Page 11 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

Like clockwork the images come; flashes of bare tits and blonde hair, of a woman’s thighs in my hands while she rides me.

My head spins, and my cock softens.

The blonde peers up at me. Tries harder.

Fuck. These. Flashbacks. For the briefest of seconds, I am frozen. I can’t breathe. I can’t stand the touch of the woman between my legs. I am fucking broken.

Then the second is gone. I take a deep inhale from the joint. I am Riot fucking Maddox. I’m a rockstar. This is bullshit.

Gritting my teeth, I grab a fistful of her hair and start fucking her mouth. Blonde women are an aversion I have no idea how to break. But tonight... I thought maybe I was messed up enough that it wouldn’t matter.

“Ready for you, Riot.” The brunette calls.

Pulling the blonde from my cock, I swagger naked to the table where I exchange the joint for the rolled up note the woman offers. I smile at my reflection and the white lines that cross it as I bend down and put the end of the note to one row. Inhaling the powder, I anticipate the rush.

It never disappoints.

Rockstar fame. Fortune. Drugs. And pussy. My life is a fucking dream. A new city almost every night. A new groupie in my bed. Or two. Sometimes three. So what if some random image from years ago plagues me from time to time? There are worse things that could haunt me.

Like candy bracelets. And the tick-tik, tick-tik, tick-tik of skateboard wheels. Cherry flavored lip balm. Arguments that ended in a tangle of limbs, that is until they ultimately ended in jealousy and betrayal.

The blonde image is from some dream I had. The others from a girl that walked away... two years ago. To the day. Neither of them matter.

I just need to fuck it out of my system.

The brunette presses her naked body to mine and winds an arm around my neck from the front. Her hand wraps around my dick. “You want me to…?”

I push her to her knees. “Get me the fuck off.”

She stretches her lips around my girth and picks up where the blonde left off. Hollowing her cheeks, she bobs up and down on my cock.

This time the images are absent. Fuck, yes. I rock on my feet; my neck arched as my balls tighten and my cum spurts down her throat. Hot ropes of it that she gulps up like a pro.

She peels off my cock and swipes a hand over her lips. Climbing to her feet she goes over to the bed where she dominates the blonde and starts kissing her.

That I can get on board with. Watching the two of them enjoy each other gets me hard all over again.

A commotion in the suite snags my attention. Voices; Bronx and a groupie. He’s asking her if she needs some pain killers. Something scrapes on the floor. She shrieks. “Don’t drop me.”

“Chill. You can trust me.”

“I know but—”

“Riot,” one of the women on my bed calls. “Come join us.”

“Yes, come join us.” The blonde pouts.

Something about Bronx’s groupie rubs me the wrong way. I scratch at the back of my neck as I stride to the bed, my cock swinging between my thighs. Whatever, I’ve probably had her at some point. They go for the singer first. If Bronx wants my sloppy seconds, he’s welcome to them.

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Now, that’s interesting.

“Whoa,” Golden’s voice joins them. “Am I dreaming?”

“Unfortunately, you’re not,” her dry response is a kick in the balls.

Hand stilling at the base of my skull, my chest does something that rocks me to my core. An emotion I don’t have a name for anymore... like a heart attack. What the fuck is my ex best friend, my ex... everything doing here?