I said, angling my hips so that the tip of his cock finally slipped into me. My head swam at the promise of it filling me, making me whole.
“God, God,” he said when he inched deeper into me. He moved slow, and I savored every second of him. “There are a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t do this. But all I can think about is the one reason we should.”
“One reason?” I breathed.
“I can’t think straight when you’re around,” he said. “And when you’re not around, you’re still in my head. Just once I wanted to feel your legs wrapped around me, to be inside you. No regrets.”
At that, he pushed into me, filling me so fast and hard that I nearly lost my grip on reality.
“Take me there, Dion,” I urged, pressing my hips up to drive him deeper into me.
“Gladly,” he replied. He inched his way out and drove back in again, our bodies finding a rhythm. The push and pull, lips and tongues tasting each other, both of us slick with sweat. I tilted my hips up to him, desperate for him to burrow deeper into me. He was under my skin already, and I wanted to embed him deep inside of me. He drove into me, stretching me, filling me. My body tensed as I edged closer to release.
“Oh, God, I’m there. I’m there,” I whispered. My eyes rolled back in my head as I was caught up in waves of pleasure. My back arched. I pressed my breasts against his chest, and my aroused nipple scraped against the hook that pierced his. I spasmed around his cock, the pleasure so intense I released a guttural cry.
Tension leaked out of my body, and I fell limp against the couch cushions.
“We’re not done yet,” he whispered into my ear, and I pressed my pelvis into his in response.
“Oh, Nikki, yes, just like that,” he said as I rolled my hips back and forth, squeezing him, milking him.
He gripped my ass with both hands and moved my hips faster and faster, his breathing matching his thrusts, until he moaned in release. I took his weight when he collapsed, his cock pulsing inside of me. We both settled, panting, his head against my chest, mine on his head.
“We should probably get out of here,” he said finally, pulling out and leaving me empty. “The bands playing tonight will be coming in for sound check any minute now.”
While I hunted around the floor for my underwear, Dion ducked into the bathroom to take care of the condom. As I tugged on my underpants, the toilet flushed. Dion sauntered out, leading with his dick, which was still partially hard. I glanced away fast, turning my attention to locating my clothes. Seeing him completely naked made my face flush, and I didn’t want him to notice.
“—dinner?” he asked while I tucked my boobs into my sports bra.
“What?” I returned. I’d only caught the tail end.
“I said, do you have plans for dinner?” he repeated.
My heart did a brief flutter of joy. Shit. Was Dion asking me out on a date?
“Presley’s going to be tied up with Vince, I’m sure,” he went on when I didn’t answer. “Rafe and Jett are off on their own.”
My fluttering heart dropped to my stomach. He wasn’t asking me out on a date. This was just about logistics, a process of elimination—we were the only two in the group left tonight. I always tricked myself into thinking there were things between us that didn’t exist. I was tired of doing it. At this point, I was breaking my own heart.
“For dinner?” I asked, my tone sharp and my back stiff. “Why?”
“Because we gotta eat?”
I zipped up my jeans and turned to face him. He was still naked.
“You going to… um… you know…” I waved my hand over the length of him, gesturing. “Put on some clothes?”
“When you answer my question,” he said. “Do you have plans for dinner?”
“Dion, tonight’s bands,” I reminded him. Faint noises came from the bar area.
“Fuck tonight’s bands, Nik,” he said. “I asked a simple question.”
He planted his hands on his hips, which drew my attention to his cock. Again. I blinked away and focused on putting on my beer-damp T-shirt.
