Taking It All (11 page)

ROCK ME DIRTY

ALEXA KAYE

Copyright Alexa Kaye 2016

Twenty fucking years I’ve given my fans, my agents, my band members—everyone but me—what they wanted. I gave them everything I had.

But I can’t anymore. I’m dead inside. There’s nothing left to give.

Until I see her. The girl wearing fucking wings. White. Angel wings.

She turns to me and her eyes find mine. And a blast of electricity rips through me. And I feel it. I feel the music like I haven’t in years.

I don’t know a damn thing about her. At least, I don’t know things that don’t matter. Her name. Where she lives. All I know is that she has somehow ignited that fire in me again.

She’s my angel. My siren. My salvation. Mine.

There’s only one problem—she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: this sizzling story of insta-lust comes with an extra dose of cheese. If you’re expecting a deep, philosophical read, try Hermann Hesse.

Chapter 1

Drugs. Booze. Pussy.

Money coming out my ass.

It’s all gotten so fucking old.

I’m done. Over it.

Standing in the wings, I close my eyes.

Tonight’s house is packed. It’s a good crowd. The kind I would have given my left nut for back in the day. They’re screaming. They’re yelling. They’re chanting my fucking name (part of my name, not the whole thing)—Cole Zaden. But I don’t give a shit.

Before you call me out for being a ungrateful prick, try walking a mile or a thousand in my shoes. Every punk dreams of being a rock star. Of having all the pussy you want, drinking and shooting up until you don’t fucking remember your own name. Of living a non-stop party.

Sure, it’s cool. For…oh, the first five years or so. But try living that life for twenty years. Anything gets old after that long.

I’m empty. Hollow.

“Lights up,” the stage manager says.

Fuck.

The noise is deafening.

I can’t go out there. I can’t do it anymore.

The boys are waiting. Angus on the drums. Jimmy on the rhythm guitar. Big D on bass. They all look my way. The first notes peal through the stadium and the crowd goes even wilder.

Fuck.

The intro is over.

There’s my note.

It’s time.

But I can’t do this anymore.

Frozen in place, I look out at the bodies smashed up against the foot of the stage. They’re faceless, nameless things, demanding, taking, clawing out my fucking soul. All of them. Every one of them.

Twenty fucking years I’ve let them have what they wanted. I gave them everything I had.

But I can’t anymore.

The band repeats the intro. Jimmy jerks his head.

Fuck him. Fuck them all. I’m dead inside. They can’t have any more.

Something catches my eye. A flash of white. On the far side of the stage.

It’s a girl. Wearing fucking wings. White. Angel wings.

She turns to me and her eyes find mine. And a blast of electricity rips through me. My heart starts throbbing to the beat.

I feel it. I feel the music like I haven’t in years.

I lift the mic to my mouth and the words come out. “Baby, I’ve been waiting. Waiting for you.”

I don’t know a damn thing about her. At least, I don’t know things that don’t matter. Her name. Where she lives. All I know is that she has somehow ignited that fire in me again.

A couple of the roadies hurry onstage to nab her. But I cut them off. There’s no fucking way she’s going anywhere.

She’s my angel. My siren. My salvation. And I’ve never even spoken to her.

Our connection goes deeper than words.

All of them fall away as the song’s lyrics tumble out of my mouth and the throbbing beat pounds through my body. Her cool blue eyes, so wide, so full of fucking innocence never leave mine. This song is hers. And the next. The whole set. She never leaves my side. And the music keeps flowing. Easy. Like it once did.

Suddenly I hear them all. The people down there. The echo of their screams. But I don’t hate them now. I open my arms and let the music take a hold of me. It fills my chest, bellows out of my lungs and rockets to the far corners of the stadium. I am bigger than any man. I fill the whole thing, every dark corner.

And all because of her.

The instant the last chord rings out, I grab her wrist. She can’t leave me. Not tonight. Not ever. I’d thought my life was over. But I was wrong. It was just beginning.

I pull her with me, backstage. She follows silently. We weave between throngs of fans waving backstage passes and busy roadies hauling equipment, preparing to tear down the set.

I need to get her alone. Somehow.

The dressing room is out. There will be dozens of girls there, hand-picked by the roadies and band members, giddy, young, stupid, thinking they’ll be the next Mrs. Angus or Jimmy. Stupid bitches don’t know those boys won’t ever settle on just one.

That was me, too. Fucking my way through stadiums full of pussy. Until it got boring and I gave it up.

My dick has decided it wants a good, hard fuck now, though. And I’m tempted to give it what it wants. As soon as I can find somewhere where I can be alone with my angel.

We head to the loading dock. The truck’s parked, back doors yawning wide, waiting for the gear. We hurry down the steps and outside, to the idling car parked nearby. A small pack of die-hard fans shout and wave t-shirts and programs at me but I ignore them, pushing my angel into the car.

Silence. At last we have silence.

“Where are we going?” she asks as she adjusts her wings so she can sit beside me. Her voice is light, sweet, high-pitched. I could listen to that voice forever.

“Take us to the hotel,” I tell the driver as I press my leg against hers. A shock of lust rages through me and my dick gets harder. I grit my teeth. I haven’t wanted a pussy this bad in years.

It’s dark. The car’s interior illuminates strobe-style as we cruise past evenly spaced streetlights. I can’t get a good look at my angel. I want to see every inch of her. The smooth ivory skin on her abdomen and thighs. The pretty pink, pebbled nipples. The folds of her cunt, glistening with her juices.

I set my hand on her knee. Is it my imagination or is it trembling a little. I glance down but it’s too dark to tell.

“Are you nervous, baby?”

She nods. “I’ve…I’ve never done anything like this. I’m not the one-night-stand kind of girl,” she confesses.

Who says it’ll be one night?

The thought nearly knocks me on my ass. I have never wanted to spend more than one night with a woman. That’s it. Something’s wrong with me. Brain tumor? Hormone imbalance? What the fuck is going on?

“Of course you are,” I tell her as I slowly work my hand up her smooth thigh. The head of my dick is wedged against my belt, and it hurts like hell. But in a good way. It’s rock hard and ready to slam home the instant I get her panties off.

Fuck it. I can’t wait.

I call the driver. “Keep driving until I tell you to stop.” Then I slide my hand home, under the skirt that barely covers her ass, cupping her hot sex through her soaking panties.

She shudders and clamps her knees together, trapping my hand over her moist heat but not allowing it to explore further.

Fuck, now I have to have her.

“Easy, baby.” I use my trapped wrist to anchor one thigh and gently push her other knee out. I swear, I can smell her need. It’s so fucking sweet my mouth waters. “I won’t bite.”

She quivers and relaxes her thighs, allowing me to open them a little wider.

“That’s it. Yes, baby. Let me take away that burn.” I graze her folds with the tip of a finger and am rewarded by a precious little whimper.

Damn, she’s acting like a virgin, touched for the first time.

Is she? Fuck, am I playing with jailbait?

I hadn’t considered the possibility that she might be underage until now. She’s acting too skittish, too inexperienced. I’d be the first to admit I’m a first class asshole. I’ve fucked more women than I care to count. I’ve whispered promises of gifts and even love to get into their pants. But never have I touched a kid.

I yank my hands away. Both of them. “Baby, how old are you?”

“Twenty…three?”

Shit. She’s lying. “The truth. Is your mama going to have me arrested for seducing her high school cheerleader daughter?”

“Okay, I’m twenty. That’s the truth. I go to Eastern. I’m a junior. Studying graphic design.”

Twenty. I have a fucking twenty year old, innocent as fuck college girl in my car. She was in a crib when I cut my first album. But she’s legal. I’m good. I’m better than good. I’m great. So is my dick. It wants this twenty-year-old cunt. I can only guess how tight she’ll be. Gauging from her reaction when I hook my fingers in the crotch of her panties, I’m guessing she hasn’t done a whole lot of fucking in her twenty years.

“I’m…”

“What, baby?” I ask, as I pull the soggy fabric aside. Her panties are so wet they tear from the slight tug. No big deal. I’ll buy her a new pair. I’ll get her a hundred new pairs. The tip of my finger slides into her hot center but hits a roadblock.

She whimpers again.

She’s a virgin. A fucking virgin.

I haven’t ever had a virgin. Not even when I was in high school. Not even when I was a virgin. Back then I went with the path of least resistance, so to speak. I knew who put out. We all did. Those were the girls I spent my time with. There wasn’t any reason to mess with the others. They were too complicated, too much work.

Though now I look at this situation in a different light.

Now I’m older. I can lead this girl on a journey. Teach her what sex should feel like. I won’t fumble like a twelve-year old or come in my pants just from looking at her…I don’t think. Then again, just being with her makes me feel twenty years younger. And alive. Really fucking alive.

“Baby, I’m going to make you so happy you jumped on that stage today,” I vow, adding, silently, and make you happy to stay in my bed forever. “Let’s play a game.”

She has no idea what she’s in for.

That pussy is mine. Only mine.

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ROCK ME DIRTY