Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set

by S. K. Logsdon

  “That hard?”

  I nod. “Yes, it’ll work. Start at his lower back and work your way up with slow but firm pats.”

  Listening to my instruction, makes a sleepy Eric belch a good one and I peer up to see Johnathan’s green eyes twinkle with pure joy. How adorable!

  Kissing Eric’s head, Johnathan moves him around so he’s tucked into his arm, like a football and Eric stays a sleep for a few moments before doing the grunting he does when Johnathan holds him.

  “See?” he huffs.

  “We’ll work on it,” I reassure with a slight smile, my hand patting his leg.

  “Thank you baby, you’re so wonderful.” He shoots me one of those smiles that used to do funny things to my stomach and make me want to hop into bed with him. But it doesn’t affect me now. Even if it is sexy. He can use that sexy elsewhere. This woman is locked up tighter than Fort Knox during a terrorist attack.

  Leaving him to try and work with Eric, I stand, stretch and readjust my top and bra. Dylan fell asleep against my arm so he’s curled into a ball on the couch. I snatch the tan Sherpa blanket off the back of the couch and cover him with it. Leaving him and making my way to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

  Pushing the door open I stop in my tracks and my heart explodes!

  Oh no!!!!!!

  No!

  No!

  No!

  Covering my eyes in the doorway, I fall to the ground and immediately wail.

  They didn’t just do that! They didn’t! No!!!!

  People are all around me. I can feel them. They’re talking to me.

  “No! No! No!” I scream out loud, rocking back and forth. My wails turn into desperate screams and I completely lose it. I lose everything. My mind goes into overdrive. My breathing accelerates as I wail.

  “Oh my god!” I cry out, my voice hoarse.

  How could they? The one thing. The one thing that’s ever mattered! Why…why?

  Suddenly a body is curled around me from behind and one from my front. I suck in a deep breath and two distinctive smells fill my senses.

  Stacy’s and Deacons colognes. The person in front of me has to be Deacon because he’s less sinewy in muscles than Stacy. His body is larger.

  “Hey Em, what’s wrong?” I hear Deacon ask and then I feel another person kneel close to me and I smell him too and I know immediately it’s Johnathan.

  “Short Stack, what’s wrong?” Johnathan adds.

  I shake my head back and forth over and over.

  “You took it. You took it from me. It’s gone,” I mutter, trying not to cry out again. It’s so hard to control. I can feel the burning urge to let loose and wail. But I open my eyes and dart forward, my arms latching around Deacon’s torso.

  Gliding his hands down my back, he holds onto me, kissing my hair. “Em, talk to us, sassy minx.” He chuckles and I actually smile, but only a little. “Oh come on, please don’t take the fight out of this feisty redhead. It’d be a damn shame to lose it when it’s so hot that I want to do nothing but ravish it and pound my hard dick into it as it’s pressed firmly against the wall.”

  “You’re sick,” I mutter against his chest.

  “Sick, but so damn sexy. Right?” He’s playfully fishing for compliments, then he tickles my side and I actually let out a mix between a grunt and a chuckle.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Ooooo… Yesssss, talk dirty to me baby.” He laughs at that one and pulls me back from him. Reaching up he swipes the tears from my puffy eyes with his thumbs and cups my face in his hands.

  “Ahh… that’s my sexy redhead. You wanna fuck now? Or do you want to do us all a favor and tell us why you lost it?” He holds my gaze and my eyes burrow into his.

  “They took it,” I mumble.

  “Took what, hotness?” He winks at me and slowly licks his lips, in turn I instinctively roll my eyes. Sick bastard! Whoa, hey, he’s good. It’s working.

  “My bed.” I speak louder and I sound at least half normal again. Woo hoo!

  “The cabin bed?” Stacy, whose still sitting on the floor behind me, asks.

  “Yes. That was our bed,” I mope and shrug my shoulders.

  “Fuck!” I hear Johnathan growl and suddenly he pushes Deacon out of the way and takes the spot on the floor.

  “I’m sorry baby. I thought you wouldn’t want a reminder of the pain so I removed it for you and bought a really nice one to replace it.” The guilt on his face is unbelievably heart wrenching, he actually thought taking the bed away was going to help me. Oh wow, now I feel terrible.

  “It’s okay.” No it’s not but I can’t stand his horrific guilt stricken expression.

  “No, no it’s not. Fuck! I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid.” He smacks his hand on his forehead repeatedly and I snatch it away. He’s so self-deprecating sometimes.

  “Stop,” I order, placing his hand on my leg which I know he won’t remove because I know he wants to touch me. He always wants to be touching me. I see it in his eyes every time he looks at me. Him being in love with me isn’t hard to see or feel. It’s in every word, every touch, and every smile. I just don’t feel that way about him. I can’t. Even if I try. I love James with my entire being and that’s not going to ever change.

  “I’ll bring it back,” he sighs.

  “It’s not gone-gone?” I glow with hope.

  “It’s in the garage. I was going to have it taken back to his condo. But I’ll bring it back in,” he explains and then stands, offering me his hand. Which I accept this time and he pulls me and my very sore body from the floor.

  “Well boys, let’s do this thing,” Deacon chimes in and the strangest thing happens, all the men — carry in the log bed back in, in pieces to reassemble. I’ve never felt more loved than I do right now. The only thing missing, other than you know who, is my mom and dad. Who will be flying out in two days to come and stay with us for a week.

  I stand in the living room watching the men working. The babies are fast asleep, as is Dylan. And somehow a tiny bit of happiness creeps up and takes hold of me long enough that I can smile a fraction. Which feels amazing to lose just a tiny bit of the pain. Even if it’s only for a little while.

  Cammy walks up and slides a plate in front of me with a slice of cake and rocky road ice-cream. The cake's pink fluffy frosting looks unbelievably yummy. I can’t remember the last time I’ve even had cake.

  “Chocolate always helps.” She assuredly pats my arm and goes back to whatever it is she was doing before she brought me this cake. I realize it’s her job to do this kind of stuff. Johnathan pays her to clean, cook, and all the other household chores. But somehow I find her little gestures very heartwarming. Cammy is a fantastic gal and I’m happy she could keep her job when I was held up in a hospital. She and Johnathan seem to get along very well. I guess that’s how it works when the two of them are platonically friends. Sex just complicates things. I should know, I just gave birth to two of those complications. However, I wouldn’t change them or this entire experience for the world. If I hadn’t went through it all, I wouldn’t have fallen for James and I wouldn’t have my children. The pain I’ve been through is worth every moment, every touch and kiss that I shared with the man of my dreams. Even if it only lasted a short time. The memories will last me a lifetime.

  Chapter Eleven

  ~Johnathan~

  “Hey there handsome, last night was amazing,” Cammy purrs, coming up behind me, her arms wrapping around my stomach, her head pressed to the middle of my back. This isn’t a good time or a good place to be displaying these types of affections.

  “Yes my kinky bitch it was, now please, not in here. They may see,” I chastise her, pressing my butt back to break her hold around me. With a huff and a pinch on my side, she moves around to the opposite side of the island in the kitchen, staring hatefully at me.

  I haven’t told Emily and I’m not about to. So this little display in the kitchen is unwelcomed. I don’t want Emily or her parents to
catch any downwind of this. Especially, since I’ve spent the entire past week sucking up to them so much that I think her mom might actually like me now. And to be honest I’m happy about that but they are leaving today and I’m even more excited to see them go. I need time by myself to kick up the wooing process. Flowers, chocolates and three sweet greeting cards haven’t buttered her up enough yet. I want a kiss from my Short Stack and slowly I’m going to work my way to that and hopefully more.

  Cammy’s eyebrows furrow, watching me prepare a turkey sandwich with a glass of chocolate milk for myself.

  “Listen.” I lean in and she follows suit. We’re two feet from touching faces. “You might think you got away with this little bullshit angerfest, but tonight when I get a chance I’m going to make you pay. I’m going to gag that sweet mouth of yours and for that little pinch I’ll swat that ass with my bare hand.” I raise my palm into the air, so she can see it. And her breath hitches and her furrowed brow turns from something hateful to smoldering hot.

  “Then Cammy, I’m going to fuck your whore ass until it’s beggin’ me to stop. Do you understand?” I quietly but sternly explain, my face and body as hard as a rock. My jaw clinched and I can feel myself itching to punish her over this island. If we were alone, I’d be fucking her pussy with the handle of a spatula as my dick rammed her ass. But I’m stuck in this constant simmer, awaiting tonight when I can really unleash my inner beast.

  “Ye…yes,” She sputters, her voice so small my cock instantly gets stiff.

  “Yes what, my kinky bitch?” I command.

  “Yes, I understand that I was bad and you’re going to punish me,” she mutters, face flushed.

  “And what am I going to do?”

  “Fuck me and gag me.”

  I scoff a laugh, throwing my head back. “No, no, you know how this works, my whore. Tell me what I am going to do to you in detail.”

  “You.” Her voice wavers and she closes her eyes, her hands gripping the lip of the island.

  “You’re going to fuck my ass and gag my mouth, as you swat my ass with your bare hand because I’ve been a bad girl,” she huskily grinds out. I can see the lust radiating from her beautiful blue eyes when she opens them.

  That’s right my kinky whore I am going to wring you out, I’m going to fuck you so damn hard that you won’t walk straight tomorrow.

  “Are you going to like that? Do you want me to tear you apart with my thickness?” I bait her to see how she responds and as if on cue her body shutters and she licks her lips.

  “Yes, I love everything you do to me.”

  Fuckin’ right she does! Last night I had her on the bathroom counter pounding her so hard I had to ball gag her sweet mouth so the intense ecstasy laden screams she was unleashing were muffled. The last thing I needed to happen was Emily or her parents to hear us going at it. Since Emily has been home I’ve been exceptionally turned on. I don’t know if it’s the breastfeeding that I’m still not adjusting to. Well, okay, I’m adjusting but my anaconda isn’t. He’s at full attention when I think about her breast or when I look at it. She’s bewitched me since the first time I met her. And now Cammy is feeling the brunt of my insatiable need, because I can’t put it to Emily like I want to.

  Twice yesterday, four times the day before, I’ve fucked Cammy. I get it where I can. Once was in the laundry room, another time was in the garage when I went up to do some work in the upstairs studio. It’s always rough. And we both love it that way. Cammy, believe it or not has pulled my hair before to make me fuck her harder. She said I wasn’t—as she put it. ‘Givin’ it to her hard enough.’ So when you think I’m degrading her or treating her like trash, I’m not. The whore and bitch words are words she’s brought into the bedroom before I did. Calling herself my kinky bitch or dirty whore. Her words originally, not mine. See, I’m not such a horrible person. Well only partially. And thanks to her amazing sexual appetite for me and her kink at the level I crave, I have no reason to seek satiation elsewhere. Plus, I love her and I wouldn’t do that to her anyhow. Except with Emily if she’d let me, of course. Which hasn’t happened yet. I’ve been a one woman show for quite some time now and even though the idea of it sounds strange, I’m more than happy. I have a lot on my plate and adding a bimbo groupie whore into my bed for a night just doesn’t seem worth the trouble. Maybe I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, after all.

  Finishing up eating my sandwich standing in the kitchen, Cammy already left and I’m not sure what to do next. The tour starts in a little less than two weeks. We expedited that shit. And I already ordered another bus which does have baby beds for the twins and a strict no alcohol or smoking policy aboard. I don’t want my kids exposed. I used to smoke, a lot. But I stopped when I went to rehab. I had full intentions of cleaning not only my body of heavy drugs but the other ones that tainted me as well. Except alcohol of course. I love the hell outa’ some beers.

  This week Emily’s dad and I shot a few back, as we played some pool in the garage. Her dad is huge. I’m right around six-five and her dad is about the same height and pretty bulky as well. And Emily’s mom, who I’ve met before, is very tall for a woman and thin. I don’t have a clue where Em gets her looks or her height from. She’s so tiny, pocket sized kind of tiny. Five-two at best, unless she has heels on. Her body is also thin, but not overly so. Her mom has brown hair and she’s a fiery redhead to the core. It’s really hard to see the family resemblance. The only thing I’ve heard this week is that, Em’s her dad’s mom’s doppelganger. Same eyes, hair, body, and apparently even fingers. Which is strange, but whatever.

  “Hey,” Emily greets me, walking in from the beach side of the house, wearing a flowy white dress, hair loose and bare feet, toe nails adored with pretty pale pink polish. Completely mesmerizing. Her parents, Dylan and the twins are all sitting on the warm California sand right out front of our house. It’s surprisingly warm today for it being so early in the year. Normally it’s in the fifties at this time. But today it’s in the seventies. Maybe it’s some el’nino or el’nina or nor’easter bullshit. I have no idea and I can’t keep up with the weather. It rarely rains here and never snows; that’s all that I give a shit about.

  “Hey… Baby,” I smile and she returns the same warming gesture and my heart instantly thuds. Damn, I love this woman.

  “What cha’ need?”

  “Dylan needs something to drink and I’m a bit parched myself.”

  Say no more, my goddess. I turn into the kitchen and head straight for the stainless fridge.

  “Johnathan, I’ve got it,” she says, coming over and standing next to the fridge, while I pull out a 100% apple juice box for Dylan from the door.

  “No, I do. But what do you want, baby?”

  “Juice, please.” Her lovely voice registers in my soul and I feel tingly all over.

  Snatching out another juice box, I shut the door and fold them into her small waiting hands.

  “Thanks.” She turns and leaves, heading back out to the family and I watch her. At the sliding glass door, she stops and turns around. “Do you want to come too? It’s really pretty out today and the twins are awake.”

  She wants me to come?

  “Are you sure I’m not intruding?” I don’t want to force myself into her life. Even if it may sound like that’s what I want. I’ve learned the only way into her heart and back into her arms is patience. Even if I suck some serious monkey nuts in that department, I’m trying. Trying for once not to be a complete assbag. It hasn’t worked out altogether but it’s significantly better than not having her living in the same house with all of our family under the same roof. Which is the most important thing. Above all else, the twins and Emily are my life and if she doesn’t want to be with me, then so be it. But ya can’t blame a sadistic bastard for tryin’.

  “No Johnathan you are a part of this family. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to come.”

  I tighten my jaw to keep it from hitting the ground. Hell yes she wants me
to come!

  “Thanks,” I shyly reply. I don’t know how else to express how much this really does mean to me. Other than pressing my lips to hers and I know she’d castrate me for that one. So I won’t even try. It’s too soon.

  Tailing her outside, up the deck steps and down the others that meet up with the beach. I slow my pace and watch as Dylan runs to her side to grab his apple juice that she’s already stuck the straw in for him. Folding his hand into hers they stroll, both of them drinking little juices together barefoot in the golden sand. The sky is crystal clear and the faint breeze is wafting the simple ankle white dress that my baby is wearing. I love to see her like this. Happy. The bright red curls of her hair catch in the salty sea air and she giggles, throwing her head back. Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. These are the moment’s musicians write about in their songs. Or writers use to compose some of the world’s best poetry. On the outside looking in isn’t as bad as it seems when you get to see the woman you love playful and smiley.

  Bending down, she whispers something to Dylan and both of them gaze my way. A nod is exchanged between them with big smiles.

  What are those two up to?

  Dylan hands Emily his juice and comes pounding across the sand my way. His little feet kicking up sand in his wake.

  “Johnathan!” He yells, running as fast as his little legs can carry him.

  Pulling up my shorts so they rest over my knees, I kneel in the sand to get down to his level.

  “Yes?” I ask, once he comes to a screeching halt a foot in front of me.

  “Do you want to come with me and Mama Bear down the beach to see grandma and pa? Where the twins are. They aren’t far.” He sounds so excited I couldn’t tell him no if I wanted to.

  I nod and he reaches out to grab my hand. I accept his and stand. We meet up with Emily who smiles over to me and takes Dylan’s free hand into hers and all three of us meander down the beach. Silently, I soak in this moment. The softness inside of me that I never expose is rising to the surface and checking my baby out of the corner of my eye makes me turn to jelly. Only she can do this to me. I feel weak around her. Exposed, raw, open. All of those things I hate. I hate weakness, I hate feeling exposed. It’s not me. I’ve been a hard shell of a man even before I became a man. Your dad beating and murdering your mother in front of your eyes does something to you. I was so small when it happened. Then growing up in the foster care system wasn’t as happy-happy as people make it out to be. It’s horrific and my one foster mother not only made me fuck her disgusting pussy and ass, she made me the sadistic bastard I am today.