2. Marley

CHAPTER 2

Marley

" F uck, did you hear them tonight? They were going wild," Cain says as we walk outside toward the buses. Second show in Chicago under our belts and now we move on to the next city.

My eyes are too focused on the groupies and how Iggy is chatting them up to pay attention to anything Cain says. The high I had two seconds ago from the rush of the crowd and the music flowing in my veins like a potent drug fades into a brutal low that has me crashing violently.

I've always found it interesting how these women would do anything we want because we are in a band. For all they know, we look like ogres under the masks.

I divert my eyes quickly as Iggy nods to a redhead and jogs towards me. He doesn't need to know how I watch him far more than I should. He slaps my back and I shiver. It's always like that, my body reacting in inappropriate ways to my best friend from the slightest touch.

"That," Iggy says, pointing to the blonde girl, "is Brandy or Candy, maybe it's Sandy. Anyway, she's hot and wants to fuck. She said she's up for anything. You know what that means."

That means she'd do anything asked of her by two rock stars. When we started fucking these girls, we'd push to see how far they'd go, and some of them went so far that I wasn't sure there'd be any coming back from it.

"I'm thinking she'd make good sandwich meat. You down?" Iggy asks.

Sandwich meat. That's what these girls have been for a while now. We used to fuck them because the high from coming felt good. We'd each get a few girls and let them service us until we had our fill. Then we'd kick them out and move on to the next town and a new fuck. It was fun fucking my way across the globe with my best friend, until the only person I wanted to fuck was him.

"Three," I say.

Iggy smiles. "Three for you?" His hand moves into his black jeans and he pulls out a small baggy and waves it in front of my face. Blue pills. Viagra. "I think we can handle over three."

I should feel ashamed that I'm known for fucking multiple people on the same night. My record is ten in a night. When you don't need Viagra and take it anyway, it does wonders. I shake my head, refusing the little wonder pills. "Nah, man. I'm good."

I don't say no because I don't want them. I do. There is a large part of me that wants to get lost in it all. To avoid the pain and the nagging, intrusive thoughts that pick at me until I forget who I am. That is the beauty of the drugs. They shut down the voices. They make me forget about the pain. At least, they used to .

Iggy shrugs. "Suit yourself." He moves to toss a pill into his mouth, but I grab his wrist, stopping him.

"If you take a pill to handle three girls at your age, I'm gonna make fun of you for the rest of your life."

The corners of Iggy's lips tip up and his dark eyes get that mischievous glare. "Are you challenging me?"

I shrug. "At twenty-nine you should be able to bang a few times in the night with no aids." I slide my eyes down his body until I land on his cock. "Or is the little man broken?"

Iggy's free hand grabs his dick. "As you well know, there is nothing little about me."

He shoves his other hand back and puts the pills in his front pocket. "I'm a little tired tonight anyway."

As Iggy turns to walk back to the other girls, I grab his wrist once more. His gaze moves to where my hand is touching him, and I swear there is a zap of electricity that courses through me. We both gaze up and meet each other's eyes. I try to swallow whatever lump that's constricted my ability to form words. "Don't bring all of them on to the bus. I'm not really feeling like dealing with a swarm of hangers-on."

"Since when have you been about turning down pussy?"

"I'm not turning down pussy. I'm just turning down fucking an entire cheerleading squad's worth of pussy."

Iggy nods toward my hand on his. "You gonna let go of my hand, or are we going steady?"

My hand remains on his as I gaze at Iggy. He smiles slyly and his corn blue eyes twinkle with mischief behind the mask. I can't help wondering how these girls would go insane with lust if they saw the ethereal beauty of his face. I didn't even know men could be beautiful until I met Iggy. His face isn't soft, but it's molded in a way that you'd assume he's divine.

I reluctantly drop my hand and watch as Iggy steps back toward the girls. He says a few words before he drapes his arms around two of them while another follows dutifully behind.

My calm is obliterated as I hear the boisterous laugh of the girls. A part of me wants to kick them out. Tell them to kick rocks, but I also know that I need them to get what I want, so I bite my tongue and pretend I want to fuck them.

"Strip," I say as soon as they get on the bus platform.

The blonde blinks at me.

"Sorry," I say as I grab a beer from the fridge and hand it to her. "Drink that, then strip."

The blonde continues to blink as she gazes between the beer bottle and me. I'm not sure what she thinks this all is. Most of the groupies know what the deal is, they fuck a rock star and then pack their shit up and go home, but occasionally some think their pussy is some magic elixir that will have us holding our dicks in our hands with promises of picket fences and happily ever afters. Her two friends know what's up, though. The black-haired girl and the one with green hair rip their clothes off as if they're on fire.

"Better get to work, sweetheart," I say to the blonde as I take a swig of my beer. "Seems like your friends are about to beat you to the goods." I nod toward the door. "If you can't hack it, you're free to leave."

The girl's bottom lip quivers and suddenly I feel like a fuckin' asshole. "Listen, sweetheart, you know what's up, right?" I step closer to her and place my finger below her chin and lift her face. "You know this is a one-night thing, only fucking?"

She nods her head.

"Is that what you want?" I ask gently.

She shakes her head no.

"All right, sweetheart," I say as I pull out my phone and text Kaye to send a car. "I called for a driver to come pick you up and take you home."

The blonde gazes up at me, her eyes wide with shock as if I slapped her. What does the girl expect me to do, throw her out in the middle of the night? I suppose some guys would do that, but I'm not the scum of the earth. There is no way I'd let a girl roam the streets at night. I'm well aware of how many predators lurk in the depths of the night waiting to violate someone.

"Thank you," the blonde whispers.

"No problem," I say right as I get a text letting me know the limo pulled up. "Your ride is here. He'll take you where you want to go." The girl turns to the window before gazing at me. "You're safe. I promise."

She nods, and I watch her step off the bus and get into the limo before turning my head toward Iggy and the two other groupies.

I glare at the one with green hair as she grips Iggy's face. He's no longer wearing a gas mask but a balaclava. She moves his face to hers with the use of her hand as she gets on her tiptoes and leans close, trying to connect her puckered lips to his.

"I don't kiss on the lips," Iggy says, holding her back with a hand. "But if you get down on your knees, I'll let you kiss something else. "

Iggy and I have two rules. We don't kiss the girls we fuck and we don't fuck them more than once. Occasionally I wonder if I'm doing harm by fucking these girls, but then my desperation to feel that temporary connection takes over and their needs become inconsequential.

Similar to other girls from our past, this one doesn't seem to care about the rules. She falls to her knees and her fingers make quick work of Iggy's fly and the button of his jeans.

Reluctantly, I walk over to them and grab the black-haired girl by the neck. I don't even know her name. Not that it matters. Their names won't mean much to me. I'll forget what it is as soon as I come. I won't even remember her. She'll bleed into the fuzzy memory that's just beyond my reach. None of them ever really matter. I couldn't even tell you how the sex is with any of them. I just bust a nut and that's that. Now and then, I will want to make them come, but most times I get mine and let them fake their orgasm. I used to feel horrible about not caring, but then I came to realize that all of this is a fucked-up transaction, where I get lost in the sex and they get the high of being with a rock star. Win, win.

The raven-haired girl moans as I yank her head back. A real porn-star moan. Why do they always think we want to fuck a porn star?

"Pick a safe word," I demand.

When the girl doesn't answer me right away, I repeat myself. "Pick a safe word."

I always make them pick a safe word. Some of them assume they don't need one, but they do. I'm rough. Way more aggressive than they could imagine. Most of them think Iggy is going to leave their bodies used and broken because he's outgoing and flirtatious, but they're wrong. Degradation, primal, and breath play are what I bring to the table. When I'm taking control, manipulating their bodies, and forcing them to the brink, the voices quiet. In those brief moments of carnal manipulation, I'm not scared or frustrated. I focus my mind on the task at hand. It's the same feeling I get when I'm onstage. I have control and I'm worthy. Maybe that's why I never say no to sex. It fills the broken cracks in the framework of my weak mind.

"Red," the girl whispers in a husky tone. She's trying to sound sexy, putting on a fake jazz singer's voice. They always lay it on thick.

"Get on your knees," I rasp.