Shake, Rattle & Roll
A Baxter Boys Novel
Jane Charles
Night Shift Publishing
All Shake, Rattle & Roll
Copyright © 2017 by Jane Charles
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Night Shift Publishing
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Created with Vellum
For the Reader and Friends who helped me come up with a name for the band and the jazz club,
and especially to Marc Wyckoff of the name Grey and Olivia Nolan for the name Bee Bee’s. Thank you everyone, for all of the awesome suggestions!
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Jane
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Author’s Note
EXCERPT - RATTLE AROUND
About Jane Charles
Also by Jane Charles
1
“Seriously? Feel Your Balls?” I read the sign above one of the booths at the health fair. The booth next to it has a sign Feel Your Boobs?
“Got your attention, didn’t it?” Mary Robins grins at me.
“Can we go feel boobs and balls?” Zach asks.
“Only after you give blood,” Mary assures Zack the same way a mom would promise ice cream after booster shots. At least that’s what a few of my foster moms were like. The good ones, when I was still a little kid.
“Right over there.” Mary points to a huge white tent. Inside are recliners and about half of them are filled with people giving blood.
“They have cakes, cookies and juice for when you’re done,” she continues in a cajoling voice as she herds the guys toward the tent.
I watch as my roommates slink off, shoulders slouched and heads hanging. Really, the needle isn’t that big and they only take a bag of blood. It’s really no big deal.
Mary comes back to me, fists on her hips and stares me down.
“Can’t.” I hold up my hands and step back. “I’m a regular giver,” I remind her. “It’s not my time yet.” And, they never let me forget either. With A negative blood, they love to get their needle in me to fill a bag and usually call to schedule an appointment two weeks before I’m due.
“Maybe you should be on Alex watch.”
I laugh. I wasn’t there, but last time Alex gave blood he passed out. “Kelsey’s with him. He won’t wimp out in front of her.”
“It’s not wimping out to get light headed.”
“He’s a fucking tattoo artist, and needles and blood make him squeamish. Explain that.”
She rolls her eyes. “Totally different kinds of needles and a hell of a lot more blood.”
We are right in the middle of the campus where on normal days students just hang out between classes, but today it’s filled with all things health fair related. I didn’t know what to expect, but not all of this. In one corner is a fenced off area, kind of like you’d see in a petting zoo, but it’s filled with little kids and playground equipment. Adults are in there watching too. The kids are running, screaming, playing and crying. Right next to it is a booth with the sign Are You Ready for This? With an arrow pointed to the playground. “Birth control booth?”
“Whenever possible, it’s best to demonstrate. A crying baby is a lot more effective than a pamphlet sometimes.” Mary laughs.
“So, what are you demonstrating?” Mary needs to be at a booth in a few minutes for her volunteer work.
“The proper use of a condom.”
“Um, isn’t that a given?”
“You’d be surprised at how many guys were never taught the proper technique of rolling one on and leaving a reserve.”
“Seriously?”
“Sad, I know.”
“It’s just as important for girls to know too,” I point out. Except a girl hasn’t been around my dick in, well, too damn long. I’m not even sure the condoms I own haven’t expired.
It’s not that I don’t have the opportunity to get laid, like every weekend, but that got old real quick. Something about being in a band makes girls wet. I know this because they’ve told me. And, it was fun for a while but damn, I want more than a quick fuck in the back room of a bar. “So, you’re at the booth next to the kids.”
“No, they are just handing out information about the clinic, services that are offered, a map of the health fair. More of an information booth.”
I nod and do a full turn. There are a ton of booths and tents. I can’t even see everything they have, and the place is packed. They are mostly students, but it’s a huge turnout. I’m not sure I went to one health fair when I was in college. They seemed so lame and I didn’t really think I needed to learn anything new. Damn, if I knew they were like this, I probably would have stopped in.
“I’m next to the balls. Condoms and balls kind of go hand in hand, don’t you think?” She wags her eyebrows at me.
“If you’re doing it right.” I laugh as we start walking in that direction.
Mary slips behind the table, relieving the girl who was standing there. Roll it Right reads the sign above her head and another sign on the table says One Break Can Last a Lifetime and Free for the taking, in front of tubs filled with condoms. Guys are grabbing up handfuls as they come by.
Two guys stop and look at Mary.
She tilts her head, giving them a saucy grin. “You sure you know how to use that thing?”
One of them looks at his friend, then nods. “Maybe you should show me, just so I know I’m doing it right.
“I’d love too.”
What the hell? What kind of health fair is this? I glance back to make sure Dylan, my roommate and her boyfriend, is still in the tent. Did Dylan know what she was going to be doing?
The guy leans on the table, getting closer to Mary. “Should we go somew
here, um, more private?”
She grabs a condom out of the tub. “I’m more of an exhibitionist.” She dismisses him as if the idea of putting on a condom in front of everyone is no big deal, then reaches under the table and brings out a neon green dildo on a stick.
“Oh, man,” the guy says with disappointment and I about lose it because I’m laughing so hard. She so played him. Though, if Mary is going to spend her afternoon showing guys how to use condoms, even if it is on a dildo, I may have to make sure Dylan is occupied elsewhere. He sure as hell is not going to like witnessing what I just did. Not that Mary did anything wrong. Hell, she didn’t even flirt or lead the guy on, but a girl offering to help with a condom is enough to get a guy thinking about what happens after the condom is on and that guy was definitely jumping ahead to wearing the condom and being with Mary.
I glance at the next booth and forget to breathe. It’s the girl who was coming out of the campus clinic with Mary a few months back. I never got her name. I introduced myself and all she said was “I know. You play sax, right?” Then she was gone. I’ve wanted to ask Mary about her, but I don’t want Mary to start trying to fix me up with people either. Girls do that when they are in love. Kelsey worked on getting Dylan and Mary together and I have no doubt Mary would do the same to me and the auburn-haired beauty with light blue eyes if she had any idea how interested I am.
She’s standing right beneath the Feel Your Balls sign and now that’s all I can think about. Her hands on my balls, stroking my shaft and maybe using that gorgeous mouth in the most pleasurable of ways.
A slow smile comes to her face as I approach, as if she can read my mind. Hell, of course she can. You don’t put a sexy girl under a sign like that and not expect guys to immediately think of feeling and tasting.
“Are you the one doing the feeling?”
“Maybe.” She leans on the table, hands flat against the surface, her upper arms pressing her tits together, making the cleavage deep.
Damn!
“I hear that guys like it when someone is feeling their balls.”
I lean in. “If you want to feel mine, I have no objection.” Even though I know she is working me, like Mary worked the guy on proper condom use, I’m happy to play along. Except, I’m not getting what this booth is about. How can feeling a guy’s balls be health related? Unless it’s to warn against blue balls. Which if this flirtation keeps up, I may have a serious case of.
“You probably don’t spend much time with your balls,” she says. “Most guys, when taking themselves in hand, just jack off in the shower and give no attention to the family jewels.”
Well, that’s true. If it’s bad enough that I have to take care if it myself, ball attention isn’t necessary.
“Did you know that could also be deadly?” Her voice is low and those blue eyes are boring into mine.
“Why? I could slip on a bar of soap.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I don’t want to die in the shower.” I lean in closer. Our noses are practically touching. She’s turning me on like no woman ever has and we aren’t even touching. “Maybe you should shower with me, for protection.”
“Give me your hand.”
I’m about to break out in a sweat. She can have my hand. She can have anything she wants.
I expect her hand to go into mine, but she places something soft and light in the palm. I glance down and it takes a moment before I realize what I’m holding and then drop it immediately.
“I hope you don’t treat your own balls so poorly.”
“What is that?” Well, it looks like a sack, balls, and scrotum, whatever, and the poor dick is even cut off.
“Guess you don’t look at yours too often either.” She snorts.
Holy crap! I’m flirting with Christian Sucato and we are talking about balls, feeling balls, and all I can think about are his balls and his cock and those light brown eyes.
This isn’t the first time I’ve given demonstrations, but I normally don’t flirt. It’s not professional and we aren’t supposed to. This booth is for information that could save a life, but when Christian walked up, it was almost as if I couldn’t help myself.
“Why did you just put balls in my hand?”
I try not to laugh but it is so freaking funny that practically every guy drops them as if the testicular exam simulator has cooties or something.
“To save your life,” I answer.
Damn, I’ve gotten more requests today to perform personal exams than I can count. If Christian were to ask, I’m not so sure I’d really want to tell him no.
I’ve had a thing for him for a good year. Ever since I saw his band play at a club one night. There’s just something about him and the way he plays that sax that is so fucking hot. Hotter than anyone I’ve encountered, not that I ever did anything about it. I’m pretty sure he has a fan base full of pretty girls who are all willing to feel his balls and anything else and I’m not a groupie. It’s not my thing. I’d just rather admire from afar, and it’s no different than seeing a hot guy in a movie. Nice to think about but knowing you’ll never actually get him. Out of reach, that is what Christian Sucato has been to me and after this display is done, at least I’ll have this encounter to remember.
He probably has more girls come on to him than he can keep up with and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even remember meeting me a few months back when I was with Mary. That unexpected meeting left me tongue tied and I got the hell out of there before I made a fool of myself by drooling or throwing my number at him. This time, I did my best to prepare when I saw him. Equally hoping he wouldn’t come over and hoping he would.
The point of this fair is to entice people to take their health seriously, even if it means luring them in to a booth with sexual innuendos. After all, sex sells and if that is what it takes to save a life, I’m not above it.
“Exactly how is playing with fake balls going to save my life?”
“Did you know that about 50% of all males who develop testicular cancer are between twenty to thirty-four years old?”
He pulls back in surprise. “No, actually.”
Even though I hate getting clinical, sometimes we need to and this topic is important to me. More than the others, except maybe drug addiction and depression. Hell, all of them are important and it’s why I took on the health fair this year. It needed to be more than general topics, generic information and pamphlets. It needed to be fun to draw the students in and hopefully, it might save some lives, which is why no topic was ignored and they are being presented in a manner that won’t bore the student body.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-four. How old are you?”
“Old enough to know that I need to check my body for lumps.”
He tilts his head and frowns. “That’s not really an answer.”
“Twenty-two,” I finally answer, not that my age matters where his balls are concerned.
“Testicular cancer is rare though, right? I mean, not like breast and lung cancer.”
“Almost 6 men in every 100,000 will be diagnosed, but wouldn’t it suck to be one of those six and you die because you are too squeamish to feel around your balls?”
“I’m not squeamish,” he defends, though his cheeks start to turn a little pink.
“Look, nobody thinks twice about women doing breasts exams, touching their boobs and feeling for lumps, but ask a guy to do the same to his balls and they get all weird, so tell me, why?”
Christian shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about.” Then he narrows his eyes on me. “How would I even know what to look for?”
I grin and pick up the exam stimulator. I feel around until I locate the lump then place it in his hands. “Now, with the tips of your fingers, press and feel your way around and become familiar with what is normal and what isn’t.”
At first he balances it in his hand and then does as I ask. His eyes go wide. “This almost feels like the real thing.”
/>
“I thought you said you don’t play with your balls.”
His face gets even brighter. “Well, there have been moments,” he grudgingly admits. “Like when I was a kid and had only myself.”
“To play with,” I tease.
Just because this is a serious topic doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it. Besides, I’ve found most guys are more comfortable learning when humor is involved.
At least he is taking this seriously, unlike some of the guys who came by and got wigged out. So far today, it’s been about 60% who really wanted to learn something and 40% who were too immature to understand the seriousness of the disease and how easy it is to check for.
I don’t get it, not really. It’s nothing for a girl to feel around her boobs when she’s washing them in the shower so why can’t guys take a few extra minutes when washing their balls. At least, I hope they’re washing them.
I watch as Christian presses over the spot where I know the lump is and goes on. Then he stops and goes back. “Is this it?”
“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.”
He grins at me and sets the simulator down. “What’s my prize?”
“You get to start playing with your balls in the shower for a reason instead of just pleasure.”
He presses his palms on the table and leans in close. “I still think it would be more thorough, and pleasurable if you were doing the examining.”
Shake, Rattle and Roll: The Baxter Boys #4 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled) Page 1