Boiling Point
A novella
Feverish #1.5
Jade C. Jamison
Copyright
Copyright 2016 by Jade C. Jamison
Cover design © Mr. Jamison
Cover image © MarishaSha/ Shutterstock
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. Characters and names of real persons who appear in the book are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles, reviews, or discussions.
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Dear Reader,
Want to connect with me and get a couple of free books? Join my newsletter (https://www.subscribepage.com/JadeCJamison) to get sneak peeks and find out when I’ve got a new release coming.
Hugs!
Jade
Special Note
Dear Reader:
While this book is listed as book number one in the Feverish series, technically the book Feverish is the first one—but, as you might know, Feverish is book three in the Bullet series. So I highly recommend that you read that book first if you haven’t already—because this book will make a whole lot more sense if you do. I wrote this book as a response to readers who, after reading Feverish, said “We want more Clay and Emily!”
I hope you enjoy the further continuation of their story here.
Rock on!
Jade
Bonus!
This story originally appeared on The Subclub Books (and has been slightly revised since). The events in the story take place between Feverish and Boiling Point, so you should read it first!
Sweethearts
Emily Brinkman lay in bed for a few minutes, not quite ready to get up. Yes, it was Valentine’s Day, and she should have been all happy and smiles, because she and her boyfriend Clay “Jet” Smith had been going strong since last fall when they’d confessed their feelings for one another. In fact, it wasn’t long after that that she’d moved her things into his bedroom permanently. He’d even hired someone to expand his closet to accommodate her clothes, even though she’d insisted she didn’t need him to do that.
It was those little things Clay did that made her feel loved. Today, though, she was feeling insecure and uncertain, because tomorrow they would go on the road. Last Five Seconds would be touring to support their newest album, and Emily was along for the ride as his personal assistant. If she were just his assistant, she wouldn’t have worried, but as his girlfriend, she was quite nervous.
What had started her down that path was Debbie, the lead singer’s girlfriend. Sam and Debbie had been together for several years, but Debbie made it sound like she’d never trusted her boyfriend…and with good reason. Emily hadn’t quite known what to think of the woman, but when both she and Emily had flown to Oregon for the band’s recording session last fall, Debbie glommed onto Emily. When the men were “indisposed and unavailable,” she’d grab Emily for a coffee or shopping. Clay finally figured out how uneasy Debbie made Emily and, from that point forward, demanded that his PA be nearby “in case he needed her.” Emily was grateful, because Debbie was negative and hard to be around.
Now, though, she started to wonder how much truth had been in Debbie’s words the first three days she’d felt obliged to hang around with the woman. Debbie had talked about being pulled into threesomes with Sam more times than she could count as well as having to let him spend time alone with groupies before he’d rejoin her.
That talk made Emily upset. She wasn’t going to say anything to Clay about all Debbie had said, but there was no way she would tolerate infidelity. He knew that. And he’d been a rock star long enough that he’d had plenty of that kind of sex and shouldn’t want it anymore…right?
Well, she wasn’t going to talk to him about it, but she wanted to hold him close and allay her fears, so she rolled over…and was shocked to find he wasn’t there. She blinked a few times, realizing she had been half asleep, because, as she became more awake, she could hear Clay in the kitchen. It wasn’t but a minute, though, that he walked in the room with a bed tray full of food.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He was a sight, as always. He was wearing jeans and nothing else, his gorgeous tattooed, pierced hard body on display for her eyes to feast on.
She smiled and sat up, tucking the sheet under her arms so it covered her breasts. She knew Clay wouldn’t mind seeing them and she didn’t have a problem showing them, but she didn’t want them hanging out while she ate breakfast. “What have you been up to?”
He grinned as he walked over to the bed. “Just wanted to surprise my girl.” He placed the tray on her lap and she smiled as she took it in: pineapple slices, a grapefruit cut in half, toast with a side of cherry jelly, oatmeal, and a cup of light brown coffee that smelled like the vanilla soy creamer she always spiked it with.
She looked up at him. So thoughtful. He’d taken some time adjusting to her vegan diet and he still ate the occasional cheeseburger, but he was keenly aware of what she would and wouldn’t eat. Still… “Clay, I can’t eat all this.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll eat whatever you don’t want.” While she ate a few pieces of pineapple, he went to the kitchen and got his own cup of coffee and then pressed play on the CD player in his room. Emily recognized it—it was …And Justice for All, the Metallica CD he’d been playing the day before, and it picked up in the middle, right where he’d paused it yesterday. Then he came back and lay on the bed next to her. He pointed to the toast. “Want that?”
She grinned and turned her head to him. “Maybe one slice but not both.” He didn’t waste any time slathering jelly on the bread and eating it. Then he took a swig of his coffee while she ate another piece of pineapple. Setting his cup on the nightstand on his side of the bed, he kissed her bare shoulder. She looked over at him again and his gaze caught hers, a look that darkened his eyes. “Not hungry anymore?”
“Not for fuckin’ toast.” He grabbed the sides of the tray. “Mind if I move this?” The look in his eyes had made her lose her appetite for food, so she was happy for him to whisk it away. She smirked and shook her head. He set the tray on the floor next to the bed and then got close to her, taking her face in his hands before kissing her hard. “You’re still wearing absolutely nothing, right?”
She grinned and touched her nose to his. “You know the answer to that.”
He certainly did, because he ran his hand under the sheet and slid it over her bare belly. He kissed her then, a kiss filled with passion, and she felt her entire body respond in just seconds. The CD switched to the next song, “The Shortest Straw.” Emily wasn’t a huge Metallica fan but she didn’t hate them. Clay was about to change that, though, making her feel like a goddess while having their music wash over her. The wicked guitar and demanding drum beat switched gears as Clay’s lips moved to her neck, and he pulled the sheet down to her waist. His tongue was making a trail toward her nipple when James Hetfield started singing, and Clay licked her, causing her to draw in a sharp breath. But then his lips started moving lower, and he was singing lyrics along with the CD. Emily almost laughed, because she’d never understood the words to most of Metallica’s songs, but Clay was hammering them out against her skin.
Fuck…it was hotter than hell.
She could barely hear him, but he was breathing the words on her skin, and it f
elt relentless. She usually liked to take it slow, but the beat was driving what he was doing, and her body was keeping up. She was dripping wet, anticipating his next move, but he was exhaling more words against her navel, in kind of a holding pattern.
Then the song progressed to the chorus, and Clay started moving down her body too. She’d never had a guy go down on her as much as Clay, and it never got old. He was so good with his tongue, and she felt her pussy tighten just thinking about him touching her. He kissed down her thigh a little while he slid farther down the bed and he trailed his tongue down the crook of her leg. He parted her folds then and wasted no time touching her clit with his tongue. He wasn’t moving at the rapid beat of the song, but he was somehow keeping time. Emily couldn’t focus, but she did know one thing—having the song play while Clay flicked her with his tongue was maddening. In a million years, she never would have said a Metallica song was sexy, but she was rethinking her position. She drew in a deep breath. She was so close already, and she moaned aloud. The chorus to the song started again and he slowed the tempo of his tongue. It was excruciating, but in a delicious way. She felt herself on the brink then, so close, and she wound her fingers in his hair. When the chorus ended, he sped up his assault again, and that was all it took. Emily felt her entire body give in to the orgasm, as a rush of pleasure washed over her. Clay didn’t let up, and her orgasm lasted long past the time it should have ended.
She finally rested her head on her pillow, feeling spent. Clay looked up and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day,” before sucking on her inner thigh. She lifted her head to look at him and laughed.
Crawling back up the bed, he kissed her neck when he got near her face. She pressed against him, trying to get him to lie back. “Your turn.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not yet.” He got up off the bed and walked over to the dresser, opening the drawer that was full of t-shirts, and dug around a little. He pulled out a black box that fit in the palm of his hand and walked back to the bed to sit on the edge, and then he handed the box to Emily. “Open it.”
For some stupid reason, she felt her eyes getting wet. “What is it?” She held out her hand, feeling tentative.
Clay smiled. “Open it, Emily.”
She nodded and lifted the velvet lid. Inside was a beautiful tennis bracelet, all sparkles. It was silver with what looked like diamonds, but no way in hell was she going to ask. Even at Christmas, Clay hadn’t given her such an extravagant gift. When she was able to breathe again, she asked, “What’s this for?”
His grin turned devilish. “You’re my sweetheart, babe. You’re special to me. Besides, we’re getting ready to go on tour, and I don’t want any of those animals getting the wrong idea.” His eyelids lowered. “You’re mine.”
Ordinarily, Emily would have been offended by a man claiming ownership of her, but with Clay, it was somehow comforting and…hot. He lifted the bracelet out of the box and Emily held out her wrist. After he had fastened it around her, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. She’d been feeling insecure about the tour, and it was a revelation that Clay felt the same way. He obviously had no idea how smitten she was with him. She smiled and touched his cheek. “I love you, Clay.” And now, she thought, maybe he was ready for that blowjob…
Chapter One
EMILY BRINKMAN GNAWED at her lower lip as if it were a piece of chewing gum. It was stupid, really stupid. She was not the insecure or even the jealous type…so why the hell was she so damned edgy?
She knew exactly why, and, as she glanced around the tour bus at all the semi-familiar faces, she was reminded of all the reasons.
First, there was her super-hot, super-famous, super-sweet boyfriend Clay Smith, known to the fans of his band Last Five Seconds as “Jet.” Clay had joked around about how Jet was a different part of his personality, but Emily knew that Jet was simply a suit of armor Clay wore to protect the sweet guy underneath. That was part of the problem—Clay was hot in his own right, but when he donned his Jet personality, Emily found him completely irresistible…as did thousands of women, women who were prettier, bigger busted, and downright sexier than she’d ever dreamed of being.
Okay, there was the insecurity flaring up again.
Emily was pulled out of her thoughts when Clay laughed at his buddy Brian, the bassist for their band, and looked over at Emily, flashing white teeth in a perfect smile. She curled her lips up at him in response, but it was all an act. Her insides were clutching at themselves, like a kid at a bus stop who’d forgotten her coat on the first snowy day of the season. “Everything okay?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Hmm. Apparently, she wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions as she’d thought. She tried to lose herself in the hunter green of his eyes while she found her center, but he was waiting for an answer. “I guess I’m just a little tired.”
“Maybe motion sick, too?”
“Yeah, maybe…” She didn’t feel bad letting him think that, even though it was actually a whole lot more than that.
Her second problem sat across from them on a sofa that looked like it could be in someone’s living room. Emily never would have expected a tour bus to be luxurious, but this one reeked of it. It was crazy because Emily knew they’d be staying in hotels almost every night. She didn’t understand why they needed a bus with all the amenities of home.
But on the sofa was Debbie, the girlfriend of LFS frontman Sam, also known as Devil to their fans. Debbie seemed like a nice enough girl, but she’d told Emily enough stories and planted the seeds of worry so deep in her psyche that she was having a hard time letting it go and simply enjoying herself.
She was, in short, beside herself.
This was a big moment for Clay, though. He’d told her last month that the first day on tour was a rush—better than coke, better than speed or anything else someone’s mind could conjure up. Saying hello to your fans after being away and having them focus completely on the art you were making onstage, worshipping and adoring you—there was nothing else like it, he’d said. She’d gone with him last summer to a charity concert in a huge arena in California, but that had been a one-shot deal. This…this was how he supported himself and, he’d said, the bus became his home away from home. After the newness wore off, the loneliness and malaise would set in—a couple of months in—but he thought that this time would be different because he’d have his girl along for the ride.
And the rush of the first night was thick in the air. Emily didn’t want her mood to dampen his excitement, so she continued slapping on that happy face—in spite of her natural worries and despite of all the fears Debbie had managed to wedge in her head. Emily was going to smile and squeeze Clay’s hand like a good girlfriend, no matter how she felt inside.
Clay asked, “Can I get you anything? We might have Dramamine around here. Or I could get you a bottle of water.”
She shook her head, trying to let herself be soothed by his gorgeous visage—long, dark brown hair, strong jaw, and kissable lips enhanced with his signature snake bite piercings. “No, that’s okay. Just let me lean my head on your shoulder.”
He grinned and smoothed his hand on her hair while coaxing her to do just that. “Piece of cake, babe.”
Oh, if only.
* * *
Emily seemed a little distant to Clay, but he was pretty sure it was all him—that he was reading her wrong because his emotions were all in disarray…but they always were before a concert. He was wired. He was Jet.
Fortunately, Emily seemed to understand his alter ego but she oftentimes told him there wasn’t a difference. Maybe not to her. Sure, Clay and Jet were two different sides of his personality, but they were different. Clay was laid back but Jet was on fire—ballsy, take charge, no nonsense. That she loved both sides of him equally was a bonus, because he could always be himself around her, no matter which part of himself was in control.
And Jet was even more jazzed than usual. The kick off to this tour was a little different, because the opening band
who’d be on the first leg of it was one fronted by none other than Valerie Quinn—well, now it was Valerie Payne, but it had been Quinn when she’d been his girlfriend. They were still close friends and he couldn’t wait to see her at the helm again. They’d met and dated when she was vocalist for the metal band Fully Automatic, but she’d had vocal problems that had made her bow out just as the band broke big. She was back now, though, fronting a new band called Val Hella. He’d already heard their first single and was impressed.
She played guitar nowadays too, and Clay thought that rocked. Not enough women played guitar in metal bands.
But enough reminiscing. He knew he hadn’t been giving Emily the attention she deserved and he couldn’t help it. He was hyper, just as he always was with new music stuff, and he couldn’t focus on any one thing for too long. The only thing that calmed him down was sex…and, later, he hoped Emily would be up for it, because she’d definitely have his full attention then.
Right now, though, he was having a hell of a time…and it couldn’t be helped.
He was busy chatting with all the band members spread out in the living area of their tour bus. They’d recently sunk money into a nicer, newer one but, really, it was just for show. The bunks weren’t any more luxurious than the last bus they’d had and the interior was a little nicer but certainly not worth all the money they’d dropped on the damn thing. He didn’t mind, though, because they were making more money than ever before. It was disgusting the money they were earning. Half a million a year each at least when all income streams were figured in, and that was after everyone else was paid.
It was, in a word, obscene.
So obscene, in fact, that he let Emily talk him into donating even more to charity than he had in the past. He’d always donated some to various different causes, but she found other worthy ones, sharing her passions with him, and he’d readily agreed. His tax guy had told him they were deductions too, so it was win-win. Honestly, it was more than fine with him. His house and cars were paid for; his daughter’s future education was taken care of; and he still had a ridiculous amount of accumulated wealth. He saw no way he could ever spend it all in his lifetime, not anymore—not if Last Five Seconds continued doing what they loved.
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