🎤Will🎤
The feisty brunette before me fell to her knees and slowly ran the palm of her hand against my denim covered crotch, sexily so. It caught me off guard and as I began tensing every muscle in my body, she squeezed down on each thigh, igniting a fire from within.
"Relax, baby. I'll make you feel good," ensured the sweet voice, pushing past delectable, red lips.
The little temptress followed her statement up with a seductive flick of her hair and even had the audacity to shoot me an innocent smile. The action forced me to slyly rearrange the shocking bulge taking place in my pants and as I focused my attention on her luscious body, I decided against perusing things.
"Look, Natalie."
"It's Natasha," she corrected, lowering my fly.
Nice one, O'Connor!
"Right, Natasha. I appreciate- oh shit!" She aggressively tugged on my jeans and had the material falling to the floor in seconds. "I'm gonna need you to stop that now, darling," I bargained, close to losing my mind.
Matt Winters had a helluva lot to answer for. Sending an eager fan up to my hotel room was hardly the answer to my problems and best friend or not, he was out of line for thinking it would work. A measly night of passion spent with Natasha what's-her-face was not what I needed right now.
"Why stop when I can show you a good time," she argued, attempting access into my boxers.
I admit, her curvy figure and perky breasts were a damn temptation and leaving her body untouched felt like a crime if nothing else - but my heart just wasn't in it. Once upon a time, sex had been my go-to distraction. It often helped me destress after a long day on the road and as the true saying went, what happened on tour stayed on tour. But we weren't on tour right now and I had since killed a man, so forgive me for having a non-existent libido and the enthusiasm of a limp dick.
"Come here," I sighed, attentively.
Natasha rose to her slender legs and tried going in for a smooch, though did so to her utmost failure.
"What's wrong? Am I not sexy enough for you?" she asked, genuinely distraught.
Fucking groupies!
"Of course you are. There's just been a misunderstanding, that all," I explained, holding her at arm's length.
I knew her type. Screw a celebrity and run to the nearest newspaper to sell the story. Too late, honey. Been there, done that. Though I certainly wasn't going to deny her a little confidence boost. "I just respect you too much, sugar."
"You do?" she beamed, outrageously happy.
"Absolutely. Look at you. Legs so smooth I could lick chocolate off of them and don't even get me started on that tight arse of yours."
She giggled as I gave her perfect peaches a little squeeze.
"But I travel a lot and I won't be able to offer you the things you deserve. You need a man by your side, not a part-time boyfriend," I finalised, spouting some serious bullshit.
"Oh, Will. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," she gushed, throwing her perfectly made-up face into my neck. "You're not as horrible as they say you are."
Having a good reputation is overrated anyway!
"I know, babe."
She smelled like cheap perfume and the scent instantly extinguished my boner.
"Why don't you go freshen up in the bathroom and I'll get reception to call you a taxi?" I suggested, gently caressing her cheek in a way I knew all girls loved.
"Okay," she squeaked, completely infatuated.
It took her a minute to dethatch herself from me and the moment the bathroom door closed behind her, I called Matt.
"You cock-sucker!" I sneered, greeting my oldest pal with too kind a profanities.
"You got my present then?" he chuckled, no doubt on his fifth or sixth whiskey by now.
The man was an interfering bastard to no end but boy could he knock back the liquor.
"Yes, she's currently in my bathroom thinking I'm God's gift to women after I spewed her some shit about how she's too good for a one night stand," I informed, lowering my tone.
"Wait, you didn't bang? Fuck! Jax, I owe you fifty, man."
"You're betting on whether or not I get my dick wet?" I accused, unsure as to why I was surprised.
Matt lived and breathed sex.
"Possibly. What's the issue? Tasha is a real gem and is more than up for it."
"I'm sure she is," I replied, hearing the chain flush. "But I'm not!"
Matt remained silent for a while, treading carefully.
"Will, this ain't healthy. You need to get your old life back."
"Who says I do?" I spat, sick and tired of hearing the get-back-on-the-old-horse speech.
"I do. Your god damn best friend, that's who. You've had your moping around stage and I'm calling an end to it. We go on tour in less than three months and our fans want to attend a lively show, not a fucking wake."
He paused.
"You're not the only one in this band, Will. So pull it together and get a grip," he finalised, sounding stern.
"You're a dick. Don't send girls to my room again," I retaliated.
"I'll stop sending girls when you stop feeling sorry for yourself," he stated, instantaneously. "You were found not guilty, O'Connor. That means you're free to live out the rest of your life. So fucking live!"
Upon concluding his grand speech, Natasha exited the bathroom, seeming chirpier than she had been before. Her blouse dramatically lost a button or two during her three minute refresh and although I couldn't be sure, I suspected her skirt had gotten shorter too.
"You still there?"
I heard Matt's muffled voice through the speaker and decided to cut him off. He had a point. A month had gone by since the trial and I was floating through life like a fucking corpse. I barely laughed, barely ate and my sleeping patterns were up in smoke. Maybe a little meaningless sex wouldn't be so bad? It certainly couldn't do any harm.
"So?" asked Natasha, pouting those full lips of hers.
A hopeful glint appeared in her eyes.
"So..."
"Did you call me a taxi?"
Her question was cut short as a harsh knock sounded at the door, demanding to be answered. Simply thinking it was our manager, Johnny, doing his usual midnight checks, I opened it promptly and was met with a gorgeous blonde; wide-eyed and raring to go.
"Hi, your friend told me you could use some company tonight," she explained, thrusting her ample chest into my line of sight.
Her innocent hug turned into a sexy rub of sorts and whilst bringing her plump lips up to my ear, she stroked my arm and whispered the four famous words every man dreamt of hearing.
"I don't mind sharing."
Mathew Fucking Winters; you win!
####
"Good night?" asked Jax the next morning, certainly having something to smile about.
His menacing 6 foot 4 inches towered over me, but with sandy blonde hair and baby blue eyes, he was about as likely to intimidate me as our make-up artist, Suzy, was. His subtle Scottish accent also gave off friendly vibes and with his Mum's name proudly tattooed down his right forearm, you really couldn't not love the guy.
"Alright, yourself?" I mindlessly replied, loading up on the complimentary coffee.
Today, we were shooting the first music video out of the third album and with hair and makeup already done, the only thing left keeping us waiting was lighting. The crew worked non-stop to set up the LEDs and vibrant strobes; each one needing careful attention before we could continue.
"Malone saw two women leave your room this morning," Jax continued, smirk in tow. "So either you're being modest or you slept through the entire thing."
I had to laugh.
"No comment," I offered, answering to Johnny when my name was called.
"O'Connor, you good?" he asked, no doubt seeing straight through the fruitless attempt at covering up my shit excuse of a face.
I was the leading man of Song 41 and looked about as handsome as Brad Pitt's arsehole. Lack of sleep and general nutrition was certainly having its effects.
"All good. Just wanna get started now," I replied, faking interest.
What I really wanted was to be finished so I could follow through with this evening's plan to pay Simon Montgomery's grave a visit.
"They're finishing up now. Had your Mother on the phone again this morning,"
"What about this time?"
"Just generally concerned about your well-being," he replied, speaking in soft tones. "I told her you were eating again."
"So, you lied?" I quirked, silently mocking the man.
"No, not at all. I got you breakfast. Eat," he demanded, thrusting a bacon sandwich my way.
"Where's my bacon butty, Johnny?" asked Kyle, emerging from hair and makeup looking devilishly masculine.
"Up my arse! That's where" replied Johnny, accepting an incoming call.
Kyle looked genuinely pissed off at his lack of morning food and even had the courageousness to try and steal mine.
"You gonna eat that?" he questioned, throwing some serious looks at my breakfast.
His shoulder length, jet black hair was neatly hanging by his cheeks and with a slight wave to it, made him appear fierce in his own vampire-rock star type way. It was a unique style which women went nuts for and often guaranteed him companionship for the night. Put simply, he was sexy and he fucking knew it.
"I suppose so," I sighed, taking a bite.
The greasy meat did wonders for my taste buds, yet made my stomach churn at the same time. I hated that simple things in life no longer satisfied me. Food, sex, socialising. The only constant in my life was music and I was grateful I had at least that. Some nights, I'd lock myself away for hours on end and mess around on my old guitar for no particular reason. I rarely got to play these days and missed the way the old stings felt against my callous fingers. Some of my best writing had come from those sessions but I was by no means ready to share just yet. The emotions were all too raw and it wouldn't feel right for Song 41 to drop a killer track months after their lead singer killed someone in a car accident. Simon's family didn't deserve that.
I'd never forget the way his daughter, Rosie, looked at me the day the Jury was in. Beautiful, emerald-green eyes so pure and angelic; like she didn't even blame me. But how could she not? I single-handedly ruined her entire life and hated myself daily for having done so. I had no idea how I'd ever apologise and just hoped that wherever she was and whatever she was doing, she'd know how truly fucked up I was over it. Because I may have been found not-guilty by law but on the inside, I was guilty as sin.
And it was slowly killing me.
####
Andddddd, meet Will.
My troubled hero.