Rock Dirty (Rock Candy #2)

by Virna DePaul

  “I’m serious, Madam. You have to stop now and you have to leave. We also don’t allow flash photography. It dulls the paint on the portraits and on the statues.”

  Tucker touched my elbow and reached for my shoes with his other hand. “Look, we don’t want any trouble. We can move on over.”

  The guard nodded. “At least your friend seems to understand.”

  Tucker held out my shoes with a grin just as a bored-looking teenager looked over at us.

  Suddenly, she squealed, an ear piercing shriek that made me wince. “Oh my God! It’s Tucker Benning!”

  It was like in the comics when someone turned on the bat signal. Instead of a mad rush of cops and reporters, however, a throng of teenage girls appeared out of nowhere to rush us, all of them shrieking at decibels that made my head hurt. I was going to have the biggest migraine. As I watched, the girls and even some of their moms started surging forward.

  “Crap!” I shouted as I reached for my shoes and felt Tucker yank on my arm. “I think the party’s over!”

  We rushed out of there, weaving through the crowds before we made it out the front doors and kept running. I made the mistake of looking back behind me once and saw a surging sea of women and girls screaming and rushing for us. Tucker ducked into an alley as fast as he could and yanked me up against a wall. He was breathing hard even as he held me and I felt his breath, hot and fresh, against my cheeks.

  Leaning close to him, I whispered in his ear. “So does this happen to you often?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m used to holing up to wait out the storm.”

  “Oh?” I say, my voice still low even as I blew a little on his ear. He shuddered, and I was having far too much fun teasing him. It was too easy where Tucker Benning was concerned. “Are you saying you don’t ever let yourself get caught?”

  “Mostly I like to do the chasing. But variety is the spice of life.”

  “Hmm. You like variety, huh?” I asked, my voice more of a purr than anything else.

  He brought his head lower and kissed me, his tongue playing skillfully with my own. “I like you,” he said. Reaching down, he cupped my hips then boosted me up.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt his erection pressed against me through the fabric of his jeans, a promise of all the things that would come tonight when we were back at his hotel. I couldn’t wait…only I was supposed to be doing something tonight…

  Tonight. Tonight!

  “Shit,” I said, resting my forehead against his.

  “What is it?” Tucker asked.

  “I forgot about my birthday party tomorrow night. Officially the big 2-7. I wanted to shop for a special outfit tonight.” I bit my lip, then said, “Do you feel like helping me pick out a dress or are you still busy ducking your loyal legion?”

  “Will you try on things tight and red?”

  I laughed, pulled him closer, and kissed him silly before pulling back. “I think that can be arranged.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tucker

  I like women.

  I mean, obviously.

  That said, I’m not the kind of guy who usually sticks around to cuddle. I’m definitely not the guy who will watch a romantic comedy with you or the person you should take home to mom. Hell, I didn’t do relationships—and that meant shopping with a woman was definitely not something I was used to. But Nikki had a way of making me say yes to things that I never would have before. She made me want to say yes. Which is how I found myself in the middle of a boutique in Paris just as the sun was setting, playing with my iPhone as I waited for her to come back out from behind the dressing room curtain.

  It wasn’t that the hours didn’t drag by. They definitely did. However, the few minutes in between, where I got to see Nikki in her dresses with slits, tight fabrics, and even the playful hints of leather, were awesome.

  And they were making my pants so tight that it should be a crime what she was doing to me.

  The damn minx knew it too, knew how to tease me until I’d be begging for anything she was willing to give. I was scared of the amount of power she had over me already, how much I was changing for her, but, at the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from falling for her. It was just too easy. She was like this tornado. Sure, she tore through places and destroyed things, but that was part of her appeal. Nikki was as spirited and fiery as her red hair, and she was playing with all of that passion this afternoon in the store, picking dresses she knew would leave me screaming for more.

  This next number was no exception.

  She pulled back the curtain and smiled back at me, biting her lower lip and waiting for my response. “So, do you like this one?”

  ‘Like’ wasn’t even close to the word for how I felt about it. I fucking loved what she had on. It was a red mini-dress, one that was cut high on her thighs. It was made out of some fabric that hugged every one of her curves and was sleek but sexy. I couldn’t tell what I loved more--the way the neckline dipped almost criminally low over her cleavage or the creamy expanse of her thighs. Maybe I didn’t need to choose.

  “You’re fucking amazing, Nik.”

  She pouted a little, those lips of hers encouraging dirty thoughts in my brain (not that my brain needed much help). Still, I wanted those lips around my cock and I wanted them there now.

  “That’s all?” she asked, twirling around again, and my cock jerked at the welcome sight of her rounded and firm ass.

  God, this woman was killing me.

  “Well,” I said, sauntering into the changing space and pulling the curtain closed behind us. We were both rich and famous, so screw it. If the attendants weren’t happy with what we were about to do then they were just going to have to live with it. “I think the most important part of a new dress is seeing how it looks crumpled up on the floor because that’s how I intend to see it next, Nik.”

  She grinned. “Not for the three-thousand-dollar price tag. I’m not tossing this on the floor for you. But I have other ideas.”

  “Do tell,” I said, grinning.

  Smoothly, despite the sheer tightness of the dress, she slid to her knees and unzipped my jeans. My eyes rolled back in my head as if they’d made their own decision to do it. Maybe they had. I wasn’t in control of myself right now. I had Nikki Lorenz guiding every move, and I wasn’t upset about that. I wanted to feel everything, to let her control every sensation. She was worth the wild ride she gave.

  Her fingers reached in and cupped my balls. I shivered at first feeling them on me. She brought her other palm up to her hand and gave it a quick lick, and the sight—in addition to the fact my cock was rigid before her, already dripping with precum—made me feel like I was about to lose my mind. I moaned loudly when she wrapped her wet fingers around my shaft. The first few movements were slow and subtle, just a hint of her soft skin against my own. But then she began to move faster, the urgency in her hands as obvious as the urgency in my dick. My balls tightened as she massaged them, passing them expertly between her thumb and forefinger; her other fingers tightened on my shaft and it was heaven, that friction working over me, the feel of her skin all around me.

  I thrust into her grip, trying to do anything I could to enhance my pleasure.

  Then she brought her mouth to the head of my cock, her soft, full lips wrapping as easily around my dick as I’d imagined. I groaned in pleasure as she started laving her tongue over my head. Then she squeezed my balls just tightly enough and I found myself coming as she swallowed all of it. I was amazed at how skilled she was as it, that she didn’t spill a single drop.

  Afterward, when I was leaning against the wall of the dressing room, my legs feeling like Jello, she stood and grinned back at me. “I had to make sure we didn’t ruin the dress.”

  I groaned softly even as I tucked myself back where I belonged. “But you’re still getting the dress, right?” I asked, zipping myself up. “It’s definitely a hit.”

  She nodded. “If it gets that kind of reaction.
I’m getting one in every color.”

  I couldn’t argue with that logic.

  * * *

  “I’m not sure I’m an escargot person,” I said an hour later at dinner, crinkling my nose at her appetizer.

  After we’d bought her dress, we’d headed to a restaurant she knew of that was out of the way, one far from the touristy section of town and a place we were both less likely to be recognized or harassed by fans and photographers. I’d ordered some chicken and green beans. It wasn’t that I minded trying the treats and delicacies that other cultures had to offer. Some of the crazy shit Japan came up with, like aloe soda, was great, but snails? I had my standards and something I could see crawling out of the garden wasn’t it.

  “You never know what you’ll like in your mouth if you don’t try it,” she said pointedly, and I instantly recalled the feel of her blowing me in that dressing room, then swallowing every shot of cum I gave her.

  Jesus.

  “I’ve tried things all over the world but I don’t do anything in shells or with more than four limbs. I think those are good standards. I guess I’m just a regular guy after all.”

  She snorted. “Right. Point Break’s been famous for a few years now. You have personal assistants and managers and lawyers and all that stuff. I know you must.”

  “True, but I’m basically the same guy I was when Liam and I started the band in high school.” Even as I said the words, they rang false. I wasn’t the same guy I’d been even last week, before I’d met Nikki. This trip to Paris, being with her, it had changed me, or maybe it had just completed a change that had been steadily happening over the years, but one I’d been fighting with all my “Tucker the Fucker” bullshit.

  I mean, I was still young but I was getting older, and that was a good thing. Staying the same would be boring as hell, wouldn’t it? With life came experiences that couldn’t help but make you grow as a person, and I felt like I’d been growing, even more so after meeting Nikki. Because I suddenly realized that all that I’d held dear before meeting her? Not the music, but the partying and drinking and fucking around with different women? I hadn’t missed it. Not one bit since I’d been here. And to be honest, the thought of going back to all that after leaving Nikki—well, it kind of made me feel sick to my stomach.

  It was a realization, but it was a damn heavy one. Like a motherfucking ton of bricks heavy.

  I stared at my plate, paralyzed by the feeling that my life had seriously just changed. And when I lifted my gaze, knowing that the change involved the gorgeous woman sitting across from me, I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do.

  Nikki was staring at me, as if waiting for me to respond to something she’d said.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said, it would have been fun knowing you in high school. I’m sure you were a total blast.”

  “Nah, like I said. I was just a regular Joe Shmoe. I can be obnoxious. I can be an ass. But I graduated into all of this when we went platinum. I never want to forget where I came from or how hard it was to work my way up. Snails or not, lawyers or not, I’m still just Tucker in the basement deep down, and that’s how I’m always going to feel.”

  “Do you think that Liam feels that way?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I do. Liam’s a great guy. Fame hasn’t changed him one bit.”

  “But yet you said he’s putting the band in jeopardy. Making decisions that could affect you all for his own selfish reasons.”

  “Yeah,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “But those selfish reasons aren’t about fame. They’re about love. They’re about his girl, Abby, and I guess, now that I’ve cooled down...” Now that I’d witnessed first hand the crazy things I could do or feel for a girl, I thought. “Well…” I shrugged, then suddenly grinned. “I guess a part of me admires the guy’s dedication. Fuck, where love’s concerned, you got to go all in, right?”

  Her gaze dropped to her water glass and she skimmed her finger over the rim. “Right,” she said quietly.

  As I watched her, she suddenly looked sad. Why? Because I’d mentioned love? Because she wanted that kind of love, too, and hadn’t been able to get it, not even from her own mother? Or was she worrying about the show again? Fuck, she didn’t really talk all that much about her stress to me, but if I wasn’t here, would she even have anyone to talk to?

  “Have you ever thought of getting therapy, Nikki? To talk things through with someone? Your stress? Your mom? The…balancing thing?”

  She shrugged, but her mouth flattened and her expression became mutinous.

  “It’s just, you always push the limit and it’s not just your designs. I mean with the photographer—”

  Her head snapped up. “If I didn’t push the limit, Tucker, you wouldn’t have finger-fucked me in an airport bathroom. And you’re the last person that should be lecturing me on acting wild, rock star.”

  Well, okay. So obviously we weren’t close enough to go there. I guess she’d put me in my place, didn’t she?

  “It doesn’t have to be about comparing which one of us has fucked up the most,” I countered. “I’m just worried about you and I think that getting some professional help wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I tried therapy once. You know what it involved? Using pool noodles to hit foam targets as a way to get out ‘unconscious anger’ at people in our lives who were bothering us. I mean, it was like one step above punching a pillow. I didn’t need it.”

  “Okay, so that was one place. Maybe there’s someone better who can actually help. Just be another support for you.”

  “Look, Tucker, you’re not here to babysit. I have Hermes for that. I have you for fun and because you make me feel safe and alive. Can’t we just be about that? Because you said it yourself, fun is all that we’re about. Right?” She shifted, and suddenly I felt her leg playing with mine under the table cloth. “We don’t need to talk about the hard stuff right now, Tucker. Let’s save the hardness for later when we can play back at the hotel. We’re out in the City of Lights, enjoying the best food Paris has to offer.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I said. If she wasn’t going to listen or open up to me, there wasn’t much I could do about it, right? Suddenly, the realization that Nikki had changed me and that she was somehow pivotal to my life taking a whole new direction dimmed.

  The fun she talked about us having—the fun I’d talked about us having—seemed like nothing more than a disaster waiting to happen.

  I wiped my mouth with my fancy cloth napkin. I felt tired all of a sudden. And I felt ready to go home. I’d stay for her birthday party tomorrow night and her show, but then I’d head back to LA

  That way, both Nikki and I could get past the fun and get on with our lives.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nikki

  Zipping up my dress felt like a slow form of torture, each bit of the metal teeth closing up the side of my body, as if sealing me into a coffin from which I couldn’t escape. I didn’t want to go to the farce that was my twenty-seventh birthday party. It wasn’t thirty, thank God. I didn’t think I could stand a landmark birthday like that right now. I mean, there was still a chance that in three years my life would be awesome. Right now, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever be able to get past the reputation that was dogging me. I was on edge. I could admit that. The more pressure from the shows and the press I felt, the more anger bubbled up through me. I wanted to control it, but it was getting harder and harder to cope.

  I was going to the party to appease Hermes, but I feared it was going to be a cluster fuck. I didn’t have any friends left. Not really. I’d driven everyone away with my spectacular meltdowns over the years. I’d indulged my deepest, most ravenous instincts, and that had led all of us to pain. If I could walk away from my life, I would too, but I couldn’t.

  The only person who’d be there that I truly felt comfortable with was Tucker, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d said something the night before that
had changed things. I’d felt a part of him withdraw from me, and it had caused me to panic. I’d wanted to cling to him, and the more I’d wanted that, the more I’d forced myself to step back. I’d grown too reliant on Tucker. Too needy. He’d obviously sensed that. I needed to take advantage of whatever time we had left together, but I also had to wake the fuck up. I was here to further my designs, and so far he was right. I’d let my thin skin and the trash talk by the designers and the press throw me off course.

  I’d let Tucker throw me off course, too. Because the truth was, all the time I’d been spending with him could have been better spent working with my team and creating buzz about the show. But I’d never regret spending the time with Tucker.

  When he went back to being a rock star, hopefully taking the spotlight and singing some songs the way he wanted to, I’d revel in the memories we’d made together.

  Sighing, I brought my gold necklace, the one my dad had given me, to my throat. It complimented the scarlet of my dress and I reached into my closet for a pair of shoes to highlight the whole look. I hesitated over a pair of supple leather black pumps I’d made. They were more relaxed, a lower stiletto that didn’t make my feet ache.

  Tucker’s words about my extreme designs not fitting who I was ran through my head even as I settled for gladiator sandals that were almost eight inches high and with ties that wrapped up my calf and shin.

  I wanted to be able to wear more quality designs, ones made for function and not just to be buzzed about, but that wasn’t my brand. It wasn’t what I could afford to do right now with my show coming up. Everyone associated Nikki Lorenz with the extremes of fashion, and I had to be avant garde at all times, even if it exhausted me to do it. Once I’d won over the critics, then I could make some changes. Say what I really wanted to say.

  I just wasn’t sure what that was anymore. I’m not sure I’ve ever known.

  “Dominique, are you ready?” Hermes asked, setting his hands on my shoulders.