14. Creed
Chapter 14
Creed
(AGE 29)
“ H ey, you’ve reached Collins. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message!”
I blink in shock at hearing her voice for the first time in two years.
Guess she finally unblocked me.
Our band just wrapped up our European tour and collectively decided to take time off before working on our next album and starting the summer leg of our US tour.
Riley shuffles past me, headed straight to his room, but I grab I’m by the back of his neck and plant a kiss in his hair before releasing him with a playful shove. He doesn’t even bother closing the door before he flops down on his bed, almost immediately falling asleep after a long and turbulent flight home.
He’s been living with me for about five years now. It just made sense to move him in with me since we weren’t stationary for very long and the house goes unused for several months of the year. Plus, having him close means I can keep an eye on him and look out for him.
He’s my best friend and quickly became one of the most important in my life shortly after joining the band.
Riley had a fucking shit childhood, too, but instead of abandoning him, his family continually came after him with their toxicity and narcissism. We’d finally filed a restraining order when his mom attacked him after a concert in Chicago four years ago. I didn’t really give him an option on moving in with me during our off-season of touring. I wanted to make sure he stayed safe and away from his psycho fucking family and living with me was the best way for me to guarantee that. I think it was my own fucked up way of trying to atone for failing Collins over and over again.
I don’t have any siblings, but Riley is more my brother than any blood could be. He’s got such an air of innocence about him and mostly keeps to himself when we’re out with the band. He’s not one to flirt with girls and he’s never even brought one home or back to a hotel while on tour in all the time I’ve known him.
Me, on the other hand?
I fucking loved pussy, and when we first started touring, I had a different groupie—or three—on my bus every damn night. I thought I was a goddamned king with how often I got laid. I kept it clean and never went unprotected, so like the asshole I was, I’d kept a stockpile of condoms at home and on the bus. Lately though—specifically the last two years—that condom pile is still sitting untouched and I may as well have been living like a monk. The amount of times I’ve had sex can be counted on one hand. Literally.
One. I tried having sex once and everything about it just felt…wrong. I haven’t even so much as touched another woman in over a year now.
Kind of hard to when all these faceless, emotionless groupies are not a white-haired blonde goddess with jade eyes and full, pouty lips. Basically, I’ve lost any interest in anyone who isn’t Collins. Which is fucking stupid for so many reasons. The top two being that she’s my best friend’s baby sister, and that I can’t fucking find her.
My obsession with Collins started exactly two years ago, the same night she disappeared from my life. It was like a switch flipped in my brain and the loss of contact with her altered my brain chemistry.
What started as a familial concern for her safety rapidly morphed into a ravenous need to find her and keep her safe. Then one day my obsession snapped into place, growing more and more with every glance I took at that last Polaroid she ever sent to me.
The need to find her caused a side effect of the insatiable need to fucking own her, body and soul.
I walk into my room as the automated voicemail leaves instructions on how to leave a message and I wander straight to the walk-in closet and pull that old polaroid picture of her from the frame of the mirror where I had tucked it. I forced myself to leave it behind because I didn’t want to lose it in Europe. Didn’t stop myself from taking a photo of it to set as my Lock Screen background.
I stare at the photo for a long moment. She’s so fucking beautiful. And so. Fucking… Evasive .
Where the fuck is she?
My goddamned PI can’t even find her, he says she’s like a ghost and lost any trail he had of her the night she took a plane to fuck-knows-where. I refuse to let him quit, no matter how useless he thinks it is. No matter how many times he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, I. Will. Not. Quit. Until. I. Find. Her.
I will find her, and I will bring her ass home.
The question I hold onto is whether her skin will be adorned with a mark in the distinct shape of my palm on her ass.
The voicemail message beeps in my ear and I hesitate for a moment. What the fuck should I even say to her after all this time? I couldn’t call her last year because I was still blocked. But now…
“ Stardust , where the fuck are you?” I bark at her the second I hear the beep of her voicemail. Oops. “Fuck, sorry. It’s just…I’m going in sane because I can’t find you, Collins. I’m so fucking sorry that I failed you so many times. I know I sound like a broken record here, but it’s the truth. And I feel like I haven’t taken a breath in two. Fucking . Years, and I don’t think I’ll be able to unless I know you’re safe… with me . I have no idea where you’ve gone, or what you’ve been doing for the last two years, but I hope to God or whatever divine entity is out there listening that you’re okay. Fucking happy. Truly. There are so many things I want to tell you, to confess to you, Stardust . But I only want to say them to your face. In person.” I sigh, feeling really fucking irritated at this whole situation. “Collins, make no mistake, I will find you eventually, so just make it easy on the both of us and tell me where you are. Oh, and happy birthday, Stardust .”
Feeling as satisfied as I can be with that message, I hang up and start to strip, dropping my dirty clothes in the hamper on my way out of the closet and into the bathroom. I turn on the hot water, stand under the spray and involuntarily moan at the near-scalding temperature. Water only gets so hot on a tour bus and after traveling for months, it feels good to be home where I can decompress like this.
My thoughts start to drift towards that picture of Collins. The sound of her raspy voice, so soft, and so, so fucking sexy, and because I’m an absolute bastard, I imagine what her moans would sound like, or fuck , even the sound of her screaming my name. My cock hardens at the thought. Before I know it my dick is in my hand as I lean back against the tiles of the shower, my head dropping back as I start to fantasize.
It’s not my own hand jerking my cock, but small, soft, delicate fingers gripping me tight. Bright green eyes stare up at me as she works me, pumping from base to tip over and over, before leaning forward to flick her tongue over my reverse Prince Albert piercing. A shiver rushes up my spine at the thought of her closing those perfectly pouty lips over my head and sucking. Hard . My breathing picks up as I imagine her tongue licking up my shaft before taking me so fucking deep in her throat that her nose meets my pubic bone .
“ Oh, fuck .” I grit through a clenched jaw as I grip my cock harder, working myself faster. Squeezing my eyes shut, the image of Collins comes back to me, and this time I’m jerking her up from her knees, lifting her into my arms and slamming her against the wall as she wraps her legs around me. I wonder where all of her sensitive spots are? Behind her ear? Along her neck by her shoulder? Fuck, what I would give to explore her body to find every. Single. One. I would fucking ravage her body with my mouth before gripping my cock and sliding it into her tight wet pussy, at home where it belongs.
Fucking hell. My hips start to buck into my fist on their own accord, my groan echoing throughout the now steaming bathroom. I’m too far gone in my fantasy about fucking Collins into oblivion to care about being quiet. I feel my balls start to draw up tight and my cock flexes and twitches in my fist as I fuck myself faster and harder to the mental image of my girl’s tits bouncing as I pound into her against the shower tiles. It’s the sound of her rasping out my name that I’ve fucking committed to memory that tips me over the edge.
“ Fuck , Collins. ” I let out a loud groan around her name as hot ropes of cum erupt from my cock, spilling over my fingers and painting my lower abs. The orgasm is strong and fucking intense, seemingly lasting forever before it finally ebbs.
Shame has no place here as I grab for the body wash and start to clean the mess I’d made of my body. I just had the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced to the thought of fucking my best friend’s little sister who’s been MIA for two fucking years. It’s not the first time I fantasized about her since she sent that last letter with the polaroid of herself, but this time felt…different. I can’t place why though.
After I finish my shower and dress myself in a pair of black joggers, I head down to the kitchen to heat up dinner my chef had prepared ahead of time. I don’t keep him on-staff all the time, only in the times I know I won’t be home, or won’t have the energy to cook for myself after performing. My phone buzzes in my pocket, interrupting my pursuit to get food into mine and Riley’s systems.
For a moment, an excitement sweeps through me, hoping it’s Collins calling me back. But my screen flashes with Tony’s ugly mug. It’s a photo he took of himself sticking his tongue out and flipping off the camera. He’s a fucking pain in the ass most days, hence why I changed his name in my phone to Asswipe. It’s fitting for his shitty personality. But we can’t deny he’s a fucking phenomenal bassist, so we tolerate his antics…for now.
I pop four burritos in the toaster oven for me and Riley before swiping over the screen to answer. “Miss me already, T?”
“You fuckin’ know it, baby!” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “What are you and the kid up to tonight? Any plans?”
“Tony, we just fuckin’ got home not even an hour ago. Riley is passed out in his room and I’m heating up dinner.” I say, right before I hear the loud thumping bass of music on the other line of the phone. I huff out a frustrated sigh. “What could you possibly be doing already? How are you not worn out?”
“Man, forget your fuckin’ dinner and get your asses out here!”
“Out where , T?”
“This new club my buddy Rocks found. ‘S called Viper. It’s in this shady-ass building downtown but the entry fee is cheap and the dancers are hot as fuck.” Well. This could be really interesting, or really bad because Rocks is a fucking moron on the best of days. “I heard their ‘star girl’ is doing her set tonight. Listen,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial level and it just makes it harder to hear him over the music in the background. “You can even pay for private dances…” His voice shakes with excitement, no doubt having taken something before going out. Suddenly his tone dropped into a whisper-shout, “I heard some of the chicks here’ll even give you a… happy ending …for the right price, of course.”
“You know that’s prostitution, right? You get caught doin’ that shit and your ass is going to jail, T.”
“That’s why we don’t get caught. Rocks says they sign this DNA thing and they can’t say shit.” Fucking Christ. I rue the day we hired this asshat.
“You mean NDA?” I pinch the space between my brows, already feeling a headache coming on from the shit he’s no doubt about to drag us through.
“Whatever man, just roll Riley out of bed and get your asses out here— oh, fuck , here she comes!” he yells and whoops through the phone. I hear a sultry beat start up in the background. “Guys! You gotta come see this chick, holy f—” the line cuts out before he can finish right as the toaster oven timer dings.
Fuck.
I grab one of the burritos and wrap it in a paper towel before making my way back to Riley’s room. His door is now shut so I knock twice before hearing him give the okay to open the door. I push the door open as Riley pulls a plain black shirt over his head and shakes out his damp hair, mussing it up again. The guy lives for the organized chaos look.
“Hey, what’s up?” Riley asks as he slips his feet into some Frankfurter slippers that Ayla got him as a gag gift for Christmas last year.
I cross the room and hold the burrito out to him. “Quick dinner.”
“Thanks. That all?” He says as he takes it from me and quirks a brow before taking a huge bite.
“Tony called,” I start, and Riley instantly rolls his eyes.
He snorts. “Of course he did. What kind of trouble did he get himself into already?” he asks, taking another huge bite.
“Apparently the best kind, according to him.” I chuckle. “His buddy Rocks found this dance club where apparently the dancers are hot as fuck .” I dramatically mimic T’s enthusiasm.
He picks up his phone, glancing at a message on the screen before turning his attention back to me. He sighs in resignation, knowing we very well can’t leave T to his own devices. So he polishes off the last bite and kicks his slippers off, replacing them with his faded chucks. “Yeah, I got about thirteen messages from T while I was napping, threatening me to go, so apparently, we have no other choice.”
I smile and shake my head. “C’mon.” I grip his shoulder, turning him toward the door. “I’ll drive. ”
I grab the keys to my 1967 Chevy Impala and head for the garage when I hear Riley call out behind me. “What, you’re not going to make me ride as your backpack on your bike?”
“Not tonight,” I wink at him playfully, which just makes him laugh.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Tony was right. The building I’ve just pulled up to is definitely in a shady part of town and the building itself looks questionable as fuck. But there’s a line with at least a hundred men and women alike waiting to get in. Each time the bouncer opens the door, you can hear the thumping bass of the music along with the whooping and cheering of the crowd inside.
I pull my phone out of my pocket as Riley sits next to me, humming to the Falling In Reverse song playing on the radio, fingers tapping out a beat to the music.
Me: Ritz, we’re here. There’s a fuckin’ line a mile long to get in.
ASSWIPE: Just tell the bouncer you’re meeting with Rocks. He’ll let you in.
ASSWIPE: Hurry the fuck up! Star girl is here tonight, you gotta see this chick. Fuck, man. *drooling emoji*
I roll my eyes at his bullshit and pocket my phone. I glance at Riley, who’s chewing his lip nervously while staring at the building in question. “Hey,” his eyes meet mine. “Tony’s fucking losing his mind over the girls in there. You ready?”
He releases his lip after gnawing it raw and a second later he nods. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s do it.”
Riley’s one of the best drummers I’ve ever seen and we’re damn lucky to have him as a part of the band. He absolutely slays every time he gets up on stage and behind that kit, but he gets really bad social anxiety and I think it all stems from his family popping up in the most odd public places to try and threaten money out of him while simultaneously telling him how much they hate his guts.
We get out of the car and I am completely fucking dumbfounded that the bouncer actually lets us in after dropping the stupid name that is Rocks .
Inside, the club is shockingly nice. Low, sultry lighting and a heavy beat give the place a deep, sexual vibe. The place seems to be fairly clean and there are platforms and cages around the perimeter of the room with dancers in skyscraper heels twisting and writhing and swaying their hips at every station. Some are raised with a crowd of people surrounding them, tossing various wads of cash to the dancers that just gets tucked into their very tight costumes. Every girl is dressed up like it’s Hollywood theme night or some shit.
Other dance platforms are circled by leather circular benches with men sitting back and sipping their whiskey or vodka, watching the women dance with blatant hunger in their eyes.
I take another glance around at the dancers and I hate to admit it, but Tony was right. The women here are fucking hot. Every last one of them.
Tony’s ugly face obscures my view when he emerges from a curtain in the back of the room. “There you fuckers are!” he shouts over the music as he pulls us in for a one armed back slap type of hug. I cringe internally and have to school my features so I don’t cringe on the outside, too. He wastes no time in directing us to follow him through the curtain to the VIP section.
No sooner are Riley and I seated at a booth in front of a large stage with two long red strands of fabric suspended from the ceiling, does a waitress appear, wearing a sparkling pink lingerie set that has her tits lifted up so fucking high I swear they graze her chin. Her face is caked in heavy makeup that drowns her blue eyes. Two fuzzy cat ears that match her outfit are poking out the top of her long black hair that’s curled down her back and grazes the top of her perky, toned ass. She’s hot, but the lax position of my dick tells me that she won’t be getting any extra attention from me tonight.
The music is quieter in this part of the club so the shrill tone of her voice has my ears buzzing in the most unpleasant way when her eyes light up with recognition and she starts bouncing up and down in excitement, her tits jiggling and threatening to break free from its confines with each motion. Tony shifts next to me, adjusting himself while Riley looks like he wants to bolt any second.
“Oh my god! You’re Dark Sins.” She shrieks, her cheeks flushing even in the hushed lighting. “I can’t fucking believe this. I. Love. Your. Music. One year, my girlfriends and I followed your tour from LA, to Vegas, to Albuquerque, then Denver. My bestie Leanne is the one who threw her bedazzled bra on stage at Tony in Vegas.” Tony chuckles as if he actually remembers what she’s talking about. I do remember that her friend was then escorted from the concert venue for refusing to put her shirt back on after removing her bra. Malibu Barbie doesn’t stop there though. Words are falling from her injected lips a million miles a minute as she goes into great detail about the time they tried to sneak backstage before one of our concerts and Bear escorted them back before security kicked them out and left them each with an autographed tit to keep them from coming back.
Interrupting her, I look at Tony, “Where the fuck is Bear, Ritz? You con him into coming, too?”
He laughs like I’m joking. I’m not. “Yeah, man. He was taking Ayla back to her boyfriend’s apartment, showering, then coming down.” He claps his hands together before rubbing his palms in anticipation as he leans toward the waitress, “Brandi with an I , ” He calls to her and her eyes widen as she turns to him, no doubt star-struck that he knows her name. Her name is literally tattooed on her tit. “Can you be a fuckin’ doll and fetch us a bottle of your top shelf whiskey?”
She nods enthusiastically as she bounces away, her ass wiggling with every step. I glance down at my crotch. Nothing. Great. This night is shaping up to be a fucking roller coaster of arousal. From the absolute empty void of nothingness I feel in my nether regions when I look at these women is an equal low to the immeasurable high I felt of the blinding pleasure I found when I fucked my fist to the tune of Collins Weston. The fuck is wrong with me? I need to get my shit together, asa- fucking -p.
My thoughts sour at the thought of Collins and not knowing where the fuck she is or if she’s safe. I want to be fucking pissed off at her for ghosting her brother and me, but I know I have no right with how I failed her so many times. Now that I’m not on tour, I’ll go out and fucking find her myself.
After ‘Brandi with an I’ drops off our whiskey and glasses, Tony snatches her by the wrist and whispers something in her ear that has her practically panting as her face turns a deep shade of red before nodding frantically and running off.
I want to warn him against trying to pay his way to having sex tonight but I’m stopped by the DJ announcing that their “star girl” is about to take the stage again in a few moments. Glancing around I see that there are several other groups of wealthy looking men and women seated, talking amongst themselves while eyeing the stage.
I can’t help but feel like a fucking king though, seeing as our table is in the dead center of the room, slightly raised like a damned dais, right in the front and center of the stage.
I throw my arms across the back of the bench, stretching out as I sink further into the leather of the cushion, spreading my knees wider with the new seated position I’ve taken.
I ignore Ritz who is literally bouncing in his seat and look over at Riley who swallows nervously, his throat bobbing several times over. I hook my arm around the back of his neck and pull him close to speak into his ear so only he can hear me. “You good, Ri?”
His brown eyes are as wide as saucers with a half-terrified expression and he huffs a nervous laugh. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I’ve just never been to anything like… this , before.” He gestures lazily around the room .
T hears him and leans over me—right in my fucking personal space—and slaps a drunken hand on Riley’s chest.
“Then you’re in for a fuckin’ treat, my boy! Wait til you see this chick. She’s fuckin…mmm.” He groans and bites his fist and grabs his crotch suggestively. “I bet she gives fuckin’ phenomenal happy endings, ya know?”
“No, Ritz, I don’t know.” I say dryly. “And don’t you fucking dare try to pay for one either. I’ll beat your ass. We need to keep a good image, asswipe.” Tony has the nerve to look dejected but I don’t give a shit. I ignore his pouting and turn back to Riley. “You good? We’ll get the fuck out of here if you wanna go home.”
“No,” Riley swallows before offering a placating smile. “I’m good.”
I lean in and plant a kiss on his temple and his body visibly relaxes before I release him and sit back in my seat, taking a sip of whiskey. Bear appears next to him a few minutes later and greets each of us with a tight smile and a nod before focusing on the stage. He looks like this is the last place on earth he wants to be and I can’t say I blame him. I’m fucking tired.
Tony starts to open his mouth to say something to Bear, but he shoots him a glare that shuts him up at the same time the lights suddenly dim and a bright pinkish-red spotlight shines center stage. I’m momentarily stupefied when one of our more sultry tracks, Malevolent Melodies starts to play. The song is heavy on the bass and drums, the sound rattling your chest with each beat that has your heart beating harder, filling you with a sense of anticipation that’s honestly just fucking sexy. I see out of the corner of my eye that Riley is practically beaming at the song choice, his thumbs tapping at his thighs along with the rhythm of the song. He’s been touring and recording with our band for years, but he still reacts like a kid on Christmas morning whenever he hears our songs on the radio.
The crowd cheers when the curtain starts to part and my attention then homes in on the back of the woman who’s just been slowly revealed. I haven’t seen her face, but she’s got the most spectacular curves and muscular pale legs that go on for fucking days, thanks to the boots she’s wearing. She’s wearing an emerald green, thick strappy lingerie set that accentuates the hourglass shape of her hips and that juicy peach of an ass. Long, fire engine red hair falls straight down her back, the whole look is giving sexy Poison Ivy vibes. She starts to wrap the suspended silks around her wrists and up her arms, showcasing the tone of her muscles in her back and shoulders.
Just that one movement has my dick twitching behind my jeans.
Okay then.
This may be exactly what I need to take my mind off of all the shit going through it lately.
My lips pull into a slow grin and I stretch myself out to relax even deeper into the bench.
I hear my own voice carry throughout the room as the first verse starts to build and she begins twisting and turning, flipping her body artfully as she winds her way to the top. The way she moves is mesmerizing. She’s a siren and I’m the bewitched.
I know, I fucking know I won’t be able to get enough of her, and I find myself wondering just how much it would cost to get more private dances from her because this performance?
Just isn’t enough.
Brandi comes by with another bottle of whiskey and by the time she walks away again, I’ve managed to secure four more private dances from her.
Hey, I bought them without the happy endings, okay?
Pouring myself two fingers of whiskey, I bring the glass to my lips and savor the burn as it slides down my throat.
Finally starting to loosen up and abandon my problems, my sights are focused on the siren who just settled herself near the ceiling, all wrapped up in silks. Though I doubt she can see us through the spotlight, I swear it’s like she’s looking right at me when her lips quirk up to blow a sultry kiss to the crowd before tipping her head back.
And then she fucking drops.
Oh, fuck. Let the show begin.