Reckless Love: A Billionaire Baby Steamy Fantasy Multicultural Love Story Rockstar Romance

by Imani King

  But that’s ridiculous. I am the one who gets head, not the one who fucking gives it. Christ on a bike.

  What just happened here?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jasmine

  “Get it together Jasmine,” Kerry hissed, as Jasmine made her second wrong entrance in as many minutes. She knew this piece like the back of her hand. “Where’s your head?”

  “I’m sorry! I will!” Jasmine whispered back, frantic. She was always known for being rock solid. It came from practicing six, seven, sometimes ten hour days. It was hard to admit it to herself, but it was the thought of the handsome man that had greeted them that was making her fall off the rails so badly. She had never responded so much to someone before, and she didn’t know anything about him.

  Were all rock-stars this freaking charismatic? Still it doesn’t matter, since this one is getting married. Don’t even think about it. She shifted in her chair, trying to ignore the urgent feelings throbbing in her center. And even if he weren’t, he was hardly a good choice. Anyway, your entrance is coming up. Think of the music, she coached herself, and before long it took over, her solo lines making clear and shimmering arcs above the glorious base the other three were providing.

  Kerry smiled at her, a bit archly.

  “That’s better,” she seemed to say. “But don’t fuck it up again.” Jasmine nodded inwardly.

  It was not only a big concert, for important people, but it was one of those important person’s actual wedding. Messing it up would be unthinkable. And for what? Something stupid like a guy you just met and are mooning over?

  So why did this gorgeous man have to stroll into the middle of her big break, look at her with those smoldering eyes, and then get married right under her nose?

  She nearly missed her third entrance but at the last second her bow remembered its path, and set the string to vibrating, her rich tone sounding through the stonework in the hall. Only the people who knew her playing best would have guessed that she had barely made it. Kerry’s eyes didn’t leave Jasmine, though her violin stayed glued to her music.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Leo

  Leo got up from his perch on the stone wall, stretching his long, elegant legs, and made his way to the games room. But not for games - for the bar. Nothing would settle his newly jangled nerves quite like a tumbler of scotch. Or five.

  Never failed me before.

  The game room was deserted, aside from some servants who were decorating for the wedding. He shambled behind the bar and poured a shot over ice, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking. As he put the burning liquid to his lips, again he was assaulted by the desire to taste her. Everywhere. He poured another and sat down at a stool.

  It figures that this place is empty. Life in England is empty for me. It’s always fucking deserted.

  It was true, that life is a minor nobleman was not exactly the picnic that it sounded like it should be. Leo looked out the window at the great expanse of fields that surrounded the estate, the rolling hills in the distance, sheep dotting the countryside, and remembered being a child, knocking about the grounds. It could have been glorious, he supposed, growing up in such a place. If there had been anyone to spend that time with, exploring the countryside, but his brother had been much older, more serious, not interested in getting up to the kinds of things a boy would want to do. And parents always busy. A vague sense of ‘seen but not heard’ in the air.

  It was lonely.

  And now Victor’s getting married. And I am still alone.

  He poured another drink, walked over to where the light was streaming in, and leaned his forehead against the window, as he had when he was a small child. All the trappings of manhood fell away from him as he gently kicked the wood of the wainscoting with the tip of his Italian leather shoe. As he had done as a boy.

  His finger traced the rim of the glass, imagining the girl’s mouth again, as the faint sounds of a cello cried out in the distance. I wonder how she kisses?

  Then he slammed the glass down, hard.

  Time to play the guitar. Get rid of these feelings.

  He stalked out and toward his quarters, ridding his mind of the girl with every step. Or trying to. At least.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jasmine and Leo

  The cello case clicked closed, with a satisfactory sound – a more satisfactory sound than had come out of her cello all night. Sitting on her hotel room bed, Jasmine was frustrated. It hadn’t been this difficult in a long time. Usually her method of getting over difficult emotions had always been to play them out of her; to use them to feed the music. To be the music. For that was what music’s supposed to be, isn’t it? A way to make sense of emotion? To tolerate it?

  Something had to let it out. She hadn’t felt this much pressure building up inside of her for ages.

  And for what?

  It was always the little details that got her. The flicker of a trill in a line of music, a heart drawn in a cup of cappuccino, and with this man, the crinkle of his eyes at their corners. The kind of lines that speak of both happiness and sadness. That make you want to touch the side of his face, the angle of his cheekbones, the softness of the slight pout of his lower lip. To comfort him.

  The perfect part of his lips, the small glimpse of white teeth between their plush softness. To part those lips, and touch them with your own. To linger there a moment, feeling the energy move between the edges of the touch before plunging deeper, a little at a time, hands twining around the back of his head – feeling the texture of his hair, the tensing and relaxing muscles of his neck, his hand coming around the small of your back, and pulling you towards him, his body against yours.

  She laid back and stared up at the ceiling, the patterned tiles swimming in her mind. Her stomach twisted a little with the stress of the moment. Rubbing it, she hoped to ease the mild pain but instead found herself undoing her jeans button by button, revealing her silky skin inch by inch to her fingertips. Her eyes closed and she pulled her shirt up too, grasping her full breast as her other hand slipped beneath her underwear and between her damp folds.

  Breath quickening, her fingers became wilder, faster, rubbing her clit and plunging inside her as she moaned his name.

  “Leo,” she cried. “Leo…”

  In his own room, Leo was finally freeing his cock (that had never quite lost its erection since seeing her) from its confines, taking its mad length and thickness into his hand. Her lips. Her eyes, her breasts, oh fuck, her breasts. Goddamn it. I would take you, hold you by your beautiful brown ass and plunge straight into you, devouring your neck, thrusting in and in and in as you cry out –

  “Oh fuck, Leo,” she murmured again, seeing his face in her minds’ eye, the crinkled corners of his eyes, seeing his lips soften in surprise as he thrust into her, revving up his speed, making her tremble, as she squeezed around him –

  She would be so tight, so soft –

  He would be so hard, he’d fill me up –

  They bucked until they both came, droplets of sweat on their bodies, slumping back on the bed, fingers wet with their juices. Alone, each. But a whisper of each other on each of their lips.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jasmine

  Well I guess it’s the day of Leo Wellington-Kerr’s wedding. She was still blushing about how crazy she was getting over a man she had hardly talked to – although he had such a gorgeous accent… A man that had barely acknowledged her existence – but did he look at her an extra second? Was that longing in his eyes?

  …This is stupid.

  Despite doing her best to ignore the feelings, they kept coming up like weeds in the rose garden.

  Or like wrong notes in the Mozart. Arg. They’d chosen this piece especially for the wedding because of the fact that Jasmine would have such a gorgeous singing solo line for her instrument, and as a bonus, the music was written for a royal back in Mozart’s day. Plus, she’d been playing the piece for ages, but her concentration was just not there now
, just when she needed it.

  Trouble was, the wedding day was here, and there was no time to practice more, to regroup. And the pain was still there. How could she watch him, this Leo, get attached to someone and play music in celebration of it? It just wouldn’t work.

  If only I could back out, she thought. Then it would be ok. Maybe I could be sick? My stomach is twisted enough that it wouldn’t be pretend.

  But no. I can’t let down my quartet, it wouldn’t be professional. And besides, I need the money. Never mind the fact that they couldn’t find a replacement for today, I need this money to live.

  She pulled her gown out of the garment bag, its silky fabric feeling slippery against her hands. It was black, with lace panels and beading – clearly the most luxurious gown she had ever purchased. At least I will look good. And indeed she would, the gown expertly tailored for her body, her curves looking their best. Her hair would be in a simple bun – nothing elaborate, as it was her job to look good but not take attention away from the event at hand.

  Leo’s wedding.

  Kerry knocked at the door.

  “I’ve got the program,” she said. “And guess what? They spelled our names right! Leave it up to the Brits to take care of that.”

  Jasmine took it from her. “They got our names right, but what’s this? Will the groom’s name be corrected?”

  “The groom’s name?”

  “Well, sure. This here says the groom’s name is Victor.”

  Kerry looked puzzled. “Yeah?”

  “Well it’s Leo, right?” Jasmine pointed at the program. “He’s the one getting married.”

  “No, didn’t I tell you? I was wrong - it’s his brother, Victor.”

  Jasmine’s jaw dropped as her heart jumped in her chest.

  “Really?” She breathed.

  “Well yeah, but what does it matter?”

  “No matter, no matter.” Jasmine turned away from her friend, embarrassed.

  “Heyyyy…” said Kerry, drawing the word out with a suspicious tone. “Do you have a crush on the rock star?”

  “No!” Jasmine cried. Not very convincingly, even she had to admit.

  “You do! Oh my god!” It was Kerry’s turn to gape. “You like Leo!”

  “No I don’t!”

  “You do!”

  She turned toward her friend, eyebrows knitted together in an almost comical parody of pain. “Don’t tell anyone, ok?”

  “I won’t! But that means you have to look super chic this afternoon.” Then it dawned on her. “Oh my God, Is that why you were messing up so much in rehearsal?”

  Jasmine’s cheeks flamed. “Well, yes. I wasn’t sure how I was going to play at the wedding of a man who… who… I don’t know how to describe it! Please don’t tell anyone ok? It’s embarrassing enough as it is.”

  “Nothing embarrassing about it,” said Kerry. “Ok so you are wearing that killer dress, that’s good – it looks amazing on you. Do you want me to do your makeup? I have a great aqua eyeliner that would look fantastic with your skin.” She began to bustle around like a mother hen, as if she were ready to try to get Jasmine a date with the rock star.

  “Well sure I guess, but Kerry, but you have to understand – I am not looking to get together with this guy.”

  “Then what are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know! A way to get rid of my feelings! After all, he’s a rock star – he doesn’t seem like the greatest guy, now does he?”

  “Well thousands of screaming lady fans would disagree with you,” she said, smiling. “He’s the hot commodity on all the tabloid rags. Everyone wonders if he is going to settle down, and with who.”

  “You know I never pay attention to any of that stuff.” Jasmine wrung her hands.

  “Oh sure, he’s the new big thing. Origin of Species, his band, is doing killer well. They’re coming to America this month for a big tour.” She looked speculative. “I wonder if the rest of the band will be at the wedding? That Nigel Gwillimbury is kind of hot. He’s the guitarist. Just broke up with someone too I think.”

  Jasmine was flabbergasted. “How do you know all this?”

  “Eh, I have my ways. It’s not that hard, I just keep up with stuff – I don’t sit in my room and listen to Mozart you know,” Kerry grinned.

  “Neither do I!”

  Kerry’s grin got wider. “Ok, right, Jasmine. Like you don’t start off your day with three hours practice.”

  “Nothing wrong with that!

  “Ok, ok. So, can I do your makeup or what?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Leo

  “So, Victor, are you ready for this marriage thing?” Leo asked, coming upon his brother in the dressing room.

  Viktor straightened his tie. “Sure, I suppose so. By the way, has anyone told you, that you sound just like an American now?”

  Leo snorted. They had, in fact. He got teased about it fairly often, but that’s what came from being a man of the world, not just a British fop. “Don’t be silly. Seriously, why are you getting married anyway? Is it just to keep mother happy?”

  The sides of Victor’s mouth turned downward. He looked at his younger brother with what appeared to be disdain. “I think not. Has it ever occurred to you, brother, that some people actually really do fall in love? That it’s not all about one groupie after another? The next fuck?”

  Something inside Leo hardened. “Is that all you think I am, brother, just a voracious consumer of blonde after blonde?” His eyes narrowed. “There’s more to me than that. You know I was in love once.”

  “For how long, ten minutes?” Victor turned to him. “You may be my best man, but you’re certainly not the best one to give advice on these sort of matters.”

  “Who’s giving advice?” Fucking Victor. Such a twat. Always thinks that he’s better than everyone else. “I wouldn’t dare. It’s not like you’d listen to me.”

  “Well that’s bloody well right. Especially in matters of love.”

  “I’m sure you know everything there is to know. See you at the ceremony.”

  Leo turned on his heel, and walked out the door. The tuxedo was already chafing him. What he wouldn’t give to be wearing an old ripped T-shirt and jeans right now. Sitting in a Texmex place in Austin. Putting his feet up on a café patio in San Francisco. Clubbing with a smoking hot chick in New York City.

  Grabbing that cellist woman and kissing her.

  Tradition is binding, he thought. Just like marriage. It’s a trap, and Victor is so far in that he can’t even see it.

  Leo had been in love once. Long ago, with a young girl from the village. In private school, there wasn’t much chance to meet girls, but Leo was doing his best to game the system to be able to leave every Thursday for a couple, or a even sometimes a precious few, hours. He would bribe the porter and hang about one of the shops, hoping to go unrecognized, since there was a girl there who had caught his attention – fully. Her name was Julia. And she was beautiful – dark hair and eyes, full lips, white teeth. Of course, he had tried to ask her out and for some untold reason she had refused him, not particularly callously, but it was what happened afterward that caused him the pain. She had used him for several months for money, rides here and there, whatever she could get out of him, before he had finally come to his senses and cut contact with her. It was shameful. And when the headmaster had found out there was hell to pay.

  Since then, his heart had closed. It was a miracle that it was ever open in the first place, he thought, after his upbringing. It was easier to ‘voraciously consume blondes’ as Victor had put it. Why bother putting all that time in when you could get all the reward for practically nothing? Sing a song on a big enough stage, and the world was your bordello. Enough money and you could have anyone.

  He prowled around the estate waiting for the guests to arrive. It wouldn’t be long now before the family would be eyeing him as they always did, judging him for his lifestyle. Well then where were they when he was sent off to private school? B
oarding school? If they didn’t like what he turned into, perhaps they should’ve played a role in his upbringing. Fuck it. I like what I’ve become. And I have a hell of a lot more fun than these people.

  In the distance he heard the cello again, its soaring lines, its soft moans. He could feel his cock’s almost Pavlovian response to the music, imagining who was playing it, who was coaxing those sounds from its body. At least that would be one thing that would be entertaining today. Watching that woman. If he were honest with himself, he’d been waiting for that since the first time he saw her. Not that he gave a shit about the music that she would play – fusty old classical music – but at least looking at her, even being in the same room as her, would relieve the pressure and boredom.