Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) Page 12

  I wonder if Lori likes to suck Tony’s dick more than she liked to suck mine.

  I push Madison’s head further down. “Take it all, baby,” I command.

  She expertly sucks me off until I’m grunting like a caveman. I marvel that not only does she take it all, she swallows, too. It was so sexy and so dirty and so naughty–it was nothing like the Old Vanni who used to inhabit this room.

  That guy’s officially gone. He went up in smoke the minute he saw his girlfriend fucking his best friend.

  That means Good Boy Vanni is gone. Corporate Lackey Vanni is gone. Now there’s only this guy, who is getting his dick sucked by an actual groupie after singing to her during a live gig.

  This was never really a part of my dream, but I’ll take it.

  I pull her up across my lap, discarding her clothes like an afterthought. She arches her back to force her firm tits into my hand and towards my mouth. I oblige her, making her crazy as she gyrates against me. “You were so sexy tonight when you sang,” she tells me as she nibbles at my ear. “It made me so wet for you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask as my hand slithers between her legs to see if she’s telling the truth.

  “Yeah,” she breathes as I torment her throbbing clit between two fingers. “I knew I wanted to fuck you the minute you stepped out on that stage.”

  I drive her crazy with my fingers as I nuzzle her sweet-smelling neck. She whispers such dirty things in my ear that it doesn’t take very long for me to grow hard again. It’s like a scene straight from a porn movie. No muss, no fuss. I wanted, I took. And she’s thrashing on top of me, screaming for me to fuck her. I fish a condom from my old nightstand. I slide it on before I shove myself up inside her and watch her face as she rides me.

  Only I don’t see her face. I see Lori’s face; the same face that she wore when she had Tony’s dick stuffed up her cheating twat. I grimace as I hold Madison in place, bucking up inside of her to thrust away every last memory.

  She never knows how she’s being used. She doesn’t even care. She climaxes hard all over me, screaming out my name. Honestly, it’s never sounded so sweet. It’s like she is introducing me to someone I’ve never met.

  “That’s right, baby,” I tell her. “Say it!”

  “Vanni,” she screams again before she collapses against my shoulder.

  I don’t even think about Lori as I come. I simply pass out on that futon in a whiskey-soaked daze, clutching a naked stranger against me.

  CHAPTER NINE:

  I wake up the next day with a throbbing headache and a sore dick. We haven’t moved from the futon, and her long limbs are wrapped around me, holding me in place. Memories of the night before fire to life in my brain. I disengage myself gently, which causes her to stir. Her blue eyes peel apart and then she smiles as she runs her hand along my body. “Morning,” she murmurs.

  All I want to do is get rid of her. I know it’s a shitty thought, especially after the night I gave her. But I know that’s all I can give her. I’m still completely wrecked over what Lori has done, and I know this by the way my heart sinks when I wake to find a strange woman in my bed instead of my girlfriend.

  I’m not sure I’ll ever recover. How can I trust anyone again? All these months she’d been pretending to be the perfect girlfriend, being there for me after Susan died, helping me rearrange my life into something that looked like the life she wanted, my own feelings in the matter be damned. Meanwhile she’s been screwing Tony on the side, keeping an ace in her pocket in case I can’t pull it together. And it becomes clear to me now that she never thought I could.

  It’s all been a big game. And I hate games.

  Yet now I’m a player too, and this beautiful, naked girl beside me is a stark reminder of that.

  Her tiny hand finds my swollen cock. I grimace as I attempt to pull away. “Didn’t you get enough last night, sweetheart?” I use a term of endearment. I have to. I don’t remember her name.

  “Nuh uh,” she says with a grin as she kisses her way up my chest, over my shoulder, along my neck.

  Somehow she kisses away each regret, at least for Little Vanni, who stands tall and proud in her hand, ready for more action. Still, I push her hand away. “Sorry, babe. I have a full schedule today.” She pouts, so I kiss her protruding bottom lip gently. “But it was fun. I’ll never forget it.”

  It’s a promise I know I can keep. Thanks to Lori ripping out my heart and stomping all over my ego, I know memories of my first official gig couldn’t be sandblasted off of my brain.

  I slide back into my jeans. I know my hard-on tempts her. Frankly it tempts me too. But I wasn’t lying. I do have a lot of things to do today, the most important of which is finding out if my final “audition” for Yael sealed the deal.

  It takes some work but I finally convince her to leave. I give her money for the cab and an orgasm for the road, rubbing her off as I hold her pinned against the door, making her scream again. I figure it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. I had just used her like a dish rag, after all. This new Vanni definitely takes what he wants, but I figure he doesn’t have to be a complete dick about it.

  After I watch her cab pull away, I reach for my phone. Yael answers on the second ring. “Hey, man. What happened to you last night?”

  “Met up with an old friend,” I grumble before I change the subject. “So what’s the word?”

  “I have to say it. The crowd loved you. I got booked for three other gigs. I really think we’ve got something here. The job is yours if you want it.”

  Despite everything else, my spirit swells with joy. I know in an instant this is what I’ve been waiting for. It’s worth everything, even losing Lori–one of my last real connections to the old Vanni.

  I head back to SoHo, where we all brainstorm what kind of new sets to perform. Bobby and I lean towards sex-driven material. Yael relents and Felix just smokes a joint as he lets us hash out the details. Felix is so easy-going that he doesn’t give a shit what he plays, just that he plays.

  I don’t leave that loft again till close to midnight, and I know right where I want to go.

  The party is still in full swing as I arrive at Fritz’s. Drunk patrons screech through the karaoke playlist, while Pam and Cheryl navigate the jam-packed bar. It wasn’t dancing, but I suspect the success she’d made of Fritz’s in the short time she’s been managing it makes Pam a happy, happy girl. She has a wide smile for everyone she sees.

  I realize then that I love those full lips. My cock jumps just thinking about it.

  The Old Vanni accepted it when she pushed me away. What will this new Vanni do? I hold up my hand till she sees it. She nods with a smile. She knows just what I want. I then disappear into one of the VIP booths which has clearly been reserved with a placard on the table.

  I don’t care. I plop down on the cushioned seat anyway.

  Pam personally brings me my beer. I give her a sly smirk as she shakes her head. “I have a party coming in any minute for this table,” she says as she places the beer in front of me.

  “I won’t be here long,” I tell her as I grab her hand. “Let’s dance.” I don’t even wait for her to say yes. I pull her towards the dance floor.

  “Vanni, I’m working,” she protests.

  “You’re on a break,” I tell her as I pull her into my arms. How she fills them immediately turns me on. I don’t care about the tempo of the song playing. I crush her curves to me anyway. “Guess what?”

  She gives me a suspicious side-eye glare. “What?”

  I lean down to whisper in her ear. “You are looking at the new lead singer of The Yael Satterlee Experiment, featuring me.”

  Her eyes pop open wide. “Oh, Vanni!” she cries as she wraps her arms around me and hugs me. “Didn’t I tell you something big was about to happen?”

  I squeeze her tight. She feels like heaven in my arms. It’s like comfort food for the soul. “You did. You’re the only one who did.”

  “I don’t see how anyone can hear you sing
and think otherwise,” she says.

  “Lori thought otherwise.” My tone sharpens as I say, “She wanted that button-down corporate raider so much she started to see my best friend on the sly. Former best friend,” I amend.

  “Oh, Vanni.”

  Her hand feels like silk against my forearm. I hated the pity in her eyes but relished the warmth of her touch. “Yeah, found ‘em fucking in his car in the parking lot of where she works, where I just so happened to be performing. I thought I was going to show her. Little did I know she had something to show me.”

  “How long has it been going on?”

  “Months,” I say as my eyes meet hers. I trust her enough to show her that pain.

  She reaches up to hug me again. “Fuck her,” she says. “You’re too good for her anyway.”

  I hold her tight. “I’d rather fuck you,” I say against her ear. She tries to pull away but I hold her fast. “The song isn’t over.”

  She relents, but remains stiff in my arms. I know she can feel the promise of my hard body. She struggles to keep control of herself. It only makes me hotter for her.

  “Come home with me,” I murmur into her ear. “I’ll buy us a bottle of champagne. Let’s celebrate dreams coming true.”

  She chuckles softly. “I’m no Rockette.”

  “I’d pay to see you dance. My private dancer,” I add with a smirk, before I launch into the Tina Turner classic.

  “You’re a sweet talker, Giovanni Carnevale, but I ain’t buying it. Now please. I have to get back to the bar.”

  “Fine. Then meet me after the bar closes.”

  “Vanni,” she trails off.

  “Why not? One night, toasting a friend’s success. What’s wrong with that?”

  “I already have plans.”

  From the way she looks away from me, I know she means that she’s got plans with that other man. Why does that only make me want her more? Unlike Lori, who clearly had chosen Tony over me, I know that Pam wants me most. I can feel it in the way she fights the attraction between us. She didn’t choose someone else to trade up from me. She is with that man because she thinks she can’t have me. But she can have me. I hold her close so she can feel me harden against her to show her that.

  She trembles in my arms. I want to kiss her, right there in the middle of that tiny dance floor. I want to crush my mouth on hers, forcing her lips apart with my tongue and make her melt against me, forgetting all about whatshisname. My cock jumps. Her wide eyes dart to mine, but all I can do is stare at that mouth and think of what it would taste like, and what it would look like wrapped around my dick. I bend my head closer until I hover just a breath above her, torturing her with the sweet anticipation of a kiss, rather than the kiss itself.

  She wants time? I’ll give it to her. But I’m damned sure going to show her what she’s missing.

  “Rain check, then,” I say softly. Without another word I release her. I fish money out of my pocket for the beer I won’t even drink, and then head for home.

  Alone.

  I don’t have much time to hang out at Fritz’s the weeks that follow. We have another gig, so we are hard at work trying to polish our stage show. Bobby suggests that we make the set list sexier, with naughty songs to get all the girls hot. Yael rolls his eyes. I know he wants to keep our musical integrity the focus of the band, hence the name. Bobby is a tried and true salesman, who just wants us to get more gigs. Plus he’s a total dog, who is out to bone as many hot young chicks as possible like any hot-blooded American male in his early twenties. “Now that we have this sexy piece of man meat,” he’d tease, referring to me, “we might as well take advantage of it.”

  We add “Feel Like Making Love” and “Fat Bottomed Girls” to the set list, with only two weeks to learn and perfect them by our next show. I suggest “Loving, Touching, Squeezing.” Unfortunately it has personal meaning to me now, but also because it challenges me to learn the piano part, since I’m the only one besides Yael who can play.

  And I like that challenge almost as much as I like the challenge of matching Steve Perry’s killer vocals.

  We’re at Yael’s loft more often than not, and I’m usually with Bobby whenever we have any free time at all.

  He decides I need a fashion overhaul. We find a shop in the Village that sells vintage clothes, where he flirts shamelessly with the cute salesgirl who assists us. “How old are you?” he asks as his eyes make that familiar trail over her figure.

  “Nineteen,” she answers. Her eyes dart away from his, shy and embarrassed.

  Bobby steps closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they face me. “How would you dress him to make him sexy?”

  A flush rises in her cheeks as she looks me over. “He’s already sexy.”

  Bobby flashes a smile. “Good answer. But seriously, what could he wear that would make those panties of yours melt right off?”

  “Come on, man,” I say. My aunt Susan would have beat me with a yardstick if I were shamelessly preying on someone that young.

  But the salesgirl seems to like it. “I’ve got some stuff,” she says.

  “You’re going to get arrested, Bobby,” I tell him as soon as she’s out of earshot. He just shakes his head as he watches her ass while she walks away.

  “She’s all woman from where I’m standing.” He turns back to me. “The young ones are a lot of fun. What they lack in experience they make up for with enthusiasm.” He punctuates his sentence with an obscene wiggle of his tongue.

  I think about the groupie I had taken home from the first gig, who did, indeed, have a shitload of enthusiasm. I kept expecting her to show up on my doorstep, begging another night of uninhibited sex. So far, she had disappeared into the night, filing me away as a nice memory and nothing more.

  I don’t know how I feel about that yet. On one hand, I’m certainly not looking for anything, so it is revelatory to find a girl who is all about the sexual gratification of a conquest, same as me. On the other hand, that big ol bed gets lonely without another person to share it with. There are nights I’d reach for Lori out of impulse, disappointed to find she is no longer there.

  Then the heartache would bubble up all over again.

  I haven’t talked to Lori or to Tony since that night. There is no point. They made their choices. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve made mine too. Despite how lonely it gets in that old brownstone, I’d rather have this life now rather than the life I had tried to live for the both of them. I haven’t missed McKinley, Donnelly and Roth or Stu one iota since the day I quit. I’d rather spend sixteen hours rehearsing with the band than eight hours racing around like a nitwit under banks of harsh florescent lighting.

  The only thing I do miss is a regular paycheck. We don’t get paid by the hour, we get paid by the gig. This means I’m dipping more and more into the tiny, but precious, nest egg that Aunt Susan left me.

  Thanks to the long hours I’m keeping with the band, I have to let the job at Cynzia’s go as well. No more hairnets, but no more tips, either.

  I’m hesitant to buy much of anything for my new wardrobe, but I know that each gig is vital to booking the next. When the salesgirl returns with a selection of clothes, I pick out the ones that will make me the most appealing to the crowd. “You remind me of Jim Morrison,” she says as she holds up a shirt button-down shirt. “You should definitely wear this opened.”

  “How do you know who Jim Morrison is, baby girl?” Bobby asks her with a grin.

  “I love all kinds of music,” she says as she grabs some ripped jeans and a black cotton shirt.

  “You should come see us play. I can get you on the list.”

  She offers yet another shy smile. “Sure. Can I bring some friends?”

  He leans forward. “Do they look like you?”

  “Some,” she says. “Some are hotter.”

  He grins at me. “Then by all means. The least we can do for your help turning this guy into a rock star.”

  She’s sweet as she turn
s to me. “He was already a rock star.” She looks away quickly.

  Bobby nudges my arm with his. He knows this juicy little berry is ripe for the picking.

  We spend about an hour in that shop, where she dresses me pretty much head to toe. She adds a host of accessories to my base wardrobe of pants and a shirt. She finds cool belts, either in snakeskin or made of metal, she secures studded cuffs on my wrists and silver rings for several fingers. “Do you wear polish?” she asks.

  “I never have,” I answer.

  She disappears behind the counter to withdraw a bottle of black nail polish. “Put it on a few days before the gig, so they’re kind of rough and chipped by the time you perform. It’ll make you look edgier.”

  “She’s right,” Bobby says. “I wear it when I play.”

  In the end, I purchase all the things she’s selected for me. “I hope you get paid by commission,” I tease.

  She laughs. “No, but that’s okay. It’ll be worth it when I see you play.”

  Her eyes are hopeful as she stares up at me. God, she’s sexy as hell. Nineteen, though. That’s young, even for me.

  Bobby doesn’t seem to care. He flirts all the way till the moment we leave, and the minute we’re out the door, he’s fantasizing about the conquest he predicts will happen about an hour after the show. “We should get a hotel room in the city,” he says. “VIPs only.”

  Now that I’ve changed into my new wardrobe, we decide to scope out the venue, to see how the crowd responds to different acts. The minute we get there, Bobby befriends the bouncers and bartenders. The venue is bigger than Seedlings, so it draws a bigger crowd. They’re young and fairly hip, with a definite edge. The band onstage is alt-rock, which is a big hit.

  “Hey, sugar,” a voice says near my ear. I turn to the person speaking. It’s an older woman in her 40s, with dark brown hair and bright brown eyes the color of cognac. “Care to dance?”

  I glance her over. She’s tall, about 5’8, which is still fairly short in comparison to my height. She wears a leopard print dress, cinched at the waist, and black platform pumps. I’m pretty sure the gold she wears around her neck, wrists and fingers is pure, and that her diamonds are real. I smell the money all over her. “Sure,” I say, before I take her hand and lead her to the dance floor. She’s in my arms before I can turn around.