CRASH & BURN (Rule Breaker)

CRASH & BURN

Susan Arden

Sweet-N-Spicy Tales

Crash & Burn

Series: Rule Breaker, Book 2

ROCK into ME
, Book 1

Sex, Love, & Lies in Music City

The journey of Orion—5 rule breaking band members making it big in Nashville

and each with a story to tell.

Copyright © Susan Arden

Published: August 2013

SWEET-N-SPICY TALES

The right of Susan Arden to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

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Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at http://www.susanarden.com or Twitter: @romancebysusan

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Blog:
http://susanardenbooks.blogspot.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

A loud shout-out to all the readers who said “Yes!” to hot rock romance with a twist.

Therefore, to all the readers who can relate to a woman who stands on her own,

this one is dedicated to you.

Rock on!

I don’t think any of this would be possible without the hard work of Barbara Gibbs

and her keen eye. Thanks, Barb. Again.

Catch Barbara here if you can use extraordinary proofing, too:

(
[email protected]
)

Chapter One

Alana regarded Jonathan still deeply sleeping. Last night she’d met this storm of a man. Jesus. What the hell had happened? She’d been onstage singing, then shown a contract, and in short order had been hauled away from the bar. A tornado didn’t cause that much chaos. Nor demand inhibitions be checked at the door.
Un-fucking-believable
.

Their coming together could be better described as a head-on collision in the world of hookups. Misery didn’t cover what had filled her when she’d caught sight of Jon during her band’s performance, seated at a table in the front row. A far, far cry from the electrical skittering pulses racing across her body as she lay in bed next to him, staring at his gorgeous face. She fought the urge to trace Jon’s full lips with her fingertips or his square jaw now covered by dark stubble, casting him into a darker version of the clean-shaven CEO who had his head between her thighs last night.

Hugging her pillow she smothered a smile, recalling what an unadulterated bitch she’d been to him, believing he’d disliked her as much as she—at the time—had disliked him.

Alana closed her eyes, remembering stomping on his foot, a seat-of-her-pants move she’d delivered after Christy had tried to explain who Jon was in the record industry. Christy, her best friend, knew the ins and outs of the music business, top to flaming bottom. They were the chicks of Orion—the glitter of the band. Alana sang while Christy worked keyboards and backup guitar, as well as Billy, the lead guitarist, on and off stage. Both Christy and Billy were the reason why Orion was gaining traction. Those two spent hours schmoozing club owners, record stations, DJs, fans—anyone who was willing to give Orion a shot. And now, with Jonathan Lansing behind them, the band might actually go somewhere.

Biting her lip, she put off envisioning what the next two weeks would be like as Jon’s client-not-lover. That’s what they’d agreed in the elevator. One night in a sexual slaying and for crying out loud, he’d delivered as promised.

“Don’t do that,” Jonathan whispered in a hoarse voice, “unless you’d like to get an encore. If anyone will bite that lip of yours, it’ll be me.” He pressed his hard-on against her hip while running his hands down her body.

Last night had ended much too abruptly. A flight of electrified butterflies swarmed within her stomach, and she twisted the sheet in her hands.
Ended
—that was the problem.

She opened her eyes and swung her gaze to him. “You said we’d be strictly business after last night.”

“Again, more misquoting on your part, Ms. St. James.” He wrapped his hands around her waist, turning her to lie flat on the bed as he lifted upright and moved, uncovering their bodies. The broad expanse of his muscular shoulders hovered above her as she ran her fingers through the triangle of dark hair on his otherwise smooth, lickable chest.

The chilly hotel room air swam over her body but it was Jon’s touch that had her shivering. His fully-erect cock grazed her thigh just as his fingers ran down to her knee, and her sex clenched. Hard.

“Why don’t you enlighten me, then?”

He tightened his grip on her. “What I specifically said was that we’d be business after six a.m. And it’s twenty-three minutes before the hour. I’ve every intention of utilizing my time wisely.”

His finger traced the valley where her thighs came together. Slowly, and with great accuracy, he torturously outlined her intimately with the tip of his finger.

Alana held her breath, silently giving thanks Jon was a Type-A all the way. “I stand corrected,” she whispered in a voice hovering on the brink of cracking.

“Tell me, love, with that dirty mouth, just what I want to hear.”

“That you’ve an amazing dick?” She took hold of him and squeezed titanium. “Or that you can fuck like a demon?”

A near-feral growl slipped from his mouth as twinges of pleasure erupted at the point he glided his fingers across her folds and simultaneously ricocheted from deep in her belly. She fought to keep from pleading with him for more.

She could feel herself beginning to bow as an aching sensation swelled under the pressure of his touch. The space between her legs pulsed with sharp arousal, becoming wetter with each swipe of his finger. She craved him. More skin. More fingering. More sucking. And yes, much more sex. Rough, raw sex with this man who had her yelling his name last night in the back of a privately-driven car, among other places.

He lightly bit the side of her neck, nuzzling her skin. He stopped when she dug her nails into the muscles along his back.

“Alana, pushing for a lesson so early in the morning?” Jon asked with his deep British voice. Hell, the devil wouldn’t have sounded as seductively inviting.

Quivers erupted, cloaking her body. Fuck, she was sunk. How would she go on for two dismal, platonic weeks when she’d greedily sampled Jon’s dizzying ability to fuck the French out of her? Twenty-three minutes…she didn’t think twenty-three hours or twenty-three days would be enough time to get tired of Jonathan Peter Lansing or his awe-inspiring cock.

“Please, Jon,” she pleaded without shame, longing to taste his tongue.

“Damn, I want to fuck you to remember me.” His eyes scanned her face, catching her in a vise of deep blue fire. “Like this. Is this what you want?” His fingers separated her pussy lips and he circled her opening, relieving but then delivering her into another round of delicious torture when he held back from thrusting into her.

“More. I want you inside me.”

“So impatient.” His laughter spilled over her, and then he plunged his finger into her, pumping his hand between her legs. Hard, fast, demanding. “I want you under me and then on top of me. You’re so tight. I’ll loosen your sweet pussy up and then you can ride me, baby. Fuck my brains out.”

“Wishful thinking,” she gulped, unable to comprehend why it was easier to slip into a biting repartee with him. “If you think you’ve anything left after last night. I for one am certain you’re sorely mistaken. You might be running in the
red
where grey cells are concerned.”

With a cocked brow, Jon stopped finger-fucking her. His hands gripped her thighs, wedging open her legs. “What did I tell you? Still with the mouth, Ms. St. James. There’s a tremendous difference in pillow talk and sounding off in this manner. Should I fill that precious orifice of yours so you can’t spew in bitch blathering mode? We can always enjoy our last few moments together with my hand smacking that round little arse of yours and then I can fuck it long and hard, giving you something to truly remember me by. Sound inviting, sweetheart?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He tilted his head a fraction of an inch, giving him a wicked, daring expression, and she realized he more than likely yearned for her to say something—anything—that he could construe to make his case for an ass-fucking-farewell.

She swung her head from side to side, careful to keep her expression neutral. Having her ass fucked by his immense cock would hurt worse because she’d have a constant reminder of him without the ability to straddle his lap for relief. This was the last time, and the thought stabbed her.

Far better that she have fewer reminders of how incredible it was to have him thrusting into her. Over and over and over…but after this morning, not again.

Don’t. Go. There.
Swallowing, she released the bubble of doubt swelling in her throat and acknowledged this was her band’s moment to garner a future. Not to shop for a sex partner. Fun and games. Not a thing more. The balancing of the equation was up to her. She exhaled, hoping to clear the clusterfuck of ideas and images congesting her brain. One last time.
What did she want?

With a deep inhalation, she studied his face, his see-all sapphire blue eyes, and without further ado, she calmly whispered, “Fuck you.”

His jaw dropped open, but then he quickly recovered. A glimmer of excitement flashed in his eyes. “That filthy mouth of yours is so enticing, but a promise is a promise.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Now who’s acting slow?” He picked up a condom from the night table and ripped open the packet. He handled his dick with absolute precision in swathing himself in latex and then he was at her opening, gripping his cock with his hand. “Baby, here’s the recap: I’m going to fuck you, spank you, and then fuck you again. Then it’s on to the office.”

A seamless delivery. On the next heartbeat, he thrust into her in one hard plunge and she spontaneously cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“Is this how you get a client’s attention?” she asked, squeezing her muscles around his erection.

“God, you’re amazing.” The skin along his jaw twitched; he slammed back into her before responding. “We’ve already addressed that you are a special case. One that requires my complete and personal attention. No more talking, unless it’s my name on your lips. Tell me how my cock feels inside you. Put that dirty mouth of yours to work.”