We hook him after just a few chords. I always had faith that would be the case. Some tunes come to you and you just know in your guts that they’re meant to be. It’s as if you’ve always known them, and you’ve simply tapped in to an ancient memory. It’s that way with this song, and yet at the same time it’s desperately new and unpolished. Even while we’re playing I can hear the places where we can refine it.
The beat of Joel’s drums is what drives it through the chorus, but it’s the bass-line that Loveday winds around the lead melody that really makes the sound. The lyrics aren’t too bad either. What’s most important, though, is that Graham Callahan listens with a smile on his wide face. I suppose it’s silly, then, that I’m still on tenterhooks when we finish, awaiting the final verdict.
It’s delivered as a standing ovation; our whole audience on their feet, six hands clapping riotously.
Callahan gets on the stage to shake my hand, and then Dane’s, Joel’s and Loveday’s too.
“We need to get this track recorded ASAP girls and boys. Go home and pack yourself some spare undies.”
“You’re not thinking we’re going to record this now.” Dane blurts.
“Why not? Do you have something urgent to do?”
None of us do. Leastways, nothing that can’t be rearranged.
“Surely we need to sign contracts or something, and you’re super busy, aren’t you?” Dane gestures at Callahan’s mousy assistant and the diary discarded on the floor.
“Kid, there’s always space on my schedule for brilliance. But sure, contract, tour dates, planning…” He turns to his bespectacled assistant, whose glasses I notice are rainbow patterned. “Call the Sawmills. It’s closest, we’ll do the recording there. Tell them to expect us.”
“And if they’re already fully booked up?”
He gives her a hard stare.
“All right. OK, I’ll get onto it.”
“I suspect some up and coming group has just had their studio time gazumped.”
“The Sawmills,” Dane says, clutching my elbow. “This is insane. So many big names have recorded there. Oasis, the Verve, the Stone Roses.” He rattles off several more. “Do you reckon you’ll get to use the same microphone that Robert Planet warbled into?”
I shrug, because I honestly don’t know. “Let’s try and keep our heads, eh? And sign a contract that’s not going to screw us six ways to Sunday.”
“What about Knox?” Dane asks.
“What about Loveday?” I reply.
“What about her?”
“She got us this, Dane.”
“So you’re hoofing Knox?”
Joel claps me on the back.
“No. No—of course not.”
Joel slides away from me as if he’s trying to take back the well-done pat he just gave me.
“I’m just saying she should be part of this. She ought to be the one playing on this track at least. Knox could do the others, and he’ll still be our official bassist.”
“So she’d be doing like a guest spot?” Joel’s interest perks again.
“Yeah. How do you feel about that?” I ask her.
She stands a moment with her mouth open, contemplating. “You used my bass-line in your song.”
She’s got me over hot coals regarding that one. “You did write it on my arse,” I retaliate.
She grins, and the amusement shoots straight to her pretty blue eyes. “Is it still there?”
“Sharpie’s don’t wash off so easily.” As evidenced by the fact her mobile number is still recorded on my forearm. “So yeah, it’s still there.”
“Make it permanent and I’ll let you keep it and use it. I want a writing credit too.”
“For the song, or on my arse?”
“You don’t ask much, do you?” Dane remarks, but I can tell he’s warming to her. And actually, considering what he’s like around women, maybe that’s not a good thing. I lower my brows and fire a warning stare at him, which just makes him laugh.
Loveday grabs the front of my T-shirt and pulls me close, so that our lips are in danger of touching, and our lower limbs somehow already are. “For the song, obviously,” she says. “Honestly, Darke. If I was going to lay claim to a bit of you, it wouldn’t be your arse I’d be opting for.”
“Oh, aye?” Joel interjects. He makes a fanning motion with his hand as if to cool the heat in his cheeks.
“Tell me what you’d be opting for?” I cajole.
She angles her hips so that the seam of her leather trousers rubs against the fly of my jeans. “I would, but your kid brother and his friend are listening.”
Dane nonchalantly whistles and turns away. Joel follows, leaving the two of us centre stage, bathed in the glow of the spotlight with barely a millimetre of space between us.
“They can’t hear you now.”
Her palm strokes down over the bulge that’s now distorting my fly. “Hmm,” she groans. Then raises her hand and taps two fingers against my fore-head. “What’s in there, of course. That’s what excites me, along with this bit here.” She lays her hand over my chest where my heartbeat is thumping. “But I wouldn’t presume to lay claim to either.”
“I hope you’ll lay claim to them both.”
Her lips part and we kiss softly, entwining our bodies around one another. Somehow the gentleness makes it more meaningful than all the hot and heady stuff we’ve shared so far. We build bonds with that kiss. There’s a promise implicit in it.
Then her fingers curl over my arse, and squeeze. “I do like your beetle though,” she muses. “Especially when I get to lick it.”
“Fancy a celebratory fuck?” I ask.
She pushes me away with a sigh, though her eyes remain bright with good humour. “Nathaniel Darke, you’ve such a potty mouth and filthy mind.”
I pull her back into my arms. “Exactly as you like it, babe. Exactly as you like it. Remember, you told me yourself.”
~*~
THE BAD BOYS OF BRIT POP WILL RETURN.
MEANWHILE, WHY NOT CHECK OUT THESE BAD BOYS?
To take a walk on the Wilde side with Dare. Click here.
Ever wanted the gay guy? Discover the enigma that is Dylan Drake. Click here.
-author’s note-
Never has a book undergone such a crisis of identity. First it was Forbidden Rock Star, then it was co-opted by my alter-ego, and now it’s back to being a Madelynne book. Prevailing wisdom at the time of this book’s first release was for multiple pen names, but I found I much prefer being one person instead of two. There are enough characters chatting away in my head already without having a split personality. So, hello, I’m Madelynne, I write all sort of dirty stories, in first person, and in third, and I like to hop from contemporary to historical, and even occasionally foray into gothic urban fantasy territory. I don’t write shifters, except when I do. LMAO. And, this last year has been a writing black hole, which is why you’ve got Crazy Love in your mitts now, rather than later. It was out of print, and I was sort of deliberately keeping it that way, not because I don’t like it, I do. I’m awfully fond of these boys, I was just keeping them all to myself for a bit (cos reasons).
Anyway, some thanks are in order: To, the contributors to Banged: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds boxed set for which this story was originally written. Thanks for hanging with me and writing such wonderfully filthy stories. To my Rockstars & Rakehells members, your awesome support means the world to me. Hope you’ll continue to share this rock ‘n’ roll journey with me. And finally, to Zoe and Sadie for always setting me straight when I’m in a blind panic. You rock!
Madelynne Ellis xx
What do you do when wrong feels so right?
Dylan Drake is 100% gay.
He’s been confident of that his whole life.
Until her…
Kira Carter-Wells shouldn’t turn him on.
She shouldn’t make his pulse race.
But his new bodyguard does precisely that.
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-About the Author-
Madelynne Ellis lives in the UK, not far from the Welsh border with her partner, family, & assorted pets. She is currently sipping rapidly cooling decaf coffee, listening to loud music, & indulging her obsession for tattooed bad boys.
Connect with her in the following places:
www.madelynne-ellis.com
[email protected]
-Also By Madelynne Ellis-
Contemporary Erotic Romance
Stirred Passions
Cherry Bomb
Black Velvet
Soul Kiss
Stirred Passions Bomb Shots
Screw Driver
The Bad Boys of Brit Pop
Crazy Love
The Black Halo Books
Rock Hard (Xane, Dani & Luthor)
Come Undone
Come Together
Come Alive
Black Halo (Ash & Ginny)
All Night Long
All Fired Up
All Right Now
Off the Record (Spook & Alle)
Remastered
Resistor
Reflex
Replay
Revive (coming soon)
Anything But…
Anything But Vanilla
Anything But Ordinary
Standalone Contemporary Titles:
Enticement
Dark Designs
Passion of Isis
Sharing Adam
Gabriel’s Naughty Game
Confessions of a Greedy Girl
Short Stories
We Were Lovers Once
Woe in Kabukicho
Historical Erotic Romance
Scandalous Seductions
A Gentleman’s Wager
Indiscretions
Phantasmagoria
Three Times the Scandal
Her Husband’s Lover
The Ghosts of Christmas Past
The Serpent’s Kiss
Romps & Rakehells
Capturing Cora
Seducing Sophia
Taming Taylor
Forbidden Loves:
The Kissing Bough
Pure Folly
Gothic Urban Fantasy Romance
Blood Moon
Broken Angel
Prophecy
The Demon Way
Shadow Queen
Copyright
Copyright © Madelynne Ellis, 2015, 2020. All Rights Reserved. Violators will be forced to clean up Teddy’s mess with their tongues. It’s not a nice mess. You were warned.
Editing: Sandra Barkevich of WriteType Editorial Services.
Cover Design: Madelynne Ellis
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents 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, or to events or places is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Crazy Love Page 13
