Incendiary (35 page)

“
Spawn
? Here I thought Bryn was our child.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Your body is designed to bear children.”

Desperation creeps into me. “But not one after the other. I-I mean…I-I’m scared. I don’t know what to do with Bryn all of the time. I’m not ready for another baby. I swear I won’t touch drugs. Bryn’s everything to me. I’d never do anything to—”

“You’ll have full support. Zelda will help out. Each baby will have a nanny. Abby will be in and out.”

I can’t believe he’s putting me in this position. Doesn’t he understand? Isn’t he listening to
me
?

No. Not anymore. He once did, but circumstances backed him into a corner. If my trust has been demolished, his has always been non-existent. Our lives have never belonged to us. He’s lived with the threat—the fear—of his father falsely accusing him of his sister’s murder for eleven years.

He couldn’t save her, so he tried to save me. Instead, it backfired in the worst way.

I know him. I know that he’s a man who thrives on control because, in reality, he has so little of it. Rand Mason pulls his strings, as well as Kiln’s and Jaeger’s. Meanwhile, Grandma is
my
puppet master.

Now, he thinks he’s hit upon a way to keep me from using. Yes, I believe he wants our kids close-in-age, but he also has to find a way to keep me on the straight and narrow.

All he’s ever done is worry about me. At least, when we’re ‘
together.’
I’d prefer not to know how he feels about me when he’s away. Or if I cross his mind at all.

For him, another pregnancy will keep me sober and afford him peace of mind.

It’s hard to imagine willingly agreeing to go through labor and delivery again in the next year. “How many more do you want?”

“Let’s agree to one more right now.”

“One more? When you say right now…? You’ll be away for a while.”

“As soon as you’re healed, I’ll either fly to Denver or fly you to LA if you aren’t already there with me.”

The urge to cry hits me, but I suck my tears back. I have no clue why I want to cry. Maybe, the reason is I’m not going to deny Sloane this request as much as I want to. Agreeing to have another baby for him will…what? Show me how I’m ignoring what I know is best for me so he can be happy? Allay my fears that he’ll lose himself in music and groupies and forget about me? If he has to get me pregnant, he’ll have to come back to me.

But then what?

“Will you at least be there for the delivery?” I ask, threading acceptance into my voice.

“Yes. I’ll be there for more than the delivery.”

I don’t respond.

“So, we agree?” he presses. “No birth control.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He smiles, then kisses me. “You’ll see, sweetheart. Everything will work out.”

A line of half-dressed blondes parade onto the stage and I gaze at them through heavy-lidded eyes, shifting in my seat. A couple of seats from me, Jaeger whispers to Kiln and Quint. I’m between Adam and Maitland, not interested in conversation with anyone. Thoughts of my wife plague me.

Three weeks have gone by since my wedding to Georgie. I’ve been flying from Denver to LA every couple of days to keep her happy. It also allows me to make sure she’s settling into her role as the lady of the house. She has to hire whatever staff she needs. Still, her desire to be with me keeps her unhappy, though Denver is safest for her.

Tonight, we’re having a party at a record exec’s home. I already know Silver will be there. She’s a porn star I’ve hooked up with on several occasions. A tall blonde with gray eyes, huge tits, a willing mouth, and a hot cunt. And she’s bringing her friends, which are similar in looks and attitude. By tomorrow, it will be leaked everywhere. As will this audition for dancers to take with us on a new tour still in the planning stages.

Women are all around me. Everywhere I look, I see my specialty, big tittied blondes.

As I stand to direct the second group of girls through the moves they’ll be performing with me onstage should they be chosen to tour with us, my dick throbs. We’ve started recording, but now, our main focus is rehearsals for our performance at the music fest. It almost feels as if we’re preparing for our very first concert, and I can’t deny how excited I am. I’ve had casual sex for so many years, my growth is stunted for a real relationship. My previous affair with Georgie was easy. My goal was to save her from herself and make sure she had the mental capacity to survive with or without me. She followed whatever I told her. Last year, in Denver, it was just us, with no outside influences and without the world watching. I considered myself committed to her and knew she adored me. We, as a couple, were uncomplicated and simple.

Now, life has intruded before we’ve had a chance to honeymoon. This is the test of our relationship. We’ll either end up stronger and more committed, or irreparably separated, the last thing I want. I know I’ve hurt her countless times, but I need her to believe in me just a fraction of what she did before. Or, at least, overlook the women surrounding me without her pouting and making me feel lower than fucking shit. Though sympathetic, I resent her demand for my accountability.

Another upside to meaningless flings. No understanding is required. It’s all about fucking. Where Georgie is concerned, it’s never only been physical. Not even the night I first met her, when I believed I’d never see her again.

I flew in yesterday. This time I’m in LA for a month. Knowing I’ll be too busy to fly back and forth is killing me. As distasteful as her demand is that I explain my every move, I miss her. It concerns me that she may be secluding herself. I’m also more than ready to fuck, have sex, make love, eat her pussy, and have my dick sucked by her.

“Are you going up or what?” Kiln calls, quirking his brow.

Without a word, I go to the stage. Immediately, I’m eyed with speculation and offered more than one come-fuck-me look. One girl slides her tongue along her lips before making a little lapping motion.

This is the longest I’ve gone without a dick suck in months. When I was in rehab, it was about three weeks before I found a couple of staff workers willing to blow me.

“All right, ladies. We’re going to start off with hip-roll, hip-roll, slide, and twist.”

I situate myself in the middle of the girls. The lead choreographer we’ve hired is located in the front row of the auditorium we’ve rented. The girl who sent the silent dick-suck invitation has secured one of the spots next to me.

Her tits are nearly bursting out of her tank top. I think about inviting her to my dressing room to lick her pussy while she sucks me. Maybe, I’ll bring her back to the hotel with me and fuck her for the entire afternoon.

After me and the ten hopefuls go through the routine several times, we come to the part of the audition where I have to take each girl and dance with her one-on-one. I’m looking for the one I have the most chemistry with, so the audience will believe I have real feelings for her as I hold her, grind upon her and serenade her.

My headset is handed to me. Once I put it on, I get my acoustic guitar and stand at the spot marked with an ‘X’. I sing the first verse and the blonde I’ve considered fucking struts up to me. She has a body to kill for. We share smiles and I indicate the spot next to me. My fingers strum the strings a moment before she starts to move, her hair brushing over my arm as I play, her lips skimming my back, her breasts pressing against me.

She has excellent rhythm and sex appeal. Her hand slides down my forearm. I do an up-tempo and she shakes her ass accordingly, auditioning not only to be one of the dancers but my lover, too.

As we close out the routine, she stops and glances at me through her lashes, then offers me another fuck-me-into-oblivion smile. Just the kind of grin I like. My dick loves it. Pre-cum drips from me.

But…

She’s too tall and she doesn’t have black hair or purple eyes. She isn’t a gorgeous little waif who’s afraid to completely trust me because no one has ever shown themselves truly trustworthy.

The girl in front of me would open her pussy right here if I demanded it of her. But as damaged and suspicious as Georgie is, she still tries to believe in me.

“Uh, Sloane?” Adam calls, because I still haven’t moved. He nods at the women who haven’t even made it to the stage yet. “The others are becoming restless as they await their turn.”

“What’s your name?” I ask the girl who wants me in her cunt. She has talent and we have chemistry. We’ll be good together on stage.

“My name is whatever you’d like it to be,” she retorts.

Removing my headset, I narrow my eyes at her.

“Rhea,” she huffs and comes a little closer to me. “I want to suck your dick.”

Despite the dancing and the sheen of sweat on her, I smell her perfume. The scent is good, but it isn’t vanilla and it isn’t Georgie.

I blow out an irritated breath. “See that guy?” I point to Maitland.

She nods.

“Give him your information and we’ll call you as soon as the other two dancers are chosen.”

She squeals and bounces up and down, hugging me, her body closer to mine than necessary. “Thank you. Whatever you need from me, I’ll be happy to give it to you.”

“I’m sure,” I say dryly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You bet,” she coos and sashays off the stage.

“Hey, kiddo.” At the sound of Abby’s voice, I turn in the stool I’m sitting in at the breakfast bar in Sloane’s mansion. Bryn is asleep in a little baby bouncer and Zelda has me searching through cookbooks…yes,
physical books.
I wanted to use my iPad. She scoffed and pointed to a cabinet that revealed all sorts of cookbooks when I opened the door.

“They’re going to waste, Georgie,” she’d huffed.

“I didn’t buy them, so it isn’t my fault,” I’d retorted, in a completely pissy mood.

Sloane has been gone for a week, without any of the quick visits I’d gotten used to. I’m feeling physically better, although mentally I’m floundering. I can’t seem to stay off the gossip sites, where Sloane is spotted with women around him at whatever function he attends. Just as the world knows me, the dancer chosen to perform with Sloane is instantly famous. Rhea hovers near him in almost every photograph. He appears quite cozy with her.

Fucking asshole. The only reason I’m here and he’s there is for him to have the freedom to stick his dick in a bunch of different girls. He swears he hasn’t touched another woman. He also promises as soon as extra security is in place, he’ll send for me. Whatever. After a month, he should have whoever he needs for my security detail.

I spend my days downstairs and my evenings upstairs, staying close to the house, my safety zone.

Abby shakes my shoulder. I haven’t responded to her greeting.

“Hey.”

She sets a bag down and slips onto the stool next to mine.

“Shopping again?” I ask with amusement.

Not a day has gone by since we’ve been in Denver that Abby hasn’t gone shopping.

“Remember, the other day over dinner you were discussing what ‘K’ stands for on the periodic table?”

Abby has been talking my ear off about science and world history. In a weird way, we’re teaching each other. Without the pressure of teachers and tests, and my family expecting me to fail, I realize I know a lot about science and English Lit. Not too much about history, though.

“I remember the kalium talk,” I tell her, giggling at her scowl. She thinks if potassium has to have one letter, it should be one that’s included in the word, and not from its Latin origin. “What about it?”

“I’m thinking about going back to college,” she announces.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” I’m so happy for her. I didn’t know she was considering the move, but Abby is extremely smart. She’ll do well. “What will your major be?”

She waves the question away. “I need to take the SAT. I took a practice test and scored a six twenty-five.”

Unfamiliar with the test, I’m lost. Nothing college related was discussed with me when I lived with my parents. They didn’t consider me college material. “Is that good?”

“That’s fucking abominable! A perfect score is twenty-four hundred, so you tell me.”

“Don’t get discouraged. If you study, you’ll pass with flying colors.”

Shrugging, she pulls out two thick books from the bag she brought in. “Can you help me study?” She nods to the books. “You can quiz me. It’ll save your husband a ton of money, too.”

I lift a brow. “How so?”

“It’ll keep me from shopping every day.”

Shaking my head, I sigh. “I don’t think Sloane left his credit card for you to spend thousands of dollars every day.”

“Well, the asshole left it with the wrong person then.” In typical Abby fashion, she dismisses whatever she doesn’t want to hear. “I’m very good at spending money and he knows this. He should’ve given the card to you, right?”

“I don’t want his stupid credit card,” I mutter, and switch back to our original topic. “As far as me helping you, absolutely not. You want to succeed, not fail, so me tutoring you is the worst idea,
ever
.”

“Why do you say that?”

I tell her about Sam, the tutor Sloane hired for me and fired five days later because of my poor scores. A funny look crosses her face when I say the tutor’s name before her expression evens and she snorts.