Marooned with the Rock Star (A Crazily Sensual Rock Star Romance, with Humor) Read Online Free Page A

he said. He was the oldest of the
band members – the one who founded Red Velvet, and therefore, the
de facto leader.
    The others uncurled themselves and
followed.
    Steve shot me a backward glance. “You
coming?”
    “Where are we going?”
    He winked. “You’ll see.”
     
    *
     
    After evading the fans, who had gathered
outside the studio to scream and throw panties at us, we drove off
in our black van with the tinted windows. Stan, our driver, took us
to downtown Soho, where a long line was forming outside a club.
    The van avoided the queue and took us to the
back, where a man was waiting at a nondescript door.
    Stan wound down the window.
    “All clear?” he asked the man.
    “All clear.”
    Stan looked back at Alex.
    “All clear, boss.”
    At thirty-six years of age, Alex was still
pretty fit. He clambered to the door and beckoned to the rest of
us. “What’re you waiting for? A flashing tit invitation.”
    That mightn’t be a bad idea, I thought. To be
honest, I had been coasting on adrenaline for the past four years
now, and I was feeling pretty drained. A night of relaxation with
the guys wasn’t too spooky a notion.
    We went in through the back door unnoticed.
Once inside, the man who was waiting for us ushered us right
upstairs.
    We entered a dimly lit room.
    “VIP passes only,” the man explained.
    The room was filled with divans and couches
and water beds which look really comfortable. A small bar lined
with bottles and glasses decked one corner. Several guys were
lounging around on these plush surfaces, surrounded by girls on a
ratio of one to three.
    The girls were all scantily clad in
micro-bikinis and micro-thongs. Frankly, nothing was left to the
imagination. Nipples were bared. Ass cracks were revealed. Crotches
were teased. The girls were all young, pretty, smiling with white
teeth and dimpled cheeks. The unoccupied ones made a beeline to us
immediately.
    “Hi there, handsome,” said a brunette who
sidled up to me. She wore a bandeau type of bikini which glowed a
bright yellow in the light. Her areolas peeked out of the bands.
She immediately draped her arms around my neck. “I saw you on
TV.”
    “Yeah, you are that American Idol guy,” said a redhead. Her breasts were as round as apples and her
nipples were covered in green pasties in the shape of stars.
    Semantics, but I wasn’t going to go into
detail.
    “You’re gorgeous.”
    The brunette’s hand slipped to my crotch. I
wore a sleeveless black shirt with snaps for buttons and black
tight pants, my hallmark. I supposed I must have looked pretty
good. My arms were muscled and toned from working out at the gym
with a personal trainer six times a week to get that romance book
cover look. I never looked so good in my life than when I was
working to the bone.
    Tyler and Steve were watching me handle
myself. Their hands were full too . . . literally. Full of boobs
and asses.
    I wasn’t sure I liked being on display, but I
had something to prove tonight.
    “If you buy me a drink,” the brunette said,
“I’ll let you grope me.”
    “You can buy me a drink too,” the redhead
said.
    They were both all over me now. Their hands
were sliding, slipping, probing my body everywhere. I could feel a
tightness in my jeans, which were really tight to begin with.
    “How much is the drink?” I asked.
    “It’s on the house,” said the bartender
called, smiling.
    “In that case, I’m buying,” I said.
    “Great,” said the brunette.
    “Great,” echoed the redhead.
    They both dragged me to the bar where the
bartender plunked down three shots of Jim Beams before us.
    “I don’t like Jim Beam,” I said.
    “Oh, don’t be a wuss,” the brunette said. She
picked up her glass and downed her drink in one gulp. Then she held
mine up to my lips. “Drink it, baby.”
    I could feel Alex’s eyes on me, judging
me.
    “Sure thing,” I said. I took the glass from
her and downed the Jim Beam in one scorching swallow as well. I
ended up