Six Guns and Six Strings: 13 Book Excite Spice Cowboys and Rock Stars Mega Bundle (Excite Spice Boxed Sets)

by Selena Kitt

  Mixing by our master mixer Kenny would probably take weeks because we were dying to get it perfect, and multiple tweaks were par for the course.

  So ready to party and celebrate our sure slam dunk, we called some random passed-along numbers and had a well-dressed posse ready to party at the studio within an hour. We boarded the band bus with those slinky groupies in tow, as well as Lex’s friend Kate, who’d somehow snagged the eye and hands of Matty once again. I rebuffed arm candy of my own. It would’ve only been for show. I know what and who I fucking want, and trying to trick my brain into thinking differently had already bombed.

  I sure as hell didn’t invite Alexa though because for one, she needed to focus on work tomorrow rather than one of my sneaky, hungry hands sliding up between her legs, and two, I was in a really good mood and didn’t want to deal with the sneers and comments from the others about bagging my sorta-sister.

  We chose an obscure, off-the-map bar with only three cars in the lot to let loose. Inside, we found the stage empty. Only two guys patronized the place at stools at the shiny bar, so Matty and I played an impromptu version of the song we cut today called Rock Candy.

  Our small audience cheered, but that wasn’t exactly indicative of its brilliance because alcohol was already flowing and the girls were greedy for attention.

  Kate rushed up to Matty with a big hug and said, “That was amazing, babe? It is so hot. You were absolutely right. I’m sure it’ll be a hit.” She lowered her voice, but I still clearly heard her say, “Wanna see how wet you made me?”

  Standing next to her when she let Matty go, I mouthed, “Babe?” at him. “Wet?”

  Matty grinned instead of begging me with wide eyes to rescue him, so I let it be. In allowing Kate to tag along again, he must really dig her. He bores easily, quickly moving from one chick to the next.

  The bartender, or owner maybe, a white towel draped over his shoulder, came up to us after. “You’re Itchy Fringe right? That was so phenomenal. We just don’t get talent in here like that. I know this is a hole-in-the-wall, but would you consider booking a gig here?”

  I sneered and shrugged because he was damn right. This place was way too small for our typical, rowdy crowd.

  But, Matty, our current booking agent while we were in the hunt for another one, said, “Yeah maybe, man. We’ll consider it. We can maybe swing a few songs.” He handed him his business card. “Call me later sometime next week, and we’ll see if we can iron something out.”

  The guy grinned big. “All right. Cool, cool. This is great. Thanks.” He shook the card in his fist for a moment then pocketed it and walked away with a skip in his step.

  When he was back behind the wooden slab, I spun like a rabid Rottweiler and said, “Fuck it. Here? Seriously? No way are we playing here. We may have slipped chart-wise, but we still have an avid fan base that realizes we got fucked by corporate bullshit. We’ve been everywhere from Arlington to Vancouver. We are far from being garden trolls. This place can hold fifty people. At most. This is not us, man. Not us at all.”

  He socked my arm. “I don’t care about numbers. I just want us to try out our new shit, live, wherever we can, and see how people jam. This crowd’s not gonna be our typical horny peeps, and I want to see if we can expand our reach. Don’t you? That still-unnamed bluesy song you wrote last month would be a good choice, for instance.”

  I shook my head with an angry huff. “Yeah, whatfuckingever. Do whatever the hell you want. I just find going from stadiums to shitholes insulting. We are better than that … damn fucking better than this.” I bashed a chair with the heel of my hand and it loudly scraped forward a foot. “Dammitall.” So much for my good mood. I wanted to break chairs, never mind shove them. Busting some drummer’s head would fell pretty righteous too. I slumped down at a table all by myself and didn’t even get hard watching Matty’s mouth enjoying Kate’s hot tits in the corner of the room while his fingers got freaky up her skirt.

  The other seven ladies danced in a sultry pile with the remaining four members of my band to Styx, Heart, and Bad Company that was pumping out of the ceiling speakers.

  I snickered that our security guy Jarvis looked like one of the Men in Black. He was standing by the door, his hands folded together in front of his package. He gave me a nod, and I huffed with a sneer that I needed armed, suited dudes at all. We normally did when traveling and junk, but my crazy stalker had jacked up our risk factor to a whole new level of insanity.

  After downing two mugs of black coffee with a splash of coconut rum, I said, ‘Fuck it,’ to my no-hard-drinking rule and tossed back a beer. Okay, that wasn’t hard, yet, but I was determined to go numb and was just getting started. I was still fuming that Matty was seriously considering here. Smitty’s Smokehouse and that crowd of two-fifty or whatever was bad enough. And now, we’re down to fifty fucking morons, if we’re lucky? Are you kidding me? Shit. This sucks balls.

  My cock jacked halfway at the middle of Never by Heart because all I could picture was giving that blond chick back in my house exactly what she was dying for until she screamed my name over and over and over. Alexa could definitely perk up my mood.

  I texted her. For the first time ever, it was nothing even remotely in the camp of brotherly concern. Changed my mind. I’m dying to acquaint myself with your luscious body. Can I tie you up in my bed later and lick all your hottest places?

  I smirked when she quickly wrote back, Hell yeah!!! I’ll be waiting. Right there. In your bed.

  That sweet, sexy reply took care of my half-wilt and my jeans became excruciatingly tight. I numbed my arousal with a few shots of tequila and squinted at my phone that emitted her pheromones again via song.

  Wait. Do you want me to be naked?

  She sent another quick text before I could respond that set my blood on fire.

  Sir?

  I sat up straight with a gasp and seized my hard-on over my tight jeans because I almost jizzed at that special treat. Maybe … Alexa could actually work instead of being a lost cause or a dead end like I thought. Maybe she’s the imaginary girl ... the real deal ... that ever-elusive candy I’ve always craved.

  No! Wear a flimsy dress. And just that. One you don’t care about. Cuz I literally want to tear it off your body.

  Hot, she wrote.

  Definitely hot. Even in my buzz of building inebriation, I suddenly remembered her meeting. I tapped out: Crap. What time do you have to be to work? For your meeting?

  Fuck the meeting. I want you, Danny. My pussy’s so wet for you. Want a pic? I’ll prove it.

  NO!!! Damn no. “Holy hell,” I said aloud under my breath. I rubbed my jaw with the heel of my hand as I tried to gain the strength to shoot her down, for her own good. I wrote: We can play tomorrow night then.

  But … I want you now.

  Don’t whine, Brat. I’ll slap that ass good and red instead.

  Either sounds like a good time. But I love the idea of waiting for you in your bed. Nearly naked. I’ll grab some silk ties. And also a belt … if you’re so inclined. Please?

  Fuck me. She’s way more into the leather side of sex than I ever would’ve thought. I checked my watch. It was only 9:35. Okay. You win. I think we’re almost done at this shithole bar. Be home soon to kink and sex you up.

  Can’t wait!

  Yeah, me neither.

  I swigged down another shot and coughed once to kill the tingle-burn in my throat. My blood turned to liquid fire. I was so hungry to taste all her pink parts. To actually get to devour them instead of just fantasizing about it like I’ve been doing all damn day kept me jacked to slide into her tight, slick entrance. I was ready to kick my hesitance to the curb and go get what I wanted, what I craved. And I damn-well wanted Alexa. And she was now waiting for me in my bed … with freaking ties and a belt. Did I die and land in heaven?

  I always kept a pencil nub on hand and at least a scrap of paper in case I got bitten by a bug of inspiration … or some dirty thought came to mind that would lend itse
lf well to a lyric. Today I had a notepad in my back pocket. I whipped it out and my eyes blurred as I flipped the cover to the back and looked at the thin, blank lines. I squinted and set my tongue between my teeth as I messily jotted:

  I don’t give a damn what they say,

  Not even what they do.

  I don’t care if the whole world burns,

  if the sands of time run dry,

  if scorn is all I reap ...

  if the pit of Hell sucks me in...

  Not even if my heart is rent in two.

  It’s NOT … and never will be … taboo to love you.

  So help me, God . . . I think I already do.

  I stared at my lame words for several minutes. These maybe-lyrics were so damn shitty. There’s no way I could actually sing this, any of this, even though a matching tune was already running on loop in my head with thunderous, deafening insistence. It’s crap.

  I ripped the page out, crumpled it up in a ball and nail-flicked it off the table. I watched it fly across the room and crash into a wall. It bounced back this direction and rolled onto the dance floor. No one saw it. One of the dancing chicks kicked her foot a little and bopped the paper ball back my way. It rolled closer and closer, coming to a stop right under the chair next to mine. I don’t fucking tempt the Fates or fuck with destiny. I took this as a sign. Maybe it wasn’t crap. Maybe this whole thing with Alexa wasn’t necessarily on a fast track to Doom either.

  I shifted the chair across wood with a loud, screaming scrape then quickly bent to scoop it up. But I clutched my suddenly woozy head with one hand as I reclaimed the little paper ball and stuffed it in my pocket. I rubbed my aching right temple in circles with my knuckle and groaned.

  She was in my bed, prettying it up with her sex appeal right at this moment, in just a dress, because I fucking said so. Maybe she was playing with her dainty petals like a naughty, naughty girl, imagining all the raunchy things I’m gonna do to her and them once I get home. I could hit that, once. Heck. Again and again if I wanted to. No one has to know. And who gives a damn if they do. She’s not really my sister. She’s a fucking hot woman. One who’s, for damn once, obeying me, and even calling me Sir.

  God, that was the best music, far better than anything I could create. The symphonic score in that one word gave me ultimate bliss and made me so damn hard.

  Just thinking of all the ways I’d demand she prove she really meant that, set my teeth on edge, and I seethed and ground my jaws together. I didn’t tell her to call me that. She just did it. And it was a definite step-up from Asshole.

  The party here wrapped up, thank God. It was dulling me senseless anyway, especially compared to the sure thrill awaiting me at home.

  We gathered in the bus to leave, except for Jarvis, who’d tail us in his Lincoln.

  Slouching into a stretch seat, I clenched my fists, trying to beg my cock to settle down and wait for the much better party at home.

  It didn’t help that Kate and Matty were going at it across from me and that he was grabbing tanned, hot flesh up under her shirt and bra. She moaned sexy in his mouth against his driving tongue and roving hands that quickly had her blue silk hiked up to her neck and her ample, naked breasts all out for rough groping. He pinched and rubbed her jujubes with a finger grind. Then his teeth and loudly sucking mouth were on them, as if no one else was even here.

  I tore my gaze away because I wanted to jizz on a cute face while looking into butterscotch pudding eyes, not in my damn jeans.

  Damn. I am getting laid. Nothing’s holding me back tonight. My prize is waiting.

  Puck soon headed us back towards the studio to get our cars. We could then veer off in separate directions, with me, most importantly, headed to my hot, hot destiny.

  Thankfully, before the zipper of my jeans lost teeth and my cock broke out into the air, the company across from me took their frisky play to the back of the bus.

  I ran my finger over my twitching head then slid over to the pocket that contained my lame, balled-up note. Do I love her? Do I? I closed my eyes and rubbed achy sockets as my buzz created more brain fuzz and distortion. Lust was also clouding my mind.

  One of the girls in our group plopped next to me with a jarring flop. Her hair brushed my bare upper arm and her perfume, so sickly sweet, pinched my nose with its pungency. I opened my eyes and glared at the perky, petite blonde in a skimpy, gold-sparkle dress.

  “Hey, you’ve been pretty quiet all night? Are you always like this?”

  I chuckled. “Not particularly. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  She beamed like a stewardess. “Well, it just so happens, I’m a great listener, and even better company,” she warbled, reminding me of one of those wet bubbler bird whistles. She slid her hand up my thigh and walked her fingers towards my very evident erection. “I can perk up your mood in no time and take care of this.” She flicked her tongue out like a snake and set her index finger on the tip of my dick, then followed the beefy, throbbing diagonal up to my jeans button. “How ’bout it, Danny?”

  “Get. Your. Fucking hand. Off of me.” I clutched her fingers so tightly, she screeched and sneered ugly at my vicing clamp. “Did I say you could touch me?”

  She shook her head with water quickly filling and resting on the brims of her eyes. “No, no. I’m sorry.” She blinked and tears streamed.

  We were heading down a hill, careening quickly all of a sudden, way too quickly. I straightened up and gasped. The stomach-dropping flight crashed Glitter Flirt into my thigh.

  The bus went off-road, bumbling roughly over grass hills and woodland debris. Tree branches loudly scraped the sides of the bus.

  “Hit the damn brake, Puck!” Despising that she was not only touching me again but literally using my junk in viciously painful squeeze to brace herself, I shoved her off of my nuts to get relief. But that happened to be the worst time to do it because Puck veered sharply trying to avoid hitting trees. And I know that because we hit them anyway, especially on my side of the bus. Between my shove and the jarring force of the impact, Glitter Flirt hurled forward and half-smashed through the already broken side-window glass across from me with a loud crash.

  Screams and bellows filled the air. Shattered glass bits from both sides of the bus flew everywhere.

  The jarring impact tossed everyone off the seats, with me landing on my knees on the floor and my head crashing into Glitter Flirt’s pert ass.

  An excruciating ache-burn overwhelmed my arm and I coughed out strangled sobs of agony. I swear something broke. My head killed too.

  Clutching my arm, I worked to get back up to my feet. I yelled, “Shit,” at both the pain and the sight in front of me. Even while rising in anguish that now had me yowling, I felt compelled to help her, but I was pretty sure it was too late. Glitter Flirt beneath me looked lifeless bent in half, slumped over the metal encasement. She wasn’t moving at all.

  Everyone was shouting out questions. I blinked as the world blurred.

  The pain in my arm was so excruciating and blinding, it sledgehammered my already hurting head. Even still, I tried to help the girl in the golden dress, while aiming to stave off an upchuck with deep breaths, but I ended up vomiting beside her onto the carpeted floor.

  Looking down, that’s when I saw the red puddle oozing off the seat to further ‘gorify’ my nasty, sour chunks. The blood, there was so much blood, pouring, gushing out of her abdomen.

  Between my pain and the horror show, I felt queasy again, but dizzy also. I let go of Glitter Flirt, straightened up with a big nose sniff to get needed air into my lungs, and began to wobble. The bus began to spin. Or maybe I was beginning to spin.

  I heard Kate shrill, “Oh my god, she crashed through! Is she dead? Danny, help her!” She reached me and rapped my upper arm with the back of her hand to prod me.

  But, hell, I couldn’t damn help her.

  I was suddenly falling then lying flat on my face. The pain in my head and arm spiked from slamming into solid floor rather
than a cloud. I think I fell on my own blood-vomit cocktail.

  I was useless.

  Matty rushed over to help Kate deal with the girl I was sure was already dead. A six-minute bus ride had turned terribly tragic. My nuts still felt the anguish of her brutal squeeze.

  She died, rejected and in terror. She surely died because of me.

  Some female stooped to check on me. Delicate hands rested on my back.

  Swamp-sludge black became a welcoming pillow that was pretty, so damn pretty.

  Pitch. Liquid, bubbling tar. Demon feathers. Maybe even death. Still pretty.

  As people shouted around me, that comfy, pretty pain-free blackness calling to me became too powerful to ignore, so I closed my eyes and gladly nestled into it.

  7