Hard Rock Roots Box Set by C. M. Stunich Page A

panting from behind me, and the rage boils up again. Now, I want to beat them both up, Naomi and Josh. I try to move her back with the weight of my body, but she holds tight and we end up crashing together, front to front, and then I find my hands sliding around her waist and caressing her body, feeling up the plump flesh of her ass, the gentle curve of her back, her tits.
    She doesn't stop me, but she keeps yelling.
    “You don't own me,” she says. “You don't have any claim on me, so what do you think you're doing? What is it that you want?”
    “Right now, just you, baby,” I tell her and then she's biting my lip and kissing me so hard that blood fills both our mouths as we crash our teeth together. She sucks on the piercing in my tongue and swirls her own around it, flicking the metal hard while she climbs me, wrapping her legs around me and relaxing the pressure on my face.
    I slam Naomi's body back against the cabinets in the kitchen, and I forget all about Josh. I'm pretty sure he's screaming, too, but fuck him; she's mine now. Ah, and fuck, she tastes like dirty candy and blood and sweat and ash. Best damn shit I ever tasted. Period.
    My hands move up her back and into her blonde hair, tangling and tugging and testing the limits, seeing how far she'll let me go before she stops kissing me and starts biting. I have a feeling that in this case, the bite really is worse than the bark.
    Naomi's nails gouge my back, digging into my flesh through the shirt before she finally takes it in two strong fists and rips it up and over my head, breaking our kiss for a moment and somehow cranking up the heat in the bus by a notch. That little burn I've got going for her turns into raging flames as I drop my head and brush a kiss across the tattoo on her chest. I'm too drunk to really register what it means right now, but I'm pretty sure it's a broken, bleeding heart.
    I nibble on Naomi's nipple, sucking the hard pink flesh into my mouth and rolling it around, making sure the stud on my tongue teases it mercilessly. My eyes flicker up and find Naomi's. They're starting down at me, wide and pissed. She's angry. Good. I like angry sex, and fuck, I'm angry, too.
    I grin at her, and she grabs my chin, pressing her mouth to mine as I reach down and undo my pants, pushing them down my hips as far as possible without having to separate my lips from Naomi's. My cock springs free and my fingers push aside her panties, teasing the hot wetness there as I get ready to thrust in, to finally scratch that itch.
    “God, you're gonna love this, baby,” I snarl as she nibbles my lip, and then like a fucking tiger, she's swiping at me and cracking her palm against my face, nails slicing me good and spilling hot blood down my cheek. To say that I'm shocked is a friggin' understatement. Talk about mixed messages. What. The. Fuck.
    I throw Naomi off of me and step back, stumbling over my fucking jeans and ending up looking like a fucking tool on the floor of the bus. She stares down at me, and her lip twitches in disgust. The expression's a far cry from the one she had just a moment ago.
    “Not again,” she whispers. “Never again.”
    And then she spins away and disappears naked into the night.

Chapter 11
Naomi Knox
    I thought I'd feel good fucking with Turner. Instead, I just feel sick and weak and end up collapsing into bed, coke be damned. When I dream that night, my head is full of blood and birds and gravestones. Not exactly the best images to wake up to.
    The morning doesn't get any better; Hayden is whining about not feeling safe, and America is talking about hiring us a bodyguard while Dax postures around the bus with his eyes narrowed out the windows, looking for some mystery culprit that he's supposedly going to destroy when he finds them.
    I sigh and ignore them all, climbing into the shower and turning on the water as hot as I can get it.
    I don't want to talk about the bird thing anymore – it's just fucking weird. Demented.