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Copyright © 2017 by Arabella Cornell
Cover image © Feedough/Dreamstime
Interior design by Pronoun
Distribution by Pronoun
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY ARABELLA CORNELL
THIS IS FOR ALL the risk takers out there, chasing their dreams and daring to take the lead.
FUCK, THOUGHT LOGAN. WHY had Max punched him so hard? The split lip would heal fast enough, but he knew there would be more than a few photos taken that night. He was fine with having a bad boy rocker image but it didn’t stop him wanting to look his best. He hadn’t even been serious when he’d asked Max if he’d share the blonde chick in his bed. Logan knew Max didn’t share, not while they were still in his bed anyway.
Sighing he flopped down into a chair in his hotel room. Why the hell had they needed to spend so much time in this damned hick town, anyway? It wasn’t like it was Sydney, with a myriad of delights to entertain. Almost two weeks, they’d been here at the bottom of the world in Hobart. Max had suggested they have some quiet time to decompress before they started their tour. It wasn’t like they were 50, for fuck’s sake.
He thought about the concert they would be performing that night. Just six songs and they’d be done. It hardly seemed worth it, but the pay packet had been too good to ignore. An artist, known simply as Kashnov, had decided he needed them as the entertainment for his latest exhibition opening. Logan had no idea who the dude was, but he sure had deep pockets.
There was a knock at his door. Opening it warily, he flung it the rest of the way open when he saw Jem.
“Come on in, dude,” he said.
Jem entered, closing the door behind him.
“You okay, man?” asked Jem.
“What the hell happened this time? Max wouldn’t say anything.”
“I think I pissed him off,” said Logan, his smile turning into a wince as his lip threatened to bust open again.
“You guys could have wrecked this whole gig,” said Jem.
“So? It sucks here anyway.”
“Maybe, but this Kashnov dude has a lot of influence. If we kill it tonight, it’s going to do great things for the band.”
“Think of it as publicity. After all, our name is Punch Sound,” said Logan.
“Yeah, as in sound with punch, not punches thrown.”
“How was I to know he’d be so touchy? I’ve joked around with him plenty of times before,” said Logan.
“Tell me what happened,” said Jem, crossing his arms.
“I went up to check on him. None of us had seen him for hours and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t in some drug-induced coma. Anyway, he wasn’t exactly welcoming, and I realized he had a chick there. So I took a look and asked if he’d mind sharing. I didn’t think he’d fucking attack me!”
“I wasn’t being serious. Well, if he’d said yes, I would have taken advantage of the moment, but I was just fooling around. Anyway, we talked this morning, and all’s good.”
“I hope so. How are your hands? You’d better be able to still play guitar.”
“They’re fine,” replied Logan. “So are Max’s. He may have lost his temper, but he kept himself in check to a degree.”
“Good. We leave to go to the gallery in an hour. Make sure you’re ready.”
Jem let himself out. Logan flipped the bird at the door as it closed. Of course, he’d be ready. Music was his life. Nothing got in the way between him and performing, although girls came close sometimes. Well, more than close, but he was alone tonight. Hopefully, he’d find a nice slutty girl at the art gallery to spend the night with. He’d hooked up with a couple of girls during his time in the city, but neither of them had been adventurous enough for his tastes.
As it turned out, Logan was the first one to be ready to go to the gallery. Jem soon joined him to wait for the car. Karl appeared, yawning, leaving only Max. After a tense ten minutes, their singer joined them. Max and Logan nodded to each other, and then Max smiled.
“No hard feelings?” Max asked.
“Of course not. It was my fault anyway, won’t happen again,” replied Logan.
The drive to the gallery was short. Logan looked at his watch.
“I thought we didn’t go on until nine?”
“We don’t,” replied Jem.
“Don’t tell me we have to mingle first?” asked Karl, scowling.
“Only if you want to,” said Max. “Maybe you’ll find a nice girl to talk to?”
“Just because you’ve got cozy with some chick doesn’t mean the rest of us have to. I’ll give it a miss,” said Karl.
The band entered the gallery through a rear entrance. Karl went and sat in an office that had been converted into a temporary dressing room, while the other three went towards the gallery area. The placed was packed, so much so that their arrival went largely unnoticed.
Logan saw Max stop dead and stare at a pretty blonde in a red dress. Fuck, was that the chick that had been in his room? As Max walked across to her, he realized she must be. No wonder the guy was smitten. He turned to speak to Jem, but he was already chatting to some straight-laced guy in a suit, drinking champagne.
Shrugging, Logan looked around to get a glass of his own. A waitress caught his eye as she stepped gingerly around groups of people with a laden tray. She looked tiny, her short, spiky black hair emphasizing her elfin appearance. No pointy ears, though, he noticed. She also looked flustered and far from happy. As he watched, a man wearing a ridiculous tweed suit stepped backwards, almost knocking the tray from her hands. Without thinking, Logan went over to the girl.
“Want a hand with that?” he asked.
“Uh, no. It’s my job. Well, not usually, but tonight it is.”
A woman elbowed her, causing one of the glasses to tip and spill red wine down the waitress’ shirt.
“Fuck! Why did I ever agree to this?”
Logan took the tray from her hands.
“Let’s find somewhere to sit this and get you cleaned up,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m no good at this anyway,” she said.
Logan sat the tray on a bench near the door and followed her out of the gallery area. She looked back at him, brow creased.
“You don’t need to come,” she said.
“I know. Just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“It’s only wine, you know,” she said looking at the red stain with dismay. “I hope they pay for this. It’s the first time I’ve worn it.”
“Doesn’t your employer supply your uniform?”
“It’s not a uniform,” she said glumly. “I don’t work for the catering company, but when one of their staff didn’t show up, I was dressed similar enough that they asked me to fill in. I’m actually a junior gallery assistant. For now, anyway.”
“I’m Logan, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Allie,” she said, shaking it.
Logan felt a shock of awareness, and from the look in Allie’s eye, he wasn’t the only one. He held onto her hand, so small and delicate in his. She shuffled her feet nervously but didn’t try to pull away. He looked down at the stain on her shirt.
“You should get out of that and get it rinsed,” he said.
“Um, yeah. I have an old t-shirt upstairs I can wear.”
She let go of his hand and went up some stairs. Logan hesitated before following her. She wasn’t really his type but damned if he wasn’t aroused by her. He saw her go into a small office and followed her in.
“What are you doing in here?” she squeaked, spinning around.
He looked down at her chest. She had removed the shirt and was only in her bra above the waist. Wine had seeped through to stain the cream lace. He stepped forward, trapping her in the corner.
“Looks like you need to take that off, too,” he said.
“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she said defiantly.
“I surely would. I want you, Allie. I want to see those tits of yours, feel them, taste them…”
Allie looked up into his face. Raw desire clouded his eyes, but he didn’t move to touch her. She felt a stirring of lust. He had the right degree of scruffiness that she liked, blue eyes to die for, and she hadn’t slept with anyone for months. A one-night stand with a random guy wasn’t always a bad thing.
“Not here,” she said.
Turning around she removed her bra and picked up a black t-shirt. As she bent to grab the garment, Logan caught a glimpse of the side of her creamy breast. She pulled the t-shirt on and turned to face him again. He took another step closer, but she held a finger up to her lips. Someone else was upstairs.
“Hide!” she said ducking behind a desk.
Logan dropped down beside her. He took advantage of their close proximity to snake an arm around her waist. Her breathing was rapid as they listened. Someone was definitely upstairs, but the sounds were indistinct and not coming any closer. His fingers found a gap beneath her t-shirt and caressed her warm skin. She jerked at the contact but didn’t move away. Slowly he eased his hand under the fabric.
Fingers slow danced across her skin, spreading electric warmth. He moved his hand higher and cupped her breast. Allie whimpered quietly but let his fingers roam, her nipples peaking in response. He shifted so that their faces were close to each other. Bending his head, he kissed her hard on the mouth. A hesitation and she returned the kiss. He pushed her t-shirt up and moved his mouth to suckle her breast.
“Oh… shit…” she murmured.
He moved his attention to her other breast, sure he could taste a hint of the wine that had spilled on her. She was moaning quietly, fingers gripping his hair. Maybe she was his type, after all. He slid a hand under her skirt, fingers playing with the edge of her panties. Allie stiffened and pushed him back. She pulled out of his grasp and stood. He withheld a groan of disappointment. He’d gone too far. She had been irresistible but she’d known him no time at all. Looking up, he saw her face was flushed, her expression uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” she whispered back.
She motioned for him to stay put and crept over to the door. She turned the lock and switched off the main lights. Returning she turned on a desk lamp and stood in front of him. With a nervous smile, she unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor, and kicked her shoes off. Logan knelt in front of her and kissed her belly as she took her t-shirt off. He hooked his thumbs through her panties and lowered them with slow deliberation. He sat back on his heels and looked up at Allie. She was a goddess. He stood and removed his own clothes, loving the way she watched his every move. Thank goodness he had remembered to bring a condom. Sheathed, he laid on the floor, erect cock reaching for her.
“Come ride me, baby,” he said.
She knelt with a knee either side of his hips. Reaching down, she stroked the length of his cock. Lowering her body, she felt the tip of his penis make contact with her pussy. She rubbed him back and forth along her folds, breathing rapidly. Closing her eyes, she positioned him and impaled herself on his length. She had been hasty and gasped in pain. Logan placed his hands on her breasts, teasing her nipples until he felt her begin to move. Her eyes opened and she gazed down at him, mouth slightly open.
“Okay, baby?” he asked.
She nodded and began to rock. Logan thrust in time to her movements, loving how she stayed upright as she fucked him. Holding her hips he watched her perfect little breasts bounce. Her hands moved to grip his as her head lolled back. Her breath was puffing out in a staccato beat. Logan moaned. He wanted this to last forever, but he could feel his release coming. His thrusts became harder, each one with a deep grunt. Allie shuddered, a strangled cry issuing from her mouth. Logan pumped faster and with a growl reached his own climax.
Allie fell forward onto Logan’s chest, panting. His hands smoothed over her butt, giving her cheeks a little squeeze. He felt her kiss his neck just below his ear and shivered. Too much of that and they’d never get back downstairs. She pressed up on her hands and looked down at him. A smile darted across her face.
“I’m not a slut, you know,” she said. “I was just tired of never having any fun.”
“Was this fun?” asked Logan.
“Wasn’t bad,” she said and rolled off his body.
“Wasn’t bad? What does a girl like you need to have real fun?”
Allie laughed as she dressed.
“Yes, it was fun, okay? I was teasing,” she said.
“Want to tease me some more? Maybe later tonight?”
Allie looked away, a troubled frown crossing her face. She straightened her skirt and smoothed her hair with her hands.
“It’s okay if you say no. For all I know, you’ve got a boyfriend,” said Logan.
“No, I don’t,” she said, glaring at him.
“So, what do you say?”
She shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
Logan dressed, grateful for the interlude that had eased some of the tension in his lean body. When he got tense, he got crazy. Crazy got him into trouble. Trouble like fistfights with his band mates.
“Shit,” he said. “What time is it?”
“Ten past nine,” said Allie.
“Fuck! I’m late.”
“Late for what?”
“The concert. I’m the guitarist for Punch Sound,” he said, noticing her puzzled expression.
Logan kissed her and dashed across to the door. He opened it and took a quick peek before dashing towards the stairs. Allie followed, hoping she didn’t look as freshly fucked as she was. Petra was at the bottom of the stairs, the relief on her face at finding Logan replaced with anger when she saw Allie trailing along behind him.
“You’re late,” she said to Logan. “I’ll let the band know you’re back while you go clean that lipstick off your mouth. Allie, come to my office first thing on Monday morning. I’m too busy to deal with you right now. Get back to your job.”
Allie glared at Petra’s departing back but held back the urge to tell her where to go. It would have got her kicked out, and she wanted to see Logan in this band of his. He was a rock star? No wonder he’d been so confident she’d fuck him. Maybe she should turn down his offer of more action later just to teach him a lesson? He had been damned hot, though, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t already got down and dirty with him. This dead-end job was getting her down. Maybe a night with Logan was exactly what she needed.
Allie squeezed into the room where the band would be playing, careful to stay out of Petra’s sight. Her job wasn’t being at her beck and call. If the catering company was understaffed for the night, it was their problem. She had been helping out with too many things that weren’t part of her job, hoping it would help her land a better position than the one she was in. Instead, she had become some sort of general dogsbody. It was a long way from the step up the art ladder she thought she had landed on.
THE CONCERT WAS A complete revelation to Allie. She had heard one of the songs on the radio that morning but hadn’t known who it was. The music she usually listened to was folk orientated, so Punch Sound’s loud, aggressive rhythms had been a shock to her ears. By the time the second song was finished, however, she was a convert. Logan’s impressive guitar skills left her in awe. Even if their encounter upstairs had clouded her judgment, he was obviously a master at what he did.