Roxy (Pandemic Sorrow #3)

by Stevie J. Cole

  “Jag, what are you doing?”

  A smirk fell over his face and he laughed. “Showing my girl a good time.” His fingers crept under the waist of my jeans and he unbuttoned them. He wiggled my jeans down my hips as he arched a brow at me. “Got a problem with that?”

  My body no longer belonged to me. It was his.

  He pushed my jeans down, stopping as he bent over to pull them from my feet.

  “Stop being so hard-up, Rox.”

  Freeing my jeans from the heel of my shoe, his hands slowly rubbed over the tops of my feet, my ankles, up my calves and thighs, stopping to pop the strap of my thongs before he yanked them off of me. Jag held them up, dangling them from his index finger before sling-shotting them across the stage.

  His eyes dragged up my body and he unhooked my bra, peeling it from me and allowing it to drop to the floor.

  “Now, that’s what I’ve been dreaming about for the past two weeks. You. Completely naked on a stage for my absolute enjoyment.”

  A slight breeze shot through the arena and my skin tightened.

  “You know, you still have every bit of your clothes on?”

  “So I do.” He grabbed the bottom of his shirt, then spun around and walked to the edge of the stage like he was just going to leave me there.

  He loves fucking with me. God, I can’t stand it.

  “Hey!”

  Jag turned, smiling as he pulled the shirt up, exposing his carved abs and tan skin.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  “Well,” his fingers fumbled with his fly, “you said you wouldn’t…”

  But I did. I fucked him right on that stage, even though people were walking around the corridor surrounding the arena. I didn’t care, I just wanted him.

  That was another moment that would change my life, but I had no idea to what extent.

  *****

  Sitting backstage with the rest of the band, I was pretty much disgusted five minutes in. Rush made Jag seem like a saint. He was sick.

  Suck and fuck?! Is that really what he just said? Girls seriously sign waivers to come back here and get fucked by them? My stomach flipped and turned when the image of some random girl on her knees with Jag pulled into her mouth materialized in my imagination. I sat there, slack-jawed and staring at Jag as a shade of bright red painted his face.

  Jules clearing her throat broke me out of my disgusted fog. “Sorry to interrupt this, really I am, but you guys have to get ready to go out. You’ve got about five minutes.”

  She looked at me, her eyes softening a touch. “And if it makes you feel any better, this is the first fuck and suck they’ve had on this stint of the tour. Jag had asked me not to do them anymore, and made it very clear he would have no part in it.” Walking toward the door, she muttered, “It floored me, actually.”

  All the guys’ mouths dropped and their eyes shot over to Jag in a look of utter betrayal.

  “Hey,” Jules said. “The guys may hate you now, but better than your girlfriend, right?”

  With that, she exited.

  Rush glared at Jag. “What the hell, dude?”

  “Yeah, man, what the fuck?” Pax chimed in.

  Stone just stared at him, his gaze darting between the two of us.

  Instead of entertaining the accusations, Jag grabbed his guitar, then my hand, and proceeded to drag me down the hallway leading to the side of the stage.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  He didn’t look back at me. He didn’t slow his walk. He just responded with a very matter-of-fact, “Making sure you’re front and center.”

  I panicked. The low rumble from the thousands of people packed in that arena flowed down the hallway. We reached the doorway and he tugged on my arm.

  “No way! I am not going out on the damn stage with you!” I screeched. “Attention? I don’t want that!”

  “Too damn bad. I want to know where you are. Maybe this time when I dedicate a song to you, you’ll fucking smile, hmm?” His eyes flickered with excitement. He liked making me nervous.

  I stalled, yanking my arm back. My heart was in my throat. I was dizzy. I did not want to walk out on that stage in front of all those people. I couldn’t even handle thinking about having that many eyes on me.

  Stone strutted up and leaned against the wall, looking curiously at the two of us. “What the hell are you doing?” He laughed, thoroughly amused with the certain fear plastered to my face.

  “Giving my girl a good seat,” Jag said, winking at me.

  “Jag! Stop. Damn it! Jag, I swear to God, I’m going to kill you! Dead,” I hissed. “Do you hear me?”

  He chuckled, tossing his hair from his face. “Nah, you wouldn’t do that, princess.”

  I had no choice. If I kept resisting I could just imagine Jag and Stone combining forces and grabbing my arms and legs to cart me out on stage. In order to save myself from that level of embarrassment, I gave in with the next tug.

  The black curtains swept over my shoulders and I stepped out onto a dimly lit stage.

  People.

  There were people everywhere. It was like a bobbing sea of eyes set on me. Heat darted through me, then a cold sweat broke out over every single inch of my body. I felt weak; a shrill ringing cut through my ears, and my vision blurred. I’d frozen in place, terrified I was about to pass out. Jag glanced back at me, smiling and yanking me to him.

  Thank God he was holding me so tight, because I think had he not been I may have very well collapsed onto the stage.

  “Now,” he brushed his hand along my shoulder. “You may not like attention, but I’m rather fond of having a girlfriend, and I want to show you off. So just get over it already, hmm?”

  I tried to make sure I was breathing, tried to slow down the anxious pants breaking unevenly through my lips, and then Jag kissed me.

  On stage.

  In front of all those fans.

  His fingers twisted my hair, angling my head so he could kiss me deeper, and he pulled me as close to his body as he could. Everything around us faded into the background, and it was just us.

  Yells from the crowd, whistles broke out. And Jag tore away from me.

  He trotted to the side of the stage and leaned over the edge, talking to a few girls crammed against the front. Their hands immediately latched onto him.

  I watched one girl comb through the hair hanging in front of his face, and I had to fight back jealousy.

  This was his job.

  Jag tried to back away from them a little, moving the girl’s hand out of his hair. He pointed back in my direction and all three of the girls glared at me, then looked back up at him with wide eyes and shit-eating grins, then they all nodded in unison.

  Jag pushed himself up from the stage, walking back to me with a swagger only he possessed, and a pleased smile slammed over his face.

  “They promised they wouldn’t kill you,” he snickered.

  He expected me to hop down there in the middle of those girls that most likely wanted to choke the shit out of me?

  I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, you really, really—”

  “Know how to make an impression. I know.” Grabbing my shoulders and squeezing, he pushed me toward the edge of the stage. He looked back at me, a devious smirk flickering across his face as he dangled a foot off the stage.

  Girls screamed and reached out for him. Several of them were shaking each other.

  None of that affected him.

  He jumped from the stage and was immediately swallowed by a swarm of fans. All I could see were hands all over him, wadding up his clothes, stroking his hair, touching any part of him they could. So many people were crowding around him, so many hands were on him that his body jostled back and forth a little.

  What got to me was that although he was covered by women screaming his name, crying, offering themselves to him, his eyes were trained on me, like I was all he could see, I was all he wanted.

  “You better jump down here before I get torn to shreds.�
�� Jag held up his arms, shaking hands off of him, telling them to let him go for a second.

  I drew in a breath, probably rolled my eyes again, and hopped off the stage, landing in his arms. He looked down at me, grinning, and kissed me tenderly before setting me down on the ground and rubbing over my arms.

  “You better smile when I dedicate the song to you. Got that, princess?”

  I nodded and watched him clamor up the side of the stage.

  Somehow, over the screams, I heard Jules shouting at Jag. “What in the holy hell are you doing?”

  She loomed over me from up on the stage, her eyes twitching and her nostrils flaring as she glared at Jag.

  “So,” the girl to my right yelled. “You’re his girlfriend?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. I am.”

  She stared at me like I had green skin and hands growing from the sides of my head. “Wow. Jag Steele’s girlfriend!” She scanned over me. “What’s that like?”

  My lips curled into a deep grin. “Like a really fucked-up fairy tale. Absolutely unbelievable.”

  She giggled and turned back to face the stage just in time for Jag to lean down and hand out some backstage passes he’d obviously bribed them with.

  “Not one scratch on her, okay?” One corner of his mouth lifted. He looked at me, then rose and disappeared to the side of the stage.

  Chapter 19

  After the show, we’d walked around Charleston while the rest of the band members enjoyed their scheduled suck and fuck, eventually making our way back to the hotel.

  I lay in the bed, Jag’s arms draped around me, and I thought. When I had arrived, he was sober. His pupils weren’t blown out, he wasn’t grinding his jaw. He really was trying for me. I hadn’t seen him do anything since I’d been with him, and I was stunned. I was proud. I fell even farther.

  *****

  “Damn, I’m going to miss you.” Jag kissed me, pushing the seatbelt out of the way. His hands crept down my chest, my stomach, and grabbed between my legs.

  “Don’t tempt me. I don’t know that the drive to the airport is that long.”

  He laughed, leaned across to the partisan and cracked it. “Hey, Tom. If we pull up to the airport and we don’t get out, just wait. We’ll get out when I’m ready to let her go, okay?”

  “Got it,” the driver replied.

  Jag rolled the window back up and didn’t miss a beat ripping his shirt over his head. By the time he’d scooted back to me he had kicked off his boots and worked his jeans and boxers down, so he was completely naked.

  “Now, the only problem I see is that you haven’t taken the needed initiative to get yourself naked.”

  His lips crushed over mine and his fingers quickly tugged my pants from me. Feeling back up my stomach, he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pushed it over my head, jerking it from my ponytail and tossing it in the floorboard. Within seconds his mouth was on my neck, he was biting me, and he’d unfastened my bra, leaving it on the seat when he scooped me up into his lap.

  His lips worked their way down to one of my breasts, pulling my nipple into his mouth with a loud suck. The limo ran over a bump in the road, and his hard-on pressed against me. I grabbed him, twisting my hand up his length and stroking my fingertips over his smooth, rounded head. He kissed my neck harder, pushing my head to the side and burying his nose in my hair.

  “Fuck. I love this. I love this.” His hands felt down my sides. “The way you feel. The way you make me feel. Being with you. Fuck, Roxy. You have no idea what the hell you do to me.”

  “I hope the same thing you do to me,” I breathed.

  Jag looped his fingers under each side of my panties. “You think I can rip these off of you?”

  I laughed. “What are you? The Incredible Hulk?”

  “No,” his mouth felt down my neck and between my breasts, “I’m fucking horny as hell and just want to tear shit off of you.”

  He pulled at the strings and, soon enough, I heard the material shred. He removed the torn garment out from under me and all I could feel was his warm, hard skin. Dangling the material in the air, he smiled and arched his brows. “Don’t ever doubt what I can do when I’m as turned on as I am right now.”

  The next sensation was him pushing into me, him crossing his arms behind my back, twisting my hair around his wrists and yanking my head back so I couldn’t move away from him. He slammed into me hard, rough, looking at me and groaning through gritted teeth. “This is mine. You are mine. I need this—you.” Another loud groan broke the intermittent silence.

  The way he felt tearing through me, pinning me against his damp flesh, and telling me I belonged to him tore through me. My senses grew clouded by sex, by him, by everything about that moment.

  Opening my eyes, I watched him fuck me. I was straddling his lap, but I wasn’t doing any of the moving, he was. His eyes were closed, his lip pinned beneath his straight, white teeth in intense pleasure. The sun flickering in through the tinted windows caught gold highlights in his dark hair. Everything about that moment was erotic, sensual, uninhibited, so uncontrolled. But that’s how everything was with Jag—he made life completely unpredictable.

  “I want to please you so badly, princess.” He groaned the words into my ear, and the rustle of his hot breath against my skin sent chill bumps scattering over me.

  “You do.”

  He thrust into me so hard I bounced. “If I ever stop making you happy, you better tell me. I’ll change a thousand times to keep you happy.”

  Again, he pushed into me.

  Harder.

  Faster.

  He lost all control and tossed me into the floor.

  The car slowed and rolled to a stop.

  Grabbing both legs, he lifted them straight up into the air, crossing my ankles and holding them with one hand. He made his way back inside me and within a few seconds my insides were shaking, my muscles twitching, and that ecstasy-laced heat had shrouded me. My body was spent, and I clenched around him just as he released my legs and fell on top of me, panting and kissing me.

  “I don’t want you to leave.” He kissed me again and brushed the hair from my face.

  “I don’t either.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I have to.”

  Jag shook his head. “Just for now though. Just for now.”

  I nodded.

  “You can’t leave me after this. Ever. Okay?”

  What could I say to that? This man was begging me not to leave him, and deep down all I was worried about was his leaving me. Not because he wanted to, but leaving me alone in this world because he’d done one too many lines in a moment of weakness. It wasn’t his leaving I was afraid of; I was terrified of his death. I struggled to keep the tears from forming in my eyes at that thought.

  I managed to swallow that emotion down and whisper, “I won’t leave you.”

  We got dressed and Jag walked me into the airport. He kissed me so many times I was certain I would miss my flight, and I think maybe that was part of his plan.

  On the flight back, I had a sinking feeling that everything was soon enough going to unravel. Things were going too well. Fate was being too kind, and the one thing I’d learned in my short life was that there is always some type of storm that has to rough shit up before you can have a happily ever after.

  I just hoped I would get that ever after, because I never had before.

  Chapter 20

  Two weeks later, Jag was finishing up the last of his US tour, and I had locked myself in my tiny bathroom.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, not that those actions could make this go away. My heart drummed up into my throat and I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to force down an agonized cry. As soon as I opened my eyes, I couldn’t help but to stare at that line.

  It was the third test I’d taken, because I just couldn’t believe it. I don’t know why I was so shocked. I’d had unprotected sex with him more than once, not bothering to make sure he pulled out. I had been that stupid g
irl.

  Naïve.

  Thoughtless.

  I had been walking around in a fog, allowing my hormones to make all my decisions. A loud sob broke through my tight fingers, and I dropped the test on the floor.

  I knew fucking with him would be a disaster. My gut had told me to leave him the hell alone, and I’d ignored it.

  I tossed my head back, slamming it against the wall as I sat on the toilet. I knocked it back a few good times, mumbling to myself before snatching the test back up. I managed to stand up, pull my panties over my hips, and flush the toilet, all while clutching that test in my hand.

  I walked to the sink and sat it on the edge to splash water on my face. My eyes kept straying to those double lines and my stomach knotted up.

  I was in a relationship that was destined to end for one of two reasons: my “boyfriend” would either overdose or fuck a different girl every night while he was on an international tour that started in a little over a month—and now I was knocked up.

  Maybe better yet, I would tell him I was pregnant, and then he’d break up with me before he left. I bet he’d say he didn’t even know who the hell I was…He wouldn’t do that to me. As much as he pretends to be an ass, he’s not. I stared at my reflection, watching the droplets of water trace down my cheeks and mix with tears. What if he’s okay with it?

  Yeah, right, Roxy. He’s a rock star. What the hell would he want with a kid?

  Oh, my God! Could you just see that—Jag Steele with a kid? The lead singer of Pandemic Sorrow taken out of commission for a fucking family?

  I twisted the rusty knobs and the water shut off, the faucet resuming the constant dripping I’d grown used to. Shaking my hands off, I dried them on the towel draped carelessly over the shower rod. I walked into my bedroom and slung myself on my bed.

  My hands naturally came to rest over my stomach, but knowing you’re pregnant makes that sensation a little different. I turned on my side, bunching my pillow up underneath my face.

  I had failed.

  Failed. Never, never, had I wanted to end up like this—in love with someone who would never be able to put me first, in love with someone who addiction had clenched its diseased claws into. Not only was I in love with him, now I was going to have a kid with him? Be bound to him forever?