Break The Bed (Rock Gods Book 2)

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Break The Bed (Rock Gods Book 2) Page 1

by Joanna Blake




  Break The Bed

  ROCK GODS

  Joanna Blake

  Contents

  Break The Bed

  Foreword

  Newsletter Signup

  TOC Instructions

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Epilogue

  TOC Instructions

  Excerpt of Torpedo

  Excerpt of Cockpit

  Excerpt of Cuffed

  Excerpt of Go Long

  Excerpt of Grind

  Excerpt of Bro’

  Excerpt of A Bad Boy For Summer

  TOC Instructions

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Break The Bed

  ROCK GODS BOOK TWO

  I’m willing to fight dirty. Blackmail, seduction, and bribery. Nothing is beneath me when I decide I want her in my bed.

  I drink champgane for breakfast and have dozens of women at my beck and call. I don’t need anything, or so I tell myself. Life is perfect until she walks in…

  Sabrina is the label’s answer to my PR situation. She’s so beautiful she makes me think crazy things. Like that maybe my perfect life is pretty empty without her.

  The problem is, she is all business. She wants me on a schedule and in control. She’s immune to my charms. But she doesn’t realize how low I will go when I want something badly enough.

  I can’t seem to stop ruffling her feathers, even if I feel bad about it afterwards.

  She’s off limits. But when we start butting heads, I want to settle things the old-fashioned way.

  I want to break the bed.

  *The ROCK GODS series can be read out of order or as stand alones. Happy Ever After, no cliffhangers, and no cheating guaranteed!*

  Foreword

  This book was previously released under the title SLAY ME. It has been extensively rewritten and expanded.

  As always, a Happy Ever After is guaranteed!

  Enjoy!

  Xoxox,

  Joanna

  Copyright © 2017 by Joanna Blake

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Newsletter Signup

  To learn more about my books, giveaways and more please sign up here!

  No spam, ever!

  Xoxox,

  Joanna

  For all the boys in the band

  STOP!

  Please use the TOC (located in the upper left hand of your screen) to navigate this book. If you're zoomed out, please tap the center of the screen to ensure you are out of page flip mode.

  Thank you so much for understanding,

  Pincushion Press

  Prologue

  Nick

  “I’d like to thank my fans…”

  Nick stared bleary eyed at the golden statue in his hands as the crowd went absolutely wild.

  “For this award.”

  He leaned toward the busty blond pop star who was presenting.

  “What’s the award for, doll?”

  She said something and he made a face, unable to hear a word of it over the crowd.

  “Well, I can’t hear a fucking word you said. So, thank you for this award for the biggest fucking cock in rock and roll!”

  He held it up and the crowd exploded. He grabbed his shaft through his leather pants and tugged on it. The screaming got even louder, if that was possible.

  The lights dimmed and he started to wander offstage until he felt someone take his arm. He stumbled offstage and followed the signs to the greenroom.

  He needed another drink.

  “Here love, would you do something with this for me?”

  The girl standing by the velvet rope gave him a dazzling smile and accepted the statue.

  He grabbed a shot of tequila from the VIP lounge bar, dropping a fifty for the bartender. Drinks were free, but he always tipped the help. He grinned, throwing the lemon over his shoulder.

  Slow clapping from the corner caught his attention. Fucking Bruce. The biggest pain in the ass alive and one of his best friends.

  Hell, he was one of his only friends. His band. His mates from school. Kendall and Bruce.

  Everyone else was just a walk-on.

  “Well done.”

  Nick tipped his drink, sloshing most of it down his forearm. He licked his hand and chugged the rest of the shot. He held his hand out and the glass was magically refilled.

  “Thanks, mate.”

  He swaggered across the room. Bruce watched him, an amused look on his handsome face.

  “Congrats on the prize. The speech, not so much.”

  “What are you so happy about, you smug bastard?”

  Bruce’s expression cleared and Nick kicked himself mentally. Bruce was not happy. They both knew it.

  He hadn’t been happy in a long time.

  Nick knew he had his reasons, but to be that rich and famous and such a sourpuss… what a fucking waste. Still, Bruce had been famous longer than any of the three friends, and Nick knew it was wearing on him.

  Nick had his own way of handling the stress and strain of megastardom. Mostly alchohol and female companionship. He slapped Bruce’s back, determined to cheer his friend up.

  He just needed a little… perspective.

  “You know what your blood problem is?”

  “What?”

  “You need to drink more.”

  He downed his shot and waved for another.

  “Bring two!”

  “I’m not drinking tonight.”

  “Right, right. More for me.”

  “Drinking isn’t the answer to anything, Nick.”

  “You’re such a mother hen.”

  Bruce just raised an eyebrow, cool and collected as always.

  “If you don’t want to drink, at least pop off with someone. You need to get laid, mate.”

  That was the wrong thing to say apparently. Bruce stood to go.

  “Hey wait mate, I didn’t tell you about Kendall.”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  “He’s got this bird, mate. Fit. Not one of us.”

  “She’s
not in the biz?”

  “She’s a civilian, mate.”

  “We told him to keep it to the industry. Everyone else is just a fan.”

  “He doesn’t think so. He’s moved her in with him.”

  Bruce exhaled.

  “Is he happy?”

  “As a lark.”

  Nick made some whistling sound, like a couple of love birds.

  “Then leave it alone.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I have no one to go out trolling for chicks with now.”

  Bruce laughed, shaking his head.

  “You always said the women come to you.”

  “They do. Course they do.”

  Bruce held out his hand and Nick stood to shake it.

  “You know, some people actually want more out of life Nick.”

  Nick had no idea what to say to that. His friend was getting deep as the years rolled on. They used to get wild together. Now Kendall was settling down and Bruce was turning into a Buddhist Monk or something.

  “You’re fucking wise, mate.”

  Bruce just shook his head.

  “No. I’m not. I’m just tired. Enjoy your night.”

  Nick grinned.

  “Always, mate.”

  Nick partied the rest of the night with a couple of girls he met at one of the after parties. When he woke up at three o’clock the following day, he couldn’t even remember their names.

  Chapter 1

  Nick

  Two years later

  They were tearing at his clothes, screaming his name. There were too many of them. He flailed, trying to escape. Fans surrounded him, swallowing him up like he was a thing, not a living, breathing person.

  And then, just like that he was alone.

  The dark emptiness stretched in every direction. He turned in a circle, a new sort of panic starting to overwhelm him. Then he ran.

  The nothingness seemed to go on forever. It felt like he was running for years. But when his eyes snapped open, he realized it was just a dream.

  Nick sat up and reached for the bottle of champagne by his bed. It was warm and flat, but he drank it anyway. He lay back with a sharp exhale.

  The partying had caught up with him, and more than a little. He was tired. And he was having these horrible dreams every night. He still couldn’t decide which was worse.

  Being torn apart by his fans.

  Or the emptiness that wanted to eat him alive.

  He rolled to the side, grabbing his iPhone. Despite everything, he still knew what day it was. The only reason he did was it was nearly his mum’s birthday.

  He had not sent nearly enough gifts yet. He sent her things constantly, from all over the world. Anything that he thought she might fancy. Didn’t matter if she didn’t like them. She could share what she didn’t want with her friends. But it wasn’t enough.

  What she wanted, of course, was a visit to good old London.

  A visit with a girl on his arm.

  A visit announcing a baby.

  Mum wanted to be a grannie.

  He grimaced at the thought and started throwing things into his cart. Crystal vases, cookware, an ornate chandelier, jewelry.

  Oh hell, might as well hit Chanel while he was at it.

  He had spent more than $100,000 before he was done twenty minutes later. He had it all sent to her townhome, with a note to make sure it was signed for, during business hours while her butler was on duty.

  He fell back against the sheets, staring at the sliver of light coming through the window. He knew he should write. Should want to grab the guitar and go nuts like he used to. It used to be like an addiction.

  Writing. Playing. Singing. Performing.

  But that urge was gone. Now it was too easy. Second nature. And everyone wanted the old songs, anyway.

  He grimaced, deciding whether it was worth giving up warm champagne for the promise of eggs and coffee.

  He debated for a while.

  In the end, he ended up staying in bed.

  When he woke up again, it was dark outside.

  Chapter 2

  Sabrina

  Sabrina stared at the neat rows of black heels in her closet. They looked like soldiers. One after the other. They were all nearly identical black Jimmy Choo stilettos.

  She frowned. Didn't she have a gray pair in here somewhere? Hmmm… guess not. She pulled out the newest pair and stepped into them. They were still perfectly shiny, just the way she liked them.

  Sabrina liked to have everything just so. It wasn’t because she expected perfection from everyone else. It was simply because it made her feel less panicked about everything.

  If everything was in it’s place, then she could relax. Go with the flow. A little bit anyway.

  She was already dressed in a tight black pencil skirt, sheer black stockings and a white silk blouse. Her uniform, as her coworkers jokingly called it. It didn't bother her though.

  Steve Jobs had a uniform. The most successful people in the world did. It didn’t make sense to waste time on things like picking out clothes. It was a distraction from the lessons her parents had drilled into her for as long as she could remember.

  Work hard.

  Succeed.

  Win.

  Nothing else really mattered.

  Besides, the outfit in all its variations looked nice. Classic. It was professional and flattering. And the tailored fit kept her from looking like a cater waiter.

  All her clothes were impeccably designed. She only wore the best garments, went to one of the best salons in LA, worked out with the best trainer.

  Win.

  She was the youngest in her department at Metro Records as well. It was the best record label in Los Angeles. No. The world.

  Win.

  And now she'd been given her first high profile client. The biggest money maker at the label. Bigger than all the other artists combined.

  Nick Falcon.

  She'd grown up on his music, even danced to it at her prom. Well, if you could call awkwardly standing close to someone and swaying dancing. Sabrina didn't date much back then.

  She didn't date much now either.

  Scratch that.

  She didn’t date at all.

  She was meeting her new client this afternoon for the first time. Drinks at his place. He didn’t do the whole boardroom thing. She'd been working with his team for weeks now to set everything up.

  She was ready.

  She wasn't even nervous.

  That was a laugh.

  She was terrified.

  Never mind that this could make or break her career. Never mind that if she lost her job she'd have nowhere to go other than her empty family home. It was much worse than that.

  The man himself scared her. Nick was gorgeous and talented but it was more than that. There was something about him. Something… virile. And wild. The man did whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

  He had zero impulse control. And all that money and fame meant there were zero limits on what he could accomplish.

  Throw an impromptu concert on a beach in Ibiza? Check. Date three supermodels at the same time? Check. Fill his private jet with bubbles just to win a bet? Check.

  According the tabloids, he'd done all that and more. Most of it just in the last month.

  He was gorgeous, with a face that graced countless magazine covers and stole a hundred thousand hearts. He was fit too, strong and muscular.

  Nick was exceptionally talented, with a long career and at least ten gold records to his name. He was rich beyond imagining, with houses all over the world, including the one she was about to visit in Los Angeles.

  Even with all the trappings of wealth, there was something about him that was utterly wild and untamed. Out of control. Dangerous even.

  Nick was primal.

  And Sabrina had a strong suspicion that Nick Falcon was even wilder than he looked.

  And really hard to handle.

  She squared her shoulders.

  He'
d just have to learn to see things her way. To behave, just enough to get the job done. To listen to the studio for once.

  And if he didn't want to listen, she'd make him.

  Chapter 3

  Nick

  Nick was playing ping pong with his cousin Marley when the doorbell rang. He ignored it. Nick didn't answer his own door. He didn't pour his own milk. Hell, the only thing he really did for himself was wipe his own arse.

  He probably could find someone to do that for him too. If he wanted to. He seriously considered it for a moment before mentally walking through the process.

  Nah.

  God, he was bored.

  The doorbell rang again.

  "Jesus Christ! Somebody bloody get the Goddamned door!"

  He threw his ping pong racket at the floor, hitting his foot.

 

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