A FILTHY Rock Star: a filthy line novel

by Kidman, Jaxson

  He brushed his lips to my cheek and I jumped away.

  “Go find another Line Whore,” I said. “And next time, pull the fire alarm and don’t be such a pussy.”

  I went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  I heard Nash leave.

  I sat on the edge of the bathtub and buried my face into my hands.

  It was one thing to be a bitch to Nash.

  It was a whole other to have him enjoy it.

  And the worst part… he was so fucking right.

  My body… craved him… reacted to him… the feeling from my inner thighs to my chest… fuck.

  7

  NASH

  The lights went out.

  The music was cut off.

  The arena erupted.

  I swore the walls started to shake.

  The five of us stood together, huddled in silence, taking the moment in.

  The crew stood at the bottom of the steps, holding Jay’s guitar, Dex’s guitar, Reed’s amp, and my mic.

  Sab was always the first to go on stage.

  I slapped my hand to his face, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his head to mine.

  No words needed.

  From that first dive bar gig at Little Crooke’s Bar & Grill to this.

  I broke away from Sab and walked into the pitch black.

  The only lights were the glow from the duct tape, the flashlights the crew had, and the glow of the little beady lights from the sound equipment.

  Almost at the front of the stage, on the floor though, I saw the silhouette of Liv.

  Standing there, hugging herself, giving it away that she was afraid of the dark. It was that little shit that stuck in my mind. And no amount of Line Whores could fix that. Not to mention that I had broken the seal just a little by getting her to show me her tit.

  Tit.

  One tit.

  I had to laugh.

  It was bold yet innocent at the same time.

  And it worked.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her other tit.

  What the fuck was happening to me?

  There were at least twenty thousand tits out there in the crowd and I stood there thinking about Liv’s right tit.

  I heard the first thud of the drums from Sab.

  Instead of going to the stage, I walked toward Liv.

  I put my hands to hers and she let out a yell over all the noise.

  “It’s just me, babe,” I said, my lips flirting with her ear. “Just wanted to tell you to enjoy the show.”

  Right on cue, Jay hit the first note of the show.

  The guitar screamed through the speakers, bringing the show officially to life.

  I jogged away from Liv toward the stage and grabbed my mic from Jimmy.

  “Break a leg, motherfucker,” Jimmy yelled at me.

  I ran across the stage, reminding myself what city we were in.

  I went right to the edge and looked out.

  All those people cheering.

  Women on men’s shoulders. Shirts already going up. Signs asking to be a Line Whore. The spotlight shining right in my face.

  I turned my head and looked down at Liv as she stood near the gate.

  Jay kept playing, Sab guiding him with the drums. Dex following with his rhythm guitar. Reed hitting the bass that made your chest and ears rumble.

  And I kept staring at Liv.

  I needed my fix.

  I needed to see (and taste) both tits.

  * * *

  She was sound asleep next to me.

  I reached down and hooked my middle finger to her black hair and pulled it out of her face.

  No first names allowed.

  You were a Line Whore and that was it.

  Even though I did know her name.

  Kristen.

  She was studying to be a veterinarian but always had a wild side for music and had the wildest fantasy to get backstage just one time. Well lucky for Kristen she caught my attention. Pretty little thing with a chest three sizes too big for her own good. But that worked to my benefit.

  I climbed out of the hotel bed and grabbed my jeans.

  Her jeans were on the end of the bed.

  I dug through her pockets and found her concert ticket.

  There was a marker on the desk from me and the guys signing some vinyl that were used as giveaways for the local radio station for fans.

  I signed Kristen’s ticket, drawing a shitty picture of a cat. Because cat meant kitty and kitty meant pussy and I told her I was going to be the veterinarian for the night.

  And that’s what I did.

  Her panties were hooked around the corner of the flat screen TV.

  A black thong with the Filthy Line logo on the front.

  I shook my head.

  I left the room knowing I’d never go back there.

  The room had served its purpose for the day and the night.

  Kristen would wake up and figure out how to get home and have one hell of a story to tell. One most wouldn’t believe. But then again, I was Nash from Filthy Line. There wasn’t much about me that wasn’t true.

  The only problem with Kristen was that when we were finished for good, she kissed my cheek and bit her lip. That cute flustered look on her face as she crashed down to the bed, her heart racing, thinking thoughts that weren’t true.

  Poor thing would wake up with a hangover and a little bit of a broken heart that I wasn’t there.

  Oh well.

  Hearts would mend with time.

  Speaking of which…

  I made my way to the next room on my midnight journey.

  I stood sideways at the door and knocked with my pointer and middle finger knuckles.

  Liv had wised up and knew to open the door when I knocked.

  She also learned that falling asleep before two was a bad idea.

  The door opened just enough to see her pretty face.

  She was naturally pretty. And those damn bright blue eyes could light up the darkest sky.

  That’s a good line, man…

  I curled my lip.

  No fucking way I was going to end up writing a song about Liv.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Just wanted to say hey,” I said. “See what you were doing.”

  “I’ve got three girls in bed,” she said. “You’re bothering me.”

  I put my hand to the door and groaned. “I love when you talk filthy like that, Liv.”

  “Nash…”

  “Want to do something fun?”

  “Your version of fun is different than mine,” she said.

  “True. But I didn’t say crazy.”

  “So I don’t need to worry about writing a story?”

  “Fifty-fifty,” I said.

  “And let me guess, if I don’t come with you, you’ll pull the fire alarm…”

  “Something like that,” I said. “Unless, of course, you want to finish showing me…”

  Liv stuck her hand out and grabbed my shirt. She ripped open the door. “Forget what you saw, Nash. That was a lapse in judgement by me. I panicked. That will never happen again.”

  “Should I tell your Daddy that?” I whispered. “That his precious, good girl, angel of a daughter showed her left tit to the big, bad rock star?”

  “That would only hurt you.”

  “Not just me,” I said. “You want that book deal, right?”

  I felt her grip tighten on my shirt.

  My cock throbbed like it hadn’t just unloaded three times already tonight.

  I was in a tough spot because it felt like my cock had two different minds now. The one for the Line Whores and the one for Liv.

  “Nothing crazy,” Liv warned.

  “Trust me,” I said.

  “That, I will never do.”

  “Why not?”

  “You smell like a woman, Nash,” she said. “Don’t come to my room covered in cheap groupie sex and try to flirt with me.”

  She pushed me out of
the way and strutted down the hallway, wearing black pants that made her ass dance in a way that made my cock follow. Slithering left to right, over and over, like a snake ready to attack.

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  Liv’s tits weren’t going to be enough…

  * * *

  “The tour bus?” she asked me.

  “Come on,” I said as I opened the door.

  I let her in first.

  Just so I could stare at her ass again.

  She stopped at the top step and I pressed my body against hers. “See? Nothing scary here.”

  “Surprisingly,” she said.

  “Jay and Dex are finishing their night back in the hotel,” I said. “Reed is running through some samples. And Sab is probably breaking his own heart.”

  “What does that mean?” Liv asked.

  “I’ll show you.”

  The tour bus was bigger than the hotel room. Couches, tables, a full kitchen, bathroom with a shower, and then the back of the bus. There were bunks, one of which was where Bill slept. The far back of the bus was wide open with everything you could ever imagine. Another fridge stocked with the necessities. A large flat screen. And a portable recording studio.

  Oh, and the massive, circular bed.

  Covered in black and purple sheets, screaming of bad decisions.

  Reed sat at the desk with headphones on.

  I peeled them off his ears. “How’s it sound?”

  “Great,” Reed said. He looked at Liv. “Hey, writer girl.”

  “Writer girl,” I said. “Guess that’s better than Line Whore.”

  “We can fix that,” Reed said.

  “Eyes forward, bro,” I said.

  “Want to get him off his phone?” Reed asked me, thumbing back to the bed.

  Sab sat on the edge of the bed, his thumbs flying across his phone like a teenage girl. In ripped jeans, barefoot, no shirt, a half smoked joint hanging from his lips.

  I grabbed the phone out of his hands.

  “What the fuck?” he asked, the joint dancing up and down.

  I grabbed that next.

  “Let’s hear this song,” I said. “Then you can go back to this shit.”

  Sab stood up and looked at Liv. “Hey. What’s up, Liv?”

  “Sab,” she said.

  I gave Sab his phone and walked to Liv.

  I took a deep hit off the joint and stared down at her. I slowly let the smoke out of my mouth and let it consume her face. She blinked fast and looked scared to death. Which was good. She should have been scared. Playing this game with me. Pushing at me. Fucking with me. All because she was Daddy’s little girl and all because some suits told her she was untouchable.

  “Want more?” I whispered.

  “No,” she said. “You can rot your brain, Nash. I’m happy right here.”

  I slipped my hand to the middle of her back. “Listen to this new tune.”

  Reed grabbed a remote and turned all the lights off.

  We were just in the glow of the computer screen.

  With the press of a few buttons, my voice came over the surround sound speakers.

  “Yeah, we fucking got it. Start with that riff, Jay. We’ll bring it in…”

  Jay’s guitar started to strum. It wasn’t a fast song but it wasn’t a slow ballad either. It was something in between. A risky kind of song that we’d probably either rework or just toss aside with all the other songs like it.

  But it was still a good song.

  As Jay and Dex worked their song, it poured from the speakers, and Sab’s drums kicked in. And Sab being Sab, he stood there and air drummed the entire thing.

  My hand inched around Liv’s body and I pulled her close.

  “Listen to the words, babe,” I whispered. “Wrote some of this while standing on the top balcony of a hotel. Just imagining the city at two in the morning. The crazy souls, demons coming out to play, the decisions made that are so fucking wrong but feel right…”

  Liv slithered back and away from me.

  I turned and looked at her.

  She was in the hallway of the bus near the bunks. There was a small set of white lights glowing.

  It was funny to see her like that.

  Like she was an angel.

  And, fuck, the way she looked at me, it was like she had seen the devil.

  I slowly took another hit off the joint.

  The chorus kicked.

  We’re not the morning

  We’re not the night

  We’re touching between

  We know what’s right

  You say it’s wrong

  You say you’re leaving

  But you ain’t moved

  And I’m not gone

  I reached out with my right hand for Liv to take.

  She lifted her left hand and at the last second turned her hand and lifted her middle finger.

  “That’s a good song,” she said.

  With that she spun around and walked through the bus and was gone.

  The second verse of the song kicked in as I stood there.

  You’re lost in the sun

  Those eyes are screaming none

  Where’d that girl go

  The one laughing never saying no

  I walked through the bus.

  I wanted to see how far Liv had gotten.

  Which wasn’t far at all.

  She stood outside the bus, maybe ten feet away.

  I dropped the joint and stepped on it, ready to trade one problem for another.

  My feet moved along the pavement in the middle of the night. It was like we were living in a Filthy Line song now. Most everyone in the hotel was asleep. And most of the city around us the same. Only the wild and brave were still awake, willing to flirt and fuck with their demons.

  And I knew mine.

  Oh, fuck, I knew mine…

  My hands touched Liv’s sides.

  My fingertips curled, her curves dictating rules that I planned on breaking anyway. I didn’t pull her back toward me but stepped right up to her. There was no hiding the swell inside my jeans. There was no hiding that she was driving me fucking crazy. The words innocent and untouchable meant nothing now.

  I’d be fucking crazy though… throwing away a massive record deal. Fucking over my band too. Toby could kiss my ass. But the guys… my brothers… not to mention the crew that worked so hard on the road. And Bill driving us all over the country.

  Liv put her head back to my chest.

  My hands slid around to the front of her body.

  Her hands were at her sides.

  She gently touched my legs, almost like she wanted to pull at me.

  I stared over her and watched my hands inch up over her shirt.

  When my hands crested over the beautiful swell of her breasts, I sucked in a breath and felt my cock ready to explode.

  I pressed my lips to the top of her head and kissed.

  I moved my hands back to her sides and gently pushed her forward.

  “Goodnight, Liv,” I whispered and walked away.

  Not toward the bus. No.

  Back to the hotel.

  Back to my fucking room.

  Kristen had one last round to go with me.

  Even if that wasn’t going to satisfy what I really fucking wanted and needed.

  8

  OLIVIA

  No.

  The word echoed through my head over and over as I stood in the shower. The one cool thing about this whole road and hotel life was that you never ran out of hot water. I did some of my best thinking and writing in the shower. And my apartment didn’t have the greatest hot water.

  But here in the hotel…

  I wasn’t writing though.

  I wasn’t working on my dream novel.

  I wasn’t building characters and figuring out what they ate for dinner on a random Wednesday night.

  I was staring at my fingertips as they flirted with my belly button.

  My eyes watching the water dro
plets race down my body.

  From smooth skin to smooth skin, knowing right where the urge to forget about Nash once and for all waited. I had myself convinced that if I just did it once I could forget about him. My body ached in the wrong way. Even if it felt right. But it wasn’t supposed to feel right. Yet why not? Nash was the ultimate bad boy dream. The rebel rock star. The guy who could punch someone and not get into trouble. Or steal a car and drive it into a lake and not get in trouble. He could do anything he wanted. He could handpick any woman on any night and have her in his bed.

  I never thought that kind of stuff would actually get to me.

  But being near him…

  There was something hidden in his eyes. That went beyond being a rock star.

  My knees quivered as I had to make my final decision.

  Touch or not?

  It shouldn’t have been a big decision. I knew my body. I knew what I liked. And it wasn’t anything I hadn’t done before. Or done recently.

  Fucking Nash.

  My phone buzzed and rang, the ringtone echoing louder in the tiled bathroom.

  I pushed opened the glass shower door and stepped out, water dripping everywhere, not a care in the world.

  When I saw the name on the screen, I laughed.

  “Fucking Nash,” I said.

  Once again, it was something nobody would probably believe me if I told them.

  That I had the numbers for each guy of Filthy Line in my phone.

  “What do you want?” I asked as I took the call.

  “Are you in the shower?”

  I shut my eyes and felt the heat rush to my cheeks. “No.”

  “You’re lying to me, babe. That turns me on.”

  “Everything turns you on, Nash.”

  “Now you’re starting to get it,” he said.

  “What do you want?”

  “Are you alone in the shower?”

  “Nope,” I said. “You have your Line Whores, I have my Word Pimps.”

  Nash laughed. “Word Pimps?”

  “That’s right. Geeky guys who appreciate a good story. They fuck like crazy too. And since the hotel never loses hot water, I can just spend all day in here with him.”