Billy Jeffers: Rockers of Steel (2 page)

I peep through one halfway-opened eye and see a woman. She looks like she’s at least twenty-two. And thank God. She’s legal. Her platinum blonde hair is sticking up in all directions. There’s makeup smeared all over her face, bite marks and hickeys all over body. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not bad looking, but she’s absolutely no different than all the other privileged little rich girls whose daddies buy their daughters’ way into the VIP areas. This is the kind of girl I’m used to: fake, horny, and willing to do anything for a brush with fame.

A slight giggle bounces from her lips as she tugs the covers off my body. Her warm, slimy tongue, coated with morning breath germs traces along my shaft. The sensation sends a small tingle shooting up my groin. I let out a short sigh. Leaning back, I shut my eyes, no hint of a smile on my face. The way she’s wrapping her tongue around me feels damn good. After just a few minutes of her head bobbing up and down, her hand twisting at just the right moments, and her choking a few times, my legs stiffen, and then my entire body heats from the overwhelming rush of endorphins coursing through me. It’s amazing how quickly orgasms come when you’re not strung out on coke, or a bottle of oxycodone, or speed, or…well, let’s just say I get off a lot faster when I’m sober.

The warm and fuzzy post-orgasm feeling rapidly fades, and I’m ready to get her the hell out of my hotel room. I sit up and give her a thumbs up. “Thanks for the great blow job. Pretty sure the door’s still unlocked.” Then, I fling my naked ass back down across the bed.

Her green eyes narrow, her lip twitches. Here comes the ‘OMG, I can’t believe what a bastard he is’ huff that chicks are so good at in 3, 2, 1... A loud breath huffs between her collagen plumped lips. The springs of the mattress bounce when she hops up. She’s shuffling around the room, mumbling to herself while gathering her things. And I just lay right here with my flaccid dick, staring up at the ceiling.

I tap my finger in beat with her heels as they click across the tiled floors, and then, the sound stops. Raising my head from the pillow, I glance up at her, arching one brow in disinterest. The girl, whose name I haven’t bothered to ask for, glares at me for a minute, then a smile inches its way across her face.

“I can’t believe this!” She falls silent and shakes her head, then covers her mouth with her hand. “I’m,” she pauses, fanning herself. “I’m getting kicked out of Jag Steele’s hotel room. OMG! This. Is. Amazing!” she squeals. Next thing I know, her phone’s in her face, her fingers typing furiously and her grin growing wider by the second. My guess is she’s posting on Facebook to let everyone know she’s just become the one-thousand, five hundred and sixty-seventh woman to have her tonsils rammed by me—or some number close to that. I sure as hell don’t try to keep count anymore.

Dear Reader,

If you are new to my work, let me take the opportunity to give you a brief overview of all things STEEL.

Steel men, whether it be
Men of Steel
,
Ties of Steel
, or the
Rockers of Steel
, are not for everyone and, more importantly, not for every woman. They are highly sexual, highly inappropriate, and sometimes … high. They are not always mature, are hard to handle, and most of them would prefer to be the handler. They are man-whores who love all women…until they make the decision to love one woman.

They are undoubtedly alpha males, each on his own path to finding out what that actually means. When they figure it out, there is no turning it off or turning back. They are genuinely good hearted and have a deep loyalty to those they consider family by blood or by choice. They are all that and then some.

What you know about Billy Jeffers is about to change...a bit.

***Warning to the reader***

Billy is a stuck-up son-of-a-bitch. He was raised to do better, to be better, than everyone around him. He is an alpha in his own right. You will want to throttle him, and then hug him. Whatever other feelings he evokes in you is your issue… And I will leave it at that.

***Warning to the reader***

Madison Black is a brat, a piss pot, she may rub you the wrong way. What the hell do you expect, she’s Memphis Black’s sister. She has lived in the shadow of a bigger than life brother all her life. Don’t write her off too early. Her cunning ways, her need to be heard, to be
seen
… all of her flaws make her the most wonderful kind of leading female character you could wish for.

***Promise to the reader***

You are going to be surprised by these two.

I promise by the end, they will be more than you could ever imagine they could be.

If you are new to the series, it can be read as a standalone.

Here we are at the end of another Steel series.

But is it….

—MJ

P.S. Make sure to check out the link in the back for information on how to claim a free “Rocker, surprise.”

Billy Jeffers, pianist, never dreamed of being in a rock band, yet he reluctantly agreed to help a friend start one—Steel Total Destruction. Then, one night at a club in Miami, the front man was injured and unable to play lead guitar. Billy quickly learned lead and was then thrust into a spotlight he never wanted.

Lead singer Memphis Black’s sassy twenty-year-old sister Madison left college to work at Forever Four. She has felt an intense attraction toward Billy from the first time she laid eyes on him. On several occasions, she even makes it apparent, but he brushes off every attempt she makes.

Madison finds out a secret Billy has been keeping from everyone. Will he use her attraction to him to seduce her into keeping her mouth shut, or will she reveal a secret that would crush the bond with Billy, Steel Total Destruction, and Forever Four?

Hearts will be broken, friendships will be tested, and all hell may just break loose.

“Give Me Something” by Jarred James

“Love Yourself” by Justin Bieber

“Roses” by Chainsmokers

“Hide Away” by Daya

“Victorious” by Panic! at the Disco

“Waking Up” by Mr. Little Jeans

“One Call Away” by Charlie Puth

I never wanted to be part of a band. From age three, I have been a pianist, and I excel at it. Regardless, it was not something I wanted to do as a career. I wanted to run my own business like my father.

I don’t love the stage and all the attention it brings like Memphis does. Music doesn’t live in me, and it’s not necessary to breathe like it is for Finn. I don’t crave the constant party, a warm body in my bed, or the distraction like River does.

Quite frankly, some of the warm bodies I have woken up to after too much partying have almost horrified me. Not because they aren’t attractive, but because, when they open their mouths to speak, I feel like I have lost a few hundred brain cells just from being in their presence.

I am attracted to women who are well-read, educated, and who can hold an intelligent conversation, a woman who dresses nicely and focuses on presentation. I value manners, confidence, and someone who isn’t overtly sexual.

I like women who are not drama because I have it in droves with my bandmates.

Madison Black—our lead singer Memphis’s sister, the travel coordinator for Steel Total Destruction, and in my case, resident cock tease—is drama. She nonstop checks me out, makes sexual innuendos, and acts like a little, spoiled brat when she doesn’t get her way.

I know she has gone through some troubled times—her parents’ divorce and the fact that her father was screwing around with her best friend’s father—but that is no excuse to act outlandish. Memphis and his mother seem to be fine, and she never mentions it, so I just assume that’s her nature.

Madison Black is beautiful—stunning, actually. She is without a doubt sexy. She has an hourglass shape; long, black, perfect waves of hair; and blue eyes framed by thick, black lashes that do nothing but make them shine even more.

If I allow myself the indulgence of watching her bend over a desk, a counter, using any excuse to shove her tight, little peach of an ass in the air whenever I am around, my dick chubs up in the blink of an eye.

She also has a habit of bending over, facing me, whenever I’m in front of her, flashing a peek of whatever lacy, little bra she has cupping her tits that day. I swear she never has the same one on. I wonder if there is a bra of the day club. If there is, there also must be a panty of the day club because, I shit you not, whenever she flashes me a peek, they match.

She makes my life … hard.

I would never fuck a friend’s sister or someone I work with. I would never date a woman who acts like she does. Do I want a woman to let loose in bed? Of course I do. What I don’t want is a woman others view as loose.

She used to pout, sticking out her bottom lip like a petulant child, when I avoided her, but lately, she has switched it all up and become a straight-up, little bitch.

My hands are normally clenched when she is around. I have to fight the urge to send her to the corner, to a time-out chair, or bend her over my knee and spank her ass.

Often, I find myself giving her a ride from whatever party we are attending since I normally am the only sober one. She used to be chatty, so fucking chatty. She would go on and on about music or the parties she went to when she was in college, before quitting and coming to work for Forever Four. Apparently, she and her friends would see how many guys they could make-out with, and whoever won didn’t have to do a damn thing, not even make her bed. And, as Madison Black says, she never lost. She bragged about it! Unreal.

If she wasn’t Memphis’s sister, I would ask her to lift her skirt so I could make sure she is truly a female.

When I started making her use the simplest manners, like “please” when she demanded a ride or “thank you” when I dropped her off, she seemed annoyed, pissed, even bratty. Not that I give a damn, but I would like peace in the workplace.

Over the past few weeks, she stepped up the brattiness and hit straight-up bitch. She glares at me, ignores me, does everything she can to avoid me, and when she and I have to be in the same room together, I can feel her stare at me. When I look toward her, she looks away. Then she has the audacity to wait until I watch for two seconds before she looks at me and rolls her eyes as if I have done something to offend her.

Yes, Madison Black is a spoiled, rotten, manner-less, little bitch whose face I have to stare at every day. Even worse, I have to be nice when others are around. Why? Because I am Billy Jeffers, resident nice guy.

I shake my head as I place the picture we all took together after River’s wedding on the mantle of my new place. I moved out of the beach house and River, Keeana, and their little one now call it home.

I walk out on the balcony and look out over the Atlantic Ocean. I feel a calm that I haven’t felt in the nearly two years since this all began, since right before I graduated college.

I stay outside, taking in the view as I smile to myself, thinking about having the ability to sit on my sofa, watch whatever movie I choose, hold my laptop wide open, and not worry about anyone seeing what I am looking at.

Now that everything is unpacked and in its rightful place, I am going to make myself dinner, play the piano for a bit, and then sit on the sofa and watch a movie. I won’t get these days too often, but when I do, I will relish them.

I walk in and look around. There are no empty cans or bottles, no one is passed out on the couch from last night’s party, and there is no major crisis going on. There is me, myself, and I.

The apartment has an open floor plan. The dining and kitchen area are separated by a large island with four stools so guests can sit and see all the way through the place. It has two bedrooms, three baths, and plenty of peace and quiet.

My phone rings, disrupting that peace and quiet. I look at the screen and see it’s Memphis.

“Hello,” I answer.

“It’s me. I was wondering if, after all these years, you’d like to meet—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I bite out, annoyed.

“—to go over everything. They say—”

“You’re serious right now with the Adele song?”

“
Hello from the outside
,” he bellows out then laughs. “We’re standing at your door. Tales made you dinner, and Mads brought you a house warming gift.”

I hang up the phone and answer the door.

Tales smiles, holding up a picnic basket as she walks in and kicks her shoes off. Memphis hands me a bottle of scotch, and Madison waltzes past me with a basketful of objects that I can’t quite see since she walks by too fast, but I do smell the cock tease perfume she’s wearing. It’s the kind that makes you want to lean in and smell it just to be able to decipher the scent. Is it floral or a light musk? Maybe a mix between both?

“You coming?” Memphis asks, wearing his signature grin.