Her Billionaire Rockstar

by Regina Wade

  “Beth Baker, would you come up here?”

  There are cheers from her family as Beth wanders up onto the stage. She’s absolutely stunning, the dress still as delightful as it was when she put it on earlier.

  “Beth here is the real star of this whole shindig. If it were up to me half you people wouldn’t even be here, because I would have lost your invitations.”

  Another round of laughter. I don’t bother looking out at the people chuckling amongst themselves. My eyes are focused solely on Beth.

  “Now, I’ve been told by no less than three people that it would be a very asshole thing to do to propose at a wedding,” I say, waiting for the crowd to catch my words.

  There’s a gasp from everyone around us, the sudden quiet of hundreds inhaling together all at once.

  Beth is standing there, shaking her head at me, eyes flashing dangerously. God, she’s so sexy it hurts. So beautiful that I couldn’t take my eyes off of her if I wanted to. Not that I do. I hold her eyes as I get down on one knee in front of her. Everyone around us grows even more quiet.

  “But that’s alright, because I’m not going to propose,” I say, standing up with a grin and a riff of my guitar. Everyone around us chuckles, but Beth just glares.

  “This isn’t an engagement, it’s a wedding! People get married at weddings. Now, it’s just after midnight, so it isn’t technically Reed and Rori’s wedding anymore, but we’ve got one more in store for you.”

  “Brash! What in the world are you doing?!” Beth hisses at me as I cover the microphone.

  “Getting married, I hope.”

  “That’s not how this works!” She stomps one foot, her big eyes alive with frustration.

  “Well, let’s compromise,” I say with a jaunty grin.

  I move away from her, speaking into the microphone again.

  “One second, folks. Just got to do a little rearranging.”

  I watch realization chase confusion out from behind her green eyes. The flowers in the room are the first to change. It’s a quick execution, Rori’s roses swapped out for plump succulents and dahlias in rich jewel tones. I watch Beth’s eyes widen, recognition chasing across her face as someone brings in the tea-length retro dress.

  “Brash—” Her voice quivers with uncertainty.

  “Beth, I love you. I don’t want to spend another day without you by my side.”

  “You got me a chocolate cake.” Her eyes widen as she watches the three layered cocoa cake be ushered in. “You listen when I talk. You’ve been so patient with me.”

  Emotion fills my throat, threatens to choke me as Brash pulls me tight to him. Around us, everyone breaks out into applause. It feels like my own personal standing ovation.

  “You can pick out any ring you want, love—” his voice is tight in my ear, raw with unshed emotion of his own.

  “Brash, baby. I’m ready to compromise. Let’s rock this wedding thing so we can get to the honeymoon.”

  Epilogue One

  Beth

  Six Months Later

  “Listen to this. Giraffes only need five to thirty minutes of sleep a day. Isn’t that fascinating?” I ask, injecting sweetness into my voice.

  “Yes, dear. It really is. Now —” Brash starts, but I cut him off.

  “Giraffes also have a twenty-inch tongue. Maybe you’re distant relatives?” I ask, grinning at my flustered husband.

  “Maybe. Can you kindly figure out how to get this one off of me?” He asks, as the giraffe continues licking and slobbering all over his face.

  I can’t stop laughing. It had been his idea to come to Africa. His idea to go on the safari. His idea to roll the window down.

  I continue reading the booklet in front of me as our tour guide grins at me in the mirror. He’s enjoying Brash’s discomfort almost as much as I am.

  “I admit it might have been a mistake to not listen to your wisdom. Please accept my humblest apologies, but please for the love of the queen, get this thing off of me, please?”

  I lean over, scratching the giraffe on the snout. It happily turns my way and gives my fingers an appraising lick before going back to work on Brash’s face.

  Shrugging, I sit back.

  “Sorry babe. You know how your fans can get. She just wants the full Brash Knight experience, and I can't blame her one bit.”

  I grin at the guide as he finally relents and shoos the curious creature away from our vehicle.

  “Whew. I don’t know what she had for breakfast, but it could have used a mint.” Brash says, making a disgusted face. I laugh, poking him.

  “Ooh, it says right here they eat acacia. Well, I guess we won’t be trying any of that, huh?” I ask teasingly.

  “It’s poisonous to us anyway, innit?” Brash asks our guide, who shrugs.

  “Some is, some isn’t. It’s not very tasty, I can tell you that much for free.” He responds.

  The plains of the Serengeti stretch out seemingly endlessly around us. Wildlife is abundant, and the beauty of the place makes me glad I agreed to come.

  “Alright. So back to animal facts…” I start, making Brash groan. He snatches my pamphlet out of my hands, grinning at me teasingly.

  “No more facts. You can read about them later, but look around you, love. Don’t miss the moment because you wanted to read about it.”

  I lean my head on his shoulder, staring out the window with him. Clouds swell on the horizon, threatening to bring rain to Africa. The view is majestic as they sweep across the plains, chasing the sun from the sky.

  Brash and I spend the next hour just watching together, focused on the sights and, occasionally, the less than pleasant smells around us. Safaris are gorgeous, stunning, and beautiful — but they also smell a lot stronger than you’d think.

  “You know, it’d be nice if we had someone to share this with. Someone like our child.” Brash says.

  I snuggle up against him.

  “Yeah, but then we couldn’t just drop whatever we’re doing and travel all over the world whenever we feel like it.” I pout.

  Brash shrugs against me.

  “Why not? Who would stop us?”

  “Brash Knight, you can’t just… I mean, they’re kids. They need structure and discipline and why are you laughing at me?”

  Brash shakes his head, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

  “Oh, nothing love. It’s just, that’s got to be the least rock n’roll thing I’ve ever heard. Also just terribly untrue. I was raised by two aging hippies, and I turned out just fine.”

  I glare at him, but I know from experience that he only ever finds my immense frustration ‘cute’ and ‘endearing’.

  “Alright, tough guy. We can revisit this topic in one year, provided that I feel like you’ve done an adequate job being a responsible enough adult to even begin entertaining the prospect of parenthood.”

  “Compromise,” Brash says, grinning down at me. “I take you back to our lovely little glamping spot and put a baby in you tonight.”

  I roll my eyes and punch his shoulder.

  “Six months.”

  “Six weeks, and I get two out of every three names.” Brash pulls me into his lap, placing a kiss on my jawline. He rolls the divider up between us and the driver, giving us privacy to continue our argument without clothing.

  “Two out of three? Just how many kids do you want to have, Brash? I’m not a factory.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve got these hips, and these thighs...you could have a dozen and be none the worse for wear.” His words make me want to slap him, but his hands are already working magic on both of the aforementioned body parts.

  That, and I can never stay mad at Brash. He’s infuriating, but he’s just so good at it.

  “Well, let’s start with one and see how we do, yeah?” He asks, before searing a kiss into me that makes any thought of not giving this man as many children as he wants run screaming for the hills.

  I glance over my shoulder, making sure the divider really is closed,
before I move to straddle him, stripping off my top and giving him access to my breasts. Brash never hesitates when it comes to my curves, and his hands are on my tits before I can blink.

  “I love the way you make me feel. Sexy. Desirable. I’ve never really felt like that before, like a man couldn’t get enough of me.”

  “You must be my rebel, because you make me cry more, more, more baby.” Brash breaks our kiss to move his mouth down yo my breasts, tracing the sensitive skin with his tongue. My hands are busy pulling his fly down and fishing his cock out.

  With practiced ease I sink down onto him, taking him fully in one swift stroke. It took me six months of nearly constant sex to be able to handle him easily, and I always feel him stretching me, but it’s worth it for the look on his face.

  Brash is always in awe of just how much I want him, too.

  “God, gorgeous, you’re going to be pregnant before we even make it back if you keep that up.” he mutters as I work my hips up and down, circling them around the head of his cock before dipping down to take him balls deep.

  “Isn’t that the idea?” I whisper huskily into his ear, giving it a nibble before bracing myself on his chest with both hands and putting all of my focus into riding his dick.

  Brash slips a hand between us, his expert fingers finding my clit and working it in the exact right way to make my legs start to shake.

  I swear to god, ever since he worked his magic on me with those fingers, I’ve never been able to watch him tune a guitar without ruining whatever panties I happen to be wearing. The man could be hung like a mosquito and still be a sex god.

  Fortunately for me, well, that giraffe liked him for a reason.

  The sound of our bodies crashing together is loud enough I’m absolutely certain our driver can hear, even over his music, but I don’t care anymore. All of my focus is on Brash. On the way his brilliant blue eyes are boring into me, searing my very heart and soul.

  “I love you,” I moan as I feel myself reaching the peak of a massive orgasm.

  “I love you too, Beth,” Brash grunts as he grabs my hips, bucking up into me. I feel the warmth of his release, and another shockwave of pleasure ripples through me.

  I collapse against him, panting. The windows are fogged, and I pant, grinning at my husband.

  “That’ll teach you to flirt with the wildlife,” I say.

  Brash’s laughter echoes throughout the car, the campsite, and nearly all of Africa.

  It’s music to my ears.

  Epilogue Two

  Brash

  Ten Years Later

  The noise.

  The noise never, ever stops.

  “You know the worst part?” I ask, speaking two times louder than normal so that Beth can hear me over the loud percussive sounds echoing throughout our home.

  Beth glares up at me.

  “That you were the one who started talking about kids? That you were the one who taught her to play drums because quote ‘she’ll get tired of them fast’?”

  I wave off Beth’s complaints, grinning down at her.

  “I used to wear earplugs to preserve my hearing on stage. Most other musicians that last this long have hearing damage, but my ears are perfectly healthy.

  “The rest of you is about to be perfectly unhealthy if you don’t go tell her to stop.” Beth taps her foot, arms crossed beneath her breasts. I know that means she’s seriously annoyed.

  “Alright, alright.” I raise my palms up and out. “I’ll go ask her to use the studio on the other side of the house. Good compromise, right?”

  Beth shakes her head.

  “You spoil that girl, Brash. I swear that Bella is going to crash hard when she meets the real world for the first time.”

  I shake my head, smiling.

  “We managed alright, didn’t we?” I ask, pulling my wife against me for a kiss.

  She relents, her lips sweet against mine. Even ten years later, her curves still instantly make my cock ache for her — but it’ll have to wait.

  I make my way across the house, my ears beginning to thrum and ache as I approach our daughter's room. I recognize the song, of course. It’s one of mine.

  The door is ajar, which is a good thing, since knocking wouldn’t really do much considering the sheer decibel output of my daughter’s drums.

  I stick my head in, trying to make eye contact, but my beautiful little girl has her eyes closed, headphones in place, jamming out to one of her old man’s albums.

  A piece of paper on the table near her door gives me an idea, and thirty seconds later the noise blessedly pauses.

  “Ow, what the — Dad!” Bella exclaims, rubbing her shoulder.

  “It was just a bit of a paper airplane, love. You’re fine. Now, what have we talked about practicing in the house this early?” I walk into the room. It’s hard to navigate in the early morning light, but I manage not to trip on anything.

  “I was up, and I just...needed to play. You know?” She asks. Contrary to the loud instrument she loves, Bella is a fairly quiet kid.

  “I know, sweetheart. I get the same way. Felt that way all the time when I was your age.”

  “Well, what did you do?”

  I chuckle. “I snuck out of the house and banged empty dumpsters in a dirty alley until somebody chased me off. You’ve got it a bit easier, alright? You can just use the studio.”

  “But you’ve got the only key, Dad. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  I blink at her, and then grin as she blushes at the realization.

  “Yeah, well, you saw to that. But it’s alright, love. Starting today, you’re a real musician. And real musicians need studios to work in. Nice, quiet, soundproof studios.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out a copy of the key to the studio that lives in the basement.

  “Ohmygosh, Dad! Are you serious?!” Bella rushes forward, tackling me with a hug. I grab her and spin her around.

  “Serious as a heart attack,” I say, grinning as I ruffle her hair. Bella takes after her mother — brunette curls and eyes the color of freshly cut grass.

  “Does this mean I can play your Les Paul?” Bella asks excitedly. I chuckle, patting her head.

  “One thing at a time, baby. Go on, go mess around a bit. I’ve got to go collect my reward from your mother for shutting you up.”

  Bella scampers away, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Nothing in this world is as terrifying as an unhappy wife.

  “How’d you get her to stop?” Bella asks as I crawl back into bed.

  “Easy. We just reached a compromise.”

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  About the Author

  Regina Wade writes steamy, short romances that can be devoured in one sitting. She likes her heroines curvy and smart, her heroes big and bad, and her love stories as OTT as she can make them. Sometimes tongue-in-cheek, always tongues in cheeks.