Page 7 of Wild Stars (Rock His World #2)

CHAPTER 7

Dare

I have to admit, I am not one hundred percent certain that we’ll actually get into Saint & Sinner tonight, but it’s worth a shot, right?

Fake it ‘til you make it and all that?

“Oh, I’ve never been to S&S!” Hailee giggles. “I’ve been dying to go.”

“Don’t you need, like, a reservation?” Hans asks.

Shit, I hadn’t thought of that.

“I can get us in,” Matty says in his sexy Batman voice, pulling all of our attention.

“Uh... since when do you go clubbing?” Celina asks, raising an eyebrow.

I watch as Matty shrugs, his expression stoic as usual.

“I’ve been there once or twice,” he replies, shifting his stance.

Hailee shifts closer to my brother with a grin. “Now we have to go. I have to see my brother actually act like a rockstar for once and get us into a damn strip club.”

Matty rolls his eyes before glancing at me. “It’s not a strip club, Hailee. It’s a sex club. There is a difference.”

“As long as they have drinks and ass, I’m in,” I chime with excitement.

Richie clears his throat as he looks at me, raising an eyebrow, and I realize before he even speaks what he’s implying.

Fuck, that means I’m going to have to call a damn Uber.

“I, uh... guess I’ll call an Uber and meet you guys there...” I say, shooting some finger guns at my brother, if only to not look like a complete asshole.

Though I wish just for once I was the one who could drive the car around with a hot date.

Matty’s hand enters my vision as he pushes my phone down.

I glance up at him, biting my damp lip as I try to remember this asshole is actually, an asshole and not some prince charming in a black silk button down and tight leather pants.

“No need, I’ll have my driver get us,” he says sternly as Celina and Hans echo their excitement.

“Oh, uh... thanks. I guess,” I grumble.

Matty suavely pulls out his phone, and in a very Bruce Wayne fashion, calls us a fucking limousine.

I swear the thing barely takes five minutes to arrive, just as Hailee and Richie disappear around the corner.

The four of us crawl in, and I can’t help but marvel at the space in this thing. I swear, it’s the nicest limo I’ve ever been in.

Way better than the limo I rented with Richie for prom. Which I went to dateless, of course.

I guess I couldn’t blame anyone because I looked like a fucking blue penguin from Super Mario in my powder blue tux.

“Shit, this is nice,” I say as I find my seat.

Hans and Celina seem to make themselves at home, diving into the cooler immediately.

Matty slides in the seat next to me, leaving ample space between us. “Figured you’d like it,” he says calmly.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“That’s what you want, right? To be seen like a big bad rockstar?”

Something about his words feels harsh, but beneath them is something else.

Sadness, I think.

“No, I?—”

Matty crosses his legs as Hans and Celina take selfies. It’s like they are in their own little world, completely oblivious to us.

“I just... don’t want to be irrelevant, you know.” I shift my position, feeling strangely warm.

“You’re not irrelevant, Dare.”

The three marshmallow martinis must have gone to my head, because I shift a little closer, sighing with disdain.

Sometimes, being cheerful is a fucking chore when you’re truly depressed.

“Yes, I am,” I mumble, looking toward the tinted window on the other side. “I’m a one hit wonder. If I can’t come up with another hit, that is...”

God, what did they put in those fucking martinis?

Matty sighs beside me. “Writer’s block?” he asks, his voice smooth, like velvet.

I don’t look at him. I keep my gaze trained on the city that flashes by. If I don’t look at him, I can pretend that maybe I am not a fucking idiot.

“More like cock block, but then again...” I whistle. “I just want to write a song that’s not about wanting something you can’t have, you know? I want to write a song about being fucking in it.”

“Then be in it, Dare. You’re young, probably have a fuck ton of people just begging to fuck you and get a song written about them. That’s like rockstar 101.”

I sigh, crossing my legs. “Yeah, well, I don’t, okay...” I turn to flash him a glare, only to realize he’s a lot closer than he was before.

Something about that makes my blood rush, and my damn cock twitch.

Matty cocks his head to the side, appraising me with a calculating gaze. “Is that why you have such an attitude? Need to get laid?”

I scoff at him, my cheeks flushing at his insinuation. “I do not have an attitude, Matty.” I grin when the vein over his left eye twitches. “And getting laid is Richie’s talent, not mine.”

Mateo’s lips twitch, and I realize all at once I put my foot in my fucking mouth, because his sister is off probably getting her clit sucked by my brother at this very moment.

I mean, I saw the way she was clinging to him like a bee on honey, Christ. Not to mention he’s been smitten with her since they got handsy at the mansion the other night.

Why that little twitch is so satisfying, I have no clue, but I don’t have time to question such things when the limo stops, and the sound of chatter infiltrates the otherwise quiet car.

“Yes! We’re here!” Hans exclaims as he and Celina scoot out, leaving me and Matty inside.

Mateo regards me seriously as he says, “That’s it. For the sake of humanity and all that is holy in rock and roll, tonight we’re getting you laid.”

“Excuse me!” I don’t think twice about setting my hand on his, stopping him.

When I realize what I’ve done, he looks at me, then at my hand as he slowly pulls it away. I watch as he flexes his palm, his weight shifting closer to me, nearly boxing me in.

“I mean, I don’t need to, like, hire a person, at a sex club like a... I mean I—” God, I sound like an idiot.

Mateo laughs, and the sound is like smooth, top shelf bourbon.

Not that I’d know what that tastes like, but it’s what I imagine.

Everything about this man reeks of sophistication.

“Can’t write a song about a good fuck if you haven’t experienced it,” he says, flashing me with a wicked grin.

I don’t know why I word vomit the worst fucking response ever. I blame it on the martinis.

“Oh and you have?” I bite.

Matty chuckles darkly. “I’m not legally allowed to tell you,” he says smoothly. “Besides, I’m not paying for your lap dances. You’re going to have to work for it on your own, kid.”

I purse my lips as a fresh flood of irritation spreads like wildfire.

I can pay for my own lap dance, thank you very much, Matty!

“But the clientele here are more than... suitable. For your needs, I think.”

His dark gaze catches mine for a moment as he leans in closer to me.

So close, his breath on my neck is warm, and I can smell his cologne. It smells like sex and chocolate, and makes my mouth fucking water.

What does he know about my needs?

He doesn’t know shit about me.

“A little tip?” he breathes, and my gaze falls to his perfect, pouty lips.

I think all the sugar has rotted my brain. My gaze flashes up to his as I await his words like candy.

“Sure...” I swallow, my mouth going dry.

“If you want someone to want you, Dare, you have to want yourself. Know what you bring to the table, kid. Then make them fucking beg for it.”

Stupidly, I whine in defeat. “I have no clue what I bring to the table,” I say like an idiot. “Except maybe rice crispy treats. Those are nice...”

Matty smirks. “Then maybe you should find out.” He coughs, his voice like an echo in the cavernous space.

And before I can protest, he scoots out of the car, leaving me in the darkness.

And at that moment, I’ve never wanted to impress anyone the way I want to impress Mateo Starr.

Fake it ‘til you make it, right?