Untamed

by S. C. Stephens

  With a sultry grin that promised a good time if I asked nicely, she set the beer she’d just poured in front of me. Rita was older, like, probably my mom’s age, but I’d still do her, or I would have, before Anna. She had that I’m desperate to reclaim my youth vibe about her.

  Leaning over the bar, giving me a glorious view of her cleavage, she murmured, “So, hot stuff, you here alone, or are the rest coming in with you?” By the gleam in her eye as she watched the front doors, I knew she was waiting for Kellan to walk through them.

  I couldn’t escape him no matter where I went.

  I started chugging the beer and didn’t stop until it was finished. With a mighty belch, I slammed the glass down on the bar and wiped my mouth. Fuck yes. That was exactly what I’d needed. “Left the fuckers at home, where they belong. Keep the beers comin’. I want to walk out of here barely able to hold my guts in.”

  She raised a painted-on eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Get me drunk enough and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Shaking her head, she turned behind her to grab a bottle of Pendleton. “You need something a bit stronger than beer, babe.” She grabbed a glass, put a few chunks of ice in it, then poured the whiskey on top, well over the halfway point of the glass.

  Yes, she was right, I did need more. And that was why I loved coming here. The people got me. “Thanks, Reets. You’re the best thing about this place, you know?”

  She gave me a wink as I tilted the glass back. “Oh, honey, I’ve known that for years.”

  As I took a large gulp of whiskey, I looked around the bar. Being Sunday, it was fairly empty. Just a few regulars who—I swear to God—came in every night, rain or shine. When they lifted their gazes from their drinks and saw me leaning back against the bar, they started approaching me. Then it was excited thumps on the back and shots all around. God, it was good to be home. I had no idea why I didn’t come back here more often.

  While I caught up with old friends at a table near the stage, a group of sorority girls came in. I was buzzing my ass off by this point, and the familiar attraction hit me hard. Things were different now, but not different enough that I didn’t notice them and want to make them notice me. I was feeling a little invisible, and I needed some feminine encouragement to shake off that feeling. Nothing that Anna would get ticked about, just a bit of…worshipping was all I wanted.

  I shifted my chair toward the girls’ table. “Hey, ladies!” I yelled. When they all twisted to look at me, I grabbed my cock and put on a smug smile. “See anything you like?”

  They all gave me the look I loved to get from women. It was an expression of horror, disgust, and intrigue. If I was that brazen with my clothes on, what would I do with them off? That curiosity alone had scored me more chicks than I could count. But then their expressions changed. One by one, they glanced from me to the D-Bags shrine, then back to me. Once it clicked who I was, they started shrieking loud enough for every person in the bar to look at them.

  “Oh my God! You’re in the band! You’re one of the D-Bags!”

  They rushed over to me, faces alight with earnest interest. Slinking back in my chair, I casually raised a hand. “Yeah, I’m with the band.” The band of merry dream-killing assholes. I didn’t mention that though.

  The girls circled around me like vultures settling in on their prey. Some kneeled to get down to my level, one made herself at home on my lap. The alcohol brimming through my veins really liked that.

  While I soaked in the feminine attention, the girls started asking me questions. When what they were saying sank in, I found their presence less pleasant. “So, you’re around Kellan Kyle all the time…what is he like? Is he really that good looking? Does he ever…play around with other girls beside his wife? Could we get his phone number? Could you give him ours?” The girl on my lap dramatically let her head fall backward. “God that man is gorgeous. I would let him do absolutely anything he wanted to me…” She started running her hands over her breasts, and that was when I had enough. I shoved her off my lap, and she hit the floor with a thud.

  All of her friends let out startled gasps, while the guys around me chuckled. The chick I’d dumped glared at me with eyes that were certainly channeling every evil spirit on earth. “What the fuck? Asshole!”

  Not in the mood, I held up a hand. “Save your outrage for someone who gives a shit.”

  Standing up, she brushed off her short skirt. Her friends swarmed around her, like they were forming a shield. A shield of indignation. “You may be famous and all, but you’re just an asshole jerk, like every other guy out there.”

  “Except Kellan, right? You still want me to give him your number?” She hesitated, like she actually thought I was going to do it for her.

  Not wanting anything more from these Kellan-worshipping girls, I turned away with a hard laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll get your number off the stall door,” I sniggered. “You can go.”

  Something heavy hit me in the back of the head, and twisting around, I saw the girl clutching her purse to her chest as she shook in rage. She hit me with her purse? That was a new one. “You’re a fucking asshole, and I’m going to let the whole world know it.”

  I shrugged, then turned around and ignored her. She could try, but nobody really knew me anyway. Even my short stint as Hand Solo was all but gone. I’d disappeared back into Kellan’s gargantuan shadow, where I was forever destined to stay. Fuck my life.

  Numerous regulars went home, but I stayed. I was closing the place down tonight; hadn’t done that in a long time. And I was sloppy drunk too. As the night wore on, my phone buzzed more and more often, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to deal with obligations right now, I just wanted to get fucked up.

  Hours later, I was alone at my table, teetering on the edge of vomiting or passing out, when a guy I didn’t know sat across from me. He was wearing a suit, complete with a tie, and looked really out of place here. I tried to tell him to fuck off, but all that came out of my mouth was a weird grunting sound. Maybe if I chucked on his shoes he’d get the message.

  With a smile that was way too bright for this late at night, he stretched his hand across the table. “Hi, my name is Harold Berk. You’re Griffin Hancock, correct?”

  I stared at his fingers but didn’t touch him. When he realized I wasn’t the handshaking type, he pulled his arm back. “Yeah, that’s me. Who wants to know?”

  His brows drew together in concentration, and I knew my speech was coming out so slurred it was like I was speaking another language. I didn’t repeat myself though. Let him figure it out. “Um, like I said, my name is Harold Berk. I represent Iris Production Studios.”

  I didn’t know what this guy was talking about, but the instant the word “production” hit my ears, Kellan’s solo offer flashed through my mind. Pointing at the guy, I snarled, “You tell those lamebrain fuckers that you work for that they are…lame…and they don’t know what they’re missing. Kellan has the talent…ha! Kellan has the herpes, that’s what he has! Well, the odds are good anyway…Dude’s a whore.” Wiping some spittle off my lips, I finished with “Battle Robots suck anyway. Thirty-foot-tall robots fighting monsters in the streets…fucking awesome.” I shook my head, making the world dance. “I mean…fucking ridiculous.”

  Whatever his name was across from me looked even more confused by my ramblings. “Battle Robots? No, no I’m not talking about that. Or Kellan. I’m here to talk to you.”

  Curiosity reached through my hazy brain to flip on a light switch of intrigue. “Who are you again?”

  The man sighed. “My name is Harold Berk, for the third time, and I represent Iris Production Studios. I’m here to proposition you.”

  I immediately held both of my hands up, accidently hitting my glass and spilling some whiskey on the table. “I don’t do dudes, so you can save the proposition.”

  The guy…Arnold or something…closed his eyes. “I’m not…that’s not…” With a strained expression, he reopened his eyes.
“Iris Studios is currently producing a pilot for a TV show. It’s about an up-and-coming rock star, struggling to navigate the dark and seedy side of show business as he attempts to make a name for himself. Think Sopranos meets The Partridge Family. Naturally, we need a musically gifted actor to play the lead. We’ve searched the world over, Mr. Hancock, auditioned dozens of musicians, but no one else will do, because no one else is you…”

  By the way he said it, it was clear he was expecting some sort of response from me. I had no idea what he was droning on about though.

  “What?” I said to Arnold Berkanator. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening. Could you repeat that?”

  He looked at my glass, then back up to my face. “Maybe we should talk later, when you’re sober.”

  He handed me a business card, but I swished my hand at him instead of taking it. “Nah, now is good. I remember crap better when I’m plastered. Ask the guys. I learned all our songs shit-faced.”

  Arnold brought his hands to his head and started rubbing circles into his skull. Ah, he must’ve suffered from the not-enough-sex headaches that Kellan had. I’d sympathize, but I never had that problem. “Like I said, we want you to film a TV show about an up-and-coming musician. You would be the focal point of the show—the star.”

  The fuzziness in my head instantly evaporated at his magic words—You would be…the star. The rock star, star. I slapped my hand down on the table. “I’m in! Where do I sign up?”

  Arnold didn’t look any less confused by my pronouncement. “Do you want to hear any more details about the show, about your role in it, about our vision, about the steps we’ll need to go through to get the show on the air?”

  I took a long gulp of my whiskey. It went down as smooth as apple juice now. “Nope. Don’t care. You had me at star.”

  Shaking his head, Arnold said, “Well, all right…I’m glad to hear you’re on board. If you give me your number, I’ll call you tomorrow with details about the pilot.” I instantly reached into my pocket and handed him my phone. He stared at it, blinking, then he finally picked it up. “Getting a show on the air these days is a complicated process, and even great shows sometimes fail. Because of the riskiness involved, I’m obligated to tell you that we’re only filming the pilot right now. There is no guarantee the series will be picked up, or that it will remain on the air if it does get picked up. The market is very competitive, but with your high-profile status, I have no doubt that the show will be a smashing success.”

  Finishing my whiskey, I banged the glass against the table. “Dude, that shit’s practically guaranteed to be gold now that you’ve got me. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” For a split second, my foggy brain started wondering if I should talk to the guys first, or Denny. As our manager, he might have an opinion about this. I immediately shook that thought out of my mind though. Those fuckers had abandoned me a long time ago, left me to rot in the shadows. They couldn’t blame me for trying to find some sunlight. And if it turned into something bigger one day…well, then they would only have themselves to blame for not appreciating what they’d had.

  Arnold called himself from my phone to get the number, then handed it back to me and stood up. Extending his hand again, he formally stated, “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Hancock, and I’m looking forward to our future project.”

  Instead of taking his hand, I saluted him. “Likewise.”

  He left the table still looking baffled, and a slow, simmering excitement started to bubble through my insides as I watched him walk away. You would be the star. Damn straight I would be.

  Chapter 9

  To Be or Not to Be…Awesome

  I woke up with a pounding in my skull and little or no memory of what had happened last night. Anna screaming at me didn’t help any. “You left them with your family! Then you didn’t come home until four in the morning! Where the fuck were you?”

  Fuck if I knew. I’d woken up outside of Pete’s by the Dumpster. I had some vague recollection of Rita patting my leg and telling me to sleep it off…but that could have been a dream. A really weird, fucked-up dream. “I told you, I went to Pete’s to blow off some steam, and I passed out somewhere. But I made it home in one piece, and that’s really all that matters.”

  Her eyes narrowed to dark and dangerous slits. It was hot. “Yes, it’s much easier for me to kill you when you’re alive. I told you I didn’t want your family as babysitters. You should have called Jennifer. And why did you need to blow off steam? You told me you were fine.”

  “And I am, kind of. I just…with everything the guys have done to me recently…I needed…” Stopping myself, I let out an annoyed huff. I was so tired of thinking and talking about the guys. When would my life ever revolve around me? A dull buzz started gonging in my brain. It was different than the whiskey headache beating against my skull. It was almost like the throbbing was trying to tap out a message in Morse code. Something had happened last night that was important, that I should remember…my mind was completely blank though.

  Anna got that anxious look that unsettled my stomach. I think she was scared I was just going to up and quit or something. But where would I go? Even I wasn’t stupid enough to throw away everything for nothing. See, Chelsey, I’m not the dog with the steak. The story doesn’t apply to me.

  “Are you freaked out that I didn’t come home? Because I woke up alone, with all my clothes still on, so you don’t need to worry about that.” I vaguely remembered a group of girls at the bar, but I also recalled pushing them away from me. Anna had nothing to worry about. My cock was permanently drawn to her pussy. No one else even came close to her perfection.

  She pursed her full lips at me, then crossed her arms over her chest. Her breasts were still larger than they usually were, thanks to feeding Onnika, and the movement lifted them even higher; she was practically shoving them in my face. “I should hope I have nothing to worry about. We both decided to end that crap when we got married. Give the children a good example and all that. Plus…I’d be super pissed if you were dick-sticking other people behind my back. We work because we’re honest. Brutally honest.”

  A surprising amount of disgust roiled my stomach. Like I’d ever dick-stick someone else. It didn’t even sound appealing anymore. She was all I wanted, all I needed. Surveying my kingdom, I let my eyes linger over the pajama shorts Anna was wearing; they barely covered all of her backside. I wanted to touch the skin that was peeking out. A different kind of throbbing took me over, and amazingly enough, my headache completely vanished. Sex. It really was the tried-and-true cure for all sorts of aches and pains.

  Crawling across the bed to where she was standing on the other side of it, I ran my hand up her leg. In a low, sultry voice, I told her, “I don’t want anyone but you. Why would I settle for less when I have the perfect woman at home?”

  As my hand dipped into her short shorts, her lips shifted into a sexy, annoyed pout. “Stop that. I’m angry at you.”

  My finger wandered into her underwear, and I tested the waters to see how she really felt. Like I thought it would be, my finger was wet when I pulled it back. Her mouth popped open with a low, erotic gasp, and I gave her a smug smirk. “No, you’re not.”

  I shifted my hand so I could cup her backside. Fuck, she had an amazing ass. I was hard as a rock, ready to go, and for once, we could have sex in our bed. Mom had taken Onnika upstairs with her, and she was still up there. Another bonus…Anna was probably fully rested after a night of uninterrupted sleep.

  “Yes, I am,” she stubbornly insisted. The anger was gone from her eyes though, so I didn’t believe her. “You left the girls with your parents. Onnika is still upstairs with your mom. How do we know if she fed her? Maybe the milk ran out? Maybe your mom is a heavy sleeper? Maybe she…oh God…”

  Sometime during her speech, I’d sidled close to her, swept aside her shorts and underwear, and ran my tongue across her pussy. Fuck, she tasted good. Her hand instantly went to my head, holding me in place. “
Fuck, that feels so good…don’t stop…”

  I didn’t. I kept teasing her with my mouth until she was soaking, until she was panting, and until she was squirming for more. And just when she got to the point where I knew she’d explode if I continued…I stopped.

  With a smile, I lay back on the bed. I was still wearing my clothes from last night, and my cock was straining against the denim of my jeans. It was almost painful, but I knew Anna would help me out, once she recovered.

  Her head had dropped back while I’d been servicing her, and now that I had stopped, she snapped her gaze to mine. There was a feral look in her eyes, and for a moment, I thought she was going to hiss at me and order me to keep sucking her clit. Fuck, that would be so hot if she did. Just the thought made me adjust my erection. Damn it, I really needed her to release me soon.

  With a casual shrug, I looked around the room. “So, we’re kid-free, in our bed…no one around…what should we do?” Innocence in my eyes, I returned my gaze to her. It was chilly in the early morning air, and Anna’s nipples were almost bursting through her light tank top. I was going to suck on those next.

  Like she could read my mind, Anna ripped off her tank top. “We’re going to fuck.” With a throaty growl, she shucked off the rest of her clothes, then started in on my jeans. Thank you, God.

  Anna and I ended up staying in bed most of the day, having sex over and over, like on the first night we’d gotten together. Whenever she left the room to go pump milk for Onnika, she’d start to work on pumping me when she got back. Guess the luxury of multiple babysitters and an empty bedroom had finally gotten to her. I knew the family needed to leave soon, for the sake of our sanities, but I was going to enjoy the freedom today.

  We were on our fourth or fifth time, with Anna riding me, her glorious tits jiggling directly above my face. The expression on hers was euphoric, and as she squeezed my pecs, I knew she was close to losing it again. I lost myself in the sensation of her warm wetness moving up and down my cock in an endless rhythm of perfection. I groaned as the throbbing built to something nearly painful.