16. Riot
Riot
Kelsey paces outside my doorway, distracting me from the lyrics I’m jotting down in my notebook. I like the freehand expression that I find in pen to paper, even though it’s old fashioned. But she’s making it hard for me to concentrate.
Despite the door being closed, I know it’s her. Security won’t bother me unless it’s necessary. Bronx, Kodiak, and Golden cleared out to some industry party a couple of hours ago. They probably won’t be back until much closer to dawn.
Even if they were here, none of my bandmates would think twice about barging in and airing their grievances.
Like Bronx did last night after our game of chicken.
Fucker had grabbed my shirt and pulled his fist back ready to punch my lights out after I destroyed any chance of Kelsey sucking his cock.
And I was ready for them to be knocked out because that would have been better than the epiphany I was having at the time.
Watching her get on her knees for another guy...
one of my friends... was meant to cement how much I didn’t care.
I thought it would be no different than watching some of these chicks we meet at after parties who are happy to be passed around like a fat joint.
It was nothing at all like that.
There was no apathy. No disgust that she could get with one of my bandmates. I damn well cucked myself and the only thing I wanted to do was follow her into bunk alley, fist her hair, push her up against the wall, and remind her who she belongs to.
Kodiak had planted himself between us, putting an end to the situation before it got physical. It was exactly the reminder I needed. The woman is poison. I won’t let her destroy everything we’ve accomplished as a band.
I won’t let her ruin me again. No, this time I’m going to ruin her.
Is she coming in? Or is she going to scurry back to her room? How much is her memento box really worth to her? I jot down more lyrics while I wait for her to make her decision.
The footsteps pause outside my door.
I put the pen down. Tuck the pick between the strings on the neck of my guitar.
She knocks.
It’s odd. Her knocking.
Resting my guitar against the chair, I rest my hands behind my head. “Enter.”
Again, she hesitates.
I could cross the room and open it for her, but nothing I’m going to do to her tonight is designed to be easy on her.
She’ll either come in now, or she’ll come back later when her need to get her things back overtakes her desire to stay away.
The decision is hers. What it costs her is mine to control.
Like it cost me when she walked away as if we were nothing. When she broke her promises. Punched Carmine’s daughter in the mouth. Almost cost L.A. Riot our contract with Savant Records.
She did more damage than she’ll ever be able to make up for.
The door swings in and she stands on the threshold. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and it moves too rapidly with her breaths. “I want my box.”
I stand. “Then you’ll have to give me what I want.”
“What do you want?” She eyes me warily.
“Right now.” I pop the button on my pants. Methodically lower the zipper. “I want what you were so eager to give to my bandmate.”
Her eyes widen, her gaze glued to my hand as I shove my pants down enough that my cock is free.
Her face grows pale, all except her cheeks. The color in them heighten into deep crimson smudges as her upper lip curls away from her teeth. “I’m not touching that.”
I wind my hand around the length and stroke myself a couple of times.
Her gaze flicks to the movement.
“You’re going to get on your fucking knees and suck it.” I stalk toward her. “Unless you don’t want to see your things again.”
She sneers at me, but her pupils have grown to twice their usual size before they land back on my face.
She takes a step back. But she must catch herself, because she fixes herself in place.
Juts her chin out. “There is nothing important enough in this world to make me want to touch you ever again.”
Except, I’m betting, whatever is in the shoebox. I’m going to have to go through it when I get a chance. “I can tell when you’re lying.”
“You don’t fucking know me.” She glares at me.
I roll my eyes at that. “Ha. You know what... you’re right. I guess I never truly knew you at all, huh? But you know what I do know? I know you want whatever is in that box. You want it bad enough that you’re going to take my cum down your throat for it.”
She puffs out her cheeks and bunches up her fists. “Screw you. Go blow your own diseased dick.”
“Wouldn’t if I could. Not when I can make you do it for me. I haven’t forgotten that hot fucking mouth.” I continue to stroke my cock. “You know Doc is a stickler for making sure we’re clean.”
I expected the fight. Her hot temper and bratty behavior always translated into the hottest fucking.
We’re face to face now. No room for her to do anything but step back, give in. “And you weren’t concerned about where your drummer boy’s cock had been.”
“That’s because he didn’t stick his cock in Sonatina Savant.” Her nose wrinkles when she has to tip her head back to look at me. There’s not enough hate in her gaze to hide the bitterness.
If looks could kill, I would be a dead man. I ignore her accusation. I don’t owe her anything. “The choice is yours. Either get on your knees, or I keep your box.”
The tip of her pink tongue darts between her lips to wet them. “You’re a fucking prick. What? Are your groupies not putting out for you anymore? Have they worked out what a total ass Mr. Fame and Glory is? I bet Bronx is satisfying them when you can’t.”
The little bitch. “I can get whoever I want. Whenever I want. If Bronx wants a shot at my leftovers, I don’t mind sharing.
But you... you don’t get to fuck around wherever you want.
You wanna suck someone’s cock so bad? You get on your knees and wrap those filthy lying lips around my cock. Then maybe I’ll give you the box back.”
Her eyebrows go from slanted with irritation to furrowed with contemplation.
She tips her head to one side. Lifting a hand in the scant space between our bodies, she slides a fingernail down my chest. “You want my mouth around your cock? I want my box and my vibrator back. I know you took it, you perv.”
“Need a release?” I press into her hand, making her nail dig in. “Maybe if you’re a good little whore and satisfy me, I’ll throw in your battery-operated buddy. After all, you’ll probably need it since no one else will be touching you.”
She glares into my eyes, searching for something. Probably trying to decide if I’m serious.
Taking her hand, I apply pressure to her shoulders to encourage her down. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”
She keeps eye contact with me. Our breaths mingle. My cock throbs. I want her mouth around me more than I probably should.
Her lips move ever so slightly into a smirk.
Nerves or something like it gives me a spacy feeling in my chest. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me.
She lowers to her knees. Hands on her thighs, her face level with my erection. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
My chest puffs up at seeing her in this submissive position with all that fire in her eyes. Her lips part, but she makes no move to put her mouth on me.
“Are you just going to stare at it?” I rub my thumb over the pre-cum leaking from the crown of my cock.
Her gaze flicks to my face. “Make me.”
“You want me to force the issue?” The delicate pink that stains her cheeks while she stubbornly holds eye contact tells me she’s enjoying taunting me. Her knees widen and her heady scent tells me she wants this as much as I want it.
“Fine.” I fist her hair with one hand while I reach out with the other to cradle her jaw and press my thumb on her bottom lip. “Open.”
When her mouth gives under the pressure of my thumb, I guide my cock between her glossy, pillowy lips. They stretch around my shaft so fucking good, a groan slips free.
I use her hair to tug her up and down my cock a few times. My grip on the strands must pull at her scalp because her eyes grow shiny.
“You want to tap out?” I grind out between my teeth. It might fucking kill me if she does. All I want to do is fuck her pretty, traitorous face until I come.
Her gaze hardens. She wraps her hand around the part of me that doesn’t fit when I hit the back of her throat and sucks harder. Her teeth scrape my cock.
It stings a bit. I grab her jaw tightly. “Uh-uh. Behave.”
She grows soft again. Firm lips instead of sharp teeth.
“Let’s see how much you can take.” Keeping her in place, I push deeper. Until her gag reflex tries to buck me away. I catch her folding her thumb inside her hand on her knee as her eyes overflow.
She can take gagging on it. I set a vicious rhythm, my hips drilling forward. I hit her throat over and over. Her mouth grows wetter. Spit dribbles from the seal of her lips around my cock.
Still, she doesn’t tap out. Her thighs rub together, searching for friction she isn’t going to find.
I use the pad of my thumb on the underside of her lashes to smear the wet liner and mascara, ruining her flawless makeup. Let her look at herself in the mirror after this and see she’s been thoroughly used by me. “I’m going to fuck this wicked, dirty mouth and fill it with my cum.”
I’m getting close. My balls are tightening. The small of my back is tingling. Either she gets up and flees. Or I am going to fuck her tight throat until I come.
She mumbles around me. The hum of her vocal cords vibrates on my cock. I slam into her mouth, heedless of the saliva running freely down her chin. It only adds to the pleasure. My cock pulses. It jerks. “Fuck, I’m gonna—"
She sinks her teeth into my cock like it’s a damn chew toy. Holy fucking shit, it hurts like a motherfucker. I yank her back by her hair.
She gasps and her eyes brighten with pain.
But she bit too late. I was already nutting so fucking hard. And the pain when it stopped only increased the sensation. My cock spurts ropes of pearly cum across her hot mouth and chin. It drips onto her throat.
I rock back on my feet through the aftershocks. The last of my cum coats her bottom lip.
She tries to wipe it away.
“Uh-uh.” Gripping her jaw, I press on the hinge with my thumb. “Open. Or I’ll do it for you.”
She glares at me with watery eyes but lets her mouth fall open when I start to squeeze. Her tongue is clean and pink. I gather my cum from around her mouth with my thumb and coat the middle of her tongue with it. My cum. Not my bandmates. I swirl the pearlescent fluid around.
I take my thumb from her tongue. “You will swallow now.”
Closing her mouth, she swallows my load as she straightens to her feet. She swipes her hands all over her mouth, jaw and throat, probably in an attempt to remove any trace of me.
I have bad news for her. It’s going to take more than that for her to get clean. Anyone seeing her leave this room would know she’s been on her knees for me. Next time I’ll make sure we have more of an audience than two security guards who mind their own business.
“My box,” she demands. “Give it to me.”
Do you really think I’m going to give your box to you after you fucking bit me?” I tug my pants back over my hips. Do up the zipper as I turn my back on her and pick up my tin from the desk. “I said if I was satisfied, and guess what, sweetheart? I’m not.”
Her eyes bulge. “I knew it! You never had any intention of giving it back. You asshole.”
“You’ll have to do better next time.” I hold my ground.
“There won’t be a next time,” she hisses, spins around, and marches for the door.
Popping the joint between my lips, I smirk. She is wrong. “I own you on this tour. You’re my muse. My fuck toy. Understood?”
“Go to hell,” she shouts at me while she flips me the bird.
“You first,” I tell her before she stomps through the suite. A door elsewhere slams.
I let myself out on the balcony, feeling less wound up than I have in two years. I roll my thumb over the flint of my Zippo and spark a flame. The end of the joint glows red and fades to gray. The sweet smoke fills my lungs and blurs the edges.
Who knew fucking with her would be cathartic?
Not me. I’d figured getting her on her knees and marking her mouth as my property would be enough. Now, I know it’s going to take much more to satiate me.
I want revenge. I want her to hurt as much as I did. Then I’ll be able to close the door on us.