by Marie Carnay
Backstage Billionaires
The Complete Serial
Marie Carnay
Contents
Copyright
Backstage Billionaires
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Also by Marie Carnay
About Marie
Copyright © 2015 by Marie Carnay. Cover and internal design © by Marie Carnay. Cover image copyright © The Killion Group, Inc. and Depositphotos.com/SergeyNivens, 2015.
All rights reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The use of stock photo images in this e-book in no way imply that the models depicted personally endorse, condone, or engage in the fictional conduct described herein, expressly or by implication. The person(s) depicted are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.
This book is for sale to mature, adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit situations and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store this e-book where it cannot be accessed by minors.
Backstage Billionaires
The Complete Serial
Two sexy billionaires. One curvy singer. Discovering love one note at a time.
Alec and I run one of the hottest record labels in Los Angeles. We snap our fingers and throngs of hopefuls throw themselves at our feet. But I vowed to never go down that road again. Until her. Endless curves. Velvet voice. I want her body pinned to the bed, her name signed on the dotted line. Could she be the one to make it last? To be ours forever?
One night of reckless abandon—me, two delicious men, and the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. That’s all it should have been. When they give me an offer I’ve been dreaming about my whole life…I’m torn. I want to be a star. To have my name in lights at the biggest venues in L.A. But how can I chase my dream and give two men my heart?
Complete three-part ménage serial full of steamy scenes featuring two sinful billionaires and one curvy woman. Intended for adult audiences only.
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Prologue
I am going straight to hell.
A woman’s ruby red lips stained his cock. Her fingernails dug into his hips. And his best friend unzipped his pants behind her.
It was sexy and raw and so fucking wrong he didn’t know where to begin. Or how to stop. Every time was the last time. No more giving in. To the crush of her body. The heat of the moment. Alec’s insistence.
Brooks groaned, soft and low, and Alec raised his hand. It landed on the woman’s ass with a clap.
“Mmm. Unh.” She moaned and slid down Brooks’s shaft until she’d taken him all. Nose bumping skin, throat stuffed full. Fuck. She pulled back and slipped down again, coating his shaft in her spit, deep throating him over and over. Shit. Where’d Alec even find her?
As she pulled back again, she added her hand, lubing it up before sliding down to fondle his balls. God damn. He reached up and stroked her dyed-blonde hair, tugging in an effort to slow her down. They shouldn’t be here. Getting off in a back room of a club. Again.
“I told you she wanted both of us. Practically begged me backstage to take her right there.” Alec stood behind her, stroking his own cock as he rubbed her pink, swollen ass. Smack! He spanked her again on the left side. Smack! On her right. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
She nodded through the blow job and stuck her ass out, shimmying an invitation until Alec laughed.
“See, Brooks? She’s as horny as you are.” Alec stepped closer, reaching up to shove his hand between her legs. “Christ. You’re so fucking wet it’s like a pussy slip-n-slide.” He stroked her and the woman shuddered around Brook’s shaft. “You want me inside you? You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t breathe?”
She nodded again—bobbing her head along with Brooks’s dick—and he grunted his agreement. They were too far gone to stop now. He’d hate himself in the morning, but Alec was right—she wanted it as bad as he did. “You heard her. Get on with it already. I can’t hold on much more.”
Alec grinned. “You’ll never get enough of this Brooks. Never.”
Brooks swallowed down his anger and watched his friend sheath his cock. He didn’t know what made it so hot—the woman with a mouth like a hurricane pinned between them—or the way he connected with Alec in the heat of the moment. Something about sharing a woman…He’d never had anything better. Too bad it never lasted beyond a single night.
An orgasm stirred deep within him and he let his head fall back on the wall in surrender. Alec could take them all over the edge. Together. Without another word, his friend thrust—filling up her soaked pussy and rocking her forward on Brooks’s cock. His slipped down into her throat and she convulsed, gagging on his thick length as Alec pulled back.
Over and over he fucked her. Harder and harder. No hesitation. No pause. Giving her everything he could right from the start. Her body became a pendulum swinging between them. She slid back as Alec retreated, shot forward as he buried himself balls-deep. Saliva dribbled down her chin and pooled on the floor.
“God damn, you’re incredible.” Alec grunted out his shallow praise as he reached around to fondle her clit. She cried out in bliss and Brooks gritted his teeth. Fuck, yes. He twisted her hair in his hands and in seconds he was there. Releasing deep into her throat, pumping the mix of guilt and ecstasy and shame into her mouth one salty burst at a time.
As the last of Brooks’s orgasm rocked through him, Alec came as well, grunting as he dragged the woman back to take it all. Her mouth opened, Brooks’s cock slipping past her swollen lips as she came a second time. God, she was sexy. Makeup smeared all over her face. Backstage pass bouncing against her chest. She glanced up at him and he tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
1
One Year Later
“I want sexy. Strong. A voice like velvet. That’s what I told you.” Alec tossed the stack of photos on the desk and shook his head. “What department do you head?”
“A&R.”
“Artists and repertoire.” His fingers thrummed the table with every syllable. “Have you brought me any artists today, Daphne? No. Not a single one.”
“I’m sorry, Alec. It’s just—we haven’t had much luck finding the type of singer you’re looking for. What you see is the best we’ve found this month. And if you give them a chance—”
“I’m not in the business of giving chances. I’m in the business of making stars. Falcon Records doesn’t settle for mediocre talent. We only sign the best.”
Damn. Who pissed in his cornflakes? Brooks had been willing to listen for the first hour. Biting his tongue while Alec ripped into the head of A&R. Strumming his fingers while she shot daggers across the conference table. He couldn’t deny the man was right—Daphne’s efforts this month were subpar—but he didn’t need to berate her. She wasn’t going to pull a hidden fact sheet out of her back pocket because he made her cry.
Brooks cleared his throat and swiveled his chair
. “Alec, enough. She’s aware of the caliber we want.”
“Apparently not, since she’s brought us a stack of bush league amateurs.”
Brooks heard Daphne’s sharp intake of air and shook his head. If Alec didn’t lay off, she’d probably quit. With a deep breath, he stood and walked around the marble table. Alec might not care how many feathers he ruffled and how many employees he hazed, but Brooks did. Money hadn’t turned him into a total asshole. At least not yet.
“Daphne, hey.”
She clenched her fists, squeezing until her knuckles matched the white of her blouse.
“We didn’t call this meeting just to give you a hard time.”
She glanced up and relaxed her hands.
“We know how difficult your job is. We’re picky. And it’s harder than hell to find the type of artist we want today. People watch an episode of American Idol and think they’ll be the next star.”
Daphne nodded and her blonde curls bounced in agreement.
“But you also know our goals. Our vision. We launched Falcon to compete with the biggest corporate labels. Arista, Reprise, Warner Records. We’re not a fledgling indie. We don’t want mediocre talent.”
“I understand that, Brooks. And we’ve been scouting all of Southern California.” She shifted her weight on her heels and frowned. “But the type of voice you’re looking for…The type of woman who could pull that off…She’s hard to find.”
Alec interrupted with a crack of his knuckles. “Then work harder.”
Brooks ignored the barb. “I don’t care how long it takes. Neither does Alec. We want you to find the right talent for Falcon. Not a stack of rejects. We’d rather you show up to this meeting empty handed than waste our time. Understood?”
“Yes.” She pressed her red lips together and Brooks wished he could say something to ease the tension. But he couldn’t whitewash the truth. She needed to do better.
“Good.” He stepped back and motioned to the papers. “Take those and regroup. Focus on what we’ve asked for. Take your time, do the legwork. Find the artist we want.”
“Yes, sir.” Daphne bent over the table and shoved the bland rejects back into place before standing up. She gave Brooks a tight smile and turned toward the door, heels clacking on the hardwood as she hurried out of the room.
As the door swung shut, Alec let out an exaggerated sigh. “You were too nice.”
“And you were an asshole.”
“No, I was honest.” His partner leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “If she can’t find the right type of artists for the label, she shouldn’t have a job.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s done a bang-up job this year and you know it.”
Alec frowned. “For male artists? Hell, yes. But this label isn’t a fucking sausage fest. We need quality female artists too.”
“I know.” Brooks ran his hand over his buzzed hair. Starting Falcon had been the best thing they’d ever done apart from investing in the startup. It gave him purpose. Kept him in the scene. Hell, if they made it a success, they’d shape the music industry for the next few decades. Maybe more.
But relying on a rash of employees was new. Challenging. He blew out a puff of air and glanced at Alec. He might be his best friend, but he could still be a major asshole. If Daphne didn’t deliver, he knew Alec would fire her. No questions asked.
Brooks walked over to the windows and looked out on Santa Monica Blvd. A bleached blonde with too much botox and not enough skirt walked by. Followed by another. And another. God, where were all the real women? The ones who owned their bodies and their style. The ones who didn’t bow to every whim some fashion designer threw out like paint on a wall. No wonder Daphne couldn’t find a female artist.
He scrubbed his face with his hands and turned around. “You think we made a mistake staying in L.A.?”
Alec dismissed the thought with an eye roll. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. This is where the talent is, and you know it. We just need to dig deeper.” He stood and the office chair skittered behind him. “What did we do better than anyone before we opened Falcon?”
Images of a sexy young groupie, naked and moaning filled his mind. He ran his tongue over his lip and looked at Alec. “Artists and repertoire.”
Alec’s eyes lit up and Brooks swallowed. He didn’t like where his friend was headed. Not at all.
“All those weeks on the road—spending night after night in dive bars, listening to the local bands, finding hidden talent. We did that better than anyone.”
Brooks nodded and glanced out the window. He remembered the wild nights. The hazy mornings. Back when they worked A&R side by side. Traveling across the country, drinking and listening and signing new talent. Satisfying all their wicked desires. He glanced back at Alec and his partner grinned.
“Want a trip down memory lane?”
No. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a dive in West Hollywood I’ve been hearing about for weeks. Let’s go together. Check it out.”
Brooks raised an eyebrow. “We should give Daphne a chance.”
“It’s one bar, Brooks. One night. We can go, check out some local talent. Get our hands dirty again and remember why we started Falcon in the first place.”
“I don’t know, Alec.”
“Are you hesitating because you seriously think Daphne can deliver? Or is this about something else?”
Damn it. Alec fixed his gaze on Brooks and it all rushed back. The memories. The heat. The sin. Bodies soaked in sweat, chests heaving. A woman’s moans filling the room. His dick twitched just thinking about it. Brooks ground his teeth and looked away. “We agreed, Alec. No more bars. No more clubs. No more…indiscretions.”
“No. You made that decision on your own. One night isn’t going to change that. You don’t want to find some hot piece of ass to share? Fine by me. I’ve got no problem keeping her all to myself.”
“I thought this was about finding an artist.”
Alec smirked. “Who said they aren’t the same thing?”
* * *
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” Rachel filled a glass with cheap beer and slid it across the bar, not even looking at the man who snatched it up.
“No one picks back-up singers by the size of their ass.”
“I thought that too. That’s why I auditioned in the first place. I mean, I’ve been turned down how many times for a front-line gig? I thought this would be a sure thing. But Mr. Too-famous-to-be-named only wants girls with ‘boyish’ builds.”
Melanie spun around and planted a hand on her hip. “Wait. You didn’t even know who you were auditioning for?”
Rachel snorted. “Nope. All the agency said was high-profile, mainstream pop rock, and very particular.”
Her best friend’s eyes rolled so high, her eyebrows arched. “That’s ridiculous. They seriously expected you to take the job blind?”
With a glance up, Rachel shrugged and turned toward a pallet of glasses. “That’s L.A. for you.”
“Unbelievable. Why did you even go in the first place? I thought you hated mainstream stuff.”
“I’m trying to open my horizons.” And get out of this shithole. “Isn’t any kind of gig better than no gig at all?”
“What about all that talk of selling out?”
“That was Darren, not me.”
Melanie winced. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
Rachel grabbed a pair of glasses and shoved them under the bar. There were so many things Melanie didn’t know. How Darren had turned cold and distant after she’d brought up moving to L.A. How he’d shut her out and claimed she’d never make it mainstream. She just wasn’t pretty enough. Sexy enough. Thin enough. “He never understood why I wanted to come down here. He thought being ‘authentic’ meant more than success.”
Her best friend frowned. “What’s that even mean?”
“Honestly?” She barked out a laugh and shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s not like he natural
ly sings falsetto. How can that be authentic?”
“Maybe he’s channeling his inner diva.”
“That would explain a few things.”
Melanie laughed and grabbed another pair of glasses from the pallet and Rachel did the same. She didn’t want to dwell on the rejection. It was hard enough to hear them every day—focusing on the whys and why nots would drive her mad. All she could do was keep trying.
“Don’t let the audition get you down. You’re fantastic. I can’t believe they’d be so shallow to not see that.”
“Thanks. I know I’m not going to be everyone’s first choice, but I really thought I’d have gotten a foot in the door by now.” Rachel glanced down at her ample hips and boobs and frowned. She’d watched all the TV shows—fat girls dishing it out as good as Aretha, judges all over them until they spun around in the chair and got a closer look. You could watch the disappointment bloom in their faces like a slow-motion video clip. But she’d never experienced it first-hand until she came to L.A.
“You will. Just keep trying. I know how talented you are.”
Rachel smiled and hoisted the empty pallet off the counter. Her best friend might not understand how tough it was to break into the music scene, but she’d been there for her since high school. Clapping the loudest at every performance, pushing her to audition for every gig back home. She was her biggest fan no matter what.
As Rachel leaned the pallet against the wall, Melanie grinned. “I know what you need.”
Oh, no. “I’m afraid to ask.”
Melanie’s eyes lit up. “A sexy man.”
“No, I don’t.”
“I’m serious. You should go out, find some hot guy at a club and take him home. Have some dirty monkey sex and remember how awesome you are.”
Rachel grabbed a bar towel and tossed it, hitting Melanie smack in the chest. “Cut it out.”
