“I’m sure that’s not—”
Iona’s words were cut off when someone ducked their head into the car.
Roux was surprised it was a woman. Reagan Elliot—the amazing though temporary rhythm guitarist for Exodus End—looked them over carefully and offered a friendly smile. The brilliant guitarist had won some sort of talent contest to take over Max’s guitar playing while his wrist healed after surgery. Or something like that. Roux had read about her. A lot about her, actually. The cute rocker chick’s complicated love life was currently smeared all over the tabloids. Reagan nodded at them and pulled out of the car.
“Why do I feel like they’re trying to decide if we’re too gross to ride with?” Lily whispered.
Roux chuckled. “I don’t think it’s that. Seems they don’t like surprises.”
“We’re excellent surprises,” Iona said. “Fabulous. We’re the best surprises that ever waited in a stuffy limo outside Madison Square Garden.”
“Maybe you should take a cab.” Max again.
“You take a cab,” a man answered in a deep voice.
Roux almost swallowed her tongue when the sexiest man on legs—or off them—slid into the limo. Exodus End’s drummer had a reputation, but nothing had prepared Roux for meeting the man. He was tall and lean with muscles and bulges in all the right places and gorgeous chestnut brown hair that fell past his shoulders. There was something exotic about his heavy-lidded brown eyes as they scanned the interior of the limo.
Steve Aimes settled into the leather upholstery and grinned at the five of them as if he’d just opened the best birthday gift of his life.
“Right on,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down Roux’s spine. “The hookers are already here.”
Hookers?
Two
Steve had been chasing pussy since he could walk. The family cat had been terrified of his grabby toddler self and had run for her life, but he now appreciated the practice. Since puberty, he’d been chasing pussy of a different sort. And the five sexy goth ladies who were currently directing eye daggers in his direction—apparently they hadn’t appreciated being called hookers—might be running now, but he was sure it wouldn’t take much effort to catch his pick. And he already knew which one he wanted.
“I call dibs on Red,” he said when his bandmates shuffled into the car. Red was a mix of fire and ice he couldn’t resist.
“Excuse me?” she said, blinking a pair of stabby green-gold eyes.
He wondered what she looked like without the dark and heavy makeup, without the fancy clothes, with all her barriers down. He guaranteed he’d know before the night was over.
Dare, who was sitting to Steve’s right—apparently the entire band seemed keen on squashing Steve against the far wall—elbowed him in the ribs.
“You fucking moron,” Dare said close to his ear. “Those women aren’t your entertainment for the evening.”
Steve begged to differ.
Dare whispered, “They’re the members of the band joining us on the next leg of the tour.”
The ones that had ousted Zach’s band, Twisted Element, from their tour lineup? Well, fuck them and their fantastic tits. Zach was his best friend. That made these chicks his enemies.
“Is it too late to take that cab?” Steve asked, eyes narrowing at the newly recognized threat in goth clothing.
“Stop being a drama queen,” Sam said, his boner for the new talent he’d scouted obvious. “This is the band I was telling you about. Baroquen.”
Steve forced himself not to roll his eyes. What a stupid name. They didn’t look broken to him.
“Nice to meet you,” Reagan said to the enemy. “I haven’t gotten a chance to listen to your music yet, but Sam says you guys rock.”
Why was Reagan kissing their asses?
“You’ll get to hear them tomorrow during your satellite radio performance,” Sam said. “It’s all been arranged.”
Steve went entirely still. So not only was Sam giving these newbs a spot on the tour, but also one on Exodus End’s satellite radio segment. What the fuck?
“You gave them our airtime?” Max asked, his voice hard and lethal.
Steve knew from experience that one did not stand in the way of Max’s success.
Sam—who Steve had long since dubbed his number one enemy—shook his head and extended a placating hand in Max’s direction. “Not all of it. They’re just playing one song.”
“If it’s a problem—” The woman with blue hair tried to get in a word.
“It’s not,” Sam said. “Let me introduce you all.”
Steve pretended not to care, but he was listening because he still wanted under Red’s skirt. Maybe to get back at her for being part of Sam’s big plan to destroy his best friend’s band. Maybe because her black-painted lips would look spectacular wrapped around his cock. Or maybe because the instant his eyes had met hers, he’d wanted her.
Sam nodded toward the green-and-black-haired woman on the far end. Was that a wig? Were they all wearing wigs? Did none of the carpets match the drapes? Or had the carpets been removed? Another important fact Steve vowed to know the answer to by the end of the night.
“Sage plays guitar.”
Sage lifted a hand in greeting. She looked . . . nice. Too nice for Steve. Her type always got quickly attached on an emotional level. Steve didn’t do emotional attachment. Not since Bianca had destroyed his naturally romantic nature and replaced it with the cynical man left standing. The romantic part of him was curled up in a corner somewhere, sucking its thumb.
“Lily plays drums.”
The woman with short black hair, with longer white strips framing her lovely face, nodded. Happily taken. Steve could always tell when a woman was off limits, and he never fiddled with another man’s diddle.
Sam’s attention shifted to Red, and Steve couldn’t help but stare. God, she was beautiful. And from the icy glare she directed at him, she apparently hated his fucking guts. He’d have fun turning her ice to fire.
“This is Roux,” Sam said.
Roux. Her name whispered through his subconscious, making his belly tighten and his balls ache. What a sexy name. He couldn’t wait to whisper it to her while he filled her with his cock.
“She plays keyboard and sings harmony,” Sam added.
Steve’s illusion of perfection completely shattered.
“Keyboard?” he snorted. “What kind of metal band has a keyboard?”
“We’re more a mix of punk, goth, progressive, and hard rock than true metal,” the purple-haired woman said. She was the band’s leader. Probably the vocalist. Male or female, they were all alike: bossy and self-important.
Roux extended a finger in Steve’s direction. The middle one on her right hand. He was going to show her where to stick that finger later. And watch, his mouth watering, as she obeyed.
Steve was so lost in his fantasies that he didn’t catch the rest of the conversation. A couple of the chicks were blabbing about guitars or something with Dare, which didn’t interest him in the least.
What interested him most wasn’t even how snug and warm Roux’s pussy would feel when he fucked her later that night. Zach had been devastated when Steve had told him that Sam was replacing his band on the tour, though he’d laughed it off. Zach laughed off everything that hurt him deeply. But the two of them had made plans to take Europe by storm. The idea that Twisted Element had been replaced by this vat of estrogen in black lace and excessive eyeliner had Steve seething.
“How can you possibly think our fans will like this group of goth girls better than Twisted Element?” Steve asked Sam, giving zero fucks that the goth girls in question were listening.
“I don’t think that,” Sam said. “I think the opposite of that. Baroquen appeals to a younger fan base. A fan base Exodus End currently lacks.”
Steve snorted and shook his head. All their greedy manager cared about was dollar signs.
“So you think teenage goth kids will flock to see thes
e wannabes and when we play them some real music, they’ll become our instafans?”
Roux snorted. “Already living up to that asshole reputation of yours, eh, Aimes?”
Steve smirked. She was all talk now, but soon she’d be all moans and begging followed by crying and whining when he kicked her out of his bed before morning.
“His best friend is in Twisted Element,” Reagan said. “How do you expect him to feel about them getting fired so you can take their place on the tour?”
It was nice that someone in the band understood where he was coming from, even if his bros never backed him up when he went toe to toe with Sam.