Slay Me: ROCK GODS

by Blake, Joanna

  "I'm done, love. Tapped. Sorry."

  He bent his arms and rolled onto his back. Sandy smiled down at him suggestively. He felt not a lick of attraction for her.

  Not the tiniest spark.

  "Does that mean you aren't going to fuck me today either?"

  He shook his head.

  "Sorry, love. It's just not in the cards. Not that you don't look delectable as always."

  She rolled her eyes at him and handed him a towel.

  "I saw you on TV last night."

  He said nothing, just blotted some of the sweat off his face.

  "You looked good."

  "It's all thanks to you, doll."

  She laughed and tossed him a water bottle.

  "Stretch. Go slow, don’t hold it.”

  He pulled hard on the water and tossed the towel around his neck. He reached for his toes, as Sandy came up behind him and pressed gently down on his back. It felt sublime.

  "So was that true? About you having a girlfriend?"

  He snorted, straightening his back and reaching overhead to stretch his sides.

  "No, love. Nothing of the sort. It was an exaggeration.”

  "But-"

  Sandy was acting a bit clingy. He wondered briefly if he’d led her on in some way over the months of occasional bonking. He’d never been anything but cordial to her, but he’d never wanted more.

  He was trying to think of a way to change the subject when Sabrina burst into the room. Marley was right behind her, waving his hands.

  Good. He'd been expecting her. Hell, he'd been looking forward to this.

  He drank her in like a cool drink of water in the Sahara.

  There it was. His mojo wasn’t broken after all. His cock sprang to immediate attention.

  "Sorry Nick- she ran past me."

  He smiled at her. Jesus, the air went right out of his lungs at the sight of her. She wasn't dressed for work for once. She was wearing jeans and a white cotton button down. She looked good.

  No, better than good.

  She looked bloody gorgeous as usual.

  And angrier than a hornet.

  "What the hell, Nick? Did you seriously go above my head to get even with me? I'm trying to help your career in case you weren't aware. I'm not doing this for my own amusement!"

  He smiled at her. She looked spectacular with her eyes blazing and her cheeks bright pink. Some women really were prettier when they were angry.

  He was thrilled that he’d finally cracked her hard exterior shell. Now maybe he’d have a chance at the gooey bits.

  "I am."

  That brought her up short. Her jaw dropped open. It was a good look for her, believe it or not.

  "What?"

  He stood and took a long swig from his bottle.

  "I am doing this for my own amusement."

  Her mouth remained open as she stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

  “Careful, love. You’re going to catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth.”

  Her jaw snapped shut and she glowered at him. Hmmm… he liked it. She looked bloody spectacular.

  "You don't even know what you are doing to me, do you?”

  “What’s that, love?”

  “You’re destroying my entire career!”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Can't you just call Jerry back and ask him to change his mind?"

  He smiled patronizingly. He didn't have a clue what she was going on about. There was no way he was changing his mind about bringing her on tour. She could go on and be angry for as long as she wanted, just as long as she ended up in his bed.

  It wasn’t that he wanted to upset her, even if it was a turn on to see her all fired up. He knew he was being a cad. But he didn't care.

  He was going to win.

  "I'm going to need extra special attention during the tour. How else can the label be sure I'm actually showing up for my appearances? You're the one who set them up darling, so you're the best bet to handle my needs."

  "Handle- your what?"

  "You heard me sweetheart. Pack your bags, we leave in less than-"

  He checked his watch, enjoying himself tremendously.

  "Fifteen hours."

  "But-"

  "No buts, darling. Accept your fate."

  He grabbed her hand and froze, startled by the electricity that crackled where he touched her. Her skin was so soft… He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

  Christ, she smelled good!

  "Sorry, sweetheart. But this is checkmate."

  He smiled roguishly at the outraged look on her face. She yanked her hand from his and stormed out of the room. Marley threw his hands in the air and followed her out.

  He turned around to see Sandy watching him with a calculating expression. She was smiling faintly, as if she knew something he didn’t. He scowled at her, feeling like he’d been caught with his britches down.

  "So that's why you don't want to fuck."

  "What are you on about now?"

  She shook her head.

  "You've got it bad, Nick. I've never seen you this way."

  "I just like messing with her. She's got a rail up her ass. And what a nice ass it is."

  "Uh huh. Sure. You know what they say about opposites."

  "What's that?"

  "They attract."

  He said nothing. Sandy was right of course. He did have it bad. His reaction to seeing her today was scaring the shit out of him if he was honest. He'd just have to nail the girl six ways from Sunday for a couple months. Then he'd be back to normal.

  Whatever that meant.

  "Oh come on, Nick, don't tell me you don't want to fuck her."

  Nick grinned at Sandy, raising his eyebrow.

  "Well I didn't say that."

  Chapter 18

  Sabrina

  Sabrina stared at her luggage, lined up on the living room floor. She never understood why people put luggage on beds. Luggage was dirty. Beds were clean. She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking about?

  Oh right, anything but him.

  Nick Falcon.

  The bane of her existence.

  He'd actually beat her. Getting her away from the office right after her promotion was career suicide. Especially because it would just confirm what he'd said about her sleeping with him.

  Well, he hadn't said it flat out. But he'd certainly implied it. That made it seem even more legitimate.

  More real.

  Now she was leaving when both her job and her father's health were in critical stages.

  Damnit.

  Of course, her father had supported her going. He thought it was a step up. He'd found it all very exciting, eager to hear all about the backstage workings of a concert tour this size. Her dad was a big fan of Nick Falcon, the legend.

  Little did he know that the legend had it in for his daughter.

  No, that wasn't quite right. He had something for her, but it was more complicated than simple revenge. It was a crush. It was crazy but Nick clearly had a crush on her of all people.

  An evil, evil crush.

  It wasn't that it she wasn’t flattered. It was bizarre to be wanted by a guy like Nick. It was intoxicating to have his laser beam eyes focused on her.

  But Nick was well known for his fondness beautiful women. Women who got paid to do things, based on the way they looked. She was curvy and short. Tiny really. A munchkin. A round munchkin.

  Sabrina was well aware that she was not a model. Not his type at all. That only made it more mystifying.

  It didn’t matter though. It didn’t make her special. Sabrina knew she was just another spoke in his wheel.

  A very big wheel.

  She threw her hands up. She had no idea how to pack for Europe. She'd never traveled, except to get to and from school or to get home to see her dad every couple of weeks.

  But she never flew if she could help it.

  She always dro
ve when she could. It took thirteen hours to get from LA to Devil's Rock, Colorado. Each way. But she did it at least six times a year. Even if she just went up for the weekend.

  That's how much she hated flying.

  And now she was going to fly halfway across the globe. She would be stuck in a series of airplanes, even going as far as Hong Kong in the second leg of the tour.

  Thanks to him.

  She fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Damn you, Nick Falcon.

  Chapter 19

  Nick

  Nick was peering out the limo as they pulled up to Sabrina's house. Not peering. He was practically smashed up to the glass like an overexcited child. He rolled the window down, leaning out.

  He was trying to get a good look at the place. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her. He had sudden vision of himself peeking into windows at her, like his mum used to do down the East End.

  He was feeling like a bloody busy body!

  The house was small, cottage style. Charming really. Painted a pale blue with white trim and neat as a pin. Just as he'd expected. There were flowers too, but they looked a bit forlorn, like they hadn’t been watered in a week. Not a gardener then.

  That didn't surprise him either.

  The front door opened and he held his breath. He stared hungrily as Sabrina walked out, rolling a medium sized piece of luggage behind her. She had a garment bag in the other hand. The driver took the bags from her as Marley opened the limo door and got out, blocking Nick’s view. He stepped to the side and suddenly Nick could see her.

  Ahhhhh.

  There she was. The sight of her was like drinking a tall glass of cool water on a hot day.

  She walked toward the limo in skin tight jeans and a big camel colored sweater wrap. She wore high heeled black ankle boots on her cute little feet. She looked fantastic, even though too much of her was covered up.

  She just hit the spot. There was no other way to put it. It reminded him of when he used to smoke. The first cig of the day had felt like this. He was already addicted and he hadn't even had her.

  Yet.

  He stepped out of the limo and whispered to Marley without taking his eyes off her.

  "Marley, go sit up front."

  "What?"

  He just stared at him.

  "Oh, okay Nick. Whatever you say."

  Marley made himself scarce as Sabrina walked towards Nick. He was practically salivating as she got closer to him.

  "Hello, Princess."

  "Don't call me that."

  "Alright love, whatever you say. Shall we?"

  She eyed him warily and then accepted his hand. He guided her into the limo, getting a quick view of her high round bottom. The girl was beautifully built.

  She was truly a work of art. Erotic art.

  It really was a remarkably grabable ass. He resisted the urge to put both hands on it and squeeze.

  That would not work in his favor, he knew.

  He winked at Marley and climbed in behind her, slamming the door. She settled herself by the other window, arranging her wrap around her.

  "Don't call me that either."

  "What's that?"

  He was distracted by the smell of her. She was sitting as far as she could get from him, but he'd gotten a good whiff when she passed him. She smelled like… lemons. And something else. Something soft and feminine.

  Heavenly.

  "Love."

  "I'm sorry?"

  He was mentally undressing her and outfitting her with a whole slew of provocative ensembles. For his eyes only of course. Nurse uniforms. Bondange. Black lace stockings. The list went on and on.

  "Don't call me 'love’.”

  He tore his gaze from her thighs to her face.

  "Well, we're off to a splendid start."

  “Please Mr. Falcon, I'm serious. I have a job to do here. I have a career. It's important that people respect me. That starts with you."

  He felt a flash of guilt. He had made her out to sound like a bit of a tart on the telly last week. He couldn't help it though. He wanted her to be a tart.

  He wanted her to be his tart.

  "Right. That sounds fair. But no one's here right now.” He waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly. “Are they, buttercup?"

  She rolled her eyes. He was deliberately baiting her to see what she'd come up with next. She was endlessly fascinating to him.

  "Honestly Nick, what would you do if I called you honey dumpling or something?"

  He stared at her, wondering what on Earth she was on about.

  "Honey dumpling?"

  He started laughing. That was the silliest thing he'd ever heard. She stared at him for a moment. A smile crept over her face. He'd never really seen her with a proper smile.

  Jesus, she was even more beautiful than he'd thought!

  It wasn't just her face. It was what was inside her. It shone out of her like light from a billion watt bulb.

  She was bright and fresh and lovely and unspoiled. He was a bastard. He knew it. He wanted to be the one to spoil her.

  He’d spoil her rotten.

  She started laughing with him. The limo was speeding along the freeway toward LAX, while the two of them slowly lost their minds to a giggling fit that simply would not stop.

  "You are really-" he gasped as he tried to get enough breath to speak. "Really, bad at come backs."

  She was still smiling but his comment made her start to giggle uncontrollably again.

  "It's true! I'm the worst. I never once won a fight in grammar school."

  The laughter dried up in his chest. He found himself staring into those deep indigo eyes. He found himself wanting to crush anyone who hurt her.

  Yeah, he wanted to go back in time and beat up ten-year old bullies.

  "No love, you're not the worst. You're the best."

  She stopped laughing abruptly. She swallowed and stared into his eyes. She looked away after just a brief moment. But he'd almost seen something in her eyes-

  "All the same, Mr. Falcon. Please cease with the terms of endearment. It's a bad habit to get into."

  He leaned forward and gave her his most serious face.

  "Alright, love. I'll make you a deal."

  She cocked her head to the side, listening.

  "I won't call you 'sugar britches' or any nicknames until you give me permission."

  She was holding back another giggle at his mention of sugar britches, just as he'd hoped.

  "As long as you stop calling me ‘Mr. Falcon’.”

  She sighed deeply, as if expecting some sort of a trick. Little did she know.

  "What do you want me to call you?"

  “Sugar britches of course."

  She gave him a disapproving look. He held up his hands in surrender.

  "I'll call you Sabrina and you call me Nick."

  "Alright."

  "Do we have a deal?"

  She nodded, clearly relieved. He felt like all kinds of a heel. He was manipulating her to get what he wanted. He was using any means necessary to get around her healthy distrust of him.

  "Deal."

  "Let's shake on it."

  “Alright… Nick.”

  She held out her hand and his breath caught. She was so straightforward. So honest. So ready to believe the he would keep his word. She literally took his breath away.

  He closed his hand around hers and felt that same electric current flash between them. It took his breath away. She made his cock twitch in his leather pants.

  They were going to be together a lot. He would wear her down eventually. He would trick her into his bed if he had to. He'd make her want him as much as he wanted her.

  Or he'd bloody well die trying.

  He had a feeling he was loosing something- whether it was his head or his heart, he wasn't yet sure. She was a remarkable bird. He knew she wouldn’t be a pushover. She’d make him earn every inch he got.

  One thing he was sure of though. Nick
Falcon never backed down from a challenge.

  Chapter 20

  Sabrina

  Goodness!

  Sabrina couldn't help it, she gasped audibly when she saw the plane. They'd driven directly out onto the tarmac. The limo parked and Marley opened the door while she stared at the gleaming white jet.

  She'd thought for some reason that they were flying commercial. First class obviously, but commercial. She’d been very, very wrong.

  But no. Nick Falcon had his own private jet. It wasn't a small one either. It was huge.

  There were dark gray and a deep plum colored stripes near the tail of the jet. She glanced sideways. Nick was wearing leather pants, as usual. But he also wore a plum bandana around his neck. His jacket was dark gray, similar to the color of the suit he’d worn for his television appearance.

  He seemed to like the color a lot.

  She was noticing all kinds of things about him over the past few weeks. He was arrogant, but he could be kind. He was frequently drunk, but he made sure to be sober when it counted. And he noticed things around him.

  Especially her.

  He always seemed to notice everything about her.

  She’d imagined him a reckless creative type, bumbling and drunk and full of himself. But he was much more than that. He was bright and mischievous and fun.

  Sabrina was not used to being wrong about the artists she dealt with. She could see how they wanted to be handled and worked with them to get the best results.

  But in this case, she’d been so far off the mark it startled her.

  It was disconcerting to say the least.

  They were escorted out of the limo by a personal TSA agent. He checked their passports and itineraries. She noticed that Marley took care of all of that for Nick. Nick just stood there, smoking a cigar and staring at the sky. She wondered briefly if the musician knew how to do anything for himself.

  She smirked at the sudden image of Marley tying Nick's shoelaces for him. The musician did seem sort of adorably helpless at times. But the rest of the time, he was utterly and implacably in charge.

  Powerful.

  It was a compelling combination of personality traits. Part of her wanted to look after him, like Marley did. The other part wanted to put a crack in his ego, get him in line.