The Fiery Boys (A Sample)

Chuck wrapped up the tour at the back of the bus. "And now the bedroom. I'm sure you'll like it." I felt like Chuck's new sex toy. And here I'd thought that none of them would want me. It was comforting to discover I'd been wrong, and yet a little disconcerting. I didn't want to shut the door completely on this man, but I simply couldn't bring myself to go there yet.

"Can we not do this right now?"

True to form, Chuck was unperturbed. "Some other time, then." I heard Jason's warning echo in my head, "Don't. Fuck. Chuck."

Then I reminded myself that this man was the lead singer of the Fiery Boys. That had to count for something. I wondered if I should go for it and make Kira proud. But Chuck's oversized ego was making it hard for me to feel any kind of special. I'd be just another conquest, along with thousands of other fan girls. And what would the rest of my week be like if I jumped him in the first ten minutes? Awkward. It didn't seem like the right thing to do.

So I gave him a friendly-but-not-too-friendly smile. "I'm guessing you were one of the three who did vote for me."

He stepped closer and ran his fingers through my hair. "Trust me, I want you on the bus. You're kinda cute." His hands slipped down to my shoulders then ran down my arms, thumbs extended to "accidentally" swipe my breasts as he made his way down to my hips. Jeez, what a lecher.

But honestly, did I think I would be treated differently than all the other groupies? As far as the Fiery Boys were concerned, I was no different than them. Just another woman who couldn't wait to have sex with a rocker. But I was here for a full week, not a half hour, and that should have meant something.

If Chuck had treated me as anything more than an easy lay, had shown even the tiniest morsel of respect for me as a person, I might have ripped my clothes off by now. And if River had come on to me, we'd both be naked. I'm only human, you know.

But Chuck simply wasn't motivating me. And it only got worse.

"Tell you what. . ." I could see by the glint in his eye that another attempt at my body was imminent. "Any time I'm in the bedroom with my groupies, you're welcome to come join us. Three-way, four-way, I don't care. I'll make room for you, too."

This was offensive in so many ways that I couldn't even focus my reaction. Why did he think I'd group-fuck him after I'd just refused his attempt for some one-on-one action? Should I sarcastically thank him for inviting me to take part in sloppy thirds or fourths? I silently begged whatever deity was available to make Chuck stop talking about sex.