by K. L. Myers
Rocking Between The Sheets
KL Myers
Contents
Untitled
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
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Rocking Between The Sheets © 2017
All rights are reserved
Cover Design © Covers by Dana
Formatting HJ Bellus
This is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, places, brands, media and incidents are used solely in fictitious nature based on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to or mention of persons, places, organizations or other incidents are coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted electronically or in print without the permission of the author.
Prologue
Cayson
The best memories I had growing up were of my mom. She believed in me and told me I could be anything I wanted to be; I just had to believe in myself and get a great education. She loved me with her whole heart and then some.
My mom was an English teacher, and she loved to read. Novels by Jane Austin and Thomas Hardy were everywhere in our house when I was a kid, but as I got older, those novels were replaced with a new generation of romance writers. Every night, Mom would sit on the couch before bed with her romance novels and drift into another world. For several hours, she’d live in a fantasy land where dreams came true at the hands of the writer. My mom built the man of her dreams from these unrealistic characters devised by an author who had no concept of what real life was like.
The problem this created is, Mom was only ever happy when she was reading. She’d get ideas of what my father should be like and not what he was really like. Because her expectations were skewed by her fantasy men, Dad’s destiny was sealed before it ever began. Don’t get me wrong, Dad was no saint; in fact, he was a real son of a bitch, but he was still my dad.
My world turned upside down on my fourteenth birthday. Dad packed his bags and moved out, because he could no longer make my mom happy, so he said. Mom took it all in stride, but not me. I was devastated; I was now one of those statistics about kids from a broken home. My grades slipped, and Mom was always all over my ass. Luckily, we moved to Arizona, where I met my cohorts in crime. Rocky, Michael, Neal, and Tim—our love for music held us together tighter than any bond built by blood.
By the time we were all eighteen, we had formed Razor’s Edge and were playing gigs all over town. I don’t know how it happened, but one day we were sleeping in and playing music out of our van as we traveled from town to town, and then the next we were signed with a record label and on tour, making the big bucks. Razor’s Edge was an overnight sensation, and the rest is history.
Chapter 1
Cayson
My name is Cayson James Razor. I’m the front man for Razor’s Edge. My friends call me CJ, but the groupies call me The Pleasure God. I’m living my dream. Tens of thousands of fans scream my name and there’s fresh pussy to choose from every night with no attachments. Life couldn’t get any better as far as I was concerned. That was until my manager came to me, calling in the favor I owed him. Now my life is changing in ways I’m not ready for. God help me, but Kayla Marshall is going to be the death of my rock god image.
Cayson. Cayson. Cayson. My name echoes inside the stadium; my heart beats rapidly in my chest, while adrenalin pumps through my veins. This is the way I feel every night before I take the stage.
“How are you tonight, Seattle? Are you ready for some Razor’s Edge?”
The crowd goes wild before the lights go down, giving me my cue to send the guys on the stage to take their places. When Rocky, my drummer, starts beating his drums sticks together, I know it’s almost time for my entrance. The sound of the wood clanging together sets the pace for our newest hit Rocking Between The Sheets. When I hear him yell, “One, two, one, two, three,” that’s my cue to run onto the stage. Just as the lights come up, my voice sings the words that everyone has been waiting for.
Oh Girl
I picked you out from the crowd, saw the way that you move...
I made my rounds up and down, no one as sexy as you…
The look in your eyes has a story to tell, that by the end of the night you’ll break me outta my shell…
My intentions so full of lust, I’ll bring your ass backstage and just light it up…
Crack open the whiskey and let’s have some fun…
Leavin’ the party, lock the door to the bus…
Touching you gently, pulling your strings, this ain’t love and this ain’t a dream…
I’m heavy on you playing your screams…
This is the way you make music for me…when we’re rocking between the sheets.
The piercing sounds of the screaming girls in the crowd pull my attention to the front row, where the backstage pass holders are located. I know If I look hard enough, I’ll find tonight's lucky piece of pussy to spend my time with. There are blondes, brunettes, redheads, and raven-haired beauties standing before me. Rows and rows of cock-greedy women in various states of half dress tease me.
When I get to the last chorus, my hand reaches down between my legs, grabbing my junk and squeezing as I rasp out, “When we’re rocking between the sheets.” I don’t let go until the drum solo finishes, signaling the end of the song.
Just as the lights go down, I see her, the vixen standing there just teasing me with her innocence. She doesn’t fit in with the rest of the crowd; she’s not dressed in sleazy clothes like the rest of the bitches. No, she’s dressed like she’s headed to the mall to shop. She’s wearing faded jeans and a short-sleeved V-neck T-shirt that shows off her perky tits, and a pair of red chucks. Her golden-brown hair frames her face and is then pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her slender neck. When my eyes meet with hers, she smiles briefly and then waves a shy little wave at me. This causes me to laugh, because she is so out of her element, but damn if it doesn’t make my cock hard.
For the next hour, we rock the house with one hit after the other. Cell phone lights are swaying in the audience, and the stench of awesome weed fills the arena, and yet there she stands, still so out of place with an awestruck look on her face and a smile that holds my gaze, while I finish the last song of our final set. When the lights go out completely, I sprint off the stage, grabbing a bottle of water that Sean, our manager, is handing me.
“CJ, don’t go too far when you’re done. We need to talk.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell him. Grabbing the hand towel that is waiting for me, I wipe the sweat off my face and the back of my neck while I drink the last of my water. While I jump up and down a couple of times in an effort to help burn off some of my excess energy, the band and I wait a few minutes before we run back out onto stage for an encore. When the lights come back up, there’s an empty chair where once stood Little Miss Innocent, leaving me slightly disappointed.
Chapter 2
Cayson
“CJ, we need to talk,” my manager tells me once again.
“What, Sean? Can’t it wait? There is a room full of pussy waiting for me, and I’m dying to see what my selection is tonight.”
“You’re such a pig,” Sean says. “I have no idea what the girls see in you, but to each their own, I guess.”
I interrupt him before he can go on again about lec
turing me on public image and shit. “What do you need, Sean? You got three seconds to spit it out, and then I’m out of here and don’t want to be bothered.”
“Look, I’m calling in that favor you owe me. My wife just took on a new client, and she needs you and the guys to help her develop her characters.”
Sean’s wife Patricia is a publisher and is always looking for the next biggest and brightest authors. Unfortunately, Sean’s wife is also a college friend of my mom’s, which is how Sean heard all about my boys and me. So, as a favor to my mom, Patricia sent her husband out to see us perform, and well, the rest is history. Yes, I owe him big time, but spending time with an author doesn’t have any appeal to me whatsoever.
“She better be writing an autobiography, Sean, or count me out. I want no part of this.”
“She’s not, CJ. She’s a romance author, and you will do this for me. You’re here because of me, so I’m not asking, I’m telling you. It’s thirty days of your time. Just be yourself, that’s all I’m asking, and pretend like she isn’t here.”
“Fine, introduce me to the bitch, but then we are even. If this girl wants to know the life of a rock star, then that’s what she’s getting. The good, the bad, and the ugly, and I think she’ll be getting a lot of ugly. I just hope she is prepared for what she learns.”
“CJ,” Sean yells. “Go easy on her, okay. Be nice.”
The party is in full swing when I enter the room. There must be at least twenty VIP winners from the local radio station waiting to meet the band and me. It’s always the same: for forty-five minutes, we sign shit for them and take a few pictures all in the name of publicity.
When the last guest is escorted out of the room, Sean enters with the writer. My eyes must be deceiving me, because holy fuck, it’s Little Miss Innocent from the front row.
“CJ, I’d like to introduce you to Kayla Marshall. Kayla, this is Cayson, but most of us call him CJ.”
Kayla steps forward and extends her hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Cayson. I’m a huge fan of Razor’s Edge, so I am really honored that you are giving me the opportunity to shadow you for a month. It means a lot to me.”
I’m not normally speechless, but right now, the cat got my tongue and I’m at a loss for words, so I do the only thing I can think of and extend my hand to shake Kayla’s. “Nice to meet you as well.”
“Look,” she tells me, “I just want you to act normal. Don’t change anything about your routine. I want to see you in your element, to capture the true mindset of a rocker. I need my book to be honest and straight forward.”
“Not to disappoint you, sweetheart, but there is nothing romantic about my lifestyle.” Giving her my evil grin I hope will scare her off to any preconceived idea’s she may have about how romantic of a man I am, I turn to leave the room, calling over my shoulder to my boys, “Guys, it’s pussy time.”
There are a plethora of girls waiting behind the ropes as we exit the building, all of them just hoping to get their lips wrapped around one of our cocks. The guys and I sign autographs as we make our way back to the bus. Rocky grabs a redhead's hand and pulls her under the rope, wrapping his arm around her neck as he kisses her. The redhead’s friend looks defeated, but Michael whistles and points to her, crooking his finger in an invitation to join him. The girl ducks under the rope and runs to Michael, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist as her lips find his, and his hands squeeze her ass holding her tight. Tim and Neal follow suit, making this out to be an interesting evening on the bus tonight. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Sean with a disgusted Kayla, and inwardly, I laugh, because she has no clue what she just signed up for.
I provide a few more autographs for fans and then without hesitation, I grab the brunette in daisy dukes and boots at the end of the line. Kayla wants to experience the lifestyle of a rock god. Well, I hope she’s ready.
Chapter 3
Kayla
It helps to have connections when you are trying to further your career. In college, my mom had two friends who were more like sisters to her than my aunts were. When I wrote my first book, Mom reached out to Patricia Woodland and asked her to guide me along the way, and she agreed, taking me under her wing. Last month, I pitched her my idea of writing about a rock band and its lead singer. She told me she had just the opportunity for me and that it would be the opportunity of a lifetime. Who wouldn’t jump at that, right?
See, Brenda Razor was my mom’s other bestie and well, her son is the one and only Cayson Razor of Razor’s Edge, whose band just happens to be managed by Patricia's husband, Sean. SCORE big time for me. Not only am I going to be able to write about a rock band, but I’m getting the inside scoop of what it’s like to be part of a big-time band. When Brenda offered to reach out to her son, Patricia nipped that in the butt, saying it would be better if no one knew there was any connection there. This way, what I got to see would be true to life and not scripted for me. I had agreed, thinking, How bad could it be? I guess I hadn’t realized what I was setting myself up for.
The guys in the band are assholes of the highest caliber. Tonight, I watched each one of them pick some girl out of a crowd and head back to the bus. Who are these girls, and don’t they have a single ounce of self-dignity? They can’t be that stupid to believe they are anything more than just a plaything for the night, could they?
“Are those girls going to be traveling on the bus with us?” I ask Sean.
“Afraid so, kiddo. You wanted the true life experience, and well, this is it. I can assure you, though, I’ve tried to isolate you from the groupies as much as possible. I’ve already arranged with Cayson for you to have the only bedroom on the bus, so you will have some privacy, but I won’t be able to do anything about the noise. I hope you brought earplugs.”
“Great,” I say with sarcasm. “Just tell me there are clean sheets on the bed.” It came out more of a statement, but I meant it as a question. Just the thought of having to sleep on dirty, cum-stained sheets has my insides in knots.
Stepping onto the bus, I didn’t expect to see one of the girls already on her knees sucking off the drummer Rocky. Hell, I don’t know what I expected, but this is not it. Sean appears completely unaffected by what is happing. He takes a seat at the table and immediately starts texting, ignoring what is happening around him.
Unfortunately, I can’t be that blind. “Where is the room I get?”
Sean lifts his hand and points over his shoulder with his thumb. “All the way in the back.” Then he goes back to texting.
Five hours ago, I was so excited to meet the band. Now, I’m not sure I can look at one of them in the face and still be polite. Reaching into my purse for my phone, I call my mom's best friend, Brenda.
“Hi, honey,” she says when she answers the phone. “You all set?”
“I’m actually here on the bus, Brenda. I’m not so sure this is a good idea. I think you may not really know your son after all. He is nothing like the man you described to me.”
“Kayla, my boy is a good boy; he has just lost his way. Please don’t form any opinions until you get to know him. Sometimes first impressions are not always accurate ones.”
“Alright, Brenda, but if you knew what was going on right this moment, I’m not so sure even you would agree with your assessment.”
“Please, don’t say another word, Kayla. I think I’m better left in the dark. I can imagine what happens on that bus, but I’d prefer that it be my imagination; that way, I can still deny it in my head. Stay strong, my dear.”
I am disgusted as I look around the room. Empty beer and liquor bottles are everywhere, even a few used condoms lie on the floor. “Christ, don’t these guys pick up after themselves?” Reaching into my purse, I pull out two tissues to grab the used condoms and toss them in the trash. “Gross,” I say out loud. “This room is a cesspool of potential STDs.”
Opening and closing drawers and doors, I find a clean set of sheets in the cabinet beside the bed and make quick work of changing t
he bed. When the room is as clean as I’m going to be able to get it without commercial grade disinfectant, I’m ready to call it a night, but the disgusting sounds coming from the front of the bus keep me awake. No wonder Sean asked if I had earplugs.
Frustrated, I curse at whoever is on the other side of the door knocking. The voice calling to me belongs to Sean. “Sorry to bother you, but I thought you might like a pair of these.” I open the door to find him holding a packet of earplugs. “You may find these useful tonight. If you need anything, I’m the right bottom bunk closest to you. Night, Kayla.”
“Night, Sean, and thank you,” I say as I close the door.
The alarm clock says 9:00 a.m. when I awake. The bus is no longer moving. Throwing on a pair of jeans and comfortable T-shirt, I go in search of Sean but find that the bus is completely empty, and I can’t help but wonder where everyone is. My question is quickly answered when the door opens and Sean climbs in.
“Good morning, Kayla, did you sleep alright?
“Uh, yes, I guess, considering everything. Where are we and where is everyone?”
“The guys are still sleeping; they won’t get up until at least noon. I was just taking out the nightly trash, so we’ll be on our way again shortly.”
“Oh, well, there’s a lot of trash in the room I’m in. I piled it all in a corner last night, but if you give me a bag, I can put it in there, and you can toss that out for me as well,” I tell Sean, seeing this as an opportunity to declutter my sleeping area.
Laughing, Sean tells me that I misunderstood him. He wasn’t talking about actual trash; he was referring to the girls who were on the bus.
“Wait, you just dump them off anywhere you feel like it?”
“No, Kayla, I found them a bus station and bought them bus tickets to get them home. This is what groupies do, my dear.”
