Rock Me Deeper (Licks of Leather #5) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,33
playing the notes and singing the lyrics—by rote—while the fans inside the arena screamed their lungs out.
Funny, I couldn’t remember if we were performing in Philly or Toledo. The past six days since we’d left LA—since Caris left me—had been nothing but a blur. In the end, it really didn’t matter what city we were in. As long as I did my part to feed and water the fans, nothing else mattered.
At least on the outside.
Inside, I was till beating myself black and blue for letting Ozzy talk me out of looking for Caris. Not knowing if she’d made it back to Diamond City was eating me alive.
When Ross started pounding out his drum solo, I automatically laid down the accompanying beat with my bass.
“Our badass beast on drums…Ross Walker,” Burk introduced, waving his hand toward the big man.
Like they had for Ozzy and Darren, the fans went wild. Their cacophony of screams and cheers swelled to a deafening level.
Seconds later, the spotlight landed on me.
Shoving all thoughts of Caris—the sweet taste of her sinful mouth, her ripe, lush naked body, and the two years she’d sat in that fucking jail cell paying for my sins—I screamed, “Fuck yeah, baby” into my mic, and plucked the strings, nailing my solo like a boss.
“Give it up for our resident ladies’ man, Syd Wilson,” Burk yelled into his mic. “He lays down all the beats right—”
“And fucks sweet pussy all night,” I barked into my mic.
Drawing out the last note of my solo, I tossed a fist in the air. The women screamed as if they’d lost their ever-loving minds. When they started tossing panties on stage, I flashed a crooked grin, waggled my brows, and licked my lips.
The fans didn’t give a steaming, hot elephant shit if I was a pussy-whipped mess inside. They’d shelled out plenty of hard-earned money to see Syd Wilson, the wise-ass, fun-loving class-clown—they knew and loved. I’d be damned if I was going to disappoint them. I waited for the screams to ebb, then waved my arm toward Burk.
“And last but definitely not least, the main man with pipes of steel and a steel pipe his woman won’t let him share with you wet and wild ladies anymore…” I glanced at Sofia waiting in the wings and laughed when she shot me a scowl and flipped me off. “The one and only rock and roll super-stud…Burk Jennings.”
A louder, raucous roar that shook the stage and my bones, erupted from the fans.
“One, two, three,” Ross counted out from behind me.
I turned and grinned as he tossed his drumsticks in the air, caught them, and banged his snare. In perfect unison, Ozzy played the intro chords to our platinum-winning single “Nasty Nymph.” The fans—who’d been on their feet since Mia, a.k.a. Phoenix took the stage before us—dragged out their cell phones, illuminated their flashlight apps, and began waving them in the air.
I couldn’t lie, hearing their screams and seeing the joy on their faces was thrilling, humbling, and totally mind-blowing. But standing on stage, watching a sea of lightning bugs swaying in time to the music was downright awe inspiring.
With thoughts of Caris now locked deep in my brain, I got lost in the music, the roar of the fans, and actually found a sliver of comfort in the normality of performing. Before I realized it, my fingers were sliding along the frets and I was plucking the notes to the last song of our set, “Dirty Road.”
Three and a half minutes later, the spotlights blinked out, the fans screamed for more, as the five of us jogged off stage. Mia, still sporting her rocker gear from her opening performance, Sofia, Harmony, and Tori, who’d flown in from Oklahoma to surprise her man, Darren, were waiting in the wings. As us sweat-soaked musicians made it backstage, the women mauled their significant others with hugs and kisses.
For a split second, I imagined the thrill of locking eyes with Caris and pressing my wet body to hers before devouring her lips. But I shook the fantasy away and let reality come crashing in. I was the only one without a woman. I didn’t like the fact that I was the odd man out now, but I hadn’t done a fucking thing to deserve a happy ending like my bandmates.
I clapped Burk—who was attempting to remove Sofia’s tonsils with his tongue—on the back. “I’ll meet you pricks back on stage for our encores,” I yelled over the fervent screams and thunderous