Hard Rider

The last thing in the whole fuckin’ world that I wanted to do was talk about my past. But she was sitting there dripping sexy, flashing those doe-like green eyes at me, her blouse plunging to a deep v, showing off a good portion of what I was sure were perfect knockers. Every time she smiled at me, my cock swelled in my pants.

And here she was asking about my childhood. I just wanted to rip off her clothes and take her right there on the fuckin’ couch. Or, better yet, blow the show and take her to a nice five star hotel and give her a proper fancy fuckin’. A woman like Catherine deserved that.

I imagined what she’d look like, splayed out in my bed, naked as a jaybird, her long black hair spread out around her head, her eyes full of desire. She was already so goddamned beautiful, but I could only imagine how much sexier she’d be with my cock buried inside her.

It had been awhile since I met a girl who played hard to get, and I liked it.

She was going on and on about how she was just here to do her job, that she wasn’t judging me, that she had no pre-conceived notions about who I was. As if I cared if she judged me at all. I was used to that shit. Nobody in the whole fuckin’ world knew me for who I really was, not even my bloody brother. He was so sure he did, though. But I’d done an excellent job of not letting anyone in. I’d done that once, a long, long time ago, and it pained me to even think about that now. I’d done my best to make good on that mistake.

“So, if we could just start with you telling me what your parents were like?” Catherine asked.

“My parents? My parents were a couple of dysfunctional assholes that had no idea how to raise children.”

She blinked, and furiously starting making notes in her little notebook. I probably shouldn’t have, but I continued.

“My father was a postmaster. My mother was a house wife who could never do anything correct, according to my father. Hell, in his eyes, none of us could do right. He was angry at the world, and he took it out on us every night when he came home. Ian got the worst of it, being younger than me. I tried to stop it, but I was just a kid, what could I do?”

Her eyes filled with pity, and I looked away. That was why I kept my mouth shut about this shit. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.

“You had another brother, too?” she prodded. As it always did when Lennon was mentioned, I winced. Sometimes the pain of losing him was still so fresh, I wondered if it would ever fade.

“Yeah. Lennon. My father let me name him. I was obsessed with the Beatles, even then.”

“That’s nice,” Catherine said, her voice soft and quiet.

“Lennon died of cancer when he was five. They found a tumor in his brain when he was three, and he fought hard for the next two. My mother brought us all to Philadelphia to have him treated by the best doctors in the world. He was the toughest little kid I’ve ever known.”

“I’m so sorry, Liam,” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. She had to know this shit already. Why was she asking these questions?

“It was a long time ago,” I said, standing up quickly and walking over to the bar. The beer wasn’t hitting the spot anymore, so I poured myself a shot of whiskey and downed it, then poured another. “Sure you don’t want a drink, Catherine? It takes the edge off.”

“It’s a little early - I mean, no, thank you.”

“Sure you aren’t judging me?” I asked, teasingly.

She laughed softly and held up two fingers.

“Scouts honor!” she said.

I smiled and nodded. The whiskey hit me quickly and it felt fucking fantastic. That was more like it. It was exactly what I needed to keep the demons at the edge of my consciousness, instead of taunting me in my head.

The other thing I needed was right between Catherine’s crossed thighs. Her skirt had ridden up, revealing a tiny sliver of inner thigh that I longed to run my tongue along.

I sat down beside her on the couch, and as soon as our legs touched, she scooted over. I smirked.

She was going to make me work for it.

That’s okay, though.

I enjoyed the chase almost as much as the conquering. And she might not know it yet, but I was going to conquer every fuckin’ inch of her creamy flesh.

“Let’s talk about you,” I suggested. Her eyes widened and she immediately shook her head.

“Me? Oh, no, that’s not why we’re here.”

“I couldn’t give a shit about that. I mean, I respect you have a job to do and all that, luv, but seriously, it’s all just horseshit. We both know what the Rolling Stone wants. You’ll write a puff piece about my tortured past and the way my music lets me fuckin’ work through it, and all the teenaged girls will read it and tear up about things that happened a long time ago… Lets talk about you. I bet you’re more interesting than all of my boring drivel…”

“You’re the most famous rock star on the planet, Liam.”

“Rubbish. What is fame but a constant headache? It’s not real. It doesn’t last. Tell me, Catherine, are you single? Have a boyfriend? Husband? Girlfriend?” I asked with a wink.

“None of the above,” she replied.

“I find that hard to believe,” I replied, putting my hand on her knee. To my surprise, she let it rest there instead of puling away.

“I work a lot,” she said. “I’m sure you can relate to that.”

“Unfortunately, yes I can.”

“Let’s talk about that. What keeps you motivated, Liam? What keeps you writing songs and performing? Your career has lasted a lot longer than most musician’s already, and you’re still going strong, still pumping out the hits.”

“Ian writes most of the songs. I’ve written a few, but I mostly just sing and play and look fuckin’ pretty…”

“But what keeps you going?” she asked, ignoring the way I downplayed my accomplishments.

“I guess the fact that I don’t have a fuckin’ choice. Everyone depends on me getting up there on the stage, making it to the next show, paying everyone’s salaries with ticket sales. If there’s no show, nobody gets paid. Nobody buys albums anymore… If you’re going to survive in music today, you’ve got to keep moving. The tour never stops.”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I replied, taking another swig of whiskey. It’s warm embrace felt like home. I couldn’t wait for the show to be over so I could forget about everything. There was a time when I wouldn’t have waited, but I was trying to be on my best behavior and avoid Ian’s incessant nagging.

“Do you enjoy performing?”

“It’s a good escape. Sometimes I wish it lasted longer, because it’s the only time I feel in my element. Off stage, I’m bloody lost. I don’t really fit in the square world, you know? But on stage, I can just be me, and let the music take over.”

“That sounds….freeing.”

“That’s one way to put it. Now, let’s talk about you again.”

“Liam…”

“Where did you grow up, Catherine?” I asked. She re-crossed her legs, forcing my hand to fall away.

“New York,” she replied.

“And did you have a happy childhood?” I asked. Her eyes flashed over at me and I didn’t like what I saw there. I recognized the pain of the past all too well.

“Not really, but I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Now you know how I feel!” I exclaimed. I was rewarded with the sound of her laughter.

“I guess so,” she responded.

“You know what I say, Catherine?”

“What’s that?”

“I say fuck the past! In fact, let’s make a toast!” I held u

p my glass of whiskey, and she raised her bottle of water. “To the future!”

“To the future!” she echoed, laughing, touching her drink to mine. I downed the whiskey and poured another.

“Sure you don’t want some?” I asked.

“What the hell,” she replied. “You only live once, right?”

“That’s more like it!” I exclaimed. The amber liquid swirled around the crystal glass as I handed it to her. She took a tentative slip and then downed it in one shot, smiling warmly at me.

My cock twitched in my pants.

Chapter 7

CATHERINE

The crowd was huge and when Liam and Ian and the rest of the Electric Horses walked on stage, they erupted in a frenzied welcome. The boys strapped on their guitars, and without a word, launched into their hottest number one hit, Somewhere Else, bringing the crowd to their feet before the first verse was even finished. The song was all about wanting to be somewhere else, anywhere else but where you were. I’d felt that way since I’d arrived, but now, watching the boys perform, I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.

Liam’s comfort on stage was obvious. He became one with the guitar, stalking the microphone like a determined lover, the lyrics pouring out of him like a waterfall. His voice was strong, solid, and so fucking sexy that I felt my nipples harden like pebbles and stay that way throughout the entire show. It was impossible to look away from him. His presence was commanding, sultry, and his body moved with such unbridled sexuality, he almost looked as if he were making love to the audience. His eyes closed, his hips undulating, his mouth open, his hair flying, his always unbuttoned shirt billowing behind him and exposing that muscular tattooed chest, all at the same time. It was breathtaking.

My eyes raked over the adoring crowd, and I saw hundreds of women who surely had the same expression splashed across their faces as I did - pure, unadulterated desire.

Song after song, Liam poured his heart out. That kind of passion could never be faked. He was indeed a man in his element. I couldn’t help but smile. No wonder everyone was able to look past his asshole demeanor. No wonder the record label executives were going to such lengths to try to improve his image. Nobody in their right mind would want this train to stop.