Rockstar Romance: Julian (Contemporary New Adult Bad Boy Rock Star Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 3) (17 page)

“It’s my turn now, Liv,” Dean groaned huskily, reaching beneath her arms to guide her off of Christian.

He pulled her on top of him in one swift movement, lowering her down onto his enormous cock slowly. Olivia experienced a brief moment of panic, worried that he was simply too big for her, but she was so wet that he slid inside her easily. He filled every inch of her; it was the most incredible sensation she'd ever experienced. He stilled, giving her a chance to adjust to his girth before thrusting in and out of her slowly. His eyes met hers as his tempo increased.

“I've imagined you like this countless times...” his husky whisper sent tremors of pleasure coursing through her veins.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his, knowing they would part for her as her tongue darted out to find his. He groaned and thrust faster and already Olivia could feel yet another orgasm building within her. She wrapped her legs around him, giving her the leverage she needed to meet his thrusts. Her moans turned to muffled screams against Dean's lips as he fucked her fiercely. She felt fingers against her clit, and didn't know who they belonged to—and she didn't care, because just seconds later, her back arched and she started to come yet again, her orgasm resonating throughout every inch of her body. Before the ripples of her climax had subsided, Dean thrusted into her pussy one last time, shooting his hot release deep inside her.

Olivia collapsed against his broad, bare chest, breathing heavily as her body sought to recover from the most intense sex in her life. Dean didn't seem in any hurry to move either, his fingers moving lightly along her back.

In the quiet aftermath, Olivia heard the muffled sounds of voices moving slowly toward the barn. She recognized the voices of the men from earlier, along with a few others. No doubt they were reassembling for another late night round of poker. She stood quickly, instantly feeling empty, but looking around for her clothing frantically, nonetheless. Dean moved to stand, but Christian waved him off, already sliding into his jeans and heading for the door with his T-shirt in hand.

“Take it easy. I'll go,” he reassured them. “I'm sure the two of you have some catching up to do.” He grinned at Olivia. “I told you he wanted you, Liv.”

“Don't call me that,” she said instinctively, as Dean pulled her back down on his lap. A light blush spread across her cheeks, remembering the last time she'd said that to Christian and he'd so easily figured out her secret—which was obviously no longer a secret.

She turned her head, looking up to thank Christian for handling the group outside, but her movement left her neck exposed to Dean. Her thanks came out as a breathless moan as he leaned forward to kiss along the length of her neck. Christian's eyes swept along her naked body one last time before he opened the barn door, closing it quickly behind him to block out the on-comers' view.

Olivia heard his voice outside, making some excuse to deter the poker group, but she tuned out of the conversation quickly as Dean leaned her back on the table gently, continuing his trail of kisses down over her collarbone and across the upper swells of her breasts. By the time his tongue darted out to tease her nipple, she'd completely forgotten about the scene taking place outside. And when she felt his cock—hard again already—pressing against her, she forgot that anything else existed but the man she'd fantasized about for so many years.

THE END

Brooke Jordan swore softly as she stubbed her toe against a loose piece of rock lying beside her car. This was an assignment from hell and if she hadn’t talked smart to her boss last week, she knew she wouldn’t now be traipsing through some backwater ranch in six-inch heels and city clothes that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the vast collection of jeans, cowboy hats and boots milling around.

She couldn’t help it though; Henry Collins rubbed her the wrong way. He was the new editor-in-chief at
De Luxe Magazine
and he seemed to think he was God’s gift to women. If the rumors were true, he had already slept his way through half the bullpen staff in less than two weeks which was quite a feat when one considered that there had to be at least thirty women in the bullpen of the large office in New York.

He had never made any overture to her--which was too damn bad because she would have slammed him with a sexual harassment suit so fast it would make his ancestors dizzy--but he had shown a decided penchant for verbally filleting her in front of her colleagues instead. She had borne his unfair put-downs as long as she could until one day when she had decided she’d had enough; she informed him, in full view of everyone, that she thought he was a ‘chauvinistic Neanderthal who didn’t have the good taste to appreciate talent.’

Henry had been cool to the point of being almost arctic when he had calmly informed her that she had just bought herself two weeks on a farm as appreciation of all her ‘talent’. She had called his bluff and now here she was! She was supposed to interview Tyler Harding and also stick close to the man for a minimum of two weeks to make certain she had gotten enough materials to complete the article
De Luxe Magazine
was doing on “Twenty Rich and Famous Bachelors of 2015”.

Brooke whistled now, low and long under her breath as she took in the opulence of her surroundings. She had known Tyler Harding was one of the few billionaires around but she hadn’t really appreciated how rich he was until she was looking at the evidence of his wealth up close and personal. The ‘ranch’ had to be the size of at least 50 golf courses with a huge sprawling mansion sitting at the end of the drive. Tyler was the debonair head of the ‘Oil Hardings’, a family known for owning just about half of Texas. They were so wealthy, it was rumored their wealth rivaled that of one-third of the world’s countries put together. Orchids and some very expensive looking flowers lined the driveway, circled the fountain and ended up inches from the door.

Wealth screamed from every inch of the mansion and the surrounding premises; cowboys strode in and out of out-buildings which she assumed were stables or something.

“Mr. Harding?” she said, grabbing the arm of one surly-looking cowboy as he strode past her.

“Best check the stables,” he grunted shortly before continuing on his way.

Brooke blinked. He hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries; so much for Southern hospitality, she thought. She pursed her lips as she walked. At five-eight she was considered tall for a lady. She had ash-blonde hair that someone once said made her look like a porcelain doll with large green eyes and full red lips. She was beautiful, with an hour-glass figure that made her the recipient of many a male's attention--like now. But perhaps she should not have worn the six inch heels currently digging into every inch of loamy soil spread around the stables.

As she traipsed towards the stables, trying valiantly to walk in heels that kept digging into the soil beneath her feet, a little yip drew her attention to the animal racing towards her and she did a double-take. Was that a wolf?

Horror skittered down her spine as she turned and ran the rest of the way into the stables, shrieking like a banshee from hell. She saw two men raise their heads in surprise to look up at her and, without stopping to think about it, Brooke flung herself straight into the arms of the taller man and wound her legs around his hips, safely out of reach of the animal.

“Who the hell are you?” the shorter man grated.

“It’s alright, Roy. It’s not every day a beautiful woman climbs right up my legs and into my arms,” the other man laughed good-naturedly. 

Brooke didn’t have time to be embarrassed; she clung tighter to him, plastering her breasts against his chest as her eyes fearfully flew over her shoulders to the wolf. It wasn’t snarling anymore though, instead it was rubbing up against the legs of her ‘savior’ and almost purring.

What the hell?

“Isn’t that a wolf?” Brooke asked, her voice a little more than a petrified squeak.

The man chuckled as he gently unwound her long legs from around his narrow hips and urged her to her feet, “Shelby would be flattered. She’s a dog, not a wolf. She’s also a bully though; she sensed your fear which was why she chased after you.”

Brooke stared disbelievingly as the tall man stooped down to caress Shelby. She shifted, keeping as far out of reach of all that fur as she could. The ‘dog’ had to be at least part-wolf!

“I need to find Mr. Harding,” Brooke said.

“You've found him already, ma'am” the man quipped, looking over his shoulder and blasting her with the full force of his languorous dark eyes.

Brooke stared, her heart skipping a beat as she got her first good look at the man Collins had described as an ornery and eccentric oil tycoon. He had to be the most handsome man this side of the sun! He had a strong chiseled jaw, sexily tousled black hair, intense black eyes and sex appeal out the wazoo. If that wasn’t enough, he also happened to have deep slashing dimples in either cheek, so prominent they were on display whenever he moved his lips. His skin glistened with sweat from his work in the barn and his muscles bunched with every movement, revealing hard, sinewy strength, and a beautifully chiseled stomach. He was insanely hot and more than a little dangerous to any woman; worse, she suspected he knew it.

She swallowed. Dear lord, how was she supposed to get through two weeks beside this man?

****

“Sit down Ms. Jordan and let me know exactly what you need from me,” Tyler ordered a few minutes later as he led Brooke into what she immediately saw was his study.

His dark eyes clung to the womanly curves of her hips. She was a heart-wrenchingly beautiful woman and seemed completely unaware of her effect on men, himself included. Why, Roy had been unable to close his mouth the entire time they stood in the stables, which was why he had decided to take the meeting into his study before the other man embarrassed himself.

He himself had been tamping down his arousal ever since she had swept into the stable like a whirlwind and plastered herself all over him. He had felt every inch of her soft, pliant body and he had been hard as a rock before he had so much as gotten a good look at her face.

Innocently unaware of Tyler’s scrutiny, Brooke scanned the room, her experienced eyes immediately recognizing the perfect finish of the imposing Henkel Harris desk gracing one end of the room with an equally imposing chair planted behind it. Her heels sank into the thick Aubusson rug in the middle of the room as she deliberately crossed to slouch gratefully into the cushion beside the coffee table instead of the seat he had indicated in front of his desk. Several paintings lined the walls and she didn’t have to be an expert to know they were originals.

His black eyes tracked her progress, and when she looked up deliberately into his eyes, she was surprised to see a look of reluctant respect in his gaze.

“Mr. Harding, I have a lot of questions for you. I hope you have ample time because this could take quite a few hours,” she added.

“I thought you were supposed to be here for two weeks?” he asked, watching her intently, his gaze roving over her features as he lowered himself into the seat.

Brooke mentally rolled her eyes. “Yes, but if we can cover a lot of ground today, we’ll get rolling.”

He stared at her for a beat, then shrugged as he leaned back in his seat.

“Now, off the record, you never grant interviews to press of any kind. Why now? And why us?”

Tyler chuckled, the sound low and dark like chocolate. “Are you saying
De Luxe
is not good enough?”

“I’m just saying why did you suddenly decide to grant an interview, and for two weeks no less, after stonewalling for years?”

His hard firm lips canted to the side in a sexy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Try free positive publicity. Hardings’ Drilling didn’t get to the top by looking gift horses in the mouth. You, on the other hand, apparently never heard of gift horses Ms. Jordan--"

"Brooke," she cut in.

“Brooke,” he said slowly, drawing her name out and rolling it around on his tongue. 

She tamped down on an inexplicable wave of heat and excitement that surged through her as he said her name. Suddenly nervous, Brooke’s tongue darted out to lick her lower lip and then her breath hitched in reaction as his eyes followed the tiny movement, rose to meet her own gaze, and then darkened with heat.

They both jerked their gazes away guiltily at the same time.

Silence reigned, thick and pregnant, and then Brooke deliberately steered them back to safer ground with a crisp, “Let’s talk about your family.”

“My family?”

Was it her imagination, or did he seem suddenly tense and guarded? Hostility was suddenly coming off him in waves.

“Yeah, remember them? Reclusive, beautiful, rich as sin and about as accessible as the moon? The Oil Hardings?”

His lips canted in that half-grin again, but this time, the smile reached his eyes. “The Oil Hardings? Is that what you’re calling us now?”

Brooke shrugged, helpless against the charm of his smile as she returned his grin, “The Hardings are into everything from oil to race horses, to real estate; you name it. But you’re the most visible member of the family; not to mention you’re the family businessman. Your mother is the most reclusive of all, your twin sisters seem to be all about school and your brother seems to enjoy fast cars, fast women and designer clothes.”

His grin died, “Yeah, I know. It’s my family, remember?”

Something in the way he said it niggled at the edge of her consciousness and Brook’s reporter’s instincts went on red alert. There was a story there, as surely as she knew her own name.

“So anything you want to tell me?” she asked, leaning forward and deliberately softening her features to invite confidence. She had always had a flair for getting people to relax around her and confide in her. It was one of the things that made her such a success as a reporter.

“Like what? My shoe size? You seem to know so much already, so why bother with the interview?”

A vein ticked dangerously in his forehead warning her that he was good and pissed.

“Did I say something wrong? We just want to understand you better; to see what makes you tick. We want the different facets of the man: your personality, your family life, business ideals, strategies, vacation ideas. Come on, it’s for our “Twenty Rich and Famous Bachelors of 2015” article. Not to mention, we cap it off with an event where all bachelors are auctioned off for two hours of their time with the highest bidder and all proceeds go to charity.”

His lips softened perceptibly, “You seem very passionate about this. Don’t tell me this was your brain-child...”

Brooke shrugged, “In 2012, it came to me that we had over half the world’s population living in poverty. It was a mere proposal; management ate it up and here we are. We’ve already had three successful events the last three years.”

He sighed, “When you put it like that, fine. But we won’t be here for the two weeks. It’s my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday and we are all heading to Montana to celebrate. You have to come with us.”

Sheer panic floated through Brooke. She was originally from Montana and she was one of those people who literally couldn’t go home again. She had left Montana at the ripe old age of sixteen when she had run away from home and vowed never to return. Fear rose to choke her throat as she hurriedly rose to her feet before she could check the movement.

“Perhaps we could take a rain-check? Two weeks is not such a long time. I can return
here
for the interview when you guys are done with the celebrations,” she offered with deliberate emphasis on ‘here’, her eyes wide and innocent.

He wasn’t buying any bullshit though. She had never seen anyone look more coldly displeased than Tyler did in that moment as he regarded her steadily out of uncomfortably blank eyes.

“Ms. Jordan, I assure you, contrary to what you seem to think, I am a very busy man. I will not be sitting here wringing my hands and waiting for you to get around to conducting an interview guaranteed to help
your
business. Besides, I have a trip to Africa for three months right after the birthday party. So you can either come along, or get out right now.”

Brooke glared at him. She didn’t much care for his tone and she had a good mind to tell him so right before she slammed out of his life. But she just knew that if she dared that, she would have a pink slip waiting for her on her desk by the time she got back to New York. Besides, Tyler Harding was so powerful she was willing to bet her pay-check that he could guarantee she wouldn’t get a job in the States again if she angered him enough.

Everything in her revolted at the thought of Montana and the deep, dirty secrets buried there, but everything in her revolted even more at the thought of moving to a studio apartment and starting the job-hunt all over again. With a sigh, she slumped back into the seat and said with a marked lack of enthusiasm, “That settles it then. I’m all yours for the next two weeks.”

His answering grin was pure evil.