Wicked Trust

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Book Three in the Renewed Trust series. JJ Harries climbed out of poverty to become the most sought after guitar player in the industry. He let the fame get to his head and learned the true meaning of friendship a little too late. Humbled by recent news of a son he seeks a better life and meets a woman who piques his interest but his past continues to haunt him. Can he mend the ties he broke with his bandmates? Will his past prevent him from finding love now? Come with me on the journey. I promise you won't be sorry.

Erotica / Romance
Cedonia Maison
5.0 18 reviews
Age Rating:


My stomach lurched forward yet again. Although mostly empty, I continued to purge it of a green vile mixture of contents that smelled unimaginable. My shaking continued as well as the cramping of muscles in my upper and lower extremities. Unable to stop the inevitable, my mind went blank as I heard a scream.

Waking up from a fog what felt like minutes later, I looked into the face of Chelsea. She had my head on her lap as she stroked my hair away from my sweaty face. What the hell happened? She saw my confusion and tried to smile but couldn’t quite do it. “JJ? I am here JJ. Stay with me.” Her look of concern sealed it for me. I had another seizure. Right when I thought I was over the hump, it came and slammed me back to reality.

She wiped my mouth with a wet washcloth as I glanced over to the syringe she used on me to get me to stop my uncontrolled tonic movements. Grand mal seizure this time, and I hated her needing to use the Lorazepam again. It would prolong the ability to flush my system of controlled substances but I guess she had no choice. I only hoped I didn’t shit myself as I did previously. That was more embarrassing than needing a little fix to stop my body from shutting down.

“Hey.” Chelsea looked down at me as she stroked my hair. She was warned about protecting my body from a seizure, but she still put herself between my head and the ground. It would surely give her some nasty bruises by the end of the day.

“Hey.” My guilt resurfaced. I asked her to help me detox and I shouldn’t have but my mother didn’t have it in her anymore. My sisters even surprised me and said they would help. I doubted whether they had the confidence in me but I knew Chelsea would never turn me down. She was always a bleeding heart and more importantly, she wouldn’t give up on me. She understood my end goal and I knew she wouldn’t abandon me until I was cured of my addiction.

Heroin. What the hell was I thinking? It started out innocently enough. A little weed. A lot of liquor. Then the hardcore drugs. A kidney stone years ago launched the long road to addiction paved with oxycodone and then heroin when I couldn’t get the pills anymore. It wasn’t immediate either. It grew into a terrible unshakable monster over the past decade. I was stupid enough to think I could handle it. A pill here, some blow there, and soon I couldn’t function without a hit.

In the beginning, my standards included not even thinking about a needle in my arm. No, those drugs were for junkies. The dregs of society. Me? I was a rock god. A guitarist in a popular band on top of the world. A new girl every night, sometimes more than one, to fulfill the rock star lifestyle. I owned the world. More money than I knew what to do with. Wasting it on cars and houses and women. What the hell happened to my life? I knew the answer. Fame proved too powerful, and I was always my own enemy.

And then I found out I was a father.

Brandt and Ryder broke into my oceanside house last week to inform me of my legacy. I still remember the look of disappointment on their face as they located me and some redhead lying naked on a stained mattress on the floor. The nameless woman only rolled over and covered her head to block the noise while my old bandmates chastised me and gave me the news. That day forever changed my life.

Jaeger was thirteen years old and supposedly belonged to our bassist, Quade Sandusky. His wife Makenzie trapped Quade into marriage after he found out about her ‘accidental’ pregnancy. Our ‘accident’ actually since I had been the one to fuck her. It happened one night on the bus when everyone left thinking we were both indisposed, but really I didn’t think one night of me fucking her would cause a kid. Still, the guilt played over me this whole time. I saw the way Quade raised him and tried to deny he was mine. The hair color could have been explained as a distant family member's genes, but the eyes were mine. They were green but more my shade than Quade’s deeper color. At least he followed Quade’s mannerisms. I denied it as long as I could, but there was no denying it now.

Mac was a leach. Hanging on Quade to escape her shitty life. Not because she actually loved the idiot but because he had been the only one to take her in, hook, line, and sinker. She had a sensual body and huge fake tits and any man would like to fuck her really. But fuck and marry were two different things. One drunken stoned night was all it took and I guess my sperm still swam good enough to knock her up. What a shitty thing to do to Quade. If I hadn’t impregnated her Quade would be free of her now.

The realization I had a son shocked me enough to put a scare in me. Jaeger’s biological father was a grade A fuck up. A heroin addict. Worse yet, while I had been shooting up he laid in a hospital bed with a failing kidney. If it seized up on him, I would be his only option. Me! This kid was really fucked. The guilt being too much, I fought my way back to my mother’s house again to gain sobriety.

She opened her house to me like she did a dozen times before. My mother was the best thing in my life and I kept disappointing her repeatedly. I sent her money early on in my career and helped her to buy a house in a good neighborhood. Since I used up all my money on drugs she needed to put a second mortgage on it to pay for rehab for me. Rehab I failed at repeatedly. I was such a wreck. Swearing to her over and over again this was the last time only to turn back to drugs. Now back again, but this time I had a reason to finally get my shit straight. I couldn’t disappoint Quade any more than I already did and now my son needed me too.

Knowing my mother had been too old and fragile to help I enlisted my sisters. Each one already gave up on me in the past, so I needed a new weapon. Someone to see this through and dig her teeth into me and not let me talk her out of it: Chelsea.

Chelsea always had rose-colored glasses on, filled with rainbows and fucking unicorns. I hated it when Brandt got involved with her. Brandt and I were a team. With plans to conquer the world with our band. Instead, he went and fell for mother fucking Teresa, and there went the fucking band. Oh, we still made out well. Sold out concerts and several world tours, but he could have done so much better. We could have screwed all the pussy in the world without blinking an eye and it was all over when she showed up. Fucking douche. Fucking pussy whipped douche.

Chelsea started out as some fucking wallflower from Wisconsin who didn’t know evil until she joined us in the band as an observer. She didn’t drink much, she didn’t swear, and she sure as hell didn’t understand the lifestyle of rock stars. We played the system only looking out for ourselves. We had the world by the ass until she showed up. I sound like a sniveling pussy when I admit I hated her for this, but we had it good without her. Brandt swooned every time she came around, but she was also a killjoy, a cockblocker extraordinaire and I hated that Brandt fell for her. It caused our notoriety to suffer once our fans found out the lead singer was out of commission.

Coming out of this latest seizure I felt like I was going to die. I almost wished I would. The cravings ate me up inside. It was Chelsea’s turn to watch me. My other sisters took turns watching me in eight-hour intervals. Bonnie, my older sister, watched me in the afternoon and poor Tabitha, my little sister, oversaw me at night. I asked Chelsea if she would help to take care of me through my sobering knowing it would be less harrowing on my mother. I put her through too much already. It was bad enough I hid out at her house. I knew my drug dealer wouldn’t find me here and I knew I couldn’t stay at home. Not unless I was completely sober.

As soon as I found out for sure that Jaeger evolved from my seed I knew I needed to be clean. Not to be a father to him - I had not been a role model in the least - but to be able to harvest an organ if he needed it. It was the best he could ever get from having me as a fuck up sperm donor. The only way I could be any use to him was if a died. Lord knew I was useless as a human being alive. But I also knew he couldn’t use my organs unless I kicked the heroin habit. Going back to a formalized rehab program wasn’t an option either. I hated hospitals. Hated everything about them, and would sign out AMA as soon as I sobered enough to sign the document, unable to handle any more time in the sterile walls that closed in on me. No, I knew I needed to be out of that environment to ever get straight. I just hated asking anyone for help.

Gaining my bearings, I sat up and looked at Chelsea. Her virginal beauty, if you liked that sort of look, was met only with her impractical dreamer attitude, not really understanding the reality that life dealt us. She didn’t understand that the buprenorphine she gave me when I needed it wasn’t enough to satisfy the cravings that worked under my skin and ate away at me little by little. I was going insane and needed a heavier fix. One big enough to ease the cravings and then I would be better. This time I could control it, I knew it. But how could I get Chelsea to leave me alone long enough to get to my dealer?

“You think the buprenorphine is helping but it is not. I need a small hit to get me by. Can’t you see that I am dying here?” I kept my voice soft but persistent.

Chelsea looked at me with her sad blue eyes, “The buprenorphine will help. Just give it time.”

I lashed out at her through desperation, “Fuck that shit. You just watched me jerk and twerk like some dick dancer in six-inch heels. I had another fucking seizure. Does it really seem like it is helping?”

Doubt clouded her face, but she didn’t waver, “The doctor said you needed it JJ. You are not getting anything more.”

Anger surfaced at her incapacity to understand what she was putting me through. Why the fuck did I pick her of all people? It had been my own fault. I picked her to help me detox not kill me. She wouldn’t waver until I was either dead or clean. Brandt didn’t even want her here helping me. He didn’t believe I could ever kick the habit but his trusting wife did and I now regretted even asking her to help me.

“You sit there all high and mighty don’t you. Did you ever jones for anything? Do you really know what I am going through?” I yelled at her as spittle left my mouth now more coherent after my last seizure. The only thing to help me would be another fix and I wouldn’t stop this time. They thought they could lock me in the sunroom for days on end until I magically became clean? Well, they thought wrong. I was going to die without a fix and where would that leave Jaeger? Without any fucking organs to harvest! I needed a fix. It would be the only way to help him.

“You don’t know shit, ice queen!” My rage came through as well as screaming her old nickname she despised. Knowing I affected her with the use of her old name only made me want to continue to twist the knife. “Why don’t you just leave? Go back to your fucking husband. You know you shouldn’t leave him alone for very long without his dick being sucked. He never could go too long without burying his cock in someone.” My eyes brighten with the shocked look on her face and a plan formed. If I sent her out crying she would leave me alone and I could go and get another fix. It shouldn’t take long. She was always a little naïve of the things that went on with Brandt before she met him.

“JJ, you are just being argumentative. You are striking out because of the drugs. This isn’t you.” Of course, the rose-colored glasses were still firmly in place.

I sneered at her knowing how to get under her skin. She had no clue what went on before she showed up to snow Brandt into a blissful little union of happiness. She was such a virgin in so many ways I knew my plan would work. “You don’t know much about Brandt’s past, do you? The way we would tag-team the women we would fuck.” Her brows furrowed and she gave me a fearful look. It was a sore subject between Brandt and Chelsea. He didn’t bring it up, and she acted like it was all in his past. Well, if it would get me another fix, she would be finding out the hard way. This time she would hear all the dirty details until she ran screaming for the sidelines and left me the fuck alone.

“JJ don’t.” Not enough to stop me now I solidified my mission.

“Did he ever tell you of all the girls we would spit roast together? You know, how he would let them suck his cock while I fucked them from behind.” She started to look around the room and not meet my stare. “It was a favorite of ours. More so than the orgies to happen with the whole band. When women would go around the room and suck us off one by one.”

She shook her head, “Stop it.” Tears formed in her eyes as I told her about her white knight of a husband’s past.

“Did he tell you about all the orgies we orchestrated? How he would barely get done with one woman before another one would be climbing on top of his cock?” I was affecting her. Breaking her down. Getting to her and I didn’t want to stop until she gave up and left me alone, so I could find my dealer to take away my pain. A little too confidently I went on, “There was even this one time when these groupies came to the crappy little apartment we all shared and wanted to fuck Brandt in the worst way. He talked them into a little girl on girl action so we could all watch.” Tears slid down her cheeks, and I was too focused on the end prize to stop. “Some fucking redhead. You know they were his favorite, right? Well, she did it to get to him. The little bitch even cried afterward when he was done with her.”

She couldn’t even look at me anymore, choosing to look at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but my eyes to find out the truth. It was true, well mostly, but she didn’t need to know that I was the one to coerce them into oral play for our enjoyment. They both oozed privilege and conceit and bringing them down a notch only made it more memorable. The stories all came from an earlier time. A time when I found out just how powerful fame could be. I dared those women to go against their nature and nine times out of ten they would comply just to be able to fuck a rockstar. We all pushed the envelope a little. We thought we had the world by the ass and were drunk enough to prove it. I left that information out though. I didn’t want her to know I instigated the pussy play that night and Brandt was too drunk to say no. It made the story all the more worse in her eyes and I had a better chance at escaping my hell-hole she kept me imprisoned in.

“Stop it JJ. I don’t want to hear it.” She started sobbing. The idea her husband wasn’t a saint proved difficult to stomach. He had a dark side too like all the rest of us, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Chelsea crumbled before my eyes and I went in for the kill, “He liked the girl on girl action until the pussy juice dripped down their chins, and then he would fuck them up the ass until they cried out for more.” I laughed to make it more disheartening, “Did he ever fuck you up the ass? Could you ever satisfy his needs really?” That was all it took, and she deteriorated into a ball rocking and weeping at the loss of her pious husband. Smelling victory, I was about to get off the floor when the lock to the door opened and Bonnie came in. She looked from me to Chelsea and then back to me with anger.

“JJ, you fucking asshole. What did you do?” Fuck. So close but yet so far.

Chelsea jumped up and ran out still sobbing as Bonnie came and sat down by me. “You fucking had to push her, didn’t you? She is here to help you and you fucking pushed her over the edge just to get another fix, right?” The look of disgust on her face was almost too much to bear. "I ought to let you go you know. Find whatever drug you can and let you die, but I am not going to now. No, now I want you to burn in the fires of detox hell. Sit there and jones for the drug. It will be much worse than giving in to your shit.”

Bonnie sat back with her arms folded and a smug look on her face while I curled back into myself. “Asshole.” It was the last thing she said before I gave up and eventually drifted into another seizure. This time, I prayed for death.

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