by D. Kelly
Mr. Gruff and Serious deposits us in the green room and lets us know we can help ourselves to anything. Then he informs us he’ll be right outside the door as he closes it behind him.
“Amelia! Pinch me! Can you believe this? BAD gave one, and only one, exclusive interview, and it’s mine! Oh my God! This is going to skyrocket my career as long as I don’t screw it up.” Her excitement makes me laugh. She has nothing to worry about; her work is amazing.
“Belle, you’ve got this. Get your squealing out now, take some deep breaths, and get ready for the story of your life. I’m so proud of you, and I’m right here to help take notes, too.”
“Thanks, Mel, I knew I could count on you.” After giving me a quick hug, she does indeed get her squealing out of her system while watching the band on the very large TV mounted on the wall.
I can’t stop thinking about Dimples watching me as we passed by. The thought brings heat between my legs, even if I shouldn’t let it. He’s not relationship material, and I’m not supermodel gorgeous. Besides, all these men have a reputation for one-night stands and unemotional flings. Those are two things I can’t do, not anymore. When I’m sleeping with someone, it’s because I’m invested in them emotionally. Which is probably why I haven’t had sex with a man in over a year.
Don’t believe everything you hear, Amelia. You know better than most how things are blown out of proportion in this industry.
After the encore, the sounds of the thunderous applause echo all the way into the green room. Even the walls are shaking from it. Belle’s nerves are starting to kick in because she’s simultaneously tapping her foot and picking at her nails, both of which are nervous habits of hers. “Belle, you need to breathe. They’re just people. You’ve interviewed tons of musicians before and I’ve never seen you this nervous.”
“I know, Mel, but this is BAD, and they’re the holy grail of interviews. I can’t help but be nervous, and of course their excessive good looks only make it worse.” I can’t argue with her there, they are good-looking men.
The voices resonating from the hallway are growing closer by the second until they’re suddenly upon us and the door is thrown open.
“That was fucking awesome! One of the best shows we’ve done this entire tour. The outdoor venues are so much better. Don’t you guys think so?” As they talk amongst themselves, I’m drawn in by their enthusiasm.
Seeing these men come in on their post-performance high is captivating. Their happiness is almost contagious. Belle and I are taking them in, watching in fascination. It’s been a long time since I was a part of this kind of excitement. I almost forgot how much goes into pulling off a successful show. They’ve got a posse of people with them. The PA I saw earlier is trying to wrangle them up while I assume their stylist is the one carrying a few extra shirts.
The cute one with the dimples takes one of those shirts. When he pulls his sweaty shirt off over his head, I’m absolutely mesmerized by the way his muscles move. His abs are screaming for me to come and lick them, the beads of sweat crying out my name. I want to taste his essence on my tongue. Sadly, as fast as the mini porn played out in my head, it’s over as his shirt goes on. He catches me looking at him and flashes me a sexy smirk again. The flush I feel spreading over my face is nothing, I’m sure, compared to how it looks.
Hoping to suppress the flush, I open my water bottle and try to cool myself down from the sudden heat enveloping my body. He’s eying my lips as they wrap around the rim of the bottle, and I wish I were wrapping them around him instead. I drink as slowly and seductively as possible, knowing he’s watching me. When I raise my eyes back up to his, he licks his lips. Holy hell.
This is foreplay, yet, at the same time, couldn’t be anything further from it. The spell is broken when one of the crew calls for him. It’s just as well, musicians aren’t my thing… anymore.
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Keep Reading for an excerpt of Breaking Kate by D. Kelly
Chapter 1
3 years later
Las Vegas, also known as Sin City, is my current job location for the next few days. How could anyone not love a city whose entire motto is “what happens here, stays here”? I’m staying at the MGM Grand this time around. When I come with the guys they like to stay at the newest hotels, but I like the MGM. It’s not that old, and you just can’t beat a hotel where there’s a bartender who not only knows your name, but also remembers your drink order no matter how long it’s been since your last visit.
I checked in late last night after work and crashed as soon as I got here. Today is Friday and I don’t have to be back at the site until tomorrow. I spent most of the day at the pool relaxing. Vegas in January is usually freezing, but today it was seventy-three, and that was nice enough for me to babe watch from a poolside cabana. I need a new distraction—someone who can keep my mind off Katherine.
It’s been almost four years, but lately I’ve been thinking about her daily. Hell, I have always thought about her daily, but now she haunts my mind every waking second of the day. I wish I were lucky enough to avoid her in my sleep, but it’s even worse then. My dreams are filled with visions of her laughing and of us making love; those dreams are the best because I can actually feel the emotion in them. Before the dream ends, it is always the same—the dream morphs into the day we broke up, the day I left her shattered in pieces, then all that happiness evaporates into a gut-searing pain. I wake up in a cold fucking sweat Every. Single. Night. Lately, the dreams are even more vivid, and they seem to last longer. I wonder how many times I can relive seeing the heartbreak in her eyes and feel the pain crushing my soul.
It really doesn’t help that tomorrow is her birthday, but that’s why I volunteered to come out here this weekend—so I would be sure to stay far away from Los Angeles. I know, without a doubt, if I had stayed home I would’ve gone to Connor’s party and gotten drunk. Anytime an emotional anniversary comes up it seems like Connor is having a party that weekend. As much as I tell myself I won’t drink, I always do, to the point of oblivion. Well, up until six months ago, that is. That all changed after I fucked Vanessa right under Daniel’s nose. To be fair, I would’ve never been with her on a good day, sober or drunk. She’s a Grade-A bitch, and I still wonder if she didn’t slip something in my drink that night because even drunk, I have never not known who I was fucking.
The best thing that came out of that night was Daniel finally breaking up with her. It killed us all to see how much she continually used him for his money. I get that she comes from trailer trash, drug-addict parents who are barely conscious of what day it is, but she didn’t have to be vindictive and act like life owes her something. I grew up privileged, but I left it all behind and built myself up from the bottom after Katherine and I broke up. Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but it was the best thing that could’ve happened to me and helped me grow into the man I was meant to be.
I need this weekend to be all about pleasure, my pleasure. Hopefully, that will keep Katherine Moore out of my head once and for all. I’m looking forward to just losing myself in someone. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s pleasing women in bed, but in order to do that I need to find the right kind of girl. I don’t want a girl who’s going to want to latch on, or one who wants to exchange phone numbers. Hell, I’m perfectly fine with not even knowing her name because half the time I don’t remember it anyway. It always amazes me how gullible some women are. They’re so easily excited when you call them by an endearing name. They have no clue I call them sweetie, sweetheart, baby, honey, sunshine, precious, beautiful, or darling because I have forgotten their names. My goal tonight is to find a hot girl with a nice ass and a great rack who I can bend over and fuck the living daylights out of. Preferably, one I can tie to my bed so I can have complete control. It’s not
like I have a fetish or anything, I just don’t like to be caressed and touched a lot. I don’t like or want intimacy with my sex, not since Katherine. I just want to take them hard and rough. Believe it or not, girls love it. It doesn’t hurt that I’m great at giving multiple orgasms, which is a skill I’ve developed over time. That’s another thing I regret about Katherine; I never tried to give her multiples. That’s something I would’ve loved to watch. Even after all this time I have never seen anyone come the way she did. It was exquisite. Just thinking about it now, years later, still makes me hard. Damn it. I need to get drunk fast so I can push her to the back of my mind; I’m so tired of thinking about her.
When the elevator doors open, my mood lightens up. I love casinos. Even the overwhelming smell of smoke is okay because it’s all part of the atmosphere. Vegas is truly the place where no one gives a fuck what anyone does, how they dress, or how they act. If you aren’t walking around drunk, you’re not doing Vegas right. Already, there are girls eyeing me up—I know they think I’m hot and tonight I play it up to my advantage. It’s not like I’m even slightly conceited, but I’ve been asked many times if I’m a long lost Hemsworth brother and I know girls think they’re hot.
Tonight, I’m wearing a tight black t-shirt that grips all of my muscles, a comfortable pair of blue jeans, and my black Dr. Martens. The tattoos on my arms are visible and my hair is styled with just a little bit of gel in that way girls tell me is “just so hot.” Personally, I don’t really care how my hair looks. I’m more than happy to just buzz it off, but the one time I did, I seriously lacked in hookups for two months while it grew back.
I take a seat at my favorite bar and throw some money in the video poker machine while waiting for the bartender to make his way down here. I love this place; by the time Dave comes down he’s already got my drink in his hand. “Hey, Mike. How’s it going, man? I got your gin and tonic, Bombay Sapphire with limes, of course.”
I take the drink and shake his hand. “Thanks, Dave. It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been good, thanks. It’s great to see you again. By the way, I’m placing my bet now. Judging by your appearance tonight, I give it forty-five minutes before you’re on your way back up with a beautiful girl, so I’m going to keep your drinks coming. I know you like a good buzz before leaving the bar.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Ah, the all-knowing bartender has placed his bets. You know I’d hate to disappoint you, so how about you pour me a double shot now so I can step up my game.”
Dave gives me a knowing look and pours the shot. “Okay, man, you’re all set. You’re already getting an audience behind you. If I were you, I would hit the girl in red—she’s a regular and used to the no strings thing. You got condoms this time, or do you need me to hit the bar stash again?”
Man, he really doesn’t forget a thing. “Nah, man, I’m good. I brought some this time. Last time, the airport lost my luggage and my condoms along with it; just another reason why I would rather drive.”
“I hear you. Just nod at me if you need another. I gotta get back to the other end of the bar.”
Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, three girls walk up and sit next to me at the bar. One of them is stunning in a green, low-cut dress. Unfortunately, she looks a little like Katherine and is immediately not an option. There’s a cute girl in jeans, Chucks, and a nice button-down shirt. I would love to take her upstairs, but she’s shy, and shy girl equals needy girl. I don’t do needy girls; they’re too emotional and make me feel bad when I have to tell them I only want sex. I’m always honest, and it doesn’t always go over well, but I figure they should know the deal up front. The only exception to that was Misty and that’s a mistake that still weighs heavily on my mind. Another one to add to the “someday make amends” pile. That pile seems to be getting excessively large, but there’s no time to think about that right now.
The girl in red is the first one to speak to me. She’s got a throaty, sexy voice, and she oozes sex appeal. She definitely isn’t the most attractive of the three, but she’s in no way ugly. Giving her the onceover, I can tell immediately she’s confident, probably well off—judging by the designer “come fuck me” shoes she has on—and she definitely looks up for a good time. This is exactly the kind of girl I can tie up. Her rack is okay, but her ass is to die for. Her strawberry-blonde hair is from a bottle for sure, and she has big, expressive, brown eyes. She’s just the kind of distraction I need tonight.
“Hi, I’m Sara. Mind if I sit here next to you, or is your girlfriend in the restroom?” Smooth—getting the girlfriend question out of the way in the introduction. Yeah, this girl definitely gets around.
“Sure, Sara, have a seat. There’s no girlfriend, just me. Can I buy you and your friends a drink?” The girls giggle, and I flag Dave over to take their orders. “Bill them all to my room, okay, Dave? Whatever these three lovely ladies want is on me tonight.”
“Gotcha, Mike.”
“So, Mike, are you visiting, or do you live around here?”
I flash her a smile, showing off my dimples which tend to reel girls in. “I’m here for work but just for the weekend. I decided to come down to the bar and see what kind of trouble I can get myself into tonight.”
Sara’s friends are blushing and giggling, but Sara’s eyes are locked on mine—she’s definitely interested. “Well, I’m sure I can get you into all kinds of trouble if you’re interested.”
Nice. She doesn’t beat around the bush. Leaning in real close, I whisper to her, “I don’t play games, Sara. I’m not the kind of guy that will give you my number, and no matter how good you fuck me, that won’t change. What I will do is give you multiple orgasms and pay for your cab home if you want to come up to my room and let me fuck you senseless.”
Her cheeks flush with my words. She immediately pounds her drink and turns to her friends, and tells them she’ll meet up with them later. The girls thank me for the drinks and head off to the slots. When Sara turns my way, her eyes are burning with desire.
Dave comes back and brings me another double shot. “Damn, thirty minutes, where does the time go?” Sara shoots him an odd look, but I just laugh as he walks away. Guess I have fifteen minutes left on the clock.
“Mike, I like that you’re honest, so I’ll be honest as well. Here are the ground rules: I don’t need your number, I don’t even need you to remember my name. In fact, I might call you someone else’s name and you’re just going to have to be okay with it because old habits die hard. I don’t do anal, I won’t swallow unless it’s a relationship, and I won’t fuck without condoms. Deal?”
Hell yeah, that’s a deal and a huge turn on. I’ve never been with a girl who’s this up front. “Deal, let’s go.” I throw a fifty-dollar bill down for Dave and nod my head when he looks at me with admiration in his eyes as I walk off with Sara.
Walking to the elevators, I can feel the gin kicking in—definitely not drunk, but hella buzzed and feeling no pain. Sara is a class act, which is a welcome change. She isn’t groping me in the elevator, she’s not trying to hold my hand, and she isn’t trying to make out yet, all of which is fine with me. We exit the elevator and our fingers graze as we walk to my room at the end of the hall. After opening the door, I give her a few minutes to explore.
“Nice room, Mike. Not every guy splurges on a spa suite.”
Walking up to her from behind, I move her hair out of the way and kiss her neck. “Well, I like to have a nice room to bring the ladies back to. Sometimes they like to clean up after I get them dirty.”
Her body relaxes into mine, and I know I’ve got her right where I want her, so why do I suddenly feel nauseous? I’m sure it will pass. I turn her around and kiss her. Immediately, she thrusts her tongue into my mouth—it isn’t the biggest turn on, but whatever … different strokes for different folks. I back away and slow the kiss. It’s while I’m trailing a path of kisses along her neck to her earlobe, I’m struck by an overwhelming scent. An all
too familiar smell—one I’ve missed so much—and now the nausea is coming in waves and I can’t hold it back anymore. Racing to the bathroom, I throw up repeatedly.
Sara is standing in the doorway. “Um, Sara, I’m really sorry but I think you better go.”
Looking down at me, she seems pissed. I can’t say I blame her. “Yeah, I think that’s a great idea. You didn’t seem drunk, but I hope you are because I don’t need to get the flu. Have a nice night, Mike.”
I hear the door close as I vomit again. Once I’m done emptying the contents of my stomach, I take my clothes off and lie down in bed.
I’m not sick and I’m not drunk, not even close, but the smell of gardenias was too much. How did I not notice it until now? The one weekend I need to have Katherine completely out of my head and away from my heart and she comes slamming back into my life like a hurricane in the form of some damn perfume. What the fuck? It all comes rolling back to me, and I curl up like a little kid and cry, finally letting it all out again after almost four years. I can feel all the emotions—how much I loved her, how what happened between us broke my heart, and how much I kick myself in the ass daily for ever letting my mom’s doubts consume my mind. I should’ve cooled down and apologized to her. I know I shattered her heart and soul. I was so cruel to her with the ring—taunting her, teasing her. Instead of throwing it in her face, I should’ve dropped to my knees and begged her to marry me. I should’ve told her life was too short, especially in light of what happened. I should’ve done a lot of things and I didn’t. I’m such a fucking dumbass.
I deserve this pain. I deserve to ache for the one girl who ever loved me, the one I loved with all my heart and soul. I miss her so much. I just want her back. I want us back. I’ve spent three years in denial, three long years missing her and acting like a fool. I don’t know if it’s too late, but when I get home I’m going to make some serious changes. I’m going to finally call my mom back, but not until I talk to Katherine, not until I make this right. I have only ever wanted one girl. From the first day I met her in second grade I knew I would marry her someday.