by Amity Cross
West slammed into me with one final thrust and stilled, our breathing ragged. I thought West had fucked me good the night before, but that had nothing on what we just did. We'd finally had an emotional connection while fucking. I'd finally had it for the first time and it was, for lack of a better word, fucking delicious.
Before West captured my mouth with his, he murmured, "You are mine."
And I was.
I lay in bed, Blair in my arms, the fears that had been playing on her mind now firmly on mine.
She trusted me, which was more than I could ever ask for. I'd worked so hard to get to this point and to have someone tell me that…fucking hell, it was incredible. The weight of responsibility didn't escape me, but I'm sure she knew. Blair seemed to know everything. She had this look on her face constantly that betrayed the fact she was mulling things over and even though she didn't voice most of it, I knew I wanted to know that part of her as well. She wasn't a cold-hearted bitch, she just wanted the world to think she was so she could protect herself. I knew all about that.
"Thank you," I murmured. I owed her that at least. I owed her a great deal, but I wasn't sure how to voice it yet.
"S'okay," she replied sleepily.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"I think if I know what's going to happen, I might be better with it. The unpredictability of this whole thing is putting me on edge."
Fuck, I loved that she was finally talking to me, airing her concerns. If I knew what her triggers were, then I could help stop them before they began. All that wishy-washy therapy at that rehab joint had come in handy after all.
"I can get Furlough to send you a schedule so you can keep it on your phone."
"Good." She rolled onto her side, so we were face to face, her hazel eyes sparkling in the lamplight. "How many shows do you have to play?"
"There's like fifty shows in the next four months. We'll go to most of the major cities through Europe first, play at some of the summer festivals, then through Ireland and finish up in the UK."
"Fifty? That's a lot."
"It's full on, B." She dropped her eyes down and let her gaze wander over the tattoos on my arm.
"Where to first?" she asked after a while.
"The first shows in Paris. We'll go tomorrow afternoon and then the day after is the concert."
"Paris?"
"Paris."
Blair frowned and slid her hand under her pillow and I didn't like the feeling of not knowing what was going through her pretty little head. "What is it?"
"I always wanted to see Paris and a bunch of other places. I could never get the cash together. After my parents died, I had to sell the house and everything just to pay out the mortgage. Then I had to shell for the funeral."
I couldn't help hissing through my teeth. The thought of anyone leaving her with that kind of burden pissed me off. Ever since she'd told me about what her father had done I'd thought the man was a piece of shit, but knowing the full extent of the crap he'd left behind for his daughter…I'd resurrect the man so I could pull the trigger on him myself.
"It doesn't matter now," she said, picking up on my emotions. "I'm here and I'll see it tomorrow night."
I knew we wouldn't get much time to do any sight seeing and I wanted to see it all with her so I could be there to watch the expression on her face. "I'll bring you back after the tour. Then we can take our time and see everything you want."
Pulling her hand out from under the pillow, she caressed my face, trailing her fingers over my lips. "It doesn't seem to matter any more."
"It matters."
"It mattered until I met you. Then it didn't."
Fuck, was I finally seeing the real Blair Hayden? She'd dropped all the dirty talk, the swear words, the scowl…something inside me told me that I was. With a growl, I pulled her body flush with mine and kissed her, letting my hands wander. I'd wanted a connection the night I'd walked into that bar and I'd gotten a whole lot more in return.
Blair was finally mine and fuck, did she know I was hers.
Paris wasn't really what I was expecting it to be like, but the only expectations I had were from movies and books. The reality was, it was just grey and bland, with splashes of greenery. We'd driven past the Eiffel Tower and I'd watched the sparkling lights on its spire, but it'd flashed by so fast, I only caught a glimpse. I guess now I was making a list of things to come back and see.
Today was the official start of Affliction's European tour and I stood awkwardly in the middle of the venue. There was masses of open space around me as I stared up at the stage and I felt like an insignificant blip in outer space. Roadies rushed around like chickens with their heads chopped off, men hung from the lighting rig, venue staff were helping sort the merchandise table, all of them connecting the dots, while more hooked up equipment on the stage itself. I fidgeted nervously, cursing at myself for being such a scared little fucking girl. Blair Hayden took no prisoners. She was the one who wielded the axe and did the chopping.
Since I was working on my honesty policy, I had to admit to myself that I was nervous meeting the other guys in the band. They were West's extended family after all and I knew that one of them was his childhood friend. Talk about pressure to the extreme. Considering the big fucking step we took the other night, I was feeling the burning need to perform.
Movement beside me made me jump and I turned to find Furlough beside me, smartphone in hand. He wore his trademark suit jacket and fancy shirt, sans-tie, but this time I was surprised to see him in a pair of dark colored jeans and boots. No shiny businessman shoes in sight.
"Blair," he greeted me with a nod. Just the right amount of frost with a dash of nonchalance.
"Furlough."
"Is there anything I can get you? You can wait backstage if you want. There's no need to hang around out here." He was looking at me expectantly, but I didn't know what I wanted.
I shrugged, not wanting Furlough to see how awkward I was feeling. "It's interesting to see how it's all put together." I nodded at the stage.
"Yes, it's a production alright. Lighting, sound...it really has to be planned out in advance. The guys are notorious for changing their set list last minute and it stuffs the lighting cues up."
Wow. Furlough was talking to me like a human being and not a filthy gold digging slut? Fucking miracles never ceased happening to me lately.
He looked at his watch before saying, "They'll begin sound checking in five. You can come and watch side of stage if you want."
"Na," I said. "I'd prefer to watch from out here."
The bit I didn't add was that I was crapping myself about 'the guys'. I certainly didn't live up to Furlough's standards, whatever the fuck they were, and if I didn't live up to the rest of the bands…well, shit. West kept telling me that it was just about me and him, but I couldn't deny that their opinions mattered to him. If they hated me, I was probably done.
"Okay, well, I'll let West know you're out here."
"Sure."
I pulled my jacket closer as I watched Furlough. He crossed the void and disappeared into the backstage area and I wondered if I would ever feel part of this. I was just the baggage. I didn't have a part to play in this bit of West's life and I found myself wanting to be useful. Currently, I felt like a useless lump.
I didn't get to contemplate that gem for much longer, because roadies were scattering from the stage and some heavy-set guys wandered out. They were all dressed in black and had tattoos all over their bare arms. Not as many as West seemed to have, and I assumed this was the part of Affliction I hadn't met yet. I looked them over as they milled about, trying to pick out which one was Joe, West's childhood buddy. From where I stood, I couldn't make out their features, so it was pointless even trying.
As the band took up their instruments, I instantly recognized West as he walked out. I'd become so attuned to his body, I could pick it out a mile off. His sexy ass, the curve of his shoulders, his strong arms. Fuck, I sounded like a teenage girl swoo
ning all over a hot rock star. Why stick the poster on my wall, when I could lick the real thing? I wanted to lick him right now, with his shit kicking boots, tight black jeans and T-shirt. I wanted to lick his clothes right off.
I sat on the ground, not caring about the crap that probably lived in the cracks between the floorboards, and crossed my legs. The house lights flicked off with a loud boom that echoed through the empty venue, and a soft blue light lit up the stage as the guys checked the tuning on their guitars and the drummer, whatever his name was, beat out a few fills and flexed his shoulders.
I'd never seen a sound check before and sitting here in the middle of the venue all alone felt surreal. Like they were playing a private show just for my sorry ass. I knew it was something they had to do to get ready for the real thing later on, but for now I felt a little special. In the dark, I could imagine.
West shielded his eyes from the glare the lighting rig cast down on him, and I knew he was looking for me. Well, there was this part of me that still hoped that he was, even though I knew it was true. Things wouldn't change overnight just because I let him fuck me bare, sex wasn't a fucking cure-all tonic. My thought process would take time to change, to grow into something a little less fucked up. It was like that shampoo ad on the tellie. It didn't happen overnight, but it did happen. I was kinda counting on the 'did' part.
When West couldn't find me in the vastness of the venue, he turned away and said something to the guy with the bass guitar. A moment later, he gave the thumbs up to the drummer, who clicked out a count in on the edge of his kit.
I'd seen Affliction play in Melbourne, I'd listened to their CD at the stupid tattoo shop where I'd worked, but it had nothing on this. I could sit and watch, I could actually listen and as they played, I could really feel it. The way West loved music. It sounded fucking stupid and I felt my face turning red with embarrassment in the darkness, but he sang and played with his soul…they all did. I found myself beginning to believe that I'd done the right thing. That this unexplainable thing between West and I was worth the risk. Worth the fucking assholes printing stupid shit about us in the papers and hounding us for photos. Worth the groupies trying to grab his cock in front of me. It was worth it, because at the end of the day, West was mine and I was his.
When the last reverbs melted away, West shielded his eyes again, scanning the venue and the lights flicked up, illuminating everything. When he spotted me sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, I could make out the smile on his perfect as fuck mouth and I wanted to run to him and kiss him fucking bat shit crazy.
"Blair," he said into the microphone. "Get your hot ass up here right now."
My lips curved into a grin and I scrambled to my feet and walked across to the door Furlough had disappeared through earlier. My entire body hummed, knowing that everyone was looking at me. When I pushed the stage door open, West was there waiting and he yanked me hard into his body.
"Did you enjoy the show?" he asked and before I could answer, his lips crashed into mine.
I didn't give two shits who was watching at that moment, because I was fucking loved up after watching him on stage. I pushed my hands down the back of his jeans, wanting to feel some skin, and pinched his ass. Cheers erupted around us and he pulled back with a stupid grin on his handsome as fuck face.
"The boys are dying to meet the woman who's got me by the balls," he murmured into my ear.
Glancing over West's shoulder, I locked eyes with a tall, very well built guy with a scruffy mop of brown hair and traditional tattoos up and down his arms. He was handsome in his own way, but he had nothing on my Dark and Dangerous.
"That's Joe," West said, turning around and pulling me into his side. "This is Mick and Rob."
I looked over the other two guys, the one with the shaved head I recognized as the drummer, he was Mick, and Rob was a little lankier than the others, but still fit the handsome and dangerous MO that was Affliction.
"Fuck, she's a looker," Joe said with a wicked smile.
"Even prettier than you described," Mick said, winking in my direction.
"She's standing right here," I bit back, narrowing my eyes. Fucking talking about me in the third person rose my inner bitch back to the surface.
"You'll fit right in with a mouth like that, lovely," Joe said, laughing at the look on Mick's face.
"She takes no prisoners, so I'd watch your balls," West said, gently squeezing my waist.
"Let's go get a drink," Rob said to me with a genuine smile that made me warm a little to him. "We've got a lot of dirt to dish."
As the rest of the band started walking backstage, I caught the panicked look on West's face and frowned. He hadn't told me a great deal about the things he'd gotten into in his past, but I could imagine. He'd hinted at drugs, groupies, casual sex…I knew that was how he used to be, but it was another thing hearing about his fucked up sex-capades, especially now that I considered him mine alone. Fuck, I loved living life on the wild side, but that was a step too far, too soon.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that West knew more about my life than I did about his. I wasn't sure what to think about that, but maybe if he wasn't forthcoming, then I was the one who had to prod him. I had to think about the right questions first.
"They're only joking, B," West said, catching my expression. "Unless…"
"I know," I said a little too quickly. "They seem really nice."
"They like to fuck around, but it's all in fun, you know. They know how important you are to me. Besides, if any one of them pissed you off, they'd have to deal with my fist."
"As much as I like to see you beat the shit out of douche bags who piss me off, I'd rather you didn't."
He cocked his head to the side.
"If you break your hand, how are you going to finger fuck me?"
West's face split into a grin and he pushed me back against the wall, pressing his crotch into my stomach. Fuck, that man had a perpetual hard-on. I wondered how he dealt with it…scratch that, I loved helping him deal with it.
"Fuck, B," he growled. "I love it when you talk dirty."
He crushed his mouth to mine and it was all I could do not to strip him right there.
"C'mon," I said, wondering why I'd felt so worried about meeting the band. "Let's go hear this so called dirt."
I smiled to myself as I watched Blair talk with the guys. She craftily avoided questions about herself and fielded them back onto the others without them even noticing. I knew she'd always have trouble talking about her past, if she ever did again, and it made me feel fucking great, knowing she'd given that part of her to me.
Joe bombarded her with stories about life back on the farm when we were kids, particularly the story behind the scar over my upper lip. He'd pushed me into a barbed wire fence after we'd got into fisticuffs over something stupid. Neither of us could remember what it was about, but knowing us, it was probably a girl.
I already knew it would play out the way it was going, but they loved Blair and thought her vulgar comebacks were solid gold. My little wildcat was coming out of her prickly shell and becoming more beautiful as every day went by.
When Affliction finally went on stage, it was to a jam packed house, and for the first time in months, I felt that thing coming back. That 'thing' being the itch that got under my skin and made me come alive. Music had soul again and the band had never sounded as amazing as we did right then.
Every so often, I'd look up and see Blair watching from the side of the stage. Her gaze would be locked on me, or she'd be listening to whatever song we were playing, eyes closed, swaying side to side. It was just the first night of many to come and I was glad to share it with her. Joe kept throwing these looks at me every now and then that said, 'what the fuck is up your ass'.
When we came off just before the encore, I swept Blair into my arms and laid a kiss on her. "Enjoy the show?"
"You look even hotter with a guitar," she said with a laugh.
"Luckily
for everyone, it hides my hard on, beautiful."
"Oh, I dunno about that. I think they might like looking at it."
I nipped at her bottom lip before saying, "Maybe, but I only want you looking at it from now on."
"I'd tell you fucks to get a room, but we've gotta go back on," Joe said, interrupting our little interlude.
After the gig, we were ushered to some exclusive Parisian club, complete with one of those fancy VIP sections set aside for us. Blair didn't seem keen on the idea, and neither was I, but it was part of the circus and I had to perform.
I used to love the after parties. I used to revel in all the attention, the journos, the producers, the celebrities, the women…but as I stood in the middle of all of the fucking bullshit, I couldn't wait for the moment I could get outta there.
Blair fidgeted nervously as people tried to catch my attention, totally ignoring her existence and I pulled her closer.
"I'm sorry," I said, dipping my head low so I could murmur in her ear.
"I get it," she said with a shrug.
"I fucking hate this shit. This was one of the things that pushed me over the edge. Everybody wanting a piece of me until there was nothing left. Just fucking noise."
She looked up at me with a frown, like she was trying to work out what to say, but I cupped her cheek in my hand, stroking my thumb back and forth along her soft skin.
"Let's get outta here the first chance we get," I said.
"Deal." She glanced over her shoulder. "I'm going to get a drink. Do you want something?"
"No, you go ahead. Let me deal with some of this rabble and we can dirty dance in a while."
"Dirty dance?" she asked, her eyes sparking in the dim light. "More like dry humping."
"You know all the right things to say."