Groupie (Rock-Hard Beautiful, #1)

by C.M. Stunich

I think of last night. I had a threesome. A threesome. My very first. By the end of this tour, I'd have upped the ante to a sixsome, but at the time I had no idea that was going to happen.

“I mean, you'll be here for two weeks yet. We may as well shag.” “We may as well shag?” I ask with a laugh and then Paxton does something that surprises the hell out of me. “I'm sorry about your dad,” he says, and then all of a sudden I'm shaking again.

I stare at the man standing in front of me, angry and bitter and practically falling apart at the seams. Those perfectly put together suits of his, that wicked smirk, his swagger onstage … it's bullshit. All of it, down to the shine on his ridiculously expensive loafers.

“You're so …” Paxton gestures at me with one hand, holds his coffee with the other. “Bare.” I glance down sharply to see if my shirt's ridden up, but it hasn't. He must be speaking metaphorically then. I look up at his face. “You wear your emotions all over your fucking face.” He points two fingers at the steel grey color of his eyes. “You looked right at me while we were screwing and you started sobbing. I've never seen a girl look so … fucking naked before.” I smile, but it's a sad one. “You haven't cried over your sister, not once?” “No.”

I hear the hall door slide open and glance up. It's Ransom, sweaty and shaking, cloaked in his hoodie and smiling this nightmarishly sad smile. “Morning, sweet thing,” he says in that easy, soft voice of his. The sound of it breaks my concentration on the past and I smile. Based on his expression, I'm assuming another nightmare woke him up. I feel almost guilty that I wasn't in there. I mean, I know I just met the guy and it's not my responsibility to take care of him, but … for some weird reason, I want to.

“I hope I'm not fucking your sleep up too much, honey,” Ransom says, dragging his gaze from Pax to look back at me. His dark eyes take in the long pale lines of my legs with interest. I color a little, thinking of last night, of having sex with him and Copeland on the couch. And then wondering what I was thinking wearing this shirt with no underwear, like I know these guys at all. I'm too comfortable here; this should be weird. Only it's kind of … not. “You'd drive anyone completely mental after a few nights,” Pax says, but Ransom ignores him, getting his own cup of coffee. He's so completely dark and adorable in his hoodie and black sweats. They've got grinning white skulls all over them and several tears in the side seams. What the hell does he do in those things? “Like you weren't thrashing and groaning in your sleep,” Ransom mumbles, turning and focusing his sleepy bedroom eyes on me again. “I was pissed out of my skull,” Pax says, taking his coffee to the couch and draping his entire tattoo covered body across the leather. To say he looks anything but delicious in that position would be a lie. “'S not like I do that every night.” He smiles, and the expression is back to being ice cold and cruel. “Though I suppose I can't blame you. If I murdered someone, I'd probably have nightmares, too.”

“I stabbed the man that raped and killed my mother,” he whispers, voice even lower than usual and without its gentle coating of sensuality. “Stabbed a hundred and fourteen times,” Pax says loudly and I swear, I could slap him. “He raped her,” Ransom says, knuckles white as he grips the cup, “he killed her. For no fucking reason.” His voice raises up several notches, but he doesn't move from his spot in the kitchen. “Pax, no more,” I say because I can see Ransom winding up inside, darkness coiling and getting ready to strike. He killed somebody? I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but he's not looking at me anymore. He's staring at Paxton. “Why? You don't want to hear about the other people he killed?” Pax asks casually, clearly using Ransom's pain as a shield for his own. “Leave her out of this, Pax. She's got nothing to do with our sick, fucked-up pasts.” “That why do you like her so much? Want to make her your next victim … ah, I mean girlfriend.” “Why would I do that?” Ransom growls, voice trembling with suppressed rage. “If I make her my girlfriend, you'll just fuck her to teach me a lesson like you did with Kortney.” “Guess it's better that all I did was fuck Kortney, yeah? Because you killed Chloe.” Pax's voice catches sharply and his silver eyes lock onto mine. He wants me to hear this, is practically desperate for it. “And baby Harper B.”

I try to push his hood back, he grabs my wrist in tight fingers and shoves my hand away. I wonder if I should give him some space and start to stand up, but he tugs me into his lap and curls his body around mine. “You smell like roses and soap, baby girl,” he whispers quietly and I almost smile. But I feel too sad for him. Why the fuck would Pax do that, bring those things up all of a sudden? Then again, maybe it's not all of a sudden, maybe this is partially my fault? Pax practically said as much. Something about me, about my grief, is stirring the pot on this bus. “You smell like violets,” I tell him and he lifts his head just enough to show me that he, at least, has no problem crying. Tears track down Ransom's cheeks, the one on the left sliding crookedly down his face as it gets caught in the faint mark of his faded scar. “It's my mother's perfume, darling, the same brand she's used since I was a baby, the same bottle she used the day before she died.”

“This happens all the time,” he whispers, like he can somehow read my thoughts. “This stuff with Pax; it isn't just you. But I think he likes having a new audience for it.” There's a long pause and then he lifts his face to mine again, expression shadowed by his hood. “Are you scared of me now, sweetheart?” “Should I be?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “No,” Ransom says seriously, looking into my eyes with this deep, wounded longing. God, after two days with this guy, I don't want to leave his side. I'll be a mess after two weeks. “But I did kill that guy. I did stab him over a hundred times. I stabbed him until he was dead and then I kept stabbing.” He pauses and glances away, toward the wall. “I almost died that day, too.” “The scars,” I whisper and he nods, putting his forehead against mine for several long minutes until the hall door opens again.

Damn, what the hell happened last night? One second we were talking and then she was sucking me off and then Ransom was just there … We don't have threesomes on this bus. Like, ever. Not once. But it was hot and I'm starting to wonder why not. Lilith's got a sweet spirit; she deserves to have two guys taking care of her like that.

I pop a piece of jerky in my mouth and watch the two of them snuggling up like that, wondering if I'm jealous at all. I kind of like this girl, you know. And maybe I am a little jealous, but Ransom's my buddy and I've never been able to do a damn thing for him. He looks pretty content with this girl on his lap. “Chloe?” “Chloe, Harper … that piece of rotten dick cheese.”

I sigh and grab my book from the arm of the sofa. I don't open it yet, just let my fingers filter through the pages. I fucking love romance novels. Erotic novels. Whatever you want to call anything fictional that has women and lovers and fucking and relationships. I feel like if every man on the planet sat down and just read a few of these, he'd understand the female side of the species so much better.

I watch Ran for a moment, trying to remember the perpetually smiling guy with the wicked smirk. He could get any girl. Seriously, more than Pax or Michael. Everyone wanted to be around Ran—backstage, at after-parties, at the club, even at school. He was nice, but he had this slick, dangerous edge that no woman could resist. Now … fuck. He sits drenched in hoodies and smokes cigarettes and picks up groupies to sleep with, not for sex—although he always has sex with them because it's what they expect—but just to have someone by his side when he wakes up sweating and shaking with nightmarish memories. Most of the time they run the fuck off of this bus after his first fit of the night and straight into an NDA that our manager shoves down their throats.

I play with the bracelets on my wrist for a moment and look at Lilith again. God. If I was ever into having another girlfriend, I'd want one that looked like her. She's curvy and sexy and classically beautiful all at the same time. I run my finger up one of her bare feet and she gasps in her sleep, pink lips parting. I smile and glance up to find Ransom watching me.

Muse whispers when he comes into the room and pauses, gazing down at Lilith with an inscrutable expression on his face. The way he looked at her, it was like he'd fallen in love from their very first moment together …

“Lilith was supposed to stop by her trailer and sign an NDA last night, but she didn't show.” “Ah,” I say, feeling bad because for whatever reason, I just don't like Octavia. She's one of a few women in this world that I haven't liked without good reason. She's too much a puppet for the record label … and way too into Paxton. I think she crosses professional boundaries sometimes. “That would be my fault.” “And mine,” Ransom says as Muse raises his brows. “Oh, come on, like Michael didn't tell you,” I say as I scan the first line of my new book. Soul mates … an old concept, a new twist. I'm in love with two men; they're in love with each other; they're both in love with me. I won't let the world tear us apart. I close the cover and look up, meeting Muse's hazel eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses. “We had a threesome,” I say with a smile and he laughs. “No,” he says, but he doesn't sound convinced. “Yep,” I confirm, giving in and dropping both of my hands to Lilith's foot. It feels good to touch her, rub her skin with my thumbs, make her moan in her sleep. “Me, Lilith, Ransom.” “Did you like it?” Muse asks, which is totally a weird Muse-like thing to ask. “I did,” Lilith says, waking up with a yawn. She stretches her arms above her head and the blanket accidentally slides off onto the floor, flashing the creamy white curve of her ass to all three of us. “Well, I like that,”

“So you hear the word threesome and come running, huh?” “I'm intrigued,” Muse says, as blatant and forward as always. He gets himself into serious trouble sometimes. I study him as he leans in towards Lilith, like he knows her, like they're not complete strangers. “I've always wanted to have group sex, but it's never really happened.” “Figures that'd be a dream of yours,” Ransom whispers from inside his hoodie. When he reaches up and pushes it back off his hair, I know his mood's improving. “Wouldn't you rather have group sex with a bunch of girls?” Lilith asks and Muse shrugs, seeing how close he can get his face to her lips before she stops him. She doesn't and they end up kissing. It looks a little forced at first, like neither of them is really sure where to go with this … but then it's like a flip's been switched. His body relaxes; her body relaxes.

I stand up to leave, give them some privacy, and Lilith grabs my t-shirt. “Stay,” she says between kisses, giving me pause. Her fingers stay curled in my shirt as she relaxes back into Ransom's lap, still kissing Muse, his hands pushing her shirt up her legs as she stretches them out, spreads them and lets him lay between them. “Shit,” I say as Ran looks down and watches the action taking place in his lap, like he's not sure what to do with it. “Here,” Lilith says, pushing Muse back a few inches and reaching up to grab Ran's chin. She pulls his face down to hers and starts kissing him next.

“I'm not …” Lilith starts, pushing red hair behind her ear. “This is completely new territory for me. This may take some … maneuvering.” Her cheeks turn as red as her beautiful hair and I smile. “So you do get embarrassed,” I say as she grabs Ransom by the legs and encourages him to face her. “Sometimes,” Lilith says and then pauses, crossing her arms over her breasts for a moment as she looks at Ran, over her shoulder at Muse, at me. Her green eyes are bright and curious. “I've lived my whole life one way, questioning and wondering and thinking and planning. I just want to fucking do things and see what happens. If you guys are okay with this … I really like the three of you.” She shrugs her shoulders, and keeps watching me, like somehow I'm the lynchpin that might hold this idea together or tear it apart. “This isn't a threesome,” I say and Lilith smiles. “No, it's a foursome.”

Ransom reaches over the back of the couch and slides open the drawer on the small side table. There are condoms in there; there are condoms fucking everywhere on this bus. He passes some out to Muse and me and then pauses, taking a deep breath and then pulling his hoodie off. My mouth parts in shock because the number of girls that Ran takes his shirt and hoodie off for number less than fucking one. As in, I haven't seen him show his chest to anyone but us since Kortney cheated on him with Pax.

A sensual foursome, huh? When I think of foursomes, I think of porn and god, I fucking hate porn. But then I close my eyes and scan through my mental reading list. No, I've read some good foursomes. It's all about the woman, about making her feel worshipped and loved and wanted. It's what I live for, after all. If I were to maybe sit down and psychoanalyze my reasons why, I'd probably uncover some pretty fucked-up shit, but I won't go there, not today. This isn't about me; this is about Lilith.

Lilith, she still tastes like rain, even down here. Fresh, wet, but kind of sad, too, like a grey sky drenching the dry earth. It's needed, but most people prefer the sun. Not me. It's not that I want her to be upset, just that it's nice to be needed. Lilith clearly needs this, all of it. She wants all three of us, needs all three of us, that's how deep her pain is. And somehow, she found her way to this bus full of sad, lonely, people that Pax collected for his band. It's no coincidence that so many guys with such awful backstories ended up here.

I groan and we both end up screaming a little, making so much damn noise that Michael comes storming out of the hall to stare at us. The look in his eyes … it's pure hunger.

“How old are you?” I ask, sweeping gently tangled hair over one shoulder. I should probably shower properly. After our foursome, all I did was rinse. My eyes drift over to the kitchen, to Michael talking on the phone as he prepares himself some frozen thing from the fridge. His voice is low and angry, and I wonder if he's talking to his girlfriend again. “Twenty-nine,” Cope says, drawing my attention back to him, to those stunning eyes of his. I could stare at those all day and never get tired of looking at them. “I'm the oldest one on this bus.” “Fucking ancient,” Pax mutters from his end of the couch. Still, he doesn't bother to look up from his phone screen.

This isn't home though; this is transition.

I think Pax smokes because he likes to always appear that he's got something fucking important to do.

“If … you want to fuck me without a condom, then you—” “Demand at least apathetic neutral, yeah, I remember.” I smile, despite myself. The fact that Pax and I are both just assuming we'll fuck each other again is … interesting. Neither of us even bothers to ask. “If you want to do this, you can't sleep with any other girls while I'm here. As soon as you do, it's over.” I take a deep breath and look him straight in the face. I know he's a bad boy and a rockstar and all that, but I won't take shit in this arena, not ever again. “My last boyfriend lied to me, cheated on me, and he made me sick,” I whisper, feeling suddenly nauseous. Pax raises his eyebrows and Muse makes a soft, sad sound under his breath. “Luckily it was completely curable and I caught it early, but I won't let anyone ever do that to me again. It's the worst kind of violation there is, and I'm lucky that it wasn't something worse. I can't take that chance. Please respect me on this. If you want to … fuck somebody else, just tell me you did and don't lie about it. Then that'll be the end of … this.” I gesture randomly at the fallen pages. The thought of any of these four screwing another girl while I'm around makes me sick, but what right do I have to demand their exclusivity? I slept with all of them one after the other on night one. But in this, at least, I have a valid reason, an excuse. I try not to feel so damn pleased about it. “Look at you,” Pax whispers, touching his fingers to my hair, “roped yoursel...