Toxic addiction 1, p.1
Toxic (Addiction #1), p.1Meghan Quinn
Book one of the Addiction Series
Published by Meghan Quinn
Cover by Meghan Quinn
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. authormeghanquinn.com
“Ten minutes and you’re on.” Pete knocked on Rook’s door.
Rook shook his head at the cue from his band manager. Pete had, by, far the worst timing Rook had ever seen, always interrupting his important meetings. If Rook knew the slut between his legs at the moment was going to give the worst blow job he had ever experienced, he would have never asked her to join him in his dressing room. If it wasn’t for her massively fake tits bobbing up and down, he would have a serious case of limp dick.
She looked up at him while her mouth was wrapped around his barely impressive erection and smiled. She was so pleased with herself. Little did she know a confused lesbian could probably give better head than she could.
If he wasn’t so high, he might have kicked her out by now, but he was too chilled out to care that much. So instead, he let her continue to suck him while he stared at her tits.
He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels that was sitting next to him, took a long swig and then winked at…well, he didn’t know her name, but that didn’t matter. He would sign whatever she wanted when she finally finished him off and then send her on her way. After the piss-poor suction job she was doing, he would bet two dicks and a nut sack that he would never see her sloppy tits again.
What was she doing down there? It felt like she was just drooling all over him rather than licking and sucking. She was moving her head a lot, but was not stimulating him enough. Was he really so high that he had absolutely no feeling in his cock?
Her hand slid from his balls to his shaft as she started to pump him up and down. She was barely gripping him; it was as if she was trying to lightly clean a cucumber rather than milk him for all he was worth.
“Five minutes Rook…”
He needed to get this over with and get himself clean. He took another swig from his beloved friend Jack and then swatted her hand away from his dick. Utter shock crossed her face, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his hand around his erection and started doing the dirty work himself.
She leaned in and gave him a wicked smile. “You don’t want me to do that for you?”
Fuck no! But he didn’t say that.
“I want you to stand in front of me and play with your tits.”
She smiled at him, stood up, and started fondling herself. She threw her head back and moaned when she pinched her nipples. Even though Rook knew she was putting on a show for him, he still got a bit of a kick out of her performance and felt himself start to grow larger in his hand. Finally!
“That’s perfect. Keep touching yourself.”
She squeezed her tits together and pouted at him. “But I want to touch you, not myself.”
“You had your chance, now let me suck on one of your tits. Bring them to my mouth.”
She stumbled for a second and said, “Did you not like me touching you?”
Fuck, he needed to get this over with.
“You were awesome, the best ever. My dick is so hard for you,” he lied in a monotone voice, not trying to hide his annoyance. “But I like to watch more.”
That made her smile and, before he knew it, one of her massively large breasts was stuck in his mouth. That was exactly what the erection Gods called for. He fondled the other one with his spare hand and that was all he needed. He threw his head back and groaned as he released himself all over the girl with the weak suck.
He pumped himself dry and when he finally stopped throbbing, he opened his eyes and saw the girl start to take off the rest of her clothes.
“Uh, what are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s my turn.”
Rook stuffed his dick back in his pants and zipped them up, causing her to pout even more. God, he hated pouters. Why women thought it was attractive to pout, he would never know. All it did was irritate the shit out of him and make him want to act out in a violent rage.
What did the slut really expect anyway? For him to go down on her? Yeah, fat chance in hell.
Rook looked around with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, this is awkward. You need to leave.”
“You heard me. Time to go sweetheart. I have a show, rain check though.” He didn’t mean it, but if it meant she would leave, then he would say whatever it took.
He picked up her clothes for her and shoved them in her direction. She quickly threw them on as he opened the door to his dressing room. Pete was just about to knock on his door when Rook escorted the busty blonde out his door. Pete gave Rook a disapproving look, but Rook just shrugged his shoulders and started walking toward the stage.
Rook turned around and looked at his band manager, who didn’t look all too happy. Pete sniffed Rook and said, “Have you been drinking before the show again?” Pete then looked into Rook’s eyes. “Fuck, are you high?”
Rook just shrugged his shoulders once again, not wanting to answer his pest of a band manager.
“Damn it, Rook. I told you we can’t send you out there drunk and high. How many times are we going to go through this?”
Rook held up his hand. “I’m going to stop you right there before that little vein in your head pops.” Rook touched the ever-beating vein and cringed at the squishy feeling that came from it. “Everyone knows I’m phenomenal on stage whether I’m drunk, high or both. So get off my back and show me where I need to be.”
“You know you have three other guys counting on you.”
Rook got in Pete’s face. “Like I don’t fucking know that? I know what I’m doing Pete, so leave me the fuck alone.”
“Do you know who that was?” Pete asked, nodding toward the blonde with horrible dick fondling skills.
Rook looked down the hall and then back at Pete. “No fucking clue and don’t fucking care.”
“Dude, you ready?” Cruz, the other guitarist in the band asked as he came striding toward Pete and Rook in the hallway. “Did you take the edge off?” Cruz asked while wiggling his eyebrows.
Rook smiled at his friend. There were four of them in their band and Cruz was his closest friend. Grey and Landon, the other two members of the band were brothers and were more the goody-two-shoes members of the band. Grey was the sensitive pretty boy, Landon was the goof of the group, Cruz was the bad ass and Rook…well he could give two shits what anyone thought about him and was probably the most disturbed, but most talented out of the four. If it wasn’t for him, there would be no band.
Rook was about to answer Cruz when he was pushed from behind and thrown up against the cinderblock wall of the arena they were playing at. Before he knew it, he was turned around and was introduced to Cole Mayer’s fist, lead singer of Mayer’s Men.
Pain radiated through Rook’s face which was followed by a blow to his gut, making him cripple over.
“What the fuck?!” Rook heard Cruz shout. “Get the hell off of him!”
“You’re a dick, you know that?” Cole shouted while being held back by Cruz.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rook said, while wiping his mouth. Yup, that was going to be a fat lip.
“You think you can just stick your cock anywhere you want and get away with it? Bridget is mine.”
“Bridget?” Rook asked. Who the hell was Bridget?
“Bridget belongs to the throat you just shoved your dick down.”
Oh, sloppy tits, Rook thought. Cole was going out with her? That confused the hell out of Rook. She was the one who came on to him. Looks like Cole has a hard time satisfying his women…even the slutty ones.
Rook couldn’t help it, but a smirk spread across his face.
“Well, you can keep her. She couldn’t lick a piece off lint off a dick if she wanted to. She gives horrible head, man. Good luck with that.”
Rook patted Cole on the shoulder, side stepped Cole’s attack and walked down the hallway as he called after his boys. Pete could take care of Cole because Rook had better things to do.
He met up with his boys backstage; they grabbed their gear and waited for the cue to walk out on stage.
Cruz was adjusting his guitar strap when he turned to Rook and said, “Seriously, can you keep your dick to random girls and not the girlfriends of the guys we’re touring with? That’s just uncomfortable for everyone, man.”
“Jesus,” Grey muttered to himself. He was the guy with the conscience in the group, the morality police, their very own Jiminy Cricket. “Rook, that looks so bad.”
“Shut it, Grey. How the fuck was I supposed to know she belonged to Cole?”
“Maybe if you took two seconds to put down the bottle and notice the people around you, you might see that a lot of the guys have girls on tour with them,” Grey said.
“A bunch of pussy-whipped dickheads, if you ask me.” Rook leaned past Grey and grabbed a beer that was just waiting for his lips to attack it. He popped the cap and downed the liquid contents in seconds. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Grey shook his head in disapproval as the band was finally called out. Cheers erupted from the dark and lights beamed, telling them it was time to jump on stage.
Rook lived for this moment. The moment when the lights shined down on him, girls screeched to decibels dogs couldn’t even hear, and the first strum of Cruz’s guitar kicked off their set. He might be high off of who knows what and he might be shit faced drunk with a semi-satisfied libido, but the moment he took center stage and started singing the words he wrote, nothing seemed to matter. Not his shitty life, his asshole, mooch of a father, or the mere fact that his mom would rather whore herself out to his friends than take care him. No, the stage was his time, his moment, and his one and only love.
“We’re Shattered Souls and we’re fucking excited to be here!” Rook shouted into the mic, as the crowd screamed out their love and gratitude for the band.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Willow bitched, as she packed up her bass guitar, rolled up cords, and carted their amps into the van they were able to bum off of a used car salesman who took flashes of Willow’s boobs as a down payment.
“Willow, we have to pay our dues,” Maisy said, as she helped Willow pack up the van.
Willow and Maisy grew up together with their other bandmate, Kinkaid. They all grew up in the foster care system and were truly the only family each other had. When they turned eighteen, they rented a one bedroom apartment together, shared a bed and couch and worked on their music together when they weren’t working odd jobs to stay afloat. They had been through hell together and playing in shit-tastic bars was just another road block they had to overcome to finally be able to live their dream.
Twisted Perfection, their band of three, was well known in the small bars in Los Angeles. Their biggest crowd was a hefty number of about fifty patrons and their usual crowd was about twenty, but those twenty loyal fans listened to their unique sound of hipster melodies and alternative rock. Maisy knew they had the potential to make it big; they just needed a break…a big break.
“I’m so sick of paying our dues,” Willow continued to complain. “How many times am I going to have to flash the ladies before we actually get something big to happen for us?” Willow asked, while propping her boobs up with her hands.
Maisy rolled her eyes at her friend. Willow was the epitome of the female form. Big boobs, big ass, and small waist. She had deep blue eyes and blonde hair with hot pink streaks that framed her face. Maisy had always been jealous of Willow’s curves, but also grateful at the same time because, even though it wasn’t the proper way to do business, Willow’s boobs got them some nicer gigs.
Maisy, on the other hand, provided the music for the group. She had boobs, but they weren’t as easily found as Willow’s and whereas Willow had an ass that could be spotted from the moon, Maisy had a little bubble butt. She wasn’t complaining about her body; she was pleased when she looked in the mirror, but being up on stage almost every night with the rock star version of Jessica Rabbit was hard to swallow.
“Well I’m grateful for your boobs,” Maisy said with a smirk.
“We talking about boobs? My favorite topic,” Kinkaid said, as he stuffed the last of their cords in the van.
He was their older brother, by soul. He would do anything to keep his two girls safe and Maisy was incredibly grateful for Kinkaid because she had never had anyone ever look out for her until he came into her life. She had been abandoned all her life from when her mom died until that fateful day that Kinkaid, Willow and Maisy met at the Southside Shelter for Kids.
“You’re such a horn dog, Kaid,” Willow said, as she grabbed the keys from Kaid’s grasp.
“Oh, hell no. You’re not driving. The last time you drove, we almost ended up parked through the drive through window of Del Taco.” Kaid quickly snatched the keys from Willow before she could put their lives in danger once again with her horrible driving skills.
“You’re blowing that night way out of proportion. I would like to state for the record that I was just trying to get close enough to the window to show some tit and score some free grub. Sorry for trying to save us some money.”
“You know you don’t always have to whore yourself out,” Maisy said, as they all climbed into the van. “We can put Kaid out on the front lines. He has a good body.”
“Why, thank you, Maisy.”
Willow guffawed. “Please, if Kaid and I were in competition to see who could get more free things with their bodies, I bet you two anal plugs that I would win.”
Kaid shook his head. “That bet is so disturbing, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Willow asked.
Kaid pulled out into the street. “Not in anal plugs, that’s for damn sure.”
Willow was the most adventurous out of the three of them. She had a sexual repertoire that would make any porn star blush. She was very much a sexual person and you could tell by the way she dressed, presented herself, and the hot pink tongue ring she liked to show off.
“So what are we going to do?” Willow asked. “We can’t keep playing in the same bars. We’re not getting anywhere. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. There aren’t even any hot guys out in the crowd to make it worth it. If I was at least getting some good cock, I would be able to deal with the shitty bars we have to play in.”
Maisy knew they were in trouble since they had no money, no propositions, and no more demo’s to hand out. They had completely expelled their resources and didn’t have any leads. She was the mastermind of the group and, at the moment, she knew she was failing. She was failing herself and failing her friends. She was turning out to be just what her drunk-ass dad always said she would…nothing.
“Let’s drop it
“Oh no, we can’t go a night without our gourmet meal,” Willow said sarcastically.
It was midnight, so nothing was open except the Seven-Eleven that was a couple blocks down from their apartment. There were wrought-iron bars on every window in the area and curb appeal was nowhere to be found in the neighborhood they so luckily inhabited. Instead of rose bushes and white picket fences, they lived in an area where an old, beat-up, cat-piss-stained couch in your front yard was a lawn ornament.
Maisy thought that once they got out of the shelter, things were going to be different for them but, in fact, nothing had changed except that the beatings had stopped. That changed once they all met each other because they watched each other’s backs.
“Grab me some jerky,” Willow said, while trying to remove a hang nail with her teeth.
Kaid stopped Maisy before she headed out. “Want me to go in with you? It’s kind of late.”
Always the concerned one, Kaid was. “No, I’m good. Want anything?”
“Get me a Playboy,” Kaid said with a grin.
“In your dreams…that would be splurging and we don’t have the money for that.”
Maisy slammed the car door shut and walked into the convenience store. The man at the register looked over the Maxim he was reading and eyed her for a second before returning to his riveting literature.
By now, she had been around the block a couple of times, so sleazy men who eyed her up and down barely put a blip on her radar. She was a small girl but she knew how to hold her own. She learned how to defend herself once her dad started taking advantage of her after her mom died.
Maisy found the Ramen and was disappointed when she saw there was only one flavor choice left…chicken. She tried not to think about what kind of unnatural products they had to throw together to turn the flavor of chicken into a fine powder to sprinkle over noodles as she started grabbing bags of the dehydrated noodles. She loaded up and headed to where the jerky was.
Toxic (Addiction #1) by Meghan Quinn / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes