Step
STEP
S&M #1
ROXIE RIVERA
Night Works Books
College Station, Texas
Copyright © 2015 Roxie Rivera
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Night Works Books
3515-B Longmire Drive #103
College Station, Texas 77845
www.roxierivera.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Photograph © Citrusss08
STEP/Roxie Rivera -- 1st ed.
ISBN
978-1-63042-032-1
Chapter One
Step
Pussy.
One word. Five letters.
The sweet pink currency that fueled the backstage hookup market.
And right now I wanted some.
I wanted it
bad
. I wanted to be buried balls-deep in two or three of the hottest fucking groupies I could find. I wanted to get up to some real deviant shit tonight. Hot, filthy, sheet-ripping, bed-breaking fucking. I planned to ring in my birthday with a night I would never forget.
Slick with sweat from an extended set, I reached up to rake my fingers through my long hair but encountered the short bristles of my new haircut. It threw me off for a moment. The modified Mohawk with the sides buzzed short and top trimmed low had been a spur of the moment decision I had made in a fit of frustration a few mornings ago. My constantly cracking voice and aching throat were getting on my last damned nerve.
I scratched my fingernails along my scalp. I didn't exactly regret the move to hack off a decade's worth of hair growth, but I was still getting used to the strange, light feeling up top. At least my voice had performed well tonight. I had gotten through the entire set without a single wobble or crack. Hell, maybe that overpaid specialist of mine knew what the hell he was talking about after all.
Now, if I could just tackle that
other
embarrassing problem of mine, I would be fucking golden.
I headed down the steps leading away from the stage and down into the pit-like backstage of The Slaughterhouse. I owned the notorious club that catered to the goth and metal heads of Houston. We had just played an exclusive show to give our fans a taste of the new album we would be launching with a worldwide tour at the beginning of next year. The crowd had gone fucking crazy for the new songs.
Throat sore and dry, I snatched a beer from a passing waitress and took a long pull of the cold, bitter brew. It soothed the ache in my raw throat. In the back of my head, I could hear my otolaryngologist screaming at me to put the fucking alcohol down and pick up a bottle of water. Being a hard-headed asshole, I took another even longer drink of the icy beer.
Glancing back, I found my bandmates hot on my heels. Dom Rivera, Sinister Mayhem's bassist, grabbed a towel from a roadie and wiped the beading sweat from his shaved head. Tres, his younger brother and our band's head of security, kept a well-trained eye on the throng of groupies and entertainment media reps pushing forward. With one stern look, the former Marine sent them all scuttling back.
After grinding on taut strings for nearly two hours, Leif Hansson stretched his cramping fingers before gathering his blond hair into a low ponytail at the back of his neck. His younger brother, Tor, stormed by him with drumsticks still clenched in his fists. Like a damned Viking on a rampage, he shoved his way through the crowd and disappeared into one of the private halls of the labyrinthine backstage area.
I wasn't sure what the fuck was up with Tor lately, but he had been a serious bastard to everyone. I met Leif's concerned gaze across the crowd and frowned at him. Leif shrugged his tattooed shoulders and then turned away from me and into the adoring arms of two female fans with some of the best damned ink I had ever seen. I stepped to the side for a better look at the artwork adorning their skin. In those tiny leather skirts and skimpy tops, they both flashed a great deal of beautifully decorated flesh. My approving gaze landed on our band's logo stamped on their left shoulders.
"Step!" An excited and familiar female voice cut through the background noise. "Happy Birthday!"
I turned just in time to catch Hadley Rivera, Tres and Dom's little sister, as she launched herself at me. I didn't miss the grim set to her boyfriend's mouth at the sight of his girlfriend leaping onto me. I bit back the urge to make a show of giving her a big, noisy kiss because the guy was a highly decorated sniper who had been a fucking legend in the Marine Corps. I didn't want to be on the bad side of a dude who probably knew fifty different and extremely painful ways to end me.
Hadley loudly kissed my cheek. "Happy birthday, my big, Russian, tattooed almost-brother!"
With a bark of laughter, I hugged her tight but tried not to squeeze too hard. It had only been six weeks or so since her heart surgery, and I worried I might accidentally harm her still healing chest. Carefully setting her down, I ignored the jealous onlookers who were wondering who the hell this spunky dark-haired girl with startling gray eyes was to me. I placed my hands on her shoulders and examined her from head to toe. She seemed thinner but looked healthy and happy. "Shit, it's good to see you, Hadley! How are you feeling?"
"Good." She assured me before reaching back to grasp her boyfriend's hand. With a quick tug, she silently beckoned him to join us. "The warden here gave me a pass for good behavior."
I glanced at Finn Connolly and held out my hand. "It's good to see you again, Finn."
"Step." He had a strong handshake and offered a clipped nod. "That was a hell of a show."
"Thanks, man." I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. Knowing what I did of Finn, the last concert this guy had attended had probably been one of Toby Keith's USO shows. The doom metal scene was an entirely different world. As if to prove my point, four luscious and scantily clad exotic dancers crossed the backstage area and head toward the VIP lounge up on the second floor of the converted trucking warehouse. I caught Finn frowning at the sight of them and decided to needle him a little. "You guys want to come up for the after-party?"
Cracking like a gunshot, Finn's answer came half of a heartbeat later. "No."
I squashed the amused smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. "You guys sure? Once the alcohol starts flowing, those girls are going to be up on the tables. It's a show you don't want to miss." I grinned at Hadley and leaned down to tease her. "Maybe I'll finally convince you to let your hair down, sweetness."
"Our baby sister lets down one strand of her hair, and Tres and I are going to make a show of kicking your ass from one end of this club to the other," Dom growled as he butted into the conversation. He jammed his shoulder against mine with enough force that I lurched forward. "When we're done with you, Finn gets his turn."
"Shit, Dom!" I rubbed at my stinging arm. "It was just a joke."
Ignoring me, Dom reached out and gave Hadley's hair a playful tug. "Munchie, what were you doing out in the crowd? You could have been crushed."
She rolled her eyes at her older brother's overprotectiveness. "Tres and the rest of the bouncers formed a bubble around me. I couldn't even see the stage unless Finn picked me up!"
Dom grunted. "You drinking enough water, Munchie? It's hot as hell back here. You're still on the Lasix, right?"
"Yes, and yes." She sighed dramatically and gestured toward Finn. "My bodyguard has been monitoring my water intake and making sure I'm taking my meds. I'm fine.
Really.
"
"She's been a model patient and has more than earned this night out." Finn draped his arm around her shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
The tender moment between the couple caused a strange pang right in the center of my chest. I ignored the unwanted sensation and suppressed the troubling thoughts it kicked off by turning my attention to that thick, fine ass of the dark-haired looker who had just strolled by us. I decided to keep tabs on that one. She had just made my short-list of hookup possibilities.
"No, I think we're going to call it a night and head back to the penthouse," Hadley was saying when my attention reverted to the conversation.
Dom's expression turned squeamish when he jumped to the obvious conclusion about why his little sister and her boyfriend were leaving early. Apparently, Hadley's doc had given her the all-clear to get horizontal with that Marine of hers. I wanted to laugh at the look on Dom's face, but my arm still stung from the muscled bassist's last punch so I bit back the urge to be a jackass.
"Will you make sure Coby gets home safe?" Hadley tapped her brother's forearm, her fingers dancing over the intricate sleeve-work he sported. "She told me not to worry about her but…"
Dom glanced back at the pixie-sized DJ who was chatting with Slaughterhouse's events manager and gesturing animatedly toward the front of the house. He frowned. "That girl needs to get her driver's license. As flush as she is now, there's no reason for her not to buy a car or hire a damned driver and bodyguard."
Professional jealousy reared its ugly head when I considered how much cash Coby had hauled in with her outrageously popular dance remixes and that latest trap album. She had agreed to DJ tonight's party for free because we all ran in the same circle of Houston musicians, but our manager had let it slip that she was pocketing six figures a night for private parties. Six fucking figures, man! Doom metal made my blood run hot and my heart pound with excitement—but shit. I wouldn't say no to some lucrative deals like those.
"I will make sure she gets home safely." Dom gestured toward their brother. "Come on. Tres will want to see you two before you disappear."
Hadley glanced back and waved at me as her older brother led them away. The hard partying crowd tried to swallow me up, but I needed a few moments alone in the dressing room. I managed to weave my way out of the crowd and into the private hallway that two bouncers guarded. I slipped inside my dressing room and dropped into a chair.
Head in my hands, I exhaled a long and slow breath. I hated to be ungrateful for all the success we had achieved, but sometimes it was too much. As the face of our band, I was expected to constantly interact with fans. I couldn't storm off and be a dickhead like Tor or scare people off with a glare like Dom. I didn't get to fuck everything that walked on two legs like Leif. No, I had to be the mostly responsible one.
But right now? Tonight? I wanted to run the fuck away. I wanted to close myself off in my quiet downtown penthouse apartment, have a couple of drinks and get some much needed sleep.
But I couldn’t do that. No, the lead singer version of me was expected to ring in his third decade on this earth with pure debauchery. I was expected to tear up a hotel suite, fuck a string of hot, wild groupies and wake up naked in a swimming pool.
The only problem with that scenario? The years of partying hard and treating my body like shit were starting to catch up with me. After the laryngitis scare earlier in the year, I had lost some of my usual confidence and swagger.
And my ability to get hard.
Fuck, even admitting it to myself was humiliating! How the hell did that happen? How did I go from being a champion in the bedroom to relying on that bottle of blue pills in my bag? I was surrounded by hot, tight, juicy fan pussy but my cock wasn't in it.
Not tonight
, I thought with a clenched jaw. Tonight? Tonight I was going to reclaim my inner porn star. I was going to take that blue pill, find a strong, wild woman to take back to my hotel suite and fuck dirty and hot until sunrise.
My mind made up, I shoved out of my chair and strode to my bag on the vanity counter. I found the bottle of pills prescribed to an alias and shook one out onto my palm. I knocked it back with a drink from my water bottle and returned to my party.
By now, Coby—or DJ Cobalt as she was known when spinning—had the crowd pumped. Not surprisingly, she had created a special set for Slaughterhouse, mixing trap and electronic with goth and metal. How she managed to make it sound so damned good perplexed me. That girl had a gift, and I was in awe of it.
