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Chapter 5

Grace

After I'd sat in the truck and fumed, running everything over in my mind, I got more and more pissed.

Fuck him! Fuck him and fuck the horse he rode in on. Well, not literally, but... Damn it! How dare he? How dare he cheat on me with every damn buckle bunny at every damn rodeo, and then blame me for it? He was lucky I gave him the time of day on the dance floor earlier, and I only did that for one reason, to avoid this. I knew if I said no when he cut in, that he'd make a damn scene.

A scene was the last thing I wanted. I'd already had my hands full with everyone's eyes on me when I walked in with Scott and Adam. I certainly didn't want to be the cause of some testosterone-filled display of manliness when Jake got his Wranglers in a bunch if I refused him in public. But then he just had to push.

He just had to start talking shit on the dance floor, grabbing my arm as I tried to walk away and spewing shit like, 'you think you're too good for me,' and 'I ought to finish what I started that night and back hand your ass into submission.'

Why he got all uptight when all I did was remind him of where he was, I had no idea.

All I'd said was, "Look around, asshole. How many of the women that you haven't already slept with in this bar will take you to their bed after they watch you hit me? And what do you think your chances will be of walking out of here on two working legs after every honorable cowboy in here who's been raised well enough to know that you never hit a woman comes to my defense? Now, what will it be? Your ass roasted on a stick after everyone in here gets a piece of you, or are you going to let go of my arm, before I scream?"

I'd felt rather smug, even if still angry, after finally saying my piece, but then I'd gotten to blow off some serious steam with two of the sexiest cowboys on God's green earth, and was finally feeling better when Jake's insulted ass stumbled upon us in the parking lot.

I wondered how long he'd been there, watching, filming, and I just started fuming hotter sitting here in the truck after they guys left me to go after Jake.

It didn't take long for my rage to reach a boiling point, so I got out of the truck and followed the excited stragglers looking for the fight they heard was out back.

It felt so damn good to announce to the world what kind of a cowboy Jake really was, even if there was only a couple dozen people out back to announce it to.

I knew how it worked out here in the country.

Everything I said would be folded and stretched, pulled like warm taffy in the retelling that would go on in the next few days.

The story would grow legs, and soon would become just a shadow of its real self.

If I could just get that damn phone, there would be no proof.

Even if Jake yelled from the rooftops that he'd actually seen me fucking Adam and Scott, no one would believe him.

I'd add to the story myself, saying that I'd heard that he'd caught me fucking Adam, Scott, the local preacher, and one of the rodeo's prized stallions, and everyone would laugh, and no one would pay any mind to a damn thing Jake ever said again.

That was my intent when I turned that corner yelling my fool head off at Jake.

Never in a million years did I think he'd turn on Scott and Adam, attacking them both in some kind of rage and alcohol-filled jealous fit.

But damn if it wasn't sexy as all hell to watch.

I could tell that the brothers were holding back, and that somehow added to the sexiness.

I knew they could make minced meat out of Jake, and I knew that
they
knew they could make minced meat out of Jake, and I knew that they really, really wanted to. And yet they still held back. They knew it wasn't a fair fight, and they acted accordingly.

Every time Jake would pivot and go after one brother, the other would stand down, letting the brother in Jake's sights at that moment tend to him.

They gave Jake a run for his money, getting their fair share of licks in, but they let Jake tire himself out and basically make a fool of himself, while figuratively standing there with one hand tied behind each of their sexy, muscular, honorable backs.

Jake was tiring, and bloody, and I could tell that the fight was winding down.

Scott had Jake in a bear hug, rolling his eyes at the larger crowd over Jake's head as Jake continued to thrash around and send wild, half-hearted punches toward Scott's kidneys when Adam stepped forward and pulled Jake's phone out of his pocket as he thrashed.

Any minute now I expected Jake to give up, or fall over, but I think he was running on pure pride at this point, when the crowd parted yet again.

"What in the sam hill is going on back here?"

Leave it to my dad to appear out of fucking nowhere, again.

"Someone inside said that Adam and Scott were back here beating the shit out of Jake, but I wouldn't believe it. Not until I saw it with my own eyes. What the hell is going on, Grace?"

* * * * *

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I'm a classy, prim and proper married mother on the outside, and on the inside (and in my younger years) I'm kicked back in tight jeans and a cinched corset, playing poker in one hand with a whiskey in the other. A mouth only a sailor would love, a two-step that just won't quit and a raunchy imagination to top it all off.

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BACKSTAGE BILLIONAIRES: PART ONE

Marie Carnay

P
ROLOGUE

I am going straight to hell.

A woman’s ruby red lips stained his cock. Her fingernails dug into his hips. And his best friend unzipped his pants behind her.

It was sexy and raw and so fucking wrong he didn’t know where to begin. Or how to stop. Every time was the last time. No more giving in. To the crush of her body. The heat of the moment. Alec’s insistence.

Brooks groaned, soft and low, and Alec raised his hand. It landed on the woman’s ass with a clap.

“Mmm. Unh.” She moaned and slid down Brooks’s shaft until she’d taken him all. Nose bumping skin, throat stuffed full.
Fuck
. She pulled back and slipped down again, coating his shaft in her spit, deep throating him over and over.
Shit
. Where’d Alec even find her?

As she pulled back again, she added her hand, lubing it up before sliding down to fondle his balls.
God damn
. He reached up and stroked her dyed-blonde hair, tugging in an effort to slow her down. They shouldn’t be here. Getting off in a back room of a club. Again.

“I told you she wanted both of us. Practically begged me backstage to take her right there.” Alec stood behind her, stroking his own cock as he rubbed her pink, swollen ass.
Smack!
He spanked her again on the left side.
Smack!
On her right. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

She nodded through the blow job and stuck her ass out, shimmying an invitation until Alec laughed.

“See, Brooks? She’s as horny as you are.” Alec stepped closer, reaching up to shove his hand between her legs. “Christ. You’re so fucking wet it’s like a pussy slip-n-slide.” He stroked her and the woman shuddered around Brook’s shaft. “You want me inside you? You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t breathe?”

She nodded again—bobbing her head along with Brooks’s dick—and he grunted his agreement. They were too far gone to stop now. He’d hate himself in the morning, but Alec was right—she wanted it as bad as he did. “You heard her. Get on with it already. I can’t hold on much more.”

Alec grinned. “You’ll never get enough of this Brooks. Never.”

Brooks swallowed down his anger and watched his friend sheath his cock. He didn’t know what made it so hot—the woman with a mouth like a hurricane pinned between them—or the way he connected with Alec in the heat of the moment. Something about sharing a woman…He’d never had anything better. Too bad it never lasted beyond a single night.

An orgasm stirred deep within him and he let his head fall back on the wall in surrender. Alec could take them all over the edge. Together. Without another word, his friend thrust—filling up her soaked pussy and rocking her forward on Brooks’s cock. His slipped down into her throat and she convulsed, gagging on his thick length as Alec pulled back.

Over and over he fucked her. Harder and harder. No hesitation. No pause. Giving her everything he could right from the start. Her body became a pendulum swinging between them. She slid back as Alec retreated, shot forward as he buried himself balls-deep. Saliva dribbled down her chin and pooled on the floor.

“God damn, you’re incredible.” Alec grunted out his shallow praise as he reached around to fondle her clit. She cried out in bliss and Brooks gritted his teeth.
Fuck, yes
. He twisted her hair in his hands and in seconds he was there. Releasing deep into her throat, pumping the mix of guilt and ecstasy and shame into her mouth one salty burst at a time.

As the last of Brooks’s orgasm rocked through him, Alec came as well, grunting as he dragged the woman back to take it all. Her mouth opened, Brooks’s cock slipping past her swollen lips as she came a second time. God, she was sexy. Makeup smeared all over her face. Backstage pass bouncing against her chest. She glanced up at him and he tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

ONE YEAR LATER

“I want sexy. Strong. A voice like velvet. That’s what I told you.” Alec tossed the stack of photos on the desk and shook his head. “What department do you head?”

“A&R.”

“Artists and repertoire.” His fingers thrummed the table with every syllable. “Have you brought me any artists today, Daphne? No. Not a single one.”

“I’m sorry, Alec. It’s just—we haven’t had much luck finding the type of singer you’re looking for. What you see is the best we’ve found this month. And if you give them a chance—”

“I’m not in the business of giving chances. I’m in the business of making stars. Falcon Records doesn’t settle for mediocre talent. We only sign the best.”

Damn. Who pissed in his cornflakes?
Brooks had been willing to listen for the first hour. Biting his tongue while Alec ripped into the head of A&R. Strumming his fingers while she shot daggers across the conference table. He couldn’t deny the man was right—Daphne’s efforts this month were subpar—but he didn’t need to berate her. She wasn’t going to pull a hidden fact sheet out of her back pocket because he made her cry.

Brooks cleared his throat and swiveled his chair. “Alec, enough. She’s aware of the caliber we want.”

“Apparently not, since she’s brought us a stack of bush league amateurs.”

Brooks heard Daphne’s sharp intake of air and shook his head. If Alec didn’t lay off, she’d probably quit. With a deep breath, he stood and walked around the marble table. Alec might not care how many feathers he ruffled and how many employees he hazed, but Brooks did. Money hadn’t turned him into a total asshole. At least not yet.

“Daphne, hey.”

She clenched her fists, squeezing until her knuckles matched the white of her blouse.

“We didn’t call this meeting just to give you a hard time.”

She glanced up and relaxed her hands.

“We know how difficult your job is. We’re picky. And it’s harder than hell to find the type of artist we want today. People watch an episode of
American Idol
and think they’ll be the next star.”

Daphne nodded and her blonde curls bounced in agreement.

“But you also know our goals. Our vision. We launched Falcon to compete with the biggest corporate labels. Arista, Reprise, Warner Records. We’re not a fledgling indie. We don’t want mediocre talent.”

“I understand that, Brooks. And we’ve been scouting all of Southern California.” She shifted her weight on her heels and frowned. “But the type of voice you’re looking for…The type of woman who could pull that off…She’s hard to find.”

Alec interrupted with a crack of his knuckles. “Then work harder.”

Brooks ignored the barb. “I don’t care how long it takes. Neither does Alec. We want you to find the right talent for Falcon. Not a stack of rejects. We’d rather you show up to this meeting empty handed than waste our time. Understood?”

“Yes.” She pressed her red lips together and Brooks wished he could say something to ease the tension. But he couldn’t whitewash the truth. She needed to do better.

“Good.” He stepped back and motioned to the papers. “Take those and regroup. Focus on what we’ve asked for. Take your time, do the legwork. Find the artist we want.”

“Yes, sir.” Daphne bent over the table and shoved the bland rejects back into place before standing up. She gave Brooks a tight smile and turned toward the door, heels clacking on the hardwood as she hurried out of the room.

As the door swung shut, Alec let out an exaggerated sigh. “You were too nice.”

“And you were an asshole.”

“No, I was honest.” His partner leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “If she can’t find the right type of artists for the label, she shouldn’t have a job.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s done a bang-up job this year and you know it.”

Alec frowned. “For male artists? Hell, yes. But this label isn’t a fucking sausage fest. We need quality female artists too.”

“I know.” Brooks ran his hand over his buzzed hair. Starting Falcon had been the best thing they’d ever done apart from investing in the startup. It gave him purpose. Kept him in the scene. Hell, if they made it a success, they’d shape the music industry for the next few decades. Maybe more.

But relying on a rash of employees was new. Challenging. He blew out a puff of air and glanced at Alec. He might be his best friend, but he could still be a major asshole. If Daphne didn’t deliver, he knew Alec would fire her. No questions asked.

Brooks walked over to the windows and looked out on Santa Monica Blvd. A bleached blonde with too much botox and not enough skirt walked by. Followed by another. And another. God, where were all the real women? The ones who owned their bodies and their style. The ones who didn’t bow to every whim some fashion designer threw out like paint on a wall. No wonder Daphne couldn’t find a female artist.

He scrubbed his face with his hands and turned around. “You think we made a mistake staying in L.A.?”

Alec dismissed the thought with an eye roll. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. This is where the talent is, and you know it. We just need to dig deeper.” He stood and the office chair skittered behind him. “What did we do better than anyone before we opened Falcon?”

Images of a sexy young groupie, naked and moaning filled his mind. He ran his tongue over his lip and looked at Alec. “Artists and repertoire.”

Alec’s eyes lit up and Brooks swallowed. He didn’t like where his friend was headed. Not at all.

“All those weeks on the road—spending night after night in dive bars, listening to the local bands, finding hidden talent. We did that better than anyone.”

Brooks nodded and glanced out the window. He remembered the wild nights. The hazy mornings. Back when they worked A&R side by side. Traveling across the country, drinking and listening and signing new talent. Satisfying all their wicked desires. He glanced back at Alec and his partner grinned.

“Want a trip down memory lane?”

No
. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a dive in West Hollywood I’ve been hearing about for weeks. Let’s go together. Check it out.”

Brooks raised an eyebrow. “We should give Daphne a chance.”

“It’s one bar, Brooks. One night. We can go, check out some local talent. Get our hands dirty again and remember why we started Falcon in the first place.”

“I don’t know, Alec.”

“Are you hesitating because you seriously think Daphne can deliver? Or is this about something else?”

Damn it
. Alec fixed his gaze on Brooks and it all rushed back. The memories. The heat. The sin. Bodies soaked in sweat, chests heaving. A woman’s moans filling the room. His dick twitched just thinking about it. Brooks ground his teeth and looked away. “We agreed, Alec. No more bars. No more clubs. No more…indiscretions.”

“No. You made that decision on your own. One night isn’t going to change that. You don’t want to find some hot piece of ass to share? Fine by me. I’ve got no problem keeping her all to myself.”

“I thought this was about finding an artist.”

Alec smirked. “Who said they aren’t the same thing?”

* * *

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Rachel filled a glass with cheap beer and slid it across the bar, not even looking at the man who snatched it up.

“No one picks back-up singers by the size of their ass.”

“I thought that too. That’s why I auditioned in the first place. I mean, I’ve been turned down how many times for a front-line gig? I thought this would be a sure thing. But Mr. Too-famous-to-be-named only wants girls with ‘boyish’ builds.”

Melanie spun around and planted a hand on her hip. “Wait. You didn’t even know who you were auditioning for?”

Rachel snorted. “Nope. All the agency said was high-profile, mainstream pop rock, and very particular.”

Her best friend’s eyes rolled so high, her eyebrows arched. “That’s ridiculous. They seriously expected you to take the job blind?”

With a glance up, Rachel shrugged and turned toward a pallet of glasses. “That’s L.A. for you.”

“Unbelievable. Why did you even go in the first place? I thought you hated mainstream stuff.”

“I’m trying to open my horizons.”
And get out of this shithole
. “Isn’t any kind of gig better than no gig at all?”

“What about all that talk of selling out?”

“That was Darren, not me.”

Melanie winced. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

Rachel grabbed a pair of glasses and shoved them under the bar. There were so many things Melanie didn’t know. How Darren had turned cold and distant after she’d brought up moving to L.A. How he’d shut her out and claimed she’d never make it mainstream. She just wasn’t pretty enough. Sexy enough. Thin enough. “He never understood why I wanted to come down here. He thought being ‘authentic’ meant more than success.”

Her best friend frowned. “What’s that even mean?”

“Honestly?” She barked out a laugh and shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s not like he naturally sings falsetto. How can that be authentic?”

“Maybe he’s channeling his inner diva.”

“That would explain a few things.”

Melanie laughed and grabbed another pair of glasses from the pallet and Rachel did the same. She didn’t want to dwell on the rejection. It was hard enough to hear them every day—focusing on the whys and why nots would drive her mad. All she could do was keep trying.

“Don’t let the audition get you down. You’re fantastic. I can’t believe they’d be so shallow to not see that.”

“Thanks. I know I’m not going to be everyone’s first choice, but I really thought I’d have gotten a foot in the door by now.” Rachel glanced down at her ample hips and boobs and frowned. She’d watched all the TV shows—fat girls dishing it out as good as Aretha, judges all over them until they spun around in the chair and got a closer look. You could watch the disappointment bloom in their faces like a slow-motion video clip. But she’d never experienced it first hand until she came to L.A.

“You will. Just keep trying. I know how talented you are.”

Rachel smiled and hoisted the empty pallet off the counter. Her best friend might not understand how tough it was to break into the music scene, but she’d been there for her since high school. Clapping the loudest at every performance, pushing her to audition for every gig back home. She was her biggest fan no matter what.

As Rachel leaned the pallet against the wall, Melanie grinned. “I know what you need.”

Oh, no.
“I’m afraid to ask.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up. “A sexy man.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’m serious. You should go out, find some hot guy at a club and take him home. Have some dirty monkey sex and remember how awesome you are.”

Rachel grabbed a bar towel and tossed it, hitting Melanie smack in the chest. “Cut it out.”

“No. You’re hung up on these rejections and you’ve forgotten how gorgeous you are. Oooh. I know!” She clapped her hands and Rachel groaned. Whenever Melanie turned giddy, it meant trouble. “You should fake an illness. Get out of here and live it up.”

“I am not leaving you alone behind the bar.”

“I can handle it. It’s not that busy. Besides, the band is up soon. It’ll be a ghost town back here.”

“You’re nuts.”

“And you’re sex-starved. If you won’t find Frank, I will. You’re getting some tonight. End of discussion.”

Rachel blushed and bit her lip. Part of her wanted to run away and pretend her best friend didn’t exist, but Melanie had a point. It’d been a long time since she’d even kissed a guy. And sex? She wasn’t sure her lady bits remembered how. She turned back around, ready to agree, when the look on Melanie’s face made her pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Change of plans. You’re not leaving.”

“I’m not?”

“Nope. You’re staying here until those two drag you into the back and have their way with you.”

Rachel scrunched up her face and glanced at the front door.
Oooh. Hello.
All of a sudden her lady bits remembered what sex could feel like. In throbbing, graphic detail.

It wasn’t just one sexy man in a close-fitting suit, but two. Standing just inside the door, the neon outside lighting them up like Patrick Swayze in
Ghost
. Images of the three of them covered in clay and sweat and getting downright freaky flashed through her mind.
Mmm
. Too bad they were way out of her league.

Melanie clapped her friend on the back and nudged her toward them. “What are you waiting for? Get your sexy ass out there and hit on those two.”

Rachel blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Get out there, take their order, and put your assets to work. Who knows, you might get lucky.”

“No! Look at them, Mel. I don’t have a chance.”

“You do too. Just lean over the table and recite the beer menu. By the time you’re done they’ll be lost in that canyon of cleavage.”