Page 22 of Sexy Dirty Fun

I crossed my arms and leaned on the doorframe. No way in hell was I invited thatmarriedjackass into my room. I was angrier than hell with him, but I also didn’t trust myself alone with him, especially with a bed nearby.

“I’m not letting you in and I don’t want to talk,” I said.

He let out and exasperated sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What is up with you women? No one will listen to me.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re an asshole,” I said with a smirk.

“Maybe,” he replied softly.

I was a little bit taken aback by his reaction. Normally he would have had some smart-ass comment to come back with. He was almost acting as though he was defeated. That wasn’t like him.

“I don’t think there’s anything to explain. You’re married. She lets you fuck around on tour. However you guys want to live your life, that’s great, but I won’t be a part of it. I’ll see you around the tour Cane. Thanks for what you did earlier.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond. My resolve was growing weaker and I didn’t want to cry in front of him or get sucked into sex ‘one last time’. I shut the door before he could say a word and walked over to the bed.

I tore back the covers on the bed and slipped off my robe before climbing in. I slid my naked body between the cool sheets and closed my eyes.

I was surprised and a bit disappointed that he didn’t even try to stop me from closing the door. He had women falling all over him every second of the day. Why would he fight for me when he could snap his fingers and the women would flock to him?

Why did I think I was special?

12

CANE

Destiny.

In a matter of seconds, Destiny came in and totally fucked up my life.

I still couldn’t figure out who she was. She claimed to be my wife, but I had zero recollection of her. Sure, with her bottle blonde hair and fake tits, I have no doubt that I fucked her at one time or another, but that was about it. There was no way in hell I got married to her. Cane Stephens doesn’t do marriage. Marriage is for pussies.

She showed up at my room tonight and totally caught me off guard. When the knock came, I thought it was Lindsey coming back from her interview with the police. Instead I open the door and find my wife.

What the fuck?

Of course, I didn’t believe her at first and was about to throw her out of my room when the way she cried out my name rang a bell in my mind. The memories came flooding back and hit me like a fucking freight train.

We met here in Vegas after one of my shows about four months ago. We were performing at some awards show and I was drunker than usual. And high. Since we were only in town for one night, we partied hard – really hard. Most of the night was a blur, but I would remember if I got married.

Wouldn’t I?

One of the other guys would have told me too. They would love giving me a hard time about tying the knot. Maybe I should talk to Diesel. He would tell me.

I was almost to my hotel room when I turned back around to go to the hotel bar. Destiny had taken up residence in my room and I was in no mood to talk to her. I was furious that she upset Lindsey and interrupted what was starting out as a great couple of days. I was keeping her secluded though. The last thing I needed was for her to run to the press.

I scrubbed my hand over my face, trying to wipe the look on Lindsey’s face out of my memory. She was angry with me and that I could handle. It was the look and hurt and disappointment that bothered me the most.

I’ll admit it; I’m an asshole. I’ve hurt a lot of women since becoming a rock star and truth be told, I haven’t given a shit about a single one of them.

Until her.

I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. While I waited for it, I sent my best friend and the guitar player in the band, Diesel, a text asking him to meet me in the bar. He’s the only one I trusted with this. He quickly sent a response, agreeing to meet me in about ten minutes.

As I sat alone, my thoughts went back to Lindsey. I’m not sure why I cared so much she was mad at me. The sex between us was great – really fucking great, in fact – but honestly it was more than that. She was smart and funny and spunky. She didn’t put up with my shit or fawn all over me because I was Cane Stephens, the lead singer of Hookers and Hand Grenades. She was real and in this line of work, that was hard to come by.

The bartender brought me my beer and I took a long drink, almost emptying. I set it on the bar and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was Cane-fucking Stephens. I didn’t fall for women. I used them once and tossed them out. So what if Lindsey wasn’t interested? Fuck her. I was moving on. This tour was full of ass and I was going to get as much of it as I could, because that’s what I do.

I finished my beer and signaled for the bartender to bring me another. I was going to get shit-faced and find a couple of willing ladies to make me forget what a shitty day I’ve had. This time the bartender brought me two beers right away. Smart man.

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