Backstage Billionaires: The Complete Serial (Menage Romance)

by Marie Carnay

  She rubbed up and down, stroking his cock with her soft flesh like a cat in heat. Unabashed and wild. She didn’t care that they were in the back room of the bar. Didn’t care if anyone walked in. She wanted to touch the stars. Wanted to touch him. All over.

  As she ran her hands over his chest and down to his waist, he groaned and pulled away. “Damn you’re so fucking sexy.”

  She gave him a smirk. Sometimes she loved to be a tease. “Is that your only line?”

  “What can I say? The cat’s got my tongue.”

  Rachel blushed as he kissed her breath away—mashing his lips into hers, stabbing his tongue deep past her teeth before sliding down her body. He kissed in a fiery trail down the slope of her collarbone to the swell of her breast. Toying and teasing the edge of her areola peeking out from her bra. As he dipped his tongue beneath the lace, she moaned even louder.

  “If you keep doing that, I’ll have to fill that pretty little pout of yours to keep you quiet.”

  A thrill rushed through her and Rachel blinked her eyes open. No man had ever spoken to her that way. But it didn’t turn her off. On the contrary—her pussy practically begged for more. Yes, yes! She ran her tongue over her lips and grinned. “Then maybe I should start screaming.”

  The man chuckled and wrapped his fingers around the top of her bra, yanking until her nipple popped free. “You’re feisty. I like that.” With his eyes locked on hers, he leaned down and swiped his tongue across the soft peak. It puckered in an instant and he grinned. “And responsive. The perfect combination.”

  Opening wide, he took her nipple into his mouth, flicking the tight little knob with his tongue, sucking until she whimpered. Working her up. Driving her wild. Her panties dampened and she squeezed her thighs together to ease the building ache.

  Just as she was about to beg for something—anything—to quench the desire, his hands were there. Slipping down her sides, over her hips, and up under her dress. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and before she could moan again, he tugged her panties to the side. Thick fingers dove into her slippery heat, searching, stroking, caressing. Oh, yes! He found her clit tucked between her folds and she fell back against the wall in relief.

  Around and around he rubbed, pushing her toward an orgasm like a runaway freight train down a mountain. As she broke out into a pant, he let go of her breast and slid up close. “Tell me. Do you always get this wet for strangers? Or am I lucky?”

  Rachel froze. He was right—he was a complete stranger. With his hands up her dress steps away from where she tended bar. God, she was terrible!

  His fingers slowed, trading fast flicks for gentle circles, and she whimpered. “Do you want me to stop?”

  She looked up into his eyes and shook her head. As reckless as it was, she didn’t. She didn’t want him to stop for anything.

  “Then answer me.”

  “It’s…you. I don’t—I haven’t—I don’t do this.”

  “Well, then, I guess we’re both lucky.”

  He fell to his knees and she gasped. He’s not. He couldn’t…His tongue flicked against her clit and she cried out. Loud and shrill.

  He pulled back and grinned. “I warned you. Open your mouth. Right now.”

  She opened on command and he shoved his fingers inside, swirling them over her tongue and making her taste her own arousal. Oh, god. He really meant it. It should have turned her off, made her uneasy. Afraid. But she only wanted him more. She lapped at the thick, fleshy pads of his fingers and he smiled.

  “That’s better. Now where was I?” With one hand, he held her face, fingers pulsing inside her mouth. With the other, he grabbed her knee and pushed her legs apart. He dipped his head and time stopped. It was her and this stranger and his tongue. He lapped and flicked and twirled his tongue across her clit and in seconds the pleasure built.

  She couldn’t cry out, couldn’t scream—could only suck on his fingers and whimper—as he brought her over the edge. The orgasm barreled into her. Her whole body shook and her mouth contorted into an O around his fingers. Oh my god. As the last of the tremors subsided, the man stood up and let her go. She sagged into the wall, panting and gasping as she remembered how to breathe.

  “Well, had I known this was the encore, I wouldn’t have left. You two put on a hell of a show.”

  Rachel blinked her eyes open to see the other half of the duo—Mr. Hallway himself—standing in the open door.

  The man who’d just given her the best orgasm of her life stood up and gave her a wink. “What can I say? I wanted to know if she tasted as good as she sounded.”

  “And did she?”

  “Even better.”

  3

  “Oh my god! And you just left them like that?”

  Rachel spun around and glowered at her best friend. “Of course I did! I let a stranger lick me all over. And his friend watched! I’m not a porn star, Melanie!”

  “Yeah, but you could have pretended. At least for one night.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not. I’m being opportunistic. When are you going to get a chance to sleep with not just one, but two sexy men like that ever again?”

  The pout was automatic. “Never.”

  “Exactly.” Melanie grabbed a mug, poured a cup of coffee and sat at their tiny dining table as Rachel dragged herself off the futon. She loved sharing an apartment—it meant saving money and automatic company—but sleeping in the living room had its downsides. With a grunt, she lifted the bottom of the futon and turned it into a couch. If her best friend was going to give her the ‘you should have gone for it’ talk, she wanted to be sitting down.

  She flopped on the newly-made couch and sighed. “You really think I made a mistake?”

  Melanie took a sip and nodded. “You don’t even know their names!”

  “Don’t remind me.” Part of her wished she’d never told her about it and avoided the critique of all her wrong moves. But Mel was right—she’d totally blown it. Letting some stranger get up close and personal with her lady bits and then running out the door like a scared teenager. It was absurd. She scrubbed her face with her hands. “God. It’s so embarrassing.”

  Melanie snorted. “Depressing is more like it. How can you ever go on a date with them if you don’t know their names?”

  “I am not going out on a date with them! Did you look at them—like really look at them? I’ve got more fat on my fingers than they do on their whole bodies.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Rachel grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. She didn’t usually give her weight a second thought. But after all the rejections in this crazy, superficial town, she couldn’t help it. “Guys like that don’t want girls like me. Not for more than a quickie behind the stage. And look how that turned out.”

  “Pfft. Don’t sell yourself so short. From what you said he wasn’t exactly taking advantage.”

  Rachel blushed. She could still feel his tongue lapping across her clit. His hands grabbing her ass and dragging her closer. Savoring her. But that couldn’t be right. She let out a huff. “He must have been buttering me up. Fuzzing my head so he could take me out back and chop me up into tiny pieces.”

  “I don’t think serial killers lure their victims with mind-blowing orgasms. Besides, you were amazing on stage last night. Guys would kill for a chance to be with you.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Right. That’s why there’s a crowd outside, beating down the door.”

  “Stop it. You know you’re never going to make it in this business if you don’t think you deserve it.”

  She let her head fall back onto the cushion and closed her eyes. They’d had this discussion before. Melanie always cheering her on, telling her she was the next big thing. She just didn’t understand. Los Angeles was about so much more than talent. It was about the whole package. Not the plus-sized kind. “It’s not about that, Mel. I know I can sing.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Ra
chel popped open an eye. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Melanie sipped her coffee and shrugged.

  No way. She wasn’t clamming up now. “Just tell me. What is it?”

  Her best friend sighed. “It’s just that—they are the same thing. Look at all the big time singers out there. They walk into a room like they own the place. Not like they’re just renting it for the night.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point is, if you don’t have the confidence to know you’re the best thing in the room, a record label won’t either.”

  As Rachel opened her mouth to argue, her phone rang. She snatched it off the coffee table, swiped it open and answered. “Rachel Madison.”

  “Hello Ms. Madison, my name is Dave Richards. I’m in the A&R department of Falcon Records. How are you this morning?”

  A shot of adrenaline rushed through her and she glanced at Melanie with that holy shit look on her face. “I’m good…great. I’m great. How can I help you, Mr. Richards?”

  The man on the phone chuckled. “Dave, please. And, actually, I’m hoping you can help us. We were in Vortex last night and watched you perform.”

  “Really?” It came out as more of a squeak than a question. A guy from a record label watched her perform. Oh my god.

  “Yes. We were wondering, would you have any interest in coming to our headquarters and recording a demo? We have a state-of-the-art facility and would provide all the support you need.”

  Rachel’s tongue turned to parchment. A record label wanted her to record a demo. In their own studio. She tried to swallow, but it turned into a cough.

  “Ms. Madison? Are you alright?”

  “Y-yes. I’m sorry. You were saying?”

  “We were thinking three songs, original if possible. Just you. Any instruments you’d like.”

  “I…have a guitar. It’s usually just me and my guitar.”

  “Great. So, is that a yes?”

  She blinked and looked up at Melanie. “Yes, that’s a yes. I’d love to come in. When were you thinking?”

  He cleared his throat. “We were thinking today, if that worked for you. This afternoon around two?”

  Thank god for grippy phone cases. “That sounds perfect.”

  “Wonderful. We’ll see you then.”

  The call ended and Melanie practically leapt out of her seat. “Was that what I think it was?”

  Rachel nodded through the whirlwind inside her head. “It was A&R for Falcon Records. They want me to come in and record a demo.”

  “Oh my god!” Melanie rushed over and wrapped her up in an enormous hug. Oomph. For being so tiny, the woman sure had a mean grip. She pulled back and clapped her hands. “That is so awesome. When do they want you?”

  Rachel glanced down at her phone and back up at her best friend. “In about four hours.”

  “Holy shit!”

  * * *

  “This is a terrible idea.”

  “No. It’s not.” Alec crossed his arms and stared through the one-way mirror to the recording booth. “I want her clean. Raw. Unaffected. If she knows who we are, we won’t get her real sound.”

  Brooks frowned and rubbed his short hair back and forth. He hated the idea of lying to Rachel. He couldn’t explain it—the way she drew him in, captured his mind and…other places. Fuck. He was totally obsessed with her and they’d only shared a few words. And one hell of a show.

  Watching her come apart against the wall of the dressing room. Alec’s face buried in her swollen little snatch. Her mouth stuffed full of his fingers. Licking. Sucking. Brooks had barely been able to stand still. To keep his hands off her. If she hadn’t run out—turned beet red and fled before he could say a word—he’d have gotten to know her a hell of a lot better. And broken his promise to never share a woman with Alec again.

  He snorted and stared at the empty studio. Her body. Her face. The way she turned him on just standing there. None of it compared to her voice. She captured his attention with a single note. Sexy and powerful. Damn it if Alec wasn’t right. He wanted her pure. Untainted by their presence. He cursed under his breath. Lying to her from the start was a terrible idea. If she found out they owned Falcon before she signed a contract…he’d probably lose her.

  The studio door opened, Brooks glanced up and the whole world stood still. She walked into the booth, long brown hair cascading over her shoulder, matching eyes alive with excitement. Her dress hugged her breasts and flowed to the floor in a floral sea and he wanted to dive in and ride every wave. So damn beautiful.

  She held her hand out to Will, their in-house producer, and as he took it, a pang of jealousy shot through Brooks’s body. He turned to Alec and caught his eye. “If this all goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

  He didn’t even turn his head. “The studio demo was your idea.”

  “Lying to her wasn’t.” As soon as her set had ended, he’d tracked down the bar owner and asked about her. He’d learned her name and a bit of background. According to her boss, she’d just moved to L.A. to try and catch a break. Doing the usual—tending bar at night, auditions during the day. Trying to follow a dream like so many others in this town. Thousands of people all vying for a chance at fame. Success. And there she was, standing in his studio, pulling headphones on and nodding at the producer. She didn’t know it yet, but she’d be a star.

  “Ready when you are, Rachel.”

  Will’s voice broke into the viewing room and Alec tensed. “Let’s see if she’s as good in the studio as she is on stage.”

  Bastard. He’d already gotten a chance with her—running his hands all over her body, tasting her sweet nectar as she gave herself over to him. If Alec’s insistence on not telling the truth—not being upfront from the beginning—ruined Brooks’s chance with her…He shook his head as the mic cracked. He needed to focus on her and not the anger simmering beneath the surface. He could have it out with Alec later. In the meantime, he needed to focus on the gorgeous woman on the other side of the mirror. The woman he wanted to get to know so much better.

  Rachel propped herself on the edge of a stool and nestled her guitar in her lap. Brooks smiled. The wood of the front panel had turned a rich, dark brown from years of use. But the Epiphone inlay still shone on the headstock and the frets were polished and gleaming. She loved that guitar—anyone could tell. With a deep breath, Rachel strummed a few chords and hummed a few notes, warming up to the space and the sound. She glanced up at Will and gave him a nod. “I’m ready.”

  “Great. Let me hop in the booth.” He strode into the recording booth and sat down at the controls. If anyone could capture her sound, it was Will. He managed to pull out the best of a singer-songwriter’s sound. The emotion. The depth of their soul as it came out through the music. When they’d launched Falcon, Brooks had moved heaven and earth to get him to come work for them. Thank god he’d been free for this.

  He watched as Rachel nodded and took a deep breath. Showtime. Just like the night before, she started slow. Sultry and melodic. The notes pouring out of her guitar and her fingers like they were made to be together. And that was just her playing. The man backing her up the night before has been skilled and able to accompany, but when she played it was real. Intense and vibrant and full of life. A million times better.

  As she closed her eyes and began to sing, Brooks rocked forward on his toes. Yes. There it was. The voice. The sound. Exactly what they were looking for. What Daphne and all of A&R couldn’t find. And they’d found her in a dive bar in West Hollywood. Just like people had been doing for decades. He snorted and glanced at Alec. “She’s even better today.”

  “I was thinking the exact same thing. If we play this right—package her the right way—she could take Falcon to the next level.”

  Brooks frowned. “She doesn’t need packaging. She’s perfect. I thought you wanted her raw?”

  “To hear the potential. But you can’t say throwing her to the wolves without any polish is the right thing.”

  “You s
ound like a corporate label.”

  Alec crossed his arms. “And after all these years, you still think like a singer-songwriter.”

  “That’s because I am.”

  “Funny. I thought you were a label head.”

  Brooks bit his cheek to keep from lashing out. “Before you go molding her in your mind, how about we find out if she’ll even sign a contract?”

  His partner sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll head up to legal. See if it can get done today.” He turned and strode from the viewing room without another word and Brooks shook his head. He’d been with Alec in one way or another—business, pleasure, everything in between—for years. But the asshole could still piss him off. Royally. If he wasn’t interested in getting to know the real Rachel, it was Alec’s loss. And his gain.

  * * *

  Oh my god. Rachel pulled her headphones off and handed them to the producer.

  “That was…stellar.”

  Rachel bit her lip and focused on the floor. “They pay you to say that, right?”

  “Nope. And I don’t sugar coat. I mean it.”

  She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Mmm-hmm. If you don’t get a record deal, Falcon is batshit.”

  The laugh that bubbled up from her throat took all of her tension and nerves along with it. She’d recorded a demo and the producer thought she deserved a contract. What a crazy twenty-four hours. “Thanks. So what happens next?”

  “I’ll finish this up, cut a CD, and give it to Dave. I’m sure it’ll make the rounds inside the label. I don’t handle contracting, so I can’t tell you how soon you’ll hear. But a couple weeks, I’d think.”

  Rachel nodded. A couple weeks. She could hold onto the hope sparking inside her for a couple of weeks. “Thank you so much.”