Stone: A Standalone Rock Star Romantic Comedy (Pandemic Sorrow)

by Stevie J. Cole

  “Dude, face it. My cock is a stealth fighter and yours is one of those jumbo jets.”

  “Exactly,” Jag laughs. “Jumbo jet.”

  “Look, stealth fighters have finesse and maneuverability, jumbo jets just deliver loads.” Rush chuckles. “I’ve got all the sex skills and you just pump and dump your jizz.”

  I stare at my can of beer as I come to the realization that they are actually arguing over if the weight of their dick provides lift or drag. “Look,” I say, “all I know is that Rush, you aren’t getting air. You should, you know, gun it more.”

  “Yeah,” one of the girls says, “gun it more.”

  “Pussy,” Jag whispers.

  “Ah, fuck you!” Rush yanks the helmet back over his head and revs the engine, dirt and grass flying up from the back tire when he takes off to circle the ramp.

  I glance at Jag. “He’s going to kill himself.”

  “Probably.”

  Rush hits the ramp. The engine to the dirt bike screams, and fuck, he catches some air. I sit on the edge of my seat, watching it play out in slow motion when he flies right into a tree beside the ramp. Thwap.

  “Fuck!” Jag shouts. The girls scream, and although I should be panicking, I see Rush moving, so I can’t help but laugh. He’s just such a dick sometimes. Jag runs over to him and I follow suit. Rush is sprawled out at the trunk of the tree, the engine of the bike sputtering, the front wheel bent.

  “My dick’s fine,” Rush groans. “But my arm….” He goes to move it, and when my gaze strays down to it, acid hits the back of my throat. His forearm is shaped like “S”—that shit is not natural.

  “Oh fuck, that’s sick,” I say, grabbing my phone and dialing 911.

  “Hey… hey,” Rush glances up, his eyes watering, I’m sure from the pain. “You gotta give ‘em a cool story. You can’t tell them I ran my dirt bike into a tree, tell I’m injured myself during sex.”

  “911 what’s your emergency?”

  “Yeah, my friend’s an idiot and he just ran his dirt bike into a tree. Bones sticking out and shit. I’m drunk and the other people here are probably high on coke, so we shouldn’t drive.”

  The dispatcher sits in silence for a moment. “I’m sorry, is this a prank?” she says.

  “No. The address is–”

  Rush reaches up and grabs my shirt, nearly pulling me to the ground. “Tell her my cock is okay. Tell her to tell the public my cock is okay!”

  “Oh my god, you’re worried about you cock? Seriously, man, look at your fucking arm.” I shove him away. “The address is–”

  “I’m sorry,” the dispatcher says, “what did he say?”

  “That his cock is okay.”

  And she hangs up. Groaning, I glance down at Rush. “Look what you did, you idiot, she hung up.”

  I dial the number again, this time walking off when the dispatcher answers. I go over the entire spill of us basically being immature fucks and that it’s not an emergency but none of us can drive…Thirty minutes later, the paramedics arrive and Rush is arguing with them that he needs a gurney.

  “Rush, your legs aren’t broken,” I say.

  “I don’t care, it needs to look more dramatic. I want a fucking gurney, and a sheet.” He points toward the entrance. “There are paps out there. I can’t go hobbling out with a broken arm. I need a stretcher, a blanket, and IV pole. A C-collar! Strap my down to a back board! Hell, how much does an airlift cost?”

  “You do not need an IV pole,” the paramedic says. “Gurney is protocol.”

  “Fine. But at least bandage up my head.”

  I face palm and groan. Jag just laughs. Another medic wheels a gurney across the lawn and stops in front of Rush. “Sir,” the medic says, “can you hop on the gurney?”

  Rush huffs and crosses his arms. “Are you gonna bandage my head or what?”

  The paramedic glances from Jag to me. I just shrug. “He’s a fucking diva. I don’t know. It’ll go easier if you just bandage his head.”

  “I’m not bandaging his head,” he says.

  I catch Jag digging through the medic bag still resting beside Rush. “Oh, come on,” I say. “Free concert tickets?”

  One guy looks at the other. “My girlfriend likes them…” he shrugs.

  “See, we can help you get so laid,” I smile.

  That one paramedic just looks damn grumpy. He crosses his arms and sighs. “I’m not bandaging his head.”

  I keep trying to bribe them, meanwhile Jag’s over there pulling shit out of the bag, wrapping Rush’s head in gauze, sticking bandages all over him. The grumpy medic finally gives up and turns around to get Rush on the gurney. “What the…” he tosses his hands in the air.

  “Just let him be,” the other medic says.

  Minutes later, they’re getting Rush settled on a gurney. I’m laughing my ass off as they wheel him through the backyard. Rush is laid out on the stretcher, moaning. Half his face hidden behind Jag’s shitty wrap job. Right when we reach the gate, I notice a subtle movement under the thin sheet. I nudge Jag with my elbow and point, laughing.

  “Oh shit,” Jag says, tipping his can of beer back and shaking his head. “He’s getting his cock ready.”

  By the time we’ve gotten through the front gate, people are lined up outside. Paramedics, paparazzi, fans… Some of the girls gasp when they see him.

  “Ah, he’s fine,” I shout, and cameras start flashing. Some of the girls are giggling.

  “Eating outta the palm of my hand,” Rush snickers.

  “What happened?” someone shouts.

  I glance over at Rush who is now pitching a full on tent with the hard-on he’s managed to get going. “Sex with me is dangerous, that’s all I can say,” Rush shouts and points at the bulge in the sheet. “But, do not fret, fair maidens. As you can see, my cock is still in working condition.”

  The paramedics shake their heads as they open the ambulance bay doors and prepare to lift the gurney into the back. Jag goes to hop in. One of the paramedics grabs his shoulders, takes the can of beer out of his hand, and tosses it in the bushes. Jag stares at him, then belches in his face.

  Half an hour later, we’re in the ER. Jag is doing interviews with the news. I’m just hiding in the corner, trying to keep Rush from grabbing nurse’s asses.

  Fuck me, at least shit is never boring.

  26

  Phoenix

  As soon as Stone opens the door, he kisses me, and I’m immediately weak. I want to fall into him, but I don’t because the second you let a man know how much you want him, you’re at a disadvantage. I don’t want to get hurt.

  He ushers me in, his lips barely parting from mine as he closes the door. “I missed you,” he says.

  As much as that sentiment makes my heart race, I keep a straight face. “It’s been a day.”

  “And?” He scoffs. “Wow, you know how to make a guy feel good.”

  I grab his shirt and yank him to me as I lift onto my tiptoes to kiss his neck. I pause. I hesitate. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I missed you, too,” I whisper. “I just suck at this.”

  He presses a kiss to my forehead and smiles. “Nah, you’re just awkward as shit.” He laughs and turns to walk off. I swat at him as I follow him through his foyer to his living room.

  “So, Rush…”

  “Oh god.” He flops down on his couch and drags a hand down his face. “He’s an idiot.”

  “Well, yes. We’ve known this, but what exactly happened? I just need to hear this story one more time.”

  “Him and Jag built a ramp and were trying to have Motor Cross in his backyard. I may or may not have insinuated that he was a pussy and not catching air,” he cuts his eyes up at me and his smile deepens, that dimple on his left cheek popping. “So, of course he went balls to the wall and flew off the ramp.” He smacks his hands together. “Right into a tree. Broke his fucking arm, which has set the tour back.”

  So now we have a little more time to pretend this might just work
. I fight that thought away and shake my head. “Yeah, yeah, I got that, but…” I dig my phone from my pocket, pull up the web, and the picture of Rush sprawled out on a gurney with a huge red circle showcasing an erection. I hold the phone out and point at the circle. “This. Why does he have a boner?”

  “Did you just say boner?” He laughs.

  “Yes.”

  “Say it again.”

  “What? No.”

  “Come on.” He squeezes my thigh and leans in close to me. “Say it.” He nips at my lip. “Please, babe.”

  “Oh my god, boner…”

  His grip on my leg tightens. “Why does that sound so dirty coming out of your mouth?”

  “I have no idea…”

  Stone scoots close to me, wrapping his arms around me before kissing up and down my neck so softly a shiver works down my spine.

  “Why is everything about you so…” his fingers grip my jaw as his words are lost on a groan. He tilts my head back, skimming his nose along the side of my throat, and when his lips reach my mouth, he kisses me so hard yet so reverently. I lose a piece of myself in that kiss. All I want is him. I just want him, so I grab at his clothes, tearing his shirt over his head and running my hands along his chest. He rips my shirt off, his hands grabbing, groping.

  “God, I want you,” he whispers before leaning down and slipping my nipple inside his warm mouth. I scratch my fingers through his hair, and although I want to tell him to take me, I don’t. I’m too afraid of what it will do to me, and I don’t want to be just another girl, another victim of the heartache I know this man must cause. His hands dance along the waist of my jeans and that need for him to touch me builds like a slow fire.

  I kiss him hard, angry, and shove him back on the couch, grabbing his jeans and popping the fly as I drop to my knees on the floor in front of him. I work his jeans down just enough, swallowing when I see the bulge under his boxer briefs. Slowly, I trace my fingers over him, the heat searing through my fingertips. I yank his boxers down and without pause, I grab his cock and bring the tip to my lips. My heart is in my throat when I lick over the tip. I watch his face, relishing in the way his eyes slam shut when I pull him deep into my mouth, circling my tongue around the head.

  “Fuck…” he groans, and I can’t help but smile around him. There is no greater turn on than having a man like Stone Steele at your mercy. His fingers lace in my hair, pulling, tugging fisting. With each slow movement I make over him, each simple twist of my hand, he squirms. He gnaws at his lip whispering the word fuck over and over. And with each movement, each touch, my body threatens to go up in flames. Without warning, his hold on my hair tightens. He tosses his head back on a deep guttural groan and comes so hard, so fast. My heart pounds in my chest as I swallow it back. He sits there panting for a second before he grabs me and drags me onto the couch, tearing my jeans down my legs and spreading my thighs apart. He sinks to the floor between my legs, staring up at me as he slowly inches toward me and blows a single breath across my exposed skin.

  “Shit,” I whisper.

  A slight smirk dances over his mouth before he places the tip of his tongue on my pussy, dragging it up and down before he sucks my clit into his mouth. “Damn, woman.” His fingers grip my thighs. His eyes close and he fucks me with his mouth like a man starved. Every nerve in my body is on fire, tingling, screaming. My hands are in his hair, my hips grinding over his face shamelessly. My entire body jerks when that euphoric heat bleeds throughout me, sending me hurdling into a weightless oblivion. Stone kisses along the inside of my thigh. “I’ve never wanted the things I want with you with anyone else,” he whispers, and I swallow.

  What do I say to that? I feel the same way, but what do I say to that? I can’t make myself that vulnerable with him, so I just run my fingers through his messy hair before I pull my jeans back up. “Let’s go to bed,” I say.

  He laughs as he pushes to his feet. “You are so fucking weird.” He offers me his hand. “But I like it.”

  He pulls me up and I kiss him, and god, the taste of me on him is... “You better,” I whisper.

  I know I’m fucked, but at least, for tonight, I can pretend I’m not.

  27

  Stone

  Rush is in the passenger seat bitching about how hard trying to rub one out with his left hand is. “I mean, why the hell did it have to be my yank and spank arm that got messed up? That’s just cruel. I fucking shot myself in the eye with my jizz the other day because my left hand has no technique…”

  I can’t listen to this shit, so I zone out and think about Phoenix. About her mouth, her fucking ass. If I wait one more day to get inside her, I think I’m going to die from a backup of come. I mean it. I haven’t even beat one out because I want it to be that fucking good. I pull up to Rush’s drive, honking at the group of girls standing in front of the gate.

  Rush sits up in the seat, cracks the window and peeks out. “Man, that girl’s hot.”

  “Jesus, you have a problem, you know that, right? Like who needs to fuck that much?”

  Slowly, he turns, his jaw dropping as he stares at me. I lay on the horn and the girls move out of the way. I punch the code and floor it through the gate.

  “Did you really just ask who needs to fuck that much?”

  “Yeah, it’s not normal, man. I mean, I like sex and all, but fucking hell.” I pull up by the front steps and stop. He’s still staring at me.

  “Dude…” he says, lifting his ass off the seat and digging in his pants pocket. He pulls out a Ziploc bag and tosses it to my lap. “Take that shit and go fuck Phoenix. A backup of jizz can make you angry.”

  I glance down at the little blue pills in the bag. “Is that Viagra?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why–”

  “Because, keeps that shit hard forever. You can go and go… How long has it been since you fucked someone?”

  “I don’t fucking know.”

  He points at me and lifts his eyebrows. “Exactly. You wanna fuck her and blow your load in 5 seconds? Because I can assure you, that will leave an impression you don’t want to leave.”

  “Shut up. I’ve had a blowjob.”

  “Dude, not even the same as the pink clam of ecstasy, the taco of torture.” He clasps his hand over my shoulder. “I do this because I love you, dude. As much as a straight man can love another straight man.” He throws the door open, climbs out of my car, then leans down by the window to look back in at me. “I know you like her, and that’s cool, if that’s what you want or need or whatever. I just like to give you shit. If you’re happy, dude, I’m happy.”

  I glance down at the pills as I pull down the drive. He’s right. At this point, there’s no hope that I’ll last.

  _________

  I’m sitting in the parking lot Googling how long before sex to take Viagra. Four hours.

  I take two pills from the bag and toss them in my mouth then swallow. I’ve done a shit-ton of drugs in my life, but for some really twisted, demented reason, slamming back some dick pills seems very wrong. Well, it’s done now. I glance at my crotch before I hop out of the car, lock my doors, and shove my keys inside my pocket. I toss my shades down over my eyes when I round the corner of the building and hang my head in the hopes no one recognizes me. Someone grabs my arm, and I jump.

  “Just me, babe. Just me.” Phoenix says.

  “Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I turn around and kiss her quickly because I don’t want this Viagra taking effect.

  “So, you often go to frou-frou places like this?” she whispers as we walk under the awning of Armand’s.

  “Nah, I’m a Taco Bell kinda guy, but I thought you’d appreciate it. Maybe…”

  “Only if we can make up the conversation all these stuck-up asswipes are having?”

  I stop midstride and smile, because that is exactly what I do inside my head. “What else would we do?”

  She grins. “Exactly.”

  We brush past all the geriatrics gar
nished in more diamonds and pearls than the fucking Queen of England. The hostess shows us to a table and props our menus against the glass candle holder in the middle. I pull out Phoenix’s chair and she sits, brushing the white tablecloth off her knees as she slides under the table.

  We order and as soon as the waiter walks away, Phoenix props her elbows, clasps her hands together, and leans across the table. My eyes trail over her face. Her green eyes, her straight nose, those red lips with the perfect cupid’s bow… Jesus, that is beauty. Simple. Elegant. Beauty.

  “So,” she whispers. “Those two.” She cuts her eyes to the right, and I follow their movement to an older couple. “He looks a little on edge.”

  My heart suddenly takes off in a sprint and I rub my hand over my chest. Fuck. It’s pounding like I’ve just ran a mile high on coke. I can’t focus on what Phoenix is saying because I think I’m having a heart attack. Can Viagra give you a heart attack?

  “Stone?”

  “Huh?” I glance up at her.

  She furrows her brow. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah…” I clear my throat and direct my attention back to the man and woman across the restaurant.

  “What do you think he’s saying to her?”

  “Bertha,” I say, watching the man talk, “I told you a thousand times, you have to fondle my balls when you suck my cock.”

  Phoenix laughs. “But Bartholomew…”

  I snort. “Bartholomew?”

  Laughing, she glares at me. “Don’t take me out of character.” She glances back at the couple. “You know I like to double fist your cock when I suck you off.”

  Shit. All I can think about is Phoenix sucking me off with both hands greedily grabbing at my hard dick. My face heats. My cheeks sting.

  Phoenix cocks a brow. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Because your face is red.”

  I unbutton the first few buttons of my shirt. “It’s just hot.”

  “Yeah, it kinda is…” She directs her attention back to the couple.