Page 11 of Dirty Rock

“We’re here, man. All of us. But there’s more to life than—” Big D started.

“No,” I cut him off. “Don’t you dare feed me that line. There isn’t more to life, and that’s the problem. Nothing matters but this band. Nothing matters but the success and what we put out there. That’s what we all agreed to. Those were the promises we made. Love and rock don’t go hand in hand. That’s why every single decent rock song is about heartbreak and being fucking angry. Get on board with me again, won’t you?”

“Rhett, stop it,” Julia whispered. “This isn’t about them. Let’s go talk.”

“I’m out of here.” I didn’t look at her. I didn’t look at any of them as I threw my hands in the air and stormed out into the corridor of the hotel.

When the door slammed shut behind me, I reached into my back pocket to pull out my phone and check the time. It was easy to forget where the hell we were when we were jetting all over the world, never mind what the local time was, but the numbers staring back at me on the screen told me it was 10:23 p.m. in New Orleans.

Well, fuck. Who knew?

Glancing to the right, I saw two of our usual security team manning the lifts, and I began to walk towards them.

“Rhett!”

Rolling my eyes, I ignored Julia’s call behind me and refused to look around.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said anyway. “I need to talk to you about—”

Whatever, Jules,I thought. Blocking her out, I stepped towards the men in suits standing there as though they were waiting for John Wick to smash through the walls to kill us off.

“Gents,” I said with a tip of my head.

“Hey, Mr Ryan,” they said together.

“You know it’s Rhett. I hate that Mr Ryan shit.”

The bigger dude with the shiny bald head smirked at me, while the smaller guy shuffled on his feet, trying to make himself seem taller as he pushed his shoulders back. It was crystal clear which one was going to be my partner in crime, and which one was firmly camped in Julia’s back pocket.

Looking at the bigger dude, I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and took one out to perch it between my lips.

“You fancy taking me outside for a smoke?” I asked him.

He glanced at the smaller dude, waiting for his approval.

“Is Mr Bennett aware that you’re leaving?” Small Fry asked.

“Do you see him following me, arguing the toss?”

With a sigh, Small Fry looked up at the bigger dude, and he gave him a nod to escort me outside.

It didn’t take us long to get in the lift, leaving Small Fry behind. We were halfway down to the foyer when I looked up at my escort and offered him a sly smile.

“Do you think your mate will be pissed off if I decide to have my smoke in a strip club?”

Chapter Four

Apparently, the woman currently performing an impressive figure of eight with her arse was called Candy.

Either she was lying, or her parents wanted her to be beaten in the playground.

I was going with my first guess.

‘Candy’ was smooth as shit, her thighs golden and sparkling with whatever lotion she’d used to make her glow. The only hair on her entire body was that on her head or her brows. Everywhere else looked like silk. I had her down for being in her mid-thirties but trying to look as though she was a decade younger. Her jet-black hair was a similar colour to my own, and she had sharp cheekbones that cradled her wicked eyes.

In short, she was totally fuckable, and I loved a woman with experience no matter how tainted they were when I got inside them.

Her G-string was hidden in the cheeks of her arse, until she paused, spread her legs and used her thumbs to seductively tease the material out. The first few beats of the songDirty Cashpoured out into the private booth I was locked in, and a subtle rhythm took over my body, making my head shake from side to side as I bit down on my bottom lip and tried desperately not to stick my finger in Candy’s chocolate starfish.

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