Tied to Him

by Tia Siren

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Olivia

  I found an acoustic guitar backstage and quickly tuned it up. Rusty looked over his shoulder at me and I gave him a nod. He stepped up to the microphone and held up his arms to the rowdy crowd.

  “Okay, okay, you bastards, quiet down. The band that was supposed to be here to open for the Mohawk Motherfuckers ain’t coming.” The crowd booed and hissed. Someone threw a beer bottle at the stage, barely missing Rusty’s head. He ignored it and continued. “Shut the fuck up, you assholes. They weren’t that good anyway. I have someone better for you to listen to.”

  The regulars knew better than to fuck with Rusty too much. He’d shut the place down and kick them all out if they got too out of hand.

  He said, “Most of you know Olivia Poole. Liv, as we call her. She was the lead singer of the Flakes and now she’s out on her own. She no longer performs in shitholes like this, but tonight she’s here as a personal favor to me.” He paused to point at the crowd. “Make her feel welcome, motherfuckers, or you’re out of here. Give it up for Olivia Poole!”

  I stepped out onto the stage to face sheer silence. Rusty was clapping, but the audience wasn’t making a sound. Rusty held out a hand to usher me over to the microphone.

  “Don’t you think that was a bit much?” I asked.

  “Just knock them dead,” he said, giving me a wink. “You can do this. I believe in you.”

  I stepped up to the microphone and cleared my throat. “Um, hi, everyone. Thanks, Rusty, for that amazing introduction…which was all bullshit, by the way.”

  A few people chuckled. Most of them were just looking at me like dogs watching a ceiling fan. I glanced to the side of the stage. Mona and Sherry were watching with smiles of encouragement. Even Des and the mohawk motherfucker gave me a thumbs-up.

  “Um, so, I normally play with a band,” I said, squinting at the bright spotlight in my eyes. “So if this sucks, I’m sorry in advance.”

  The room held its collective breath, waiting to see what I was going to do. It was just me and an acoustic guitar in front of a crowd waiting to hear a heavy metal band. I thought about what I could sing that wouldn’t get me booed off the stage. Then, as if on their own, my fingers started playing “Eternal Flame” by the Bangles.

  I closed my eyes and started to sing. “Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling. Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understand? Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming? Is this burning an eternal flame?”

  I made it through the first verse and opened my eyes, expecting to see beer bottles flying at me. But there were no beer bottles. No one was booing. No one was rushing the stage. The crowd was listening, smiling, slowly swaying.

  I glanced toward Mona. She had her hands over her cheeks. There were tears in her eyes. She gave me an encouraging smile.

  Cain Bohannon had been right about one thing.

  I was a singer.

  I could sing and touch an audience with my voice.

  And I didn’t need him to make it happen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Cain

  I hid in the shadows backstage with my eyes closed, listening to Olivia sing. I heard someone coming toward me. I opened my eyes to see Rusty holding out his hand.

  “Pay up, motherfucker,” he said with a grin. I reached into my pocket and counted out five one-hundred-dollar bills and set them in his hand. He folded the cash and tucked it into his jeans. I thought our deal was done, but then he stuck a thick finger in my chest and growled at me.

  “If you hurt her again, I’ll personally come to your office and rip off your head and shit down your neck. Do you understand?”

  I held up my hands in submission. I guessed the rumors were true. Rusty Nail had been a Marine drill instructor in another life. I gave him a reassuring smile.

  “Don’t worry. I will never hurt her again.”

  “All right then,” he said, giving me a nod. “See that you don’t.”

  He walked away and I moved to a spot that let me watch Olivia from behind the curtain. I glanced at the crowd. I couldn’t believe what was happening. She was singing a fucking Bangles tune to a crowd there to see a death metal act, and the crowd was mesmerized by her voice. When I’d bribed Rusty to get her onstage, I knew it was going to be a gamble. Apparently, the gamble was paying off.

  I knew I had been right about her.

  Her voice was magical.

  It crossed all genres and made people stop and listen.

  It touched them, as it had touched me.

  I could only hope that soon, her voice would be whispering sweet nothings once again in my ear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Olivia

  I sang two more songs and the crowd seemed to like them both. Or they might have just been scared shitless of Rusty, who stood next to the stage with his thick arms crossed over his chest and a baseball bat tucked under his arms.

  I sang “Piece of My Heart” by Janis Joplin and “Summertime,” which was going to be the first release off my album, which was now just a dream. BEG couldn’t force me to sing. I was done taking orders from Cain Bohannon.

  I thanked the crowd and hurried offstage. My performance went okay, but I’d been a bundle of nerves and it had been far from perfect. I just wanted to make it to the lady’s room where I could puke my guts out in peace. Then I could get back to work.

  “You were amazing,” a deep voice said from the backstage shadows. I turned to see Cain standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets and a pitiful look on his face. He stepped closer and gave me a smile that made my breath quake.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, holding the guitar to my breasts like a battle shield. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “You don’t have to talk. Just listen.”

  I blinked at him for a minute. I avoided looking into his eyes. I stared at the dirty floor. “Fine. Make it fast. I have to pee.”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you about the list,” he said.

  “The fuck list that you swore to me didn’t exist?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I lied to you,” he said, nodding slowly. “You have to understand; the list meant nothing. It was a joke, just something I did to amuse myself.”

  “So you think fucking women and striking them off your list is funny,” I said. “You think using women is funny.”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said with a sigh. “Look, in my industry, sex is a tool. People use it to get ahead and get noticed and…” He smiled and rubbed his eyes. “Jesus, I’m not making a very good case for myself, am I?”

  “No, you’re not,” I said, doing my best to stay angry even though all I wanted to do was fall into his arms. “It’s never funny, being used.”

  He frowned at me. “Is that what you think I did? Used you?”

  “What would you call it?”

  “I would call it discovering an amazingly talented singer and doing everything in my power to make her a star. Yes, we had sex, but that’s not why I did everything I’ve done for you.” He shook his head in frustration. “Do you think I’ve ever slept with a woman and then spent millions of dollars building her career? Don’t you think that if all I’d wanted to do was fuck you, we would have been done after the first night we were together?”

  I blinked away tears and rubbed my eyes. Dammit, his words made sense, but I knew he was a master manipulator. He was used to getting people to do his bidding, especially women like me. I hugged the guitar tighter because he was breaking down my defenses.

  He took another step closer and put his hands on my shoulders. “Liv, I never used you. I believe in you. I think you are the most amazing singer I’ve heard in a very long time. Look at what you just did out there. You had a Metallica crowd swaying to a fucking Janis Joplin tune. You’re a rare talent. I never used you. In fact, I spend most of my time thinking how you could use me to achieve your dreams.”

  I sighed. “You’re good,” I said. “You almost have me believing your bullsh
it.”

  “Fine, then believe this,” he said, reaching inside his jacket and bringing out his phone. He called up the fuck list and clicked DELETE. He held up the phone so I could see what he was doing. He tapped to confirm the DELETE and the file disappeared into the ether.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving him a little smile.

  “Yes, I did,” he said, tucking his phone back inside his jacket. “I have a new list, and there’s only one name on it. That name is yours.”

  EPILOGUE: Olivia

  I was sitting on Cain’s bed with my iPad resting on my knees, monitoring the number of downloads my first song, “Summertime,” was getting from iTunes.

  The song dropped at eight this morning, roughly twelve hours ago, and so far, it had been downloaded almost twenty thousand times. I couldn’t believe it. It seemed I had a hit on my hands. Cain had told me this was the day my life would change, and he had been right. Honestly, I was scared to death because I didn’t know how to act or what to do next. Thankfully, I had Cain to show me the way.

  “Are you still checking downloads?” Cain asked as he strolled naked into the room with a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands. I giggled at the sight of his long cock swinging from side to side as he moved.

  He filled both champagne glasses and handed one to me. I set aside the iPad so Cain could take its place. He straddled my knees and let his cock rest on my legs.

  He held up his glass. “To you, Olivia Poole, the newest star in the BEG musical sky.”

  I tapped my glass to his and smiled. “Thanks to you.”

  He shook his head with the glass at his lips. “Nope. I just showed you the way. You’re the one who made it happened.” He leaned forward to kiss my lips. He playfully held the cold champagne glass to my nipple, making me jump.

  “So, how shall we celebrate?” I asked. I took a sip of champagne and set the glass on the nightstand. I couldn’t resist reaching down to take his cock in my hand. I gave it a tug and it grew instantly, like a long balloon, filling my hand. I licked my lips as the head mushroomed at my touch. I slowly tugged his stiff cock back and forth as he drained his glass and tossed it onto the thick carpeted floor.

  “What do you have in mind?” he asked, leaning forward to kiss me again. His hands kneaded my breasts as I pulled at his cock with one hand and cupped his balls with the other. He moaned in my mouth. I could feel the hot dampness flowing from my pussy.

  “I want your big cock inside my sweet pussy,” I said with a grin, mocking him, stroking him faster. I parted my legs so I could rub the tip of his cock against my clit. “I want you to rock my world.”

  “I can do that,” he said, spreading my legs with his knees. He lifted my legs and rested them against his muscular shoulders. I rubbed my feet against his ears.

  “You can do what?” I asked, giving him an evil grin.

  “I can fuck your sweet pussy with my hard cock and rock your motherfucking world,” he said, taking his cock in hand to guide it to me. I held my breath as he slid it in. He put his hands on my knees and I wiggled my feet around his neck. He began slowly rocking his hips back and forth, going in deeper with each thrust.

  “Oh…god…yes,” I moaned, mashing my tits together until the nipples almost touched. I squeezed my nipples and arched my hips into him. I could feel his cock burrowing deep inside me. The walls of my pussy squeezed and milked him as he moved.

  “Fuck…your cock feels amazing.” I sighed, closing my eyes. “Fuck me harder, Cain. Ram that big cock into my sweet pussy.”

  “Yes,” he moaned. “Your pussy…is so…fucking…tight.”

  He tightened his grip on my knees and started slamming his cock into me. I flounced on the bed. The headboard slammed against the wall. I had to hold my tits to keep them from flopping up and down. The head of his cock kept hitting the back of my cunt. It didn’t take long for me to come. I felt like the top of my head was about to blow off.

  “Yes…god…come with me, Cain. Fill me up with your hot seed.”

  “Yes, baby…fuck. So…fucking…tight.”

  Cain groaned as he filled me with his hot, milky goodness. I could feel it coating my pussy, wet, sticky, hot. My body shuddered against him. I came in a wave, squirting him with my juices, soaking his cock and balls and the bed beneath us.

  Cain rammed into me a few more times and then blew out a long breath. He looked at me and smiled. I sighed happily and smiled back.

  “Thanks for making me famous, Mr. Bohannon,” I said, rubbing my cunt against him. “It feels amazing.”

  “It’s been my pleasure, Miss Poole,” he said, giving me a soft smile. He let my legs drop around his waist and leaned down to kiss my lips. “And just think, we’ve only just begun.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed.

  Yes, my darling, we’ve only just begun.

  THE END

  I hope you enjoyed Big Bad Alpha. For your reading pleasure, I’ve included numerous bonus stories. Please refer to the table of contents to choose what to read next or continue reading. Up next: Big Bad Fake Groom.

  Big Bad Fake Groom - Sample

  I need a wedding.

  I need a bride.

  But marriage is my worst nightmare, so why not fake it?

  The only thing worse than marriage?

  A virgin who wants to wait ‘til the wedding night.

  I’m New York’s wealthiest bachelor.

  Oil is my business and women are my pleasure.

  And the sound of wedding bells makes me cringe.

  Until I find out my inheritance depends on me getting engaged.

  So I do exactly what I do best. I buy a solution.

  Paige Scott is the hottest upcoming painter on the NY art scene and needs the publicity as much as I need my inheritance.

  A deal made in heaven, right?

  Almost.

  The virgin insists that we don’t do it before the wedding.

  Marriage and virginity, REALLY?

  But Paige is the biggest tease I’ve ever gone hard for.

  Well, I sure can RISE for this challenge.

  I’m going to make her wet. I’m going to make her ache for me. Then, I’m going to steal her virginity before the big day.

  And once I get it, I’m gone.

  But I never counted on actually wanting to say, ‘I do.’

  Chapter One

  Paige

  “Finer strokes, my dear Paige. Finer strokes.”

  She focused on doing what Professor Grey instructed her to do by adjusting her grip on the paintbrush. The strokes on the canvas were smoother then. Somehow he always knew exactly what needed to be done.

  Paige turned on her stool to give an appreciative smile to Professor Grey. He was an older man with gray hair twisted back into a ponytail and a white beard that reminded his students of a real-life Santa Claus. He even had the potbelly that poked out through paint-splattered shirts.

  “You are doing wonderful,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. “More advanced than some of my graduating seniors this year.”

  The compliment cheered her up instantly. Two months of living in the hustle of New York City had taken a toll on her emotionally. She dearly missed both her parents who were back in Wyoming. This was the first time in her life she had gone this long without seeing them face to face, and it was hard every single day to not feel homesick. It didn’t help that her mother cried every time they spoke on the phone at the end of Paige’s hectic days of classes and figuring out where all the dining places were.

  New York University was spread throughout several city blocks. It took forty minutes to an hour just to walk to a class from her dorm. She didn’t mind so much though, except in the winter when it was freezing.

  It was a drastic difference compared to the quietness of her hometown. There were only 5,000 people there, and they lived on sixty acres of farmland. Hearing the constant sound of cars, alarms, and late-night chatter was also drastically different.


  And there were times that Paige wondered if moving to New York had been the right thing to do after what had happened. She quickly shut that last trailing thought down. There would be a time to deal with all that later, not while she was in her freshman painting class.

  “Really?” Paige asked.

  He nodded and let out a soft chuckle. “Yes. That’s a scary thought, now isn’t it?” He gazed down at her with kind blue eyes. “How are you handling your first two months here at NYU? Feeling homesick at all?”

  “Yeah, a little. If I’m being honest, it’s been hard,” she said. “I miss my parents, but I assume that’s normal.”

  “Normal as can be. You came from Wyoming, correct?” He tilted his head to the side, watching her closely.

  “Yes. My parents own a farm, so the nightlight is a change of pace for me.” She shrugged, trying hard not to think about home. It would be far too easy to dive into another depression about missing her family and her old room.

  Professor Grey laughed. “I imagine it is. Well, try to stick to being here in New York. It’s a lifetime experience and a wonderful opportunity for a woman such as yourself.”

  He continued down the line of students. Paige finished up her painting with a pleased smile. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. That much she had recognized when opening the acceptance letter over a year ago to find out she had also been selected for a hefty scholarship that at least covered her food and housing. Everything else had fallen onto her parents’ shoulders, who insisted they had saved for a day when her dreams and talents would take her places.

  It had taken to her New York City of all places. The big city. And for a small-town country girl like her, it was different…even terrifying at times.

  She cleaned up her workstation as Professor Grey talked about next week’s student critique. He excused them a few minutes later with a bid for them to have a good weekend.

  Slipping the strap of her leather tote onto her shoulder, Paige filed out with the rest of her freshman classmates, but she didn’t bother talking to anyone. They were all nice, but several of them were too high class for her. They didn’t have problems with money. They were only going to New York University because their parents could afford it and they were required to go to school if they wanted access to a wealthy lifestyle. Students like Paige were the oddballs who wore cheap leggings and T-shirts to every class.