Caught in the Storm
Rachael Brownell
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
About the Author
Also by Rachael Brownell
For my reader group, the Book Lovers. Y’all have stuck with me, supported me and encouraged me through more books than I can count. I appreciate each and every one of you. This book is for you!
❤️ Rachael
One
Amelia
Lightning flashes, illuminating the entrance to The Rustic Club followed by a crack of thunder that sends a shiver up my spine. We're in for a big storm tonight and I'm hoping that will bring in a large crowd. I've heard great things about Rustic's open-mic night. If you want to get discovered, this is one of the best places in town.
It's low key. Off the beaten path, just on the outskirts of the city. A bit exclusive. You can't just walk in off the street and jump on stage. There are rules, and one of them is that you have to be invited to perform by the owner himself.
That invite... I had to work for it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I take a step forward, the bouncer opening the door for me as I approach, allowing me entrance without even glancing in my direction. I still don't know his name, but he reminds me of a white version of Mr. T. Tall. He never smiles. Added to his height and bulging muscles, it makes him kind of scary.
With the storm rolling in, it’s almost as dark inside as it is out. I expected it, the lighting is always low, helping to ensure the anonymity of the guests, but tonight it takes my eyes a second to adjust.
Scanning the room, I spot Joseph talking to a dark-haired man in a suit. His back is to me, but I'd know that tight, perfect ass anywhere. He looks better in jeans than I do. He also looks better naked than I do. Defined muscles. Covered in tattoos. Well endowed... but that's neither here nor there. I promised I would forgive myself for sleeping with him. It was the only way to get what I wanted.
And now that I have, I'll wait a few weeks and let him down easy.
Does that make me a horrible person? Depends who you ask.
All that matters at the end of the day is that I'm doing whatever it takes to chase my dreams. Joseph is what I would call a stepping stone. He knows all the right people, and they come here because he guarantees a great show. That's part of why this place has been known to help people break out. Joseph has a reputation to keep and hand picks each performer.
The Rustic Club is a little like he is, though. A complete contradiction. Rough yet elegant, unless you listen to him talk. On the outside, it looks like a rundown hole in the wall. All part of the facade. Inside... well, that's a different story. Leather and marble. Wrought-iron. Everything in red, black and white. Even the damn light fixtures are fancy.
Coming from a blue-collar family of farmers, I was intimidated at first. I knew he had money. I'd heard all the rumors about this place. I even knew what I needed to do to get in. Most importantly, I knew how to get Joseph’s attention. He had a type, and I fit the mold almost perfectly.
Tight, short, revealing black dress. High heels that I about killed myself in more than once that night. Bleach-blond hair, light eyes, and big boobs.
It took him all of five minutes to hit on me that night. Ten more minutes to sweet talk me into dancing and three hours to convince me to go home with him, even though that was the plan all along. I was playing hard to get for a reason. If I made it too easy for him, he wouldn't have taken the bait.
My roommate Beth called me a slut when I did the walk of shame the next morning, but I didn't let it get to me. She knew what I was doing. She'd tried to get his attention first, her chestnut hair and tiny chest stopping her from doing the walk of shame herself.
Our dreams are the same. We both want to snag the attention of the music producers known to hang out at The Rustic. The only way you can get on the open-mic list is if Joseph puts you on it. Therefore, you need Joseph’s attention first. Now that I have it, and my chance to shine, I plan to make the most of my one shot.
Sliding up to the bar, I wave down the bartender, and he pours me a rum and coke.
"Joseph looks busy," I note as he sets my drink of a tiny square napkin in front of me.
"Lots of important people in here tonight. Not sure who he is"—Tommy gestures in Joseph's direction with the nod of his head—"but Joseph rushed over the moment he saw them. You ready for your big break?" he jokes.
Tommy's been around awhile. He's seen people come through here who have gone big and others who have flopped. He's also seen the many women who have come before me. The ones who have used Joseph to get what they want, just like I'm doing. When he called me out on my devious ways, he did it with a knowing smile. No judgment.
Joseph is the only one who doesn't see what's going on. Either that or he enjoys the revolving door of women in his bed. If you think about it, everyone gets what they want.
"I don't want to bother him, so I think I'll just start getting set," I reply, sucking down my drink. Tommy makes them strong, causing me to pucker my face as I swallow.
Mental note to self. No more before I sing or I may forget the words to the song I wrote.
"Good luck," he calls after me as I make my way backstage.
It's not a large area, but there's a place to store my purse and a mirror to freshen up my makeup. That's all I really need aside from a chair to sit in while I wait. I'm a little early, but I'm also up first. There are two other people taking the stage after me tonight.
Pulling out my phone, I shoot Joseph a text to let him know I'm here. I was waiting for him to turn around, to end his conversation, but he never did.
ME: Backstage mentally preparing.
My message goes unanswered, as I expected. He's never once answered a text or phone call from me when he's with a customer. If the guy he's talking to is that important, I won't hear from him for a while. Maybe not even until after the show.
As I reapply my lipstick, I hear the stage door open and shut. I expect Joseph to walk around the corner, having received my text. He probably took it as an invitation to bend me over before I take the stage.
When he doesn't appear, I direct my attention back to my makeup and continue to add another layer.
Any other day, my face would be fresh and free of this crap. I hate this shit, but it's necessary. My face needs to be flawless under the lights. I prefer a natural look, but when it comes to performing, even if it's just on a little stage at a small bar on the outskirts of Houston, I put on my 'show' face. Highlight my eyes and high cheekbones. Smoky eyes for mystery and a bright red lipstick to go with the decor of the bar.
Shuffling behind me catches me off guard and when I turn, I come face to face with the dark-haired man Joseph was talking to. All six feet plus of him. My hands reach out to push him away, only to land on his rock-hard chest and stay there. The sudden urge to explore his body startles me at the same moment as my phone. When it chimes on the counter behind me, I reach for it but don't get far. Tall, dark, and handsome gently takes my outstretched hand in his, brings it to his lips, and kisses my palm.
"Hello," he softly says as he laces his fingers with mine.
"Um," I stutter. His dark, almost black eyes are staring into mine, holding me and my words captive. I can't bring myself to look away as he traces circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.
Who is this man, and what is he doing to me?
He oozes confidence, money, and power. I knew he was important when I saw Joseph paying attention to him. There was no doubt in my mind but now... now I want to know who he is, why he's here, and most importantly, why he's paying attention to me.
I'm no one. A woman with a dream.
Something about the look in his eye tells me he wants me. It also tells me he's planning on having me. There's desire mixed with promise. Need. Lust. I saw the same look in Joseph’s eyes the night we first met.
Whoever he is, he has me. I'll be his. Screw Joseph. I got what I wanted from him. After tonight I won't need him anymore. But this man, he has something to offer me as well. I'm not sure what it is, but I want to find out. I have to.
The need building in me will be fulfilled.
It might end after one night of passion, but I have a feeling it'll be worth it.
"Good luck tonight," he says with a wink before releasing my hands and turning to leave. A very sexy, he knows exactly what he's done to me, wink. One that ensures I’ll watch him as he walks around the corner and continue to stare long after I hear the door close.
"Holy shit," I say to myself, flabbergasted at what just happened. In the span of a mere minute, he brought me to my knees. The way he was looking at me. The confidence in his stance, in the few words he spoke. I'm turned on and in need of release.
My phone chimes again, and this time, I pick it up, my hands shaking.
JOSEPH: Be back in a few minutes.
JOSEPH: On my way.
As soon as I read his last text, he appears in front of me.
"Damn, woman. I'm not sure I want you up there tonight looking like that with all eyes on you. Guys are going to be jerking off at the sight of you."
Such a way with words.
If there's one thing about Joseph I won't miss, it's his vulgar mouth. My parents always taught me to act like a lady, speak like one, and think about the repercussions if I choose not to. I have a feeling his parents skipped the lesson on being a gentleman because he's as far from it as you can get.
Still, I smile and step toward him, capturing his mouth with mine. He responds the way I expect, sucking my tongue into his mouth and nibbling on it. Wrapping my arms around his neck to prepare for what comes next, I smile in appreciation as he lifts me by my ass, sets me on the counter, and presses against my center.
"I want you so bad right now," he says, his words coming out mumbled as he continues to devour my mouth.
"Take me," I beg before I lose my nerve. The mystery man may have been the one to light my fire, but Joseph can put it out for me. I won't be able to perform if I'm wound this tight.
Without breaking our kiss, he reaches down, working the buckle on his belt as I slide further back on the counter so I can remove my thong. As I slip it past my last heel, I hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper, and then he's inside me. Working with a sense of urgency. Bringing me so close to the edge I think I'm going to explode. I'm almost there when he growls against my mouth, a clear sign he's about to come. Closing my eyes, I focus on the lust I saw in my previous visitor’s eyes.
"Damn, woman." Joseph's voice is hoarse, his breathing still heavy as he pulls out of me, the sound of his zipper slicing through the heaviness in the room. "I don't think you've ever come that hard before. My girl likes it dirty."
Shooting him a wink and a playful smile, I don’t reply. I didn’t come, but I can’t tell him that. I need to stroke his ego a little longer, until after I perform.
Reaching his hand under my dress, he rubs my clit between his two fingers bringing me back to the edge before stopping abruptly and stepping back.
"You want more, don't you? You want me to make you come again?"
His tone is challenging. He wants something from me, I can hear it.
"You're going to have to wait. You're up in five." A slow grin spreads across his face. It's filled with promises I won't allow him to keep.
If I have my way, I'll be leaving tonight with someone else. I'll be riding a new horse, screaming someone else's name and reaching a new level of pleasure.
He doesn't know that, though, so I smile and wink at him as I hop off the counter and snag my tiny, black thong from where it landed on the floor.
"Keep looking at me like that, and I'll be the one jerking off when you sing." He laughs.
There's no doubt in my mind he'll have his hand in his pants while I'm on stage. I watched him jerk off the first night I sang for him. Granted, I was in a see-through teddy and he was naked on his couch, but still. It wasn't until I started to sing he reached for his dick and began stroking.
"Go." I shoo him away with my hand when he steps toward me. "I need to finish getting ready."
"Promise me you won't touch yourself," he whispers in my ear before kissing me gently on the cheek. "I want you to come on my face tonight."
I only promise so he'll leave. Once he's gone, I immediately reach under my dress and bring myself release. I need it. I know he's going to be in the audience, my mystery man, and if I don't, I'll come the moment our eyes meet.
Two
Johnathan
Jesus Christ!
Legs for days. Tight, little, black dress. Breasts that are making me salivate with the need to have them in my mouth. Wrapped around my dick.
And then there's her smile. A complete contradiction to the way she's dressed. Sweet and innocent.
The way she runs her fingers through her hair as she talks to the bartender. She doesn't realize it, but he's looking down her dress. Checking out her voluptuous tits as she leans forward as if they're having a private conversation.
He nods in our direction, and I avert my eyes, not that they can see them from this distance. I listen to the owner go on and on about how honored he is to have me in his club.
Ha!
This isn't a club, this is a bar. A nice one, but it's far from being a club. Clubs are exclusive. Clubs have VIP lists. They don't let just anyone walk in off the streets. The only reason he can call this place a club is because they have a dress code, and that's probably to keep up the image.
To keep up his image.
Joseph Hanks.
He seems to think he's a big shot, but I've never heard of him or his 'club' before tonight.
We wouldn't even have stopped here if I hadn't been in such a shitty mood. I think Garcia was happy to get away from me for a minute. Wait, where the hell did he run off to? He's supposed to be my bodyguard. This man should never have been able to walk up to me and start a conversation.
I probably wouldn't even be talking to him except for the fact he knew who I was and immediately started stroking my ego. With the election less than a year away, I need to campaign for votes any chance I get.
"Again, I just want to let you know how honored I am that you're here tonight, Senator."
I'm sure you are. Kiss ass.
"Thank you. You have a nice place here," I comment as I watch the object of my desire walk away from the bar, the bartender’s eyes traveling to her ass.
Scum.
Not that I'm any better. I follow his line of sight and admire the view. It's a nice ass. Better than nice in fact. I'd love to watch it bounce as I fuck her from behind. The thought alone is getting me hard.
"Can you do me a favor?" I ask quickly. The look on his face tells me he had more to say, and I'm sick of listening to him.
"Of course."
He's eager to please. I like that, especially in my women, but he'll do for now.
"My bodyguard has gone missing. Can you please locate him? He's about five-seven, stocky, bald. Mexican descent."
"I can take a look around." There's disappointment in his voice. I'm sure that's not what he was expecting, but I need to distract him while I
go in search of my prey.
"I appreciate it. Bathrooms are this way?" I ask, pointing to the hall she disappeared down.
He nods as I slide out of the booth and then walk away, effectively ending our conversation. I swear I hear him whisper under his breath, but I don't acknowledge it and give him the satisfaction.
Once I'm in the shadows of the hall, I turn to locate Mr. Hanks and see him chatting with a group of businessmen at the table next to where I was seated before moving onto the next table. He appears to be searching for Garcia and mingling at the same time. Good. That means I have a few extra minutes to mingle myself.
The bathrooms are to my right, an unmarked door on my left. I'm guessing that's where I'll find the legs I was admiring earlier. Just as I'm about to knock, Garcia walks out of the men’s room and raises an eyebrow at me.
"Boss." It's a statement, not a question.
"The owner is looking for you, per my request. Avoid him for at least five minutes. I have something I need to take care of."
Without another word, Garcia slips back in the bathroom as I open the unmarked door and step inside.
There's sound equipment to my left, tossed lazily on the floor. An amp lying on its side with cordless microphones sitting on top of it. A set of drums crammed in the corner.
I'm backstage, which means she must be the entertainment tonight. Fuck, I can't wait to see her under the spotlight, on display for me. Only me. It makes me want to kill every fucker in the room so they don't look at her. I want to claim her as mine, and I haven't even met her yet.
There's a single light coming from down the narrow hall in front of me. I see a shadow moving around but can't make out who it is. I sure as fuck hope it's the sexy blond I'm looking for. If not, we're both in for a surprise.
Caught in the Storm Page 1