Claiming Atlas (Completely Rocked Book 1)

by Jessalyn Jameson

  Which he somehow found endearing.

  I was put on the schedule the very next day.

  “We’re sure going to miss your fire, girl.” Des stands up and pulls me to my feet, then embraces me fiercely. “We have a surprise for you.”

  I laugh and steady myself as the bus rolls to a stop. “More than that surprise?”

  She grins, then starts pulling her skirt back on. “Oh yeah, Kay, more than that surprise. There’s a certain dark haired bad boy in town tonight.” She moves me so I’m turned toward the windows, then points up to his name in flashing lights.

  Chapter Twelve

  Atlas

  There’s a fucking marquee with my name on it.

  Apparently low profile and Las Vegas don’t mesh well together, because there’s my name in flashing lights, right on the goddamn strip. Is it too much to ask to not be exploited every fucking time I take a shit? I mean, fuck, man, I go try a new burger place and the manager blasts my fucking mug all over Instagram and then the place is swarming with Bangers in two point two seconds flat, and guess what? Guess who never even gets to enjoy the goddamn burger?

  This fucking guy.

  I slam my fist into the leather seatback as we pass the Venetian.

  My driver glances back at me, then over at Red. “Everything okay?”

  “No. Yes.” Ugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just take me to the back entrance, I guess.”

  Red looks back at me. “Who do I have to kill?”

  Shaking my head, I pull my cell out and scroll to Johnny’s contact info, then wait for the little fucker to pick up.

  He picks up almost immediately. “It wasn’t me, man.”

  I roll my eyes. “Bro. I’m not guest hosting shit tonight. I just want to chill with some hotties and drink my weight in booze.”

  “I know, man, I know, and your booth is ready for you. I’ve been fighting with management for an hour about that fucking billboard.”

  I sigh, running my hand over my face. This place will be swarming with Bangers. “Who fucking told them I was coming?” I know the answer, but I want to hear him say it.

  “Me, dude, obviously, but only because some dickwad mortgage guy reserved your booth and Eddie gave me a bunch of shit when I told him I needed it but wouldn’t say why. I’m sorry, man. Really.”

  He’s not sorry at all. I just doubled, possibly tripled—quadrupled?—his fucking profits tonight. Whatever. Might as well cash in on my own exploitation.

  “You know my rate for appearances, man.”

  My driver pulls the Escalade up to the side entrance, and there are only a few people nearby, so at least I’ll be cool to sneak in without a big scene. I just have to get to my table without being mobbed, then Red and TAO security will keep out the riffraff.

  “Meet me at the side door.” As I end the call, Johnny opens the side door and strains to see into the Escalade’s windows. I flip him off. He can’t see me, and even if he could, fuck him and fuck this place. I should just head back to the hotel and sleep until the Cade show Sunday night.

  I pat the driver’s shoulder. “Stay here, man.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Red climbs out first and Johnny the weasel rushes over to shake his hand. He winces at Red’s grip. Ha. Fucker. I climb out, sliding my shades into place and pulling up the hood of my sweatshirt.

  Johnny sidles up beside me. “How you doin’, brother? Long time no see. Bus life keeping you pretty busy?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Where’s the rest of the crew?’ He leads me down a long, deserted staff hallway, stopping at large double doors. He opens them and pokes his head out to make sure the coast is clear before leading me onto the casino floor. Red follows close behind us.

  I hurry to keep up with Johnny, half convinced hiding and sneaking around like this will actually bring more attention, not less. Of course, my six-foot-two, three-hundred pound leprechaun-lookin’ security detail might be a bit obvious.

  “They coming out tomorrow?”

  “Huh?” I look up at the back of Johnny’s head. What the fuck is he rambling about?

  “The band?” He pauses, looking back to motion behind me. “I don’t see them behind you.”

  No shit? “They’re on the bus. I took a flight early.”

  He laughs like I said something funny. “I bet that bus smells like shit.”

  I nod. Whatever. Red side-eyes me, then hooks a thumb at Johnny. No shit, Red. No shit. This guy’s a fucking douche. Maybe it’s time to find a new favorite nightclub, but I’m a creature of habit.

  We sneak along the wall of the casino, and I keep my head down, hoping I look more like a thug being led out, than a celebrity being led in.

  As we reach TAO, I hear my name and lift my head. “Fucking idiot,” I curse under my breath. I should kick my own ass for that. There’s a huge line outside the club, and I’ve just alerted them all to my presence by lifting my motherfucking head.

  Red grabs my arm at the elbow to pull me inside before I get swarmed, but right as I’m about to duck inside, a group of girls catches my eye. They walk beside the long line of Bangers instead of falling in line behind them, like they know they’re already in and don’t bother waiting in line.

  They’re also the only girls who aren’t staring at me right now.

  “Atlas?”

  And not a Cade shirt among them.

  “Hold up.” I scan the group of girls until my eyes land on a leggy brunette. Her hair is up in a tight bun or something, and I’m starting to wonder if uptight chicks have become my new thing.

  They must have because one look at her and I want to see her hair sprawled out on my pillow and her eyes rolled back in her head as she screams my fucking name.

  I look down at her shoes and smile. Leopard and at least a mile high. I think I’ll let her fuck me in nothing but those shoes.

  Her stems are covered in jeans that might have been painted on. I want to peel them off.

  Her sweater is white and hangs off her shoulders, like only her giant titties are holding the fabric in place. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to see those perfect tits in a matter of hours. Tops.

  Who am I kidding with this if I’m lucky bullshit? I don’t need luck when it comes to chicks.

  I quickly scan her friends, but none of them are dressed in anything that even remotely indicates they’re fans of the band. Not a single studded belt or rock shirt among them.

  So, bonus: she’s not a Banger.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love our fans. They pay our fucking bills. They give us life. But sometimes it’s nice to know a woman wants to fuck Atlas, not just anyone from the band.

  She meets my gaze, and her eyes widen just slightly. She tries to play it cool, but it’s obvious she knows who I am. Her friend elbows her in the ribs, further proving my assumption.

  Damn. She’s a Banger after all.

  I think I’ll still let her fuck me. She’s too hot to turn away. Let’s just hope she doesn’t call me Chris like that chick in Detroit last summer. What a boner killer that was.

  I look over at Red then nod toward the brunette and her friends. “Looks like the entertainment has arrived.”

  “Entertainment?” Johnny’s brow furrows as he steps up beside me and follows my gaze.

  “Yeah, bro, tell me those aren’t some of Vegas’ finest?

  He scans the group of girls, smirking. “How do you know those are strippers?”

  I glance at them, then back at Johnny. “Bro, every girl in Vegas is a stripper if you ask nicely enough.”

  But those girls are actual strippers. I’d bet my left nut.

  He laughs, but he knows I’m right.

  I tear my gaze away from the brunette, then sneak in the side door of the club behind Johnny. “Make sure that brunette finds her way to my table, yeah?” I say it out loud so both Red and Johnny know to get the job done. Between the two of them, she should be begging for my cock in no time.

  “The naughty librarian loo
king one?” Johnny asks.

  “Fuck yeah. Did you see those legs?” I look him up and down with a smirk. He probably comes up to her waist.

  He closes the door and leads me to my table. The staff here is cool as fuck, and no one makes a big deal about Red and me as we stroll through to VIP. I know I asked for this life, and I love it, but fuck, man, sometimes I just don’t want people to know my fucking name. It’s hard to people watch when they’re all staring at you.

  The hottie VIP host knows my name though. She screamed it loud and proud while I fucked her in the bathroom here during our last Las Vegas tour stop.

  She forces a smile when she sees me, but her eyes are tight. Oh, so she hasn’t forgiven me yet. “Hey, Atlas, it’s nice to see you again.” She shakes her long brown hair over her shoulder. I think I bit into that shoulder.

  I give her a genuine smile. “Likewise, Anna.”

  It is nice to see her again. She’s hot as fuck and I don’t have anything against her, you know? Her jaw clenches as she steps aside to allow me into my booth. As I sit, she turns around, and I appreciate that ass as she walks away. It’s a phenomenal ass, but why go back for seconds when there are so many firsts to be had?

  Speaking of...

  I scan the crowd for my naughty librarian, but she must not be inside yet. Fuck the door guy for making a piece of ass that fine wait like a peasant. I should send Red to go make sure she gets in. I motion to get Johnny’s attention, then wave him over.

  “What’s up, man?” He scans the table to make sure my usual snacks and booze choices are here, then looks at me questioningly.

  “That brown-haired chick and her stripper friends? You making them stand in line, bro?”

  Johnny smiles sheepishly, then looks over at a booth across from me. I follow his beady little gaze and frown. She’s right there in the middle of all her friends, sitting directly across from me.

  I look at Red, then back at Johnny. “Did you not fucking tell her to come over here?” I glance across the way at her and our eyes lock. One of her perfect eyebrows rises.

  “Um,” Johnny yells over the music. “She said, ‘thanks but no thanks.’”

  I nearly choke. I must have heard him wrong. I tilt my head at her and she smiles, then turns to her friends and acts like she didn’t just turn me down.

  Maybe she doesn’t know who the hell I am after all. Confirming she’s not a Banger makes me that much more intrigued. And, now, because I’m a masochist, I want—no, need—to fuck her even more than I wanted to before.

  I glance over at Red. “Can you believe this, man? Turned down twice in one fucking trip?”

  Red laughs, then shrugs. “You’re losing your touch, boss.”

  “Bite your fucking tongue, bro.” I look back at her, then wave at Johnny in dismissal. I’ll send Red over to retrieve her. Clearly Johnny couldn’t get the job done.

  That’s twice tonight he’s failed me. First with the marquee, and now with the chick I’ll be banging later.

  Three strikes and you’re out, Johnnyboy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kayla

  I’ve probably lost my mind.

  Okay, I’ve definitely lost my mind.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Des asks.

  I laugh. “Jinx.”

  “What?”

  I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  Yes, Des, I have definitely lost my mind. But I refuse to be summoned. Something about ‘we have a spot for you at Atlas Reynolds’ table tonight’ made my skin crawl when it should have made me jump for joy. Maybe it was the greasy looking guy who delivered the message.

  Does ‘don’t hate the messenger’ apply in this situation?

  Regardless, here I am. At my table. Smack dab across from his table. And all I can feel are his eyes on me. Dark, tortured eyes I’ve only ever seen online or on album covers.

  God, I love those eyes.

  I look up as the little promoter guy brings three girls to his table.

  Atlas watches me as they fight to sit beside him. They start talking to him, and he holds my gaze. He’s surrounded by beautiful women who fawn all over him and will likely let him do anything he wants to them tonight, twice, yet every time I look at him, he’s looking at me.

  I swallow hard and reach for another glass of champagne. Refusing to sit with Atlas took all the strength I had, and I’m starting to waver. My resolve needs alcohol.

  Or I do.

  Someone needs alcohol.

  Des leans over and nudges my elbow. “Girl, for real, I have to know. Are you out of your damn mind? Look at the way he watches you!”

  I lick my lips and look over at Des. “Nah, he’s probably just staring at you.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m not the one he invited to join him tonight.” She looks over at Atlas, then back at me, making it painfully obvious that we’re talking about him. “He’s definitely looking at you, Kay.”

  His gaze is heavy, firm like a hand on my chin, turning my face toward him again. I meet his eyes and my breath catches in my throat. His stare make me feel exposed, vulnerable, like I’m naked and he can see all of me. He smirks, then the blonde beside him slides her hand over his crotch and his eyebrows fly up into his hairline. He shrugs at me and laughs as he turns to her.

  When their lips meet, I shake my head and look down at my glass. Empty again. How much have I had to drink?

  “Looks like you missed your chance,” Des whispers with a frown.

  I shrug. It’s fine. Atlas Reynolds is known for being a completely insatiable manwhore, even more than any of the other guys in the band, and I do not have any desire to be his flavor of the week.

  Flavor of the day? Hour?

  Besides, I said yes to Collette, which means I’ll be meeting him tomorrow night anyway. As Kincaid. Kayla sure as hell doesn’t need to get caught up with a guy like Atlas Reynolds.

  I’ll ignore that pit of disappointment in my stomach.

  I glance back over and he’s making out with the chick on the other side of him now.

  Okay, so, his flavor of the moment.

  His eyes open and he looks right at me.

  While her tongue is in his mouth and her hand is on his crotch.

  I stand, shaking my head. He’s exactly the slut they say he is. It’s not a surprise, but it is disappointing that someone so musically creative is such a stereotype. “It’s good to know his reputation hasn’t been inflated.”

  “What?” Des asks, looking up at me.

  I shake my head, then roll my eyes as I set my glass on the small table. Leaning down so she can hear me, I yell, “Little girls’ room,” then motion with my clutch toward a long hallway. “Back in five.”

  She nods, then returns to chatting with the rest of the girls, Brandon, and his friends.

  I slip out from the roped off area and make it a point not to look at Atlas as I pass his booth. He’s obnoxious and I’m disappointed. I wish I wasn’t, but that telltale ache has settled in around my heart, and there’s no denying it. I’d hoped that upon meeting him, I’d discover he’s this amazing human who doesn’t whore it up with any chick that will bang him just because he’s famous. That he’s above the bullshit trappings of fame.

  Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not looking for love, and he’s just a random guy in a band. A band I love, sure, but I’m not one of their Bangers. I don’t go to shows and wait with the other groupies for a chance to get backstage, or send them my used underwear...

  I shudder at the thought.

  “Hey,” someone calls behind me.

  I turn around and stop as Atlas’ giant security guard approaches me.

  He smiles, so I smile back. His green eyes nearly disappear into plump, bright red cheeks. “Hey, I’m Red.”

  Of course his name is Red, with that mop of fiery red hair. “Hi.” I tilt my head. “Can I help you, Red?”

  He runs his hand over the sweat on his forehead. “Yeah, actually, my boy Atlas was hoping you’d joi
n him at his table.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks, Red, but he looks pretty busy. I’m not sure there’s room for me.”

  Red shakes his head. “Who, those chicks? Nah.” He waves his hand in the air. “I can just boot them.”

  My eyes widen and I shake my head. Exactly my point. “Tell your boy thanks but no thanks.” I turn and walk into the bathroom.

  Like I want to be just another girl who eventually gets booted from his table.

  After tomorrow night, our paths will never cross anyway. When I wash my hands, I look in the mirror, and one of the girls Atlas was just making out with steps up to the sink beside mine. She meets my gaze in the mirror and smiles.

  There’s bubblegum lipstick on her teeth. “Hey, you look familiar,” she says.

  I force a smile and laugh it off. “I get that all the time. I just have one of those faces, you know?”

  She squints, then shrugs. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  I dry my hands, try in vain to tame a few wild flyaway hairs, then throw some chapstick on my lips and exit the bathroom.

  Right into Atlas.

  My heart stops. He’s even more gorgeous up close. Dark bangs hang over one eye, but they don’t hide the way his brown eyes see so much more than they should.

  I bring my middle finger to the side of my lips. “You have a little lipstick...”

  His eyes widen and he brings the sleeve of his black hoodie to his mouth.

  I chuckle. “Your girlfriend should be out in a minute.” I go to move past him, but he steps in front of me. I could duck around him—the hallway is wide enough—but he wants to talk to me, and the crazed fangirl trapped inside me right now really wants to know why he’s so dead-set on meeting me. I raise my eyebrows. “Can I help you?”

  Right into my bed?

  He smiles as though I said that last part out loud.

  Holy shit, did I?

  “I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you.”

  I nod slowly.