Unstoppable (Fierce)

by Voight, Ginger

His head bent toward mine. I could taste myself on his mouth as he toyed with my lips, nipping playfully as he stared deep in my eyes. “Every day,” he said softly, “in everything I do.”

  I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me, kissing him deep to erase every single lonely day without him. My fingers wound through his scalp, clutching his hair. “I need to feel you inside me,” I said into his mouth.

  He rolled me over on top of him until I straddled him. I could feel him hard and strong between our bodies, and it was making me crazy. He groaned deep as I lifted up and sat atop him. His fingers trailed up my stomach to my breasts. “My goddess,” he said as he watched me writhe against him.

  I kissed my way down his chiseled chest, sliding easily down his body until I trailed my tongue over his lower stomach. His jeans were unfastened and showed a teasing hint of his skin, and I was all about revealing the rest of his beautiful body. I tugged down his jeans, my mouth against the red cotton underwear barely containing his massive erection. He trembled under me, this time his hand in my hair as I got to be the one in control.

  I let him spring free at last. God, he was beautiful. It made me ache just to look at him. I closed my hand around him, guiding that angry, purple head right to my parted lips. He gasped as I closed my mouth over him.

  He was the only one I had ever done this for willingly, and he knew what a big deal it was that I would pleasure him in this way. The whole act had a lot of trauma associated with it from my childhood. Every time I took him into my mouth, I was battling those demons.

  Only Jace was worth it.

  He guided me but did not force. His fingers cupped my head as he encouraged a rhythm, but he let me decide how much I could take and how far I could go. With every gasp or moan I pulled from him, I got even hotter. I didn’t quite have his restraint. I wanted him so bad I could barely think straight. I pulled his clothes free until he was as naked as I was, then I straddled his hips.

  His large hands rested on my hips as I positioned myself above him. Our eyes met and locked as I slid down slowly, taking him deep inside me. “I need you,” he finally said as he strained up to meet that first stroke.

  It was all I needed to hear. I tipped my head back, my hair sliding down my bare back as I rode him, slowly at first, picking up the rhythm with each deep thrust. I loved how he felt totally buried within me. I’d grasp his body even deeper into my own, making him cry out as he tried not to lose control.

  I didn’t care. I wanted him to lose control. We had waited too long. I leaned down to whisper, “I love how you feel inside me,” before teasing the rim of his ear with my warm tongue.

  “Jordi,” he muttered, his eyes closed as he slammed me down against him. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

  “Then show me,” I demanded softly.

  He curled his arm around my waist and flipped me over to my side, with him holding me from behind. “Every day,” he growled into my ear as he thrust into me. “For the rest of my life.”

  I couldn’t even speak as he drove himself into me. Each powerful thrust hit that magic spot until I was nearly in tears from pleasure. He held my leg up by the knee, wedging himself even deeper. He took me with such complete abandonment, neither of us could speak. I didn’t even care that I was screaming for him. Let the neighbors complain.

  With one final, primal grunt he released himself inside of me. He held himself there for long minutes afterward, twitching inside of me, before he finally fell to my side. He gathered me into his arms, my back against his chest, as we listened to our thundering heartbeats slow back down to normal again.

  He kissed my back softly, before whispering into my ear, “I love you, Jordi.”

  I cuddled into his arms and whispered, “Ditto. Every day… for the rest of my life.”

  That night when I fell asleep, I didn’t even need to dream.

  The next day, Vanni’s wife Andy flew in for the Saturday show, so she was with us all through rehearsals and the early dinner we all had to celebrate the launch of our tour. I watched as she interacted with the band comfortably, an extension of who they were. She wasn’t just Vanni’s wife, she was their friend… their sister. It made me think of their older song, “Let Her Go If You Can’t Treat Her Right,” and wonder if this band of brothers had galvanized to protect her from Vanni’s notorious womanizing ways of days gone by.

  Mostly I studied how she carried herself. Though she was a larger size, her clothes were stylishly fitted and she carried herself with confidence in the way she walked and how she interacted with those around her. Even after all they had been through, and all the ways the “press” (PING in particular) had skewered her for not being the “typical” rock star girlfriend, it was as if those barbed pinged off of the impressively deceptive force field of her smile.

  But then again, she had a lot to smile about. She had won the heart of her love, she wore his ring on his finger and she was the mother of his child. All the rest of it came a distant second in her life. I envied her in more ways than one, especially with the way she took Vanni’s groupies in stride.

  I was sorely possessive with Jace when screaming fangirls pressed to get closer, hug tighter or – in some cases – grope him when the first opportunity presented itself. He treated them as well as Vanni treated his groupies, and would graciously untangle himself to keep the velvet rope between celebrity and groupie firmly established.

  For Vanni, who had been stalked and his family targeted by psychotic fans, it was a necessity to establish those kinds of boundaries. Jace simply had no desire to entertain their earnest flirtations. He was, as he always had been, a man of honor. Even if I hadn’t been in the picture, he’d never take advantage of their affections. Unlike Vanni, who had been a rumored sex hound, Jace didn’t feel the need to collect a jar of hearts. He was grateful for their endless appreciation of him as an artist, but it could go no further than that.

  He would often turn to the rest of us as shields to keep them at arm’s length. Shelby inevitably ended up being the most convenient buffer. When she appeared, it was like tossing cold water on the screaming horde of fans who wanted to get as close to Jace as they could possibly get. Their faces would fall as they stepped back away from the intruding female, who was so pretty she was physically intimidating.

  Unfortunately, I did not have the same effect. When I tried to come to his rescue, the girls would overlook me entirely. Apparently I wasn’t as threatening. They would look me up and down in the same dismissive way so many of my schoolmates had whenever I was standing next to Eddie who, in Oswen High terms, was the closest they were going to come to a celebrity. Some would even edge between us, turning their back to me as if I was nothing more than a piece of furniture in the room.

  I brought the phenomenon up to Shelby later that evening when we were in the makeup chairs, preparing for the show. “For being a fat girl, I sure go invisible,” I muttered as I thought about the earlier Meet and Greet, when my unexpected powers of invisibility had emerged yet again.

  She brushed it off with the wave of her hand. “Oh please. It’s just because you’re married. They know you can’t stake a claim to Jace so they don’t really feel threatened by your presence. I’m a single woman near the target of their affections. It’s a matter of accessibility; it has nothing to do with the way I look. Most of these groupies are way hotter than me anyway. And they certainly dress to get his attention.”

  I had to laugh. She was right on that point. There was as much legally permissible bare female skin as far as the eye could see. Unlike Shelby, who was insecure about her perceived flaws and hated wearing revealing clothing, these girls were confident in the wares they had on display.

  “Besides,” Shelby went on, “the one they really have to worry about is Amy.”

  My eyes shot to hers in the mirror. She was referring to Jace’s ex-fiance, who had left him after he returned from Iraq an amputee. As far as I knew he hadn’t spoken to her since the Fierce f
inale, when she had been flown in with his family to support his potential (and, turned out, his inevitable) victory. She had been the love of his life, a high school sweetheart, and I knew his mother wanted to play matchmaker and reunite the young lovers. From what I could tell, he made it clear when they spoke that he wasn’t interested in resuming a relationship with the stunning brunette.

  Needless to say, Shelby’s comment got my attention. “Why do you say that?” I asked as casually as I could.

  Shelby shrugged. “You saw her at the finale. She’s gorgeous. And she wants him back.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You could totally see it in her eyes,” she replied. She leaned toward me. “And have you noticed that Jace isn’t wearing his dad’s wedding ring around his neck anymore? He sings like a man in love. And who else, if not her?”

  I glanced down at the ring on my left hand. Who, indeed?

  She leaned toward the mirror to put the finishing touches on her makeup. “But the way I figure it, if he hasn’t made it public knowledge, then he’s still on the market.” She gave me a big smile. “It’s every girl for herself.”

  I nodded as I watched her prance away backstage, waiting for her number to begin.

  I turned back to the mirror, my eyes skimming over my appearance. I noticed how my hips met the edges of the seat on which I sat, dumping much of my body weight into rolling waves around my middle and my rump. I wore a tank top, which showed off the tattoos on either arm, but all I could see was flabby skin that looked like it was battling to escape my clothing.

  Then there was my face. I was overly made up to compensate for the bright lights on stage, and it was like looking into a funhouse mirror as I took in the dark, smoky eyes and the pouty dark lips that seemed to meet in the middle of my round face. I even had to stick out my jaw to disguise the double chin, subtle tricks I had learned over the past few months as I posed for endless photographs for the press.

  Yet no matter how far I had come or how much weight I had lost, I still had so much further to go. There were no “after” photos yet, just endless “before” shots that made me cringe every time I looked at them.

  No wonder all those groupies in their tight shorts and miniskirts and teeny weeny tops didn’t give me the time of day. Just like the rest of society, they would never expect a guy like Jace, who had been engaged to a stunning brunette like Amy, and hung around a wholesome beauty like Shelby, to look twice my direction.

  But he had looked twice, hadn’t he? Not only that but he had put that coveted ring on my finger, and he had spent the entire night before wrapped in my arms, whispering affirmations of love in my ear. He had touched me with desire, with a hunger, that defied all societal expectation.

  It made me think about Eddie, who thrived on those expectations. “Don’t get mad at me,” he had said. “I didn’t make up the rules.”

  Who exactly made up all these rules? And why did we all feel compelled to obey?

  With a sigh I turned from the mirror and headed toward the stage.

  After my number where I introduced Jace, I escaped backstage. I was wiping the sweat from my face and touching up my makeup when Andy caught up to me with a welcoming smile and an even bigger hug.

  “That was fabulous!” she exclaimed as she squeezed me tight. “You’ve really come into you own as a performer, Jordi. I’m so excited you’re on the tour with us.”

  “Me, too. It’s more than I ever dreamed when I was wearing out my MP3s of Dreaming in Blue.”

  She laughed. “Been there. Only I don’t have the musical chops to be on that stage. And I certainly don’t have your composure to sing in front of thousands and thousands of people.”

  I shrugged away the compliment. “I don’t know how confident I am. I just love to sing. Put a mic in my hand and I’m a different person.”

  She nodded. “I feel that way as a writer. Put a computer between me and the world and I’m unstoppable. But if I have to give a speech, you’ll find me under some table in the fetal possession.”

  It was hard to believe, given her confidence and her composure. “That makes you and Vanni an interesting pair.”

  She laughed. “You have no idea.”

  We heard the groupies screaming from the arena. “Is it always this crazy?”

  “Crazier,” she said with a war-weary roll of her eyes. I remembered too late that she had been on the end of a gun courtesy of one of Vanni’s stalkers.

  “It must be hard for you. Sharing him with the world.”

  She shrugged. “He was in the band when we met. It wasn’t like I didn’t know what I was getting into. This is the rock star life. You gotta take the good with the bad and hope, when it’s all said and done, it’ll be worth it.”

  I could tell by the contented smile on her face that it was worth it for her, especially when Vanni sneaked up behind her to goose her. She giggled and he wrapped his arm around her waist as he looked at me. “It’s about time that two of my favorite ladies got together. First stop, national tour. Next up: world domination.”

  He bestowed that radiant smile that brought all his fangirls to their knees. “Vanni, three minutes!” a stage hand called from the door.

  He glanced down at Andy. “Gotta go earn the bacon,” he said before he planted a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly against her mouth, and I glanced away from their intimate moment. Andy was still glowing after he disappeared from the room with a gentle pat on my shoulder as he passed by. She stared after him wistfully until I finally hopped from the chair. “Let’s go watch your man work his magic,” I suggested as I held out my hand.

  She nodded with a happy smile.

  We stayed backstage with other important guests and the stage hands and roadies. Unlike everyone else, who had a job to do, we enjoyed the performance and danced along to the music like a couple of groupies ourselves. Jace was rocking out “Baby, Say My Name,” and just like the night before, DIB devotees knew their idol was not far behind. When Vanni exploded onstage, clad in tight leather, heavy boots and wild hair framing his strong, naked shoulders, Andy screamed the loudest of anyone.

  Vanni strutted to the edge of the stage, where a row of squealing girls clamored for his attention. He knelt to touch each of their hands as he made his way across the stage. It was a lot tamer than the earlier DIB videos I’d watched online, but still he was purposely doing everything in his power to seduce the audience, so many of whom were scantily clad and, by Eddie’s standards anyway, way more socially desirable. He’d walk just to the edge of where their fingertips would reach, waging a finger at them with a smile if they tried to do anything untoward. He wore a wedding ring on his finger; every single girl in the front knew he was a married man, yet they still made their play for him just like they were making their play for Jace at the other edge of the stage. I couldn’t even look that direction, yet the beauty beside me seemed unbelievably nonplussed. I glanced at Andy. “Doesn’t that bother you?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  She shook her head. “You can’t be the jealous type and love a rocker.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” I said, then thought better of what I was asking. Was I really going to ask this woman how she dealt with being the “fat” girl in her man’s life? Surely she knew every single aggressive groupie, not to mention every single parasitic media outlet, was counting on her to fail. Finally I just shook my head and mumbled, “Never mind.”

  Andy studied me for a minute. “You want to know what it feels like to be invisible,” she filled in. She glanced back out at the stage. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? As a woman, the bigger you are the more insignificant the world seems to consider you. Shannon calls it living in the shadows,” she added with a smile, referring to one of the plus-size producers of Fierce. Shannon had escaped the shadows to vie for love on a reality TV dating show, where many expected her to fail too. “Sure, there are a lot of people who would rather pretend I don’t exist at all. But you
can’t hang your esteem on the opinions of those people. They don’t count. Not really. All that counts is that you are really, truly seen by the right people. And that starts, my dear, with you.”

  “I’m trying,” I told her. “It’s not easy.”

  “There will always be critics and detractors. I’m actually grateful for them.”

  I thought about all the hateful things that had been said about me. I couldn’t imagine being grateful for any of that. “How so?”

  “Think about it. Which would you rather have? An honest, hateful critic? Or a sweet, lying backstabber? If someone hates you, for whatever reason – whether justified or not – at least you know where you stand. With a lying backstabber, they still hate you the same, but just drag it out more. I’ve had girls who hate me just as much as the vocal groupie in the front row who thinks I’m too fat or ugly to win ‘her’ man, but they used friendships with me to get closer to their objective. At least with a hater, I can dismiss their comments and get on with my life.”

  “It’s hard to dismiss some of the things they say,” I said.

  She put her arm around my shoulder. “For every person saying something negative about you, there are a thousand people who wish for a tenth of your courage to put yourself out there in the first place. The only way a hater beats you is if he or she stops you. Let them light a fire under your ass so you can show ‘em what you’re made of.”

  I kept her words in mind when I went back onstage for the encore of “Make It Happen.” Instead of singing to the crowd, I was singing to myself. And that night, when all the lights were dimmed and the crowd had dispersed, I walked into Jace’s arms and closed my hotel room on anything but his loving embrace.

  His groupies got him for two hours.

  I was going to love him for a lifetime.

  CHAPTER THREE

  San Francisco, CA

  January 17, 2012

  We arrived a day early in San Francisco because Titanium and Lace, a hip and popular clothier located in the city, wanted to meet with Jace for a possible endorsement. The clothes were geared toward an eclectic blend of hipsters and urban youth, and they wanted Jace’s model good looks to be the new face of their ad campaign.