Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)
Page 6
My ego-stroking was interrupted when someone bumped into me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a soft, raspy, feminine voice said. “Did I spill your beer?”
I looked down and saw this strikingly beautiful blonde. Perfectly shaped nose, full, blush-colored cheeks, and the most seductive arch in her lips. She had blue eyes that almost made you beg for forgiveness and curves that made my dick throb. She was wearing a dress that was completely sheer everywhere except her tits and about a four-inch section that provocatively wrapped around her hips. I had been in such a daze trying to take in the image of this glorious piece of sex that had materialized before me that I didn’t even realize I had a beer in my hand.
I glanced down at the bottle and shook my head. “Nah. You didn’t spill it,” I swallowed, “princess.”
She smiled, and her cheeks deepened to a crimson hue. “You’re Jag Steele, right?”
Seriously? This gorgeous girl was blushing and knew who I was?
“Yeah. That’s me. What’s your name?” I acted like I was absolutely used to models knowing me by name, but my heart was slapping my chest like it would give out at any moment. I took a large swig of my beer, internally telling myself to chill the fuck out.
“River. I just signed with Victoria’s Secret.” She shifted on her heels and batted her eyes at me. “And I feel completely out of place.”
We stood there, staring awkwardly at each other in silence, and then River let out a loud sigh. “Honestly, I’m so nervous right now, I just want to run out the door and hide.”
I smiled and placed my hand on her shoulder, slowly brushing her silky hair behind it. “Oh, no, princess. You can’t leave me.” I really wanted to confess that I was a nervous wreck too, but what kind of rock star would that make me?
River bit down on her lower lip and batted her eyelashes again. “Will you keep me company? So I don’t have to stand here all by myself?” She swayed from side to side as her eyes trailed up my body, stopping on my crotch.
I felt a knot form in my throat but pushed past it. “Yeah, of course. Don’t worry, princess.”
With that I placed my arm around her shoulder, and before the end of the night I found myself naked in the back of a Mercedes, fucking the shit out of her. Welcome to fame, Jag. Welcome to fame.
I moved my finger away from my nose and stood up. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t help but grind my teeth. I’d done a lot of blow, and my entire body was wired and twitching. I wiped under my nose again and saw nothing. Must have just irritated it.
“River!” I pounded the glass again.
The door opened, and she stood in the doorway in a white t-shirt and panties. Her hair was messy and piled on top of her head, but she still had on a full face of makeup. That fucking woman wouldn’t set foot out of her own bedroom without her face painted on. River crossed her bony arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “What the hell do you want?” She glared at me and sucked her cheeks in. That’s what she did when she got angry, made that stupid duck face girls make.
I tried to barge inside, but she put her arms out and blocked the doorway. “If I remember correctly, the last time I talked to you, you said my lifestyle didn’t fit in with yours anymore. Pretty sure you told me to ‘fuck off, princess,’ when I begged you to give me another chance. And I’m pretty sure that even after being with you off and on for three years, you never did anything but thank me when I told you I loved you.”
Staring at her, I drew in a long breath and rhythmically tapped my fingers on her doorframe. I shifted my gaze down to the floor in an effort to seem sincere. “Yeah, well. I was wrong.” My eyes scanned up her body, stopping on the hardened nipples poking through the thin, worn material of one of my old band t-shirts. My eyes met hers. “I just thought I could be something I wasn’t. Sorry, princess. You know I need you.”
River narrowed her gaze, allowing her hands to fall from the doorframe. “Are you high?”
I shrugged. “Depends on what you consider high.” I placed my hand on her hips and dug them into her sides as I leaned toward her neck. “But I do know that I just wanna fuck you right now. I’ve missed your tight little pussy…and that mouth of yours.” My tongue trailed up her neck to her ear. “Why don’t you try telling me you love me again?” I whispered.
Her hand rubbed through my hair, pulling a wad of it up. “Don’t fuck with me, Jag.” She fisted it and tugged hard. The hurt look in her eyes should have made me stop lying to her, but it didn’t. I didn’t love her, and I didn’t need her. She was just convenient and comfortable, an easy distraction – she was a void filler.
Pulling myself away, I skirted around her and inside her house. “Not fucking with you. I realized a few things when I was sober.” I kicked my boots off, stripped my shirt over my head, and quickly unbuttoned my jeans.
River stood in her entranceway staring at me, biting on her collagen-plumped lips. “I’m just not ready to go down that road with you again, Jag. Especially not when you’re about to go on tour again. You hurt me.” Her door slammed shut.
I pushed my boxers off, kicking them to the side and making my way toward her. I grabbed my dick, which was swelling with each step. “It’s not a real tour, babe. Just a small one. And I never said we had to be ‘together’ again. We weren’t together the first time I fucked you into oblivion, now were we?”
My fingers gripped the bottom of her cotton shirt and pulled it over her head. I jerked her body to mine and pressed her hard, round, fake-ass tits against my chest. The perfect bead of her nipple rolled across my skin, and my dick pulsated. I may not have been in love with her, but one thing she knew how to do was fuck the shit out of me.
Rubbing my hand down the small of her back, I stopped on her ass cheek and slapped it. The clap echoed off the walls, and a pleased smile flipped my mouth up. Her ass was the only part of her body that had any meat on it, so I paid special attention to it.
“The way your ass jiggles when I do that…” I let out a low growl, then sucked in a quick breath. “Fuck.” That word was also coated in a thick, animalistic growl of pure lust.
River giggled and pulled my lips to hers, kissing me tenderly. But tenderness – that’s not what I wanted. I shoved my tongue in her mouth, rubbing it over hers, wrapping it around her tongue and sucking it into my mouth. I drew her lip into my mouth, raking my teeth over it as I released it. My lips met her neck and I kissed her softly, tracing my tongue over her flesh before I nipped at her and let the studs under my lip rake over her delicate, femininely scented skin. My fingers slid under the waist of her thong and pulled them back, letting them snap back against her hip before I ripped them down.
I carelessly yanked her body around and shoved her against the wall, causing the picture hanging above her head to wobble. I pressed myself against her warm, naked body and pinned her wrists beside her head, daring her to move with my eyes. “You been having withdrawals, princess?” I groaned and rubbed my lips over hers.
River shut her eyes and pulled in a breath. “Mm-hmm.”
Four minutes ago she hated me, and I already had her surrendering to me.
Her hand snaked down my stomach and grabbed my dick, squeezing it and rubbing underneath the ridge of it in the spot she knew drove me crazy. She twisted the piercing and let out a soft moan.
“Well,” I said as I reached down and picked up my jeans that I tossed in her floor. Snatching the coke from my jeans, I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back toward her living room, forcefully slamming her down on her couch. “I’m about to fix that. I promise I’ll make up for making you miss it.”
I pushed her thighs apart, knelt down on the floor in front of her, and leaned my body against the moist heat sweltering between her legs. Opening the bag, I pinched some of the powder between my fingertips and sprinkled it over River’s stomach. I took my time seductively scraping it into a makeshift line, then lowered my face over her stomach, glaring up at her as I said, “There’s no fun in being sober.”
My tongue slithered down River’s bikini line, over her freshly waxed legs, and then between her legs. The tip of it skirted over her pussy, the tart taste coating my tongue as I flicked it in and out of her, sucking on her clit, nipping it just enough to make a stitch of pain shoot up her middle and draw her legs up to her chest.
I dug my fingers into her hips and tried to gather some skin between them but was barely able to. I flattened my tongue out, making it wide and thick as it roughly rubbed up her cleft. After I had her wiggling underneath me, pulling and slapping at the couch as she moaned from how good my tongue felt fucking her, I laid my entire mouth over her and scraped my teeth over it, groaning before pulling away and wiping the mess from my face.
“I missed you, Jag,” she whispered, her eyes watering up.
Damn it. I decided to just ignore that comment.
I reached behind her and yanked her up from the couch, sitting her on top of me and pushing that slick heat down around my dick. There is hardly a feeling as fucking good as that initial thrust; the warmth, the slickness, and snug fit around my hard-ass dick are almost as addictive as a high. Almost.
A low growl flew up my throat, and my fingers crushed over her shoulders, pulling her down on me hard. My hands trailed down her sides, ignoring the ridges of her ribs and resting on her hips to push her down on me as far as I could. I wanted to feel the fucking end of her bending my dick back.
River wrapped her long legs around my waist and slowly pulled herself up the length of my dick. She arched her back on her way up, grazing her firm breasts against my chin and staring down at me with a look that would make most men come. But to me, that look was old news.
Each time she bounced down on me, I was pushed back a little bit, and a feminine moan would press through her lips. Strands of her blonde hair fell down, framing her face and swaying against mine with each movement. My fingers gripped her ass and then I turned, crashing into the couch with her underneath me. I jerked her left leg up, forced it to her chest, and bent it back. The coke was really hitting my system hard, and the rush flooded me. My heart raced, my face suddenly became drenched in sweat, and there was no way I could possibly fuck her hard enough.
River flexed her toes when I shoved myself back into her, grinding my hips with a force that knocked the breath out of her. I stood up, fucking her with my arms stretched out, holding her shaking legs apart, pounding her as hard as I could. My hair kept sticking to my face, and I continuously flipped it out from my face so I could watch what I was doing.
She flung her head to the side and I watched her mouth gap open as she let out loud gasps broken by, “Oh. My. God. Oh. Fuck. Jag.” Her hands were everywhere, grabbing my ass, my shoulders, my chest; slapping at the couch; wringing the cushions in her palms; and then finally combing through my hair and tugging. Her legs tried to jerk out of my grasp, but I snatched them back down.
It didn’t matter how hard I fucked her, how many different ways I positioned her; I couldn’t come. And I knew from how hard I was tearing into her, she had to be hurting. Ten minutes later, she was begging me to get off.
“Jag, please. Just…” she swallowed, panted a few times, then swallowed again as she flung her head back to the side. “Just get off. I can’t take it anymore. You’re going to,” a loud moan broke her sentence, then she let out a loud breath, “fucking kill me.” She’d already reached that point, maybe twice, or three times…and I’m certain she had to be bruised from the way I was savagely fucking her.
The sweat was dripping down the sides of my face, off my arms, down the small of my back; it was running down my chest and abdomen, and her legs were starting to slip in my wet palms. Finally, my body tensed up and quickly relaxed. A small heat spread throughout me, and a half-ass grunt fell from my lips. The orgasm was weak and short, but I’d pretty much come to expect that from the coke. After all, it was more about the distraction, about the control I had for those few minutes, than about getting off. I collapsed on top of her, my heart palpitating and beating erratically; for a moment, I thought maybe my heart had finally had enough and was going to give out on me.
“Damn, Jag,” River gasped, adjusting herself underneath me as she swiped the hair from her face. “I swear, nobody can fuck like you. That shouldn’t be possible. No dick should be able to do that! You’re just,” her chest heaved, “fuck!”
I laughed and laid there wondering what in the hell I’d just done. I should’ve left her the hell alone, but I just couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just drugs I was addicted to; sex was a downfall of mine too. Really, anything that could bring the smallest amount of pleasure to me was a vice. Anything that occupied my mind, distorted reality, or could temporarily grant some form of bliss could hold me prisoner.
Chapter 9
After that little stunt, River thought I wanted her back. I had been as clear as I could have been – under the influence of drugs, at least – that we didn’t have to be together to screw. I wanted sex, not a girlfriend.
The Grammys were the next week. Not only had Pandemic Sorrow been nominated for Best Rock Band and Album of the Year, but we were supposed to present the award for Best Female Artist of the Year.
The night before the awards, River came over, begging me to take her.
“Jag, I just think it would be good for us to be seen in public together. You know, get some publicity,” she whined as she dumped some pain meds in her palm.
“God, River. Really? Publicity? Is that what this is all about? You need another role in a movie, so you want a little attention? Some shit flying around to make people remember who the fuck you are?” That comment hit a sensitive spot and her eyes flew open.
River’s cheeks deepened to that bitch-angry red. “No!” She placed the pills on the back of her tongue and swallowed, glaring at me. She stood, silently fuming. Her eye twitched a little, and her surgically sculpted nostrils flared out. I knew publicity was exactly why she wanted to go with me, or else she would have flown off the handle.
Nodding, I walked past her into my closet to grab a shirt. “Anything to ensure you stay in the spotlight, huh? Fame-hungry bitch!”
River let out an angry scream and turned to walk out of my room, but stopped at my dresser.
“We are not together, princess.” My heart flew up into my throat when I realized I’d left the papers Stephanie had given me laying out. I’d been reading over them, trying to figure out what the hell to do, putting them down to do a line, and didn’t bother shoving them back in my drawer.
“What – the – hell,” she jerked the papers off my dresser, and a soft cloud of coke flew up into the air as she spun around to face me, “is this?” Glancing back down at the papers, she yelled, “Who the fuck is Stephanie Cook?”
I reached for the papers and River snatched them away from me.
“Jag,” she said, her eyes widening. “Did you fucking cheat on me?”
Reaching for the papers again, I tugged them out of her hands. “Well, yeah, of course I did, River. Like you didn’t know that. But not with her.”
“You’re listed on that as the father of some snot-nosed kid. You can’t be somebody’s dad.”
Anger flickered through me. “Shut the fuck up!” I rolled the papers up and glared at her. “Stephanie was my girlfriend before you ever even knew who the hell I was. We broke up during my first tour.” I paused. “I just found out about this when I went to Dad’s funeral. She never even told me she was pregnant when she lef
t.”
River crossed her arms in front of her chest, letting out an agitated groan and rolling her eyes. “It’s probably not even yours,” she said. “Probably just some way to try and get your money.”
My pulse throbbed through my temples, and I ran my tongue over my lips. “No, River, I don’t think so. He looks just like me.”
“You better sign that and get rid of it.”
“It? What the hell is your problem? ‘It’ is my kid, my son, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
Uncrossing her arms, she snorted, and then broke down in a fit of laughter. “Really? You want to play daddy now?” She tossed her arms up in the air and turned around. “Unbelievable. Jag Steele, rock star, drug addict, male whore – on the PT-fuckin-A?”
I put the papers on my bed and glared at her. An angry heat crossed my body, crashing over me in waves. “You know what,” I shook my head and pointed toward the living room, “just get the hell out. Get the fuck outta my house, out of my fuckin’ life. Just get out, you anorexic fake-ass cunt!”
Her eyes flickered, and her lips drew in under her bleached teeth. She stomped one of her high-heeled shoes on the floor, stiffening her arms down by her side like a three-year-old having a tantrum. She looked over to the corner of my room and grabbed one of my guitars. Then she came at me, swinging.
I ducked and ran around her. “You crazy-ass bitch!”
Screaming, River swung at me again and missed, cracking the guitar up against the wall. The edge of the Fender slammed through the sheetrock, and several of the strings twanged as they popped loose and curled up toward the neck.
“Man! That was my favorite damn guitar!” I groaned, grabbing my hair and pulling it back. “Get the hell out! Your pussy’s not worth this.”
She chunked the guitar at me and it smashed onto the floor, pieces of it breaking off and flying in all directions. “You’re worthless. When you OD, I won’t come to your funeral!” She brushed past me, stomping on the neck of the guitar one last time before heading to my living room.