Rock Me Deep

By: Nora Flite

- Chapter One -


Before we begin! This was originally published as the Body Rock Series 1-4, but has been re-released in this updated format to better tell a fuller, richer story.

There's also a sexy bonus short story in the back about Brenda and her crush! ;)

Who could it be?

And while I have your attention... Want a free short story about one night in Vegas with a bad boy?

Join my newsletter and you'll get it delivered right to your email!

Join Nora's mailing list!

Okay! Back to why you're here—the story!

Drezden

The cigarette hung from my lips, red-tip preparing to fall to the earth. If I moved, the ash would spill. It would take so very, very little to break that perfect, gravity defying cylinder.

My shoulder swung, carrying my knuckles straight into Johnny's mouth. The end of my cigarette dissipated, falling away with my abrupt movement.

Johnny tumbled backwards, spilling onto the hard floor and taking a few other chairs with him. Around me, I heard gasps, especially the sweet cries of the groupies who'd been on him like flies just seconds ago. “What the fuck, man!” he shouted, sprawled there in shock and pain.

I planned to give him more of the latter.

“Whoa, man, hold up!” The voice came from my left, a familiar, high-pitched rattle; Colt, the drummer for my band. He was a good guy. That meant there was no way was he going to lay a hand on me.

Glancing sideways, I saw how he stood there with his fingers spread.

No. Colt wouldn't stop me.

Turning, I realized Johnny was backpedaling across the floor. We were in a private room in an otherwise hardly-private bar, the only shabby environment available after our show.

Johnny kept moving on hands and knees. He wouldn't get far doing that, not with my long legs striding over the toppled chairs.

“Yo, man!” he shouted, grappling with my wrists as I lifted him from the ground. He wanted to escape, who wouldn't? “Drez, man, fucking stop! What's your problem?”

He was light, I was strong. It made bringing him up to eye-level a simple matter. Our noses nearly touched, the blood on his teeth smelling like rust. “You know what my fucking problem is, Johnny. You better fucking know.”

The centers of his eyes were tiny pin-holes. He struggled once more, the crimson stain dribbling on his shirt growing when I gave him a hard shake in response. “I—what the hell are you talking about?” He was already on his way to being piss-full of beer, his breath reeking.

“You were a damn mess out there tonight,” I snapped. Just thinking about how he'd dropped his guitar in the middle of our opening song made my neck cramp up.

“Oh, come on,” he laughed, eyeing the room of gawking people like they might agree with him. “I hit a few wrong notes, that's nothing to get so—”

He didn't finish his sentence; the thud of him hitting the floor did it for him. Johnny coughed, then wheezed as I pressed my shoe onto his chest. “You fucked up every song, Johnny. You've been a wreck for weeks. I'm done with it.”

I pulled away, ignoring how he grabbed for my ankle. “Wait! What the hell does that mean?” The hard lines of his mouth twisted into a nervous smile. “It sounds like you're kicking me out of the band, man, but you can't do that. You know you can't do that.” Johnny pulled himself to his knees, laughing at my back, laughing at the people who still just stared. “You can't do that, you couldn't—it's not even an option!”

Digging into my pocket, I slid a new cigarette between my lips. Everyone kept telling me to quit; it was an awful idea for a singer to smoke. I only do it when I'm pissed or stressed. Too bad that's all the fucking time lately.

“Hey!” Johnny wasn't laughing anymore. I heard people mumbling, then a scream. It was sharp, mixing with the explosion of glass near my face. The bottle left a wet stain on the edge of the door, some of it trickling onto my cheekbone. “Get back here you fucking asshole, you can't do this!”

Pulling the cancer-stick from my mouth, I glanced behind me. I was going to say something about how I could kick him out, I'd just done it, in fact. Instead, I saw Johnny with his arm wrenched back. He had another beer, preparing to launch it at my defenseless face.

There was a second where I wondered if my fans would dig my new scars.

▶ Also By Nora Flite

▶ Last Updated

▶ Hot Read

▶ Recommend

Top Books