“First question,” she began, her chest rising rapidly as her breathing became more erratic. “I want to know what happened with the fiancée. And why she still jets around the world saying you’re engaged to her. The truth.”
Van pulled his shirt over his head, raising his eyebrows as Stella’s pupils dilated. She licked her lips, and he grinned.
“Who would be able to let all this go? Chick’s delusional.”
Stella frowned and began pushing up and off of him. “Fine. I guess you don’t really want—”
“Easy, cowgirl.” Using both hands to clamp down on her hips, he pressed her back down over his denim-restricted erection. “I’ll tell you. But it ain’t pretty.”
She stared into his eyes and waited patiently.
He sighed. “I’ve known her a while. Since high school. I decided to move to LA so I could do the music thing and she followed. We got engaged, mostly as a publicity stunt after I’d fucked up some shit during a fight after a show. She took it pretty seriously, despite the fact that it was more about pleasing the label and making me look stable than ever actually getting married.”
Unable to resist, Van paused to run his tongue up the smooth column of skin that was Stella’s throat. Her breasts swelled with every breath. Her body was beckoning to him. Having her naked in his lap with tied wrists was hell on his dick.
“So, um, how’d you break it off then?”
Van pulled back. He hadn’t thought about any of this in quite a while. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on.
“There’s this gimmick we do. A play on the band’s name. We pull a girl on stage during the encore and sing to her. Then she goes back to the Green Room with us after the show and her friends have to give up stuff like bras, panties, and so on, to get her back. You know. Hostage for Ransom.”
Stella snorted and gave him a dirty look. “Sounds more like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Van shook his head. “Usually it’s them that we can’t get rid of, cowgirl. And trust me. Some of those girls are pretty tenacious when they want to be.” He circled each nipple with his tongue.
“I bet.” Stella shivered.
“Anyways,” he continued on. “This chick in Omaha that we pulled on stage ended up being extremely shy. She practically hyperventilated after the show. We were all freaking out, trying to calm her down and get her friends to hurry up and retrieve her. We didn’t even want to mess with them. We just wanted to make sure someone got her out of there safely. The band bailed, afraid she was going to sue us or some shit—like you said. But I couldn’t just leave her, so I helped her find her friends and then gave them a tour of the bus to make sure everything was cool. Vanessa saw us coming off the bus and thought I’d fucked her. She literally attacked the poor girl. Julie,” he said, remembering. “Julie Donahue. She was just a sweet farm girl who got dragged along to a concert she didn’t even want to be at. Vanessa blindsided her, appearing from nowhere and punching her in the face. She kicked her in the head several times before I could pull her off. She had a severe concussion and the label had to pay an insane amount of money to keep her parents from going public.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. So that was it. I called it off. When I went to get my shit from the apartment we shared—shit I should’ve just left and replaced—she called the cops and had a restraining order filed against me. After that, I was done. Completely. If the chick offs herself, well then, so be it. Basically she’s a walking talking tornado that destroys everything in her path.”
“Sounds like you have excellent taste in women, Mr. Ransom.”
“Speaking of tasting…” Needing a taste of her, he took as much of her left breast into his mouth as he could. He sucked hard until she cried out. Then he did the same with the right one.
“Van.”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Next question.”
He ran the tip of his nose between her breasts and down her sternum, tugging her until she stood before him. Completely naked with the exception of stilettos and panties tied around her wrist. His ultimate fantasy come to life. He was pretty sure they could discuss starving orphans in Uganda and his dick still would’ve remained at full attention. He dipped his tongue into her belly button and began suctioning his mouth against her skin lower and lower.
“The tattoo on your back. I know it isn’t just ink. What made you get it?”
Every muscle in his body tensed. He stilled, remaining hard, but his lust-fueled focus waned. Anger rippled just beneath the surface. The air around them thickened, becoming instantly suffocating. He looked up to find her eyes searching his, knowing she’d felt the shift.
Gripping her ass hard, he leaned forward and sank his teeth into her hip. She whimpered but stayed put, seemingly understanding that he needed this. Needed some outlet for the pain before it consumed him and he started breaking things.
Grazing his teeth across to the other side, he gave her another firm bite to match on the opposite hip. She didn’t even whimper this time.
“If I answer this question, delve into something I never discuss, I am going to do unspeakable things to your body afterward.”
Stella only nodded and lowered herself back into his lap.
“Sure you want to play this game, cowgirl?”
Her eyes met his with a desperate yes in them.
The memories, dark demons with the fury of ten hells, tore at his flesh, teeth gnashing and clawing at his throat. His eyes closed involuntarily. He wanted to get high. Fuck this woman on his lap until she screamed for mercy. Then fuck her some more. Destroy the world around him. Burn it to the goddamn ground.
Until an angel kissed him, lightly on the throat. The demons backed down a fraction of an inch, a feat only narcotics had been able to accomplish in the past. She kissed him again. Her warm, wet mouth somehow soothed his tortured mind until he could give her what she wanted.
“Our mother was an addict.” He sucked in a breath as she dragged her mouth across his chest. “Like me, I guess. But she went at it harder. It was a lifestyle for her, not recreation.”
He kept his eyes closed as she nuzzled against his neck. He focused on the vanilla wildflower scent instead of the rotten egg and ammonia fumes from his childhood.
“Some of the...people she associated with weren’t exactly kid friendly if you know what I mean.”
He felt the flinch of her body against his. He hated inflicting this on her. No matter how good it felt to let some of it go.
“I was lucky. Most of them paid about as much attention to me as they might have an unwanted pet. I was a nuisance that got kicked on occasion and shoved into closets now and then.”
This time it was a sob, she was trying not to let it go, but he felt it. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. Tears streamed down hers.
“Stella.”
“Keep going. I want to hear it, Van. I need to…know you. I want to understand.”
He nodded. “Val, my sister, wasn’t as lucky. She was beautiful, even as a kid. Sometimes she got locked in the closet with me.” He almost smiled at the memory. “She’d try to comfort me, make it a game. Pretend we were camping or some shit. Pull out a flashlight and make up stories.”
His fists clenched before he realized he still had her hips in his hands. Pain had her blinking rapidly, but she took it without complaint.
“Other times, she didn’t get put in the closet. She got…” Her cries for help swirled in his mind. The image of her body huddled in a corner flashed behind his eyes.
“I tried,” he choked out. “I tried to save her. I was young. And weak. I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t.”
He tried to stand, to throw her off his lap so he could get out of there, get the fuck away from this place, and get high. He hoped Drake was still somewhere nearby. Then Stella’s mouth descended on his. She kissed him so hard he tasted blood. She was giving him everything she had and he took it, knowing he shouldn’t.