Fingered

  Fingered: Rock Star Erotica

  By

  Emma Rose

  Copyright © 2016 by Emma Rose

  Cover by CoverCharm.com. Cover photography Licensed and © CanStockPhoto / KonradBak

  *****

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Crave Romance

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All characters in this book are eighteen years or older.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

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  Fingered: Rock Star Erotica

  Chapter One

  “Finger me like I’m your guitar!”

  One of the groupies hung over me like a monkey, her ratty hair covering her face. She smiled at me with her shockingly pearly whites, her eyes gaping and bloodshot.

  The thirsty groupie was the final challenge of any concert. Forget strumming your guitar doing the song’s famous solo, hoping you don’t fuck up one note. Now, I had to sway off whores with daddy issues. Women who only liked me because of my profession. These same girls probably thought I was a freak back in high school.

  “Sorry, I’m tired,” I replied. The most generic refusal for sex ever, but it seemed to work. The two groupies, one looking barely eighteen and the other pushing a hard 40, backed away, only for Devon to hover over them. His eyes gleamed as he brushed some of his sweaty blond locks from his eyes.

  “Why not let me sing you ladies Serenade Surprise in my bus?” Devon asked.

  The groupies squealed and Devon took them away. Or rather, they took him away from the look of it.

  Holly was sitting on the recliner next to me, and her hand slapped over her face. “Somehow, I wonder how I’m related to him. Did Mom and Dad adopt me?”

  I shrugged. “For all I know, maybe.” We both shared a laugh. I looked around in the green room to realize we were the only two in there. Michael, our drummer, and Wilhelm, our bassist, were probably joining Devon to live the romanticized life of a rock star.

  Holly looked at me with her wide green eyes, her dark hair tied in a neat bun. Her office suit had a few buttons undone. Looks like she had no time to change. At least she made it to the concert.

  “Glad you could come,” I said. “It’s so weird coming back to Allensville after so long. I still don’t know how the audience was able to fit in this tiny-ass venue. ...

 

 

  Emma Rose, Fingered

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