by Emme Rollins
I should have been insulted, but it sounded a bit like a song I was familiar with. I smiled politely, holding out my hand. “Brandi Morrison. I’m Sharon Web’s new assistant.”
Strong fingers closed over mine, resulting in a firm handshake. “Welcome to the nut house.”
Chapter Three
“I’ve got clothes for you, Roger,” said Ally. “The media’s here for the press junket.”
He yawned, his chest rising and falling. “Not gonna happen. I don’t do interviews before concerts.”
“This wouldn’t be necessary, but you missed the junket two days ago,” said Lauren. “We’ve got a fitting at five too.”
“Ain’t happening either.” He sauntered into the next room, closing the door behind him. We had been dismissed.
“You can leave now,” said Denise.
Ally glared at her. “Talk to him, please. He’s got appointments.”
“You heard him. He said no.” She picked up the house phone, dialing a number. “Yeah, hi, this is the penthouse suite. We need champagne right now. It’s an emergency.” She twirled a long strand of hair around her finger. “Great.”
Lauren glanced at me. “Well, this is where you come in. We need you to go in there and get his ass in gear.”
“How do you propose I do that?”
“That’s what you were hired for. If Sharon were here, she’d get him motivated.”
Absolutely nothing helpful sprang to mind, which was troubling. “Okay. I guess I’ll give it a shot.” I headed for the bedroom, knocking loudly. “Mr. Stevenson? It’s Brandi, and I’m coming in.” The door swung open, revealing a darkened room with a television on.
Ax Stevenson sat on the bed, leaning against several pillows. One foot was crossed over the other. “What can I do you for?” His grin was disarming.
I had to reset my brain. “They’re waiting for you, sir. The interviews shouldn’t take long.”
“I’m bored with interviews. All my shit’s online. They can Google me.”
“That may be the case, but it’s purely for publicity. They want to see you in the flesh.”
“Where are you from?”
That question surprised me. “Boston.”
“I thought I detected an accent.”
“I’m living in California now.”
“Sharon hired you?”
“Yes, personally.”
“Are you a hard ass?”
“Excuse me?”
“What will you do to me, if I don’t hop to attention?”
“You’re a grown man, sir. There’s hardly anything I can do to you. I can’t put you in time out, if that’s what you mean.”
“That has possibilities.”
Oh, my God…I’m in such trouble. Oh, no, no, no. Oh, shit! The attraction that pinged between us held enough energy to power an entire city. I couldn’t be the only one who felt it. Did he charm everyone like this? He remained where he was, reclining on the bed, appearing aloof and casual, but it was his smile that had me buzzing. How was I going to resist that? I remembered Sharon’s words. “You’re not his type.” Boy, he sure was my type. Oh, God…oh the things I’d love to do to him. He must have sensed the direction of my thoughts, because that saucy smile had grown. This wasn’t the only thing that had increased, if the sudden bulge in his jeans were any indication.
“Look, you’re an adult, and so am I. This is business. You apparently skipped the interviews a few days ago. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could come out and get dressed, so we can get this over with.”
My words had registered, but now there was something disturbing in that look. Sliding from the bed, he unbuttoned the jeans, lowering the material, revealing an incredibly hard-looking cock.
“Shut the door,” he uttered. “Lock it.”
“W-why?”
“I’m getting dressed.” The sight of that gigantic organ had me weak in the knees, questioning if my feet would even move. “Shouldn’t I…get Ally…so you can try on clothes?”
“I’ll do that, but lock the door first and come here.”
There was no way I would follow those orders, would I? I was a respectable woman. I didn’t have casual sex. I certainly didn’t have sex with someone who had probably slept with a thousand groupies. Contracting an STD was something I wanted to avoid.
“Close the door.” There was steel in his voice.
I did as I was told, but prepared to run, knowing I would never give myself to someone I had just met. So what if I had lusted after him for years! “Fine, but I don’t know what you think is happening here.” I locked the door, sucking in a long, fragile breath, feeling entirely too weak at that moment. I had to gather my wits. I turned to find him standing beside me. “Oh!”
“You’re fucking hot, Brandi,” he murmured.
“I’m…um…I’m not doing this.” I grasped the doorknob. “I’m a professional, not a hooker.” His arms went around my waist, pulling me to him.
“I don’t want a whore. I want you.”
God was I flattered, but I had to get a grip. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“I’m done talking.”
He skillfully maneuvered me towards the bed, and I stumbled, the palms of my hands landing on the mattress. The man behind me was more than ready to carry out any sensual threat, and I couldn’t quite believe this was happening. The sound of plastic tearing had me glancing over my shoulder. He’d produced a condom, and he was in the process of sliding it over the rounded end of an incredibly hard shaft. I shivered, feeling pings of arousal fanning out from my core, and I hated the fact that I was going to let him have his way. I didn’t seem to want to fight him…at all.
“I don’t remember seeing this in the contract.”
“It was in the fine print.” I’d worn a dress, but it was no match for him, as he lifted the material, grasping my panties and pulling them down my thighs. “Your ass is amazing.”
He smacked me, and I jumped. “Oh!”
A finger ran over my slit, revealing the shame of my condition. “You’re just as turned on as I am.”
“Oh, really…I…we shouldn’t do this.”
“You’re so wet, honey.” The thick, rounded end of his cock prodded, sliding past my glistening lips. The sensation was like a knife cutting through butter, my heat enveloping him, sucking him in to the balls. “Oh, Jesus, God…yeah…”
I was allowing this to happen. I had to be clear about that, but…I shouldn’t. I should stop him now. This was a horrible way of setting boundaries, of establishing a working relationship. I trembled, torn between my conscience, my morals, and my libido, which was about to explode. He slid deep, nearly pulling out with each stroke, only to plunge again. The sensation was beyond the realm of pleasure, better than anything I could have imagined. My clit throbbed with the contact, although he wasn’t even touching me there. I knew exactly how this would end. I would orgasm shortly; I was that turned on.
“Oh, my…oh, harder! Do me harder!”
“Oh, baby…yeah…”
“My, oh…goodness!” I was a goner, and I knew it. My defenses never stood a chance, and I was just as bad as all those women outside the hotel, who would give their eyeteeth to fuck this man. “Oh, you sure are hard, Mr. Stevenson!” I sounded breathless.
“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he rasped. “God’s teeth this is good.”
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. My pussy was taking a delicious pounding, and I loved every second of it. I lifted my bottom slightly bringing even more of him into me. I was sloppy wet; the sounds mixed with the light tap of his balls every time they smacked against me.
“Oh, I shouldn’t…oh…God…NO!” The orgasm hit hot and fierce, nearly knocking the wind out of me. My abused muscles clenched around the steel rod that had been responsible for putting me in this condition. The sensations were too much, and I gasped, convulsing almost violently, my face falling to the bed. My body tingled uncontrollably, my tummy quivering.
“Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Not possible.” He dipped into wetness. “Jesus, you’re soaking.” I was too tired and shocked to move, but his hand wasn’t idle, as it explored me thoroughly, sliding into my pussy. “This feels really nice.”
“You have a press junket.”
His lips were on my neck. “Fuck it all.”
I had just become a part of the problem, and now he would be even later because of my inability to resist him. “You…should stop that.” A finger grazed my nub, which was horribly sensitive from having just orgasmed, but I knew myself too well. I could have another, if he were to continue.
“So sweet…”
The fondling escalated, while his lips were on my neck, biting gently and kissing. I pressed my face to the mattress, moaning, lifting my buttocks towards his hand. Two fingers slipped into my velvety sheath, sliding back and forth, working me into a frenzy of lust.
“Oh, my…oh…God…don't stop!” Lights flashed before my eyes, yellow, blue, and purple, while my body began to tremble, causing the flesh on my hips to jiggle. I thrust my hips upwards, embedding his fingers even further, but it was all over within moments, as the second orgasm ripped through my system, leaving me weak, gasping, and tingling. Even my nose buzzed. “Oh, shit!”
“That was hot.”
I turned to look at him, seeing someone who was a stranger to me, but I knew him far more intimately than I should. What would happen now? I braced myself for what he might say. This was just his way of shirking responsibility and indulging himself. I meant nothing to him, because he didn’t know me. I fully expected to hear: “Get your fat ass outta my bed, bitch. What the fuck was I thinking?”
His arm went around me, his face near mine. “Sharon did good.”
“How so?”
“I think I can work with you.”
“Does this mean you’ll get dressed for the junket?”
His gaze was on my mouth. “There’s a lot of uncharted territory here.”
“The interviews.”
“Yeah, the interviews, but that’s not what I meant.”
“It would be awesome, if you could get going.”
“I’d rather stay and lick every inch of your body.”
Stunned, I could only stare at him.
He laughed at my expression. “Fine. I’ll get dressed. You convinced me.” The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
Relief flooded. He wasn’t regretful about having sex with a fat chick, but I still worried, preparing myself for the insults that were sure to come.
He slid from the bed. “I can’t wait to see you naked.”
I sat up, adjusting my dress. My panties were around my ankles, and I detected a slightly musky aroma from my nether regions. “This can’t happen again.” The wicked, knowing smile on his face sent my heart racing. Before he could reply, someone pounded on the door.
“We are so late! What’s going on in there?”
“Keep your thong on,” muttered Roger, flinging the condom in the trashcan. “I’m coming.”
Chapter Four
The junket went off without a hitch, and I was introduced to the other band members: drummer Todd Braxton, base player Ricker Rocker, and guitar virtuoso Steve Bale. The four men held court while cameras flashed and reporters asked questions, most of which were directed towards Ax Stevenson. They wanted to know about his divorce, his soon to be ex-wife, and the long-standing feud with Lenny Steel, the lead singer of Down 'n Dirty. The song Kill Me, Bitch was a result of Lenny’s affair with Clair, and it had never been more popular. The band was at the pinnacle of its success, but, fame being the fickle mistress she was, it could all be gone in a day.
I stood with Ally at the back of the room, while Lauren helped deflect the most obnoxious questions, being the band’s publicist. They sat at a long table appearing like a motley crew of degenerates. Their wardrobes were designer originals, but they looked like they’d been run over by several semi trucks; torn jeans, mismatched shirts, earrings, and an assortment of tattoos were on display, although Roger was remarkably tattoo-less. He was charming, cheeky, and the perfect combination of rogue and gentlemen, although I knew him to be anything but a gentleman.
Forbidden images danced around in my mind, bringing an onslaught of tingles that seemed to gather and buzz, a reminder of how naughty I had been. I could hardly process what had happened, and I knew that people knew, or at least suspected, what had happened. I held my head high, letting their inquisitive glances bounce off me. It was my private business, if I decided to have sex with someone…and this had been the hottest sex of my life. I had to prepare myself for the letdown, as I knew it was coming. Roger had probably been high or drunk, and, as soon as he realized what he had done, he would regret it.
After the press junket ended, the band filed out of the room, followed by dozens of autograph seekers, hangers on, and security. Ally and I were towards the back, her phone buzzing repeatedly.
“They have a fitting now. I hope Vance is directing them towards the room.”
Vance Patterson was the band’s road manager, and I hadn’t met him yet, although he was a formidable negotiator and someone who was respected by the band. Things were running remarkably smooth, as the throng was cut off at the elevators. Ally and I managed to squeeze through the doors before they closed. The space was packed with men, the exotic floral scent of their cologne mixing with traces of tobacco that clung to clothing.
I met Roger’s gaze; his expression was neutral, yet there was something in his eye that sent a shockwave of awareness through me, my nerve endings vibrating with pleasure. Oh, boy.
“I gotta write a song about a hot, chubby chick,” said Roger. His lips lifted in a smirk. His band mates murmured in agreement. “I think I’ve been barking up the wrong tree. I kinda like having something to grab onto.”
Ally glanced my way, nudging me with an elbow, but I ignored her, focusing on the mirrored wall, seeing myself, a blonde with expressive blue eyes. Dying my hair had been one of the best decisions I had ever made, and I loved how it flattered my face, bringing out the color of my irises.
The stylist leaned in. “You’re a hit.”
“Shush.”
“It’s okay. No one can resist him.”
That thought was unpleasant. It implied that he slept with anyone who interested him. “It’s my job to get him…um…motivated.”
“You did that. I’m not judging. I don’t care what you have to do. We’re all just grateful he was at the press conference. The fitting’s a bonus. We’re having a banner day. Lots of stuff is finally getting done.”
I exhaled. “Well, I do take my job seriously.” I met Roger’s gaze, feeling the beginning of lightheadedness coming on. “I…I’ll do whatever it takes, I guess. It’s a hardship…but somebody has to keep him on schedule.” Ally giggled, the infectious laughter trilling above the men’s voices. Roger crossed his arms over his chest, smirking. I hated the naughty thoughts that raced through my mind in that heated, indescribable instant. Our eyes locked, and it wasn’t until the door of the elevator opened that we broke the connection.
Two hours later, chaos reigned, as Roger began preparations for the concert. Not only was he insistent about hitting the gym for weights, but he demanded grilled fish before performing, needing the protein to get him through the two grueling hours of aerobic activity. The opening band had already arrived at the venue, and Trash wasn’t due for another forty minutes, but we were running late.
I stepped into the bathroom of the penthouse suite, catching Denise snorting coke. “Oh, excuse me.”
“Fuck! Doesn’t anybody knock anymore?”
/> “I’ll be outta your hair in a sec.” I stepped into the little room by the shower. When I returned, I washed my hands.
“You fucked him, didn’t you?”
Sucking in a breath, I faced her. “It’s really none of your business.”
“Well, don’t think you’re special.” Her hugely dilated eyes roamed over me. “You’re just a novelty.” She eyed my cleavage, which was by far one of my best assets.
It was rare for me to give into my anger, but I could feel it building, the steam practically bursting from my ears. From what little I knew, Denise was a hanger-on who roamed from city to city with the latest rock star: mooching off the entourage, snapping up the drugs, and basically living only to annoy the shit out of people.
My shoulders were back, chin up, and I was just about to tell her where she could stick her cocaine, when the door opened. “Hey,” it was Ally. “I need help. It’s falling apart out here.”
I glared at Denise. “That’s me. This is what they pay me for. You keep powdering your nose, honey.” I pointed to her cheek. “Missed a spot.”
The scene in the suite was surreal. Roger had been preparing for the gig, but several promoters from LiveGate had arrived, wearing black satin jackets with the logo Trash emblazoned in gold lettering. They looked like the male members of a cheerleading team; the outfits were ridiculous. It took me a moment to understand what was happening.
“…adding more fucking dates!” shouted Roger. “Shove ‘em up your ass! I’m done after New York. I’m fucking done!”
The taller of the men said, “We’ve spoken to Stuart about it. He says we need a European leg, a short one, which would increase revenue by forty percent. It’s a sizable chunk, Mr. Stevenson.”
“I told Sharon I’m done. I’m fucking sick of this shit. You fuck-tards do this to me every time.” He’d snatched a bottle of champagne, bringing it to his lips. Fluid spilled out of the sides of his mouth, wetting his bare chest.
“Kill me, Bitch is a huge hit in the UK and Germany,” said a shorter man, who carried a satchel over one shoulder. “Huge. You shouldn’t waste this opportunity. We’ve been asked to perform in Australia as well.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Sharon?”