Guitar Face Series Box Set: Books 1-4

by Sasha Marshall

  “Hen…”

  “Don’t. It’s not the time for words. Those come later. Just take what you need,” I all but plead with him.

  He speeds up his pace for damn near ten minutes, and it’s obvious he can’t find what he’s looking for here, so I pull my leg from his shoulder and roll over the best I can. I push against him, forcing him to rise to his knees once again. Pushing my ass against him, he wastes no time reaching down and pushing into me right where he left off. He tries slowly for a few minutes, but it isn’t what he needs. I rock back against him faster and faster forcing him to gain speed. His hands splay across my ass and digs his short nails into me.

  “Pull my hair,” I command.

  “Fuck,” he lets out but does as I say.

  “Harder,” I say.

  He pulls harder and keeps pulling until my back is flush against his chest. He fucks, and he fucks hard. He releases my hair, wrapping one arm around my midsection, as the other cups my left breast. He brings his mouth down to my shoulder, and bites into it nearly sending me over the edge again.

  “Fuck, Henley… fuck… I can’t…” he breathes out.

  “Give it to me. I want every last damn drop.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Somehow he fucks me even harder, my body bouncing each time he thrusts into me, sending me right over the edge before I can even recover from the second one. I hear myself scream out, unable to stop the cries. He thrusts four long final times before he collapses against my back begging for air. Never once does he remove his arms from around my waist. Not when he turns me around to shower my face with sweet kisses, not when he lifts me from the bed and carries me to the master bath, not when he sits on the edge of the tub to run water, and not when he lowers us into the massive tub facing each other.

  He bathes me with a gentle touch and looks my face over as he is trying to remember each and every detail.

  “You want to talk about it?” I ask.

  “Nothing to talk about, rock star,” he answers.

  I don’t push him any further. When he’s ready to talk he’ll let me in.

  Chapter 9

  Henley

  I hear muffled voices on the other side of my door and brave opening my eyes only to be met with bright sunlight. I turn over slightly and the alarm clock displays 12:00. Mobile phones are incessantly ringing in and out of my bedroom. I haven’t slept this late in a quite a while. Movement beside me reminds me Ian occupies the space beside me, so let me rephrase, I haven’t slept this late in quite a while with a gorgeous man tucked in next to me. The universe hates me.

  “It can’t be that damn important,” Ian mutters as soon as our cells stop screaming only to start right back up.

  “Apparently it is,” I say and cue Cory.

  He knocks softly on the door, “Henley?”

  “Yeah?” I manage to say loudly enough for him to hear.

  “Jessica is here to notify you that Ms. Davenport will arrive within the hour,” he says.

  “Is this like when the Queen of England is announced before her entry?” I ask to no one in particular.

  “No bitch, this is the announcement by Satan herself. I’m warning you so you can save your soul,” Jessica says through the door.

  “I’m busy,” I say hoping she will just go away.

  “Oh I am well aware,” her words drip with sarcasm.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Cover yourself, I’m coming in,” she announces and then bursts into the door.

  She stops short when she sees my bed warmer.

  “Oh, you’re still here. She will have a field day with this,” Jessica smiles her best evil smile at Ian.

  “What did I do?” he asks.

  “I’m not allowed to say. I was told to get your ass out of the bed and prepared for her arrival,” Jessica says.

  “Prepared for her arrival?”

  “She uses her big words and gets all formal and shit when she’s mad,” she explains.

  “What’s got her panties in a wad?” I ask.

  “Can’t say,” she grins.

  “I thought you work for me,” I question.

  “I do, which is why I’m trying to save your soul,” she answers coyly.

  Bitch. Whatever the ordeal, I will obviously need a pot of coffee. Perhaps I should add a little rum just in case. It’s good to be prepared and all and hope my soul is intact at the end of this verbal ass raping I’m apparently about to receive.

  I throw the covers back, pass a worried Cory, and find my way to the coffee pot. I need something to jumpstart my heart. As I wait for my favorite little beans to produce my favorite beverage in the world, I hear Cory and Jessica arguing in hushed murmurs from the hallway. I walk into the hallway with my hands on my hip and catch just enough to hear Cory believes I should be told what is going on.

  “What the fuck?” Ian screams from my room.

  I pass Jess and Cory quickly to find Ian looking at his phone like it has Ebola. He’s sitting in my bed staring at the device, so I sit beside him to figure out what’s wrong with him, only for him to cut the phone off and throw it in the bed.

  He grabs my hand with a worried look, “Hen…”

  “Jesus Christ what is wrong with you people?” I ask.

  I’m dreaming. This is one of those really fucked up dreams where you’re attempting to figure out something, but the fucked up thing is you don’t know what in the hell you should try to figure out in the first damn place. I really hate these dreams.

  “Is it happening again?” I hear Rhys and Kip from the hallway.

  They walk into my room and sit cross-legged with a bowl of popcorn between them, and each of them has a 2-liter of Mountain Dew.

  “What in the fuck are you doing here?” Jessica asks them.

  “Dude? Did you see that shit? I mean FUCKKKK…. No pun intended,” Rhys answers.

  “Can you answer me coherently? Use your big boy words,” Jessica counters.

  “Jessica! They can’t get into the mood with you sitting over there giving us the third-degree. Or is it first-degree? I always get that shit confused with all those fucked up burns,” Kip answers.

  “I’m officially confused,” I point out the obvious.

  Yup, this is one of those dreams.

  “Dude, she doesn’t know?” Rhys asks.

  “Dude, she is sitting right here! What is going on?”

  Samantha marches in taking off a scarf, “What you don’t know you and vampire boy over there’s hot and steamy sexual escapades are all over the internet now?”

  “Excuse me?” I ask but look at Ian who hangs his head.

  He was apparently trying the gentle approach before Satan arrived.

  “Shit,” he says.

  “When?” I ask him in a whisper.

  “The video is of last night,” he says.

  Six pairs of eyes are on me, and I’m reeling to understand how a sex video of Ian and me from last night can be in anyone’s possession.

  I jump up from the bed, coming to the only logical solution I can think of.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” I say to Ian and immediately walk out of my room.

  I trusted him. How could I be so stupid? I’ve always kept my circle tight for this exact reason. Almost everyone in this world and especially this industry wants something from me, and it isn’t simply being with me.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” his voice comes from behind me.

  He spins me around to face him, “I would never do this to you, Henley! I would never hurt you!”

  I close my eyes trying to figure out what he would benefit from a sex tape. His reputation is squeaky clean, so a sex tape would be bad for him. He wouldn’t do this to hurt Jagger because he isn’t a vengeful person. The questions running through my head are suffocating me, so I break free of his hold and dart for the closest door in search of fresh air.

  I make it to the front porch in my
mad dash as he grabs me from behind. He spins me around and grabs both sides of my face in his hands.

  “Please listen… please! I would never hurt you. I DID NOT DO THIS! Tell me you hear me. Tell me you believe me,” he begs.

  I nod my head as the tears run down my face. He didn’t do this. No matter the definition of our relationship, a very private and intimate moment has now been shared with the world. If I was an average citizen with no celebrity to my name, nobody would give a damn who I had sex with last night. Because I am Henley Hendrix and I fucked a movie star, everybody and their mother will care. Judgments have and will continue to be passed on my personal life. This will be all anyone talks about for a while, and no matter what legal recourse I take, I will forever be associated with a sex tape. When certain names are heard you automatically think, “Yeah, that was the one that had that sex tape out there and I heard…” You get the drift. Tommy Lee, Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton, and Kim Kardashian. Case and point.

  And then it hits me, if Jagger hasn’t seen the news, he will. I don’t want to hurt him, but this will inevitably tear him apart. Being aware two people are most likely having sex and seeing it are two entirely different things. My life keeps getting better and better.

  “I need to see it,” I say.

  “Come on,” he says and I follow him to the front porch swing.

  He pulls up the video on his phone and I don’t miss the fact that he has an enormous amount of missed calls and unseen texts on his phone. I also notice as the video buffers, it is fifty-eight minutes in length.

  “Jesus Christ, fifty-eight minutes?” I ask.

  He smiles a mischievous smile, “Yes it was fifty-eight minutes.”

  So for fifty-eight minutes I listen to the radio blare as Ian and I do the nasty across the screen of his phone. Jessica brings me several cups of coffee, and I settle into Ian for the show. Kip and Rhys join us with their goddamn popcorn and soda. Every so often they exchange smart ass comments about watching us… watch us fuck. They find obvious hilarity in my soap opera of a life.

  The video captures two people who are familiar with one another’s bodies. I’m not sure if other people see that, but I do. It also shows two people who are completely lost in each other for fifty-eight minutes. Luckily the music drowns out any words that passed between us. The public won’t hear Ian’s pleas to me last night as he was lost in lust. The need in his eyes isn’t caught by the grainy video, and no one will see the bath afterwards and the way he cared for me. The intimacy is lost in the poor quality of the video, and that somehow comforts me.

  When the video ends, I find Jessica, Cory, Samantha, Koi, Memphis, Rhys, and Kip staring back at me.

  “So I fucked Ian last night? Guess what, I have sex. I rather enjoy sex. It’s something each of you participate in regularly. Don’t judge me. The world can kiss my ass.” I say and turn to Ian. “Can you restart that? I want to see where it was filmed from.”

  Ian, Cory, and I pull the video up and look for the angle to determine where the camera is. Cory instantly turns beet red.

  “You fuck, Cory?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Have you ever had sex?”

  He clears his throat, “Yes ma’am.”

  “Cut the ma’am shit, you’ve just seen me fucking Ian. We are way past ma’am.”

  “Yes ma… Okay,” he says.

  “I fuck, you fuck, we all fuck and there isn’t a damn thing to be ashamed about,” I say.

  He nods and we continue searching for the camera. After ten minutes or so, he asks us to leave with a concerned expression.

  My phone rings and Stephanie’s face lights up the screen.

  “Hello.”

  “You skank, you! What a fucking performance! We’ve had this shit on repeat down at the shop. Apparently, it is bringing people in the shop and has been an amazing conversation starter about piercing genitals,” she says.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Oh girl you were thoroughly fucked last night from what I saw.”

  “Jessica has a big ass mouth.”

  “We’re all just a little jealous you get to fuck him,” she admits. “We’re living vicariously through you. Come eat lunch with me and give me all the nasty details.”

  “You saw all the nasty details, repeatedly. Can you ask Chris to stop playing that shit in the shop?”

  “Chris won’t be the problem. You will have to take it up with Trey. He has analyzed every angle of the flick from his multiple views. They’ll be a play-by-play posted on a website soon.”

  “Tell Trey I will murder him in his sleep.”

  “Will do. Keep it classy bitch. Love you,” she says and ends the conversation.

  I let out a sigh, unsure of what to do next I find Samantha in my living room working from her laptop.

  “What do we do now?”

  “We issue a statement notifying the public the film was taken without either of your consent or knowledge and should be taken down immediately to avoid legal repercussions,” she says.

  “Aryan is on the way,” Ian informs us of the arrival of his publicist.

  Cory interrupts my thoughts about dealing with two demons… I mean publicists in one day.

  “There are mics and cameras all over your room,” he says. “I want you out of the house the rest of the day until I can find every last damn one.”

  “Where do you want to take this?” Samantha asks.

  “I need you to release the following statement. Make sure it is on my Facebook page, twitter page, and website,” I say.

  “I will write the statement, that’s what you pay me for,” Sam says.

  “I am taking care of this one,” I scold.

  Chapter 10

  Jagger

  I am going with the mindset it’s five o’clock somewhere. I take another pull from the vodka bottle and feel the burn trail all the way to my gut. Apparently vodka isn’t comprised of glue-like properties because my heart still sits in my chest broken into a million tiny fucking pieces.

  My phone sounds off again from another room in the house, but I don’t want to leave my little spot on this wall. I’m hoping I wake up from this nightmare soon because the pain is more than I’ve ever felt. The pain I thought I felt when we split after Claudia pales in comparison to this shit. I deserve this, but that little fact doesn’t keep it from trying to swallow me whole.

  “That’s healthy,” Kip says jolting me back to reality.

  I don’t have an answer for him. There is no witty remark or asshole comment that can ease my agony. When he realizes there is no retort coming his way, he slides down the wall beside me.

  “Neither of them filmed it,” he says.

  That should make me feel better. She wasn’t feeling so sexually adventurous that she felt the need to tape her experience with Ian. It would make me feel better knowing Ian filmed it because he is a fucking dick, but he’s not. He’s a great fucking guy and somehow that makes all this much worse. He’s never hurt her. He didn’t rip her heart out in front of the world, or parade a model around so every photographer could document me moving on from Henley Hendrix. That was the plan. I can move on from her. I had to move on because I was only ever going to destroy her further. I love her too much for that. One day I woke up and looked at the naked body of a woman I couldn’t ever love in my bed and knew that no amount of time or hate would ever heal me of Henley.

  I suppose it’s quite simple now, Ian wins. He wins her.

  “Whoever is stalking her filmed it. Cory found mics and cameras all over the house,” Kip announces.

  Silence extends between us filling the air until it is almost suffocating.

  “I love her,” I choke out while trying to keep the tears from spilling over my lids.

  “I don’t think they’re together,” Kip offers.

  “He loves her too,” I admit.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Did you watch the video?
” I ask.

  “No.”

  “That video showed two people who loved each other. He loves her as much as I do. I can’t compete with that shit. Ian’s always been great to her and picked up the pieces of her broken heart that I left in his wake. He did it selflessly, not because he thought it would score him brownie points either. He has done everything he’s ever done for her because he’s in love with her. He deserves her and I never will, not after all the hurt I caused.”

  “So you just give up?” Kip asks.

  “Is there any other option?”

  “Yeah you fucking fight for the woman you love. Stop being a fucking tool.”

  “You want to outline exactly how I’m supposed to fight for her when she had a good damn man giving her everything she deserves?”

  Kip sighs and runs his hands through his blonde hair. “I’m telling you to do what I should’ve done years ago.”

  “What are you going on about?” I ask a little exhausted by this conversation.

  “Doesn’t matter. I should’ve fought for someone a long time ago. I didn’t. I’m a tool. Don’t be like me.”

  “You going to fight now?” I ask.

  “We’re not talking about my mistakes.”

  “Pussy?” I insult.

  “Yup.”

  We sit in silence for a bit longer when our phones chime with notifications. Mine is still somewhere in another room, so I watch Kip pull his from his pocket. He sighs and looks at me with sympathy.

  “What is it?”

  “Henley released her own statement this time.”

  We read the statement.

  “regarding the asshole who placed cameras in my room and filmed me without my consent… fuck you!”

  Henley Hendrix

  I’m sure her statement went over like a lead balloon with Samantha. Below her statement is a link to a statement from Ian as well, and I hesitate to read it after Kip presses the link. I shouldn’t read it, but I’m a glutton for punishment.

  This morning I woke to the harsh reality that my life will never be my own. I’m so hurt that someone would film me without my permission. I’ve seen so many questions and comments online already that are slanderous about Henley and I, and it is upsetting to read those things when not one person who wrote those statements knows either of us or the nature of our relationship. Fifty-eight minutes of my life is now the topic of every paper and story today. Those fifty-eight minutes were not meant for any of you to see, and I find it disrespectful that anyone would view such a private moment between two people. Quite frankly, it wasn’t anyone’s business but ours. Please refrain from viewing the video if you have not already done so. For those of you who have, please cease from commenting or posting to the internet. You give the person who took this video power when you do that. At some point, some of you out there has to question how wrong viewing this video is. Neither Henley nor I will comment any further on the video. Thank you if you’ve done the right thing by not viewing it.