Bad Beats: A Rock-Star Step-Brother Romance

by C. L. Riley

  “What are you doing?” I squeal.

  What if he drops me or strains his back?

  He might make me feel like a sultry vixen, but I’m well aware how much I weigh. No compliment, no matter how heartfelt, can change the number on the scale.

  “I’m carrying you into that ocean. Is there a problem?” He strides down the sandy path to the surf’s edge, not once faltering.

  “Uh, no, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me? What are you talking about?” He marches us right into the bluest water I’ve ever seen.

  “I’m not skinny,” I blurt the obvious.

  “Thank God,” he chuckles. “You’re a woman. The woman I’m going to fuck in the Atlantic Ocean.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. Shag Steal has officially won my heart, which means he’s eventually going to break it. I’ll deal with the heartbreak when it happens, because right now, I’m going to shag my rock-star.

  * * *

  Shag

  I stop when the water hits just below my ribcage and let Cadie slide down my body into its soothing warmth. My goal is to protect our lower anatomy from any prying eyes. We’re on private property, but I never underestimate the paparazzi. I trust Omar has things under control, but the last thing I want is my personal moment with Cadie exposed to the world. She would hate that.

  I hate that she’s worried her weight will somehow put a burden on me. I want to erase every negative comment her ex ever said to her, once and for all, giving her the freedom she deserves to be who she is without inhibition. The fact she undressed in front of me is a start in the right direction.

  “How does the water feel?” I dip my head down and kiss her neck.

  “Like a bath.” She responds with a nip to my left nipple, sending a shockwave to my cock.

  “Wrap your legs around me and hang on,” I instruct, shifting my hands under her round rump.

  She obeys and drapes her arms over my neck, rewarding me with a leisurely kiss filled with promise.

  I grip her ass cheeks and bend my knees, driving up and into her tight cunt. She feels like a velvet sheath, and each time I thrust, the water rolls between us, slapping and rocking, enhancing the sensations.

  I’m not going to last long. No way. Not with her nipples skating over my chest and her nails digging into my shoulders.

  “Fuck. Yes, Shag. Like that,” she whimpers, her hips grinding as she’s propelled closer toward her own release.

  “Babe, I’m going to come. Your pussy feels too fucking good.” I fight to hold back, waiting for her.

  Thank God I don’t have to wait long. Her walls clamp down around my cock, and her whole body shudders.

  The soft keening moans, coming from her parted lips, send me sailing into oblivion. Throwing my head back, I stare heavenward. With the sky painted blue above us; the water churning as our bodies thrash; and Cadie coming undone in my arms—my climax is like a spiritual experience.

  Even after I’ve emptied myself inside her, I resist letting her go; and all over again, I’m overwhelmed with unfamiliar emotions that scare me more than I’ll ever admit.

  What is this woman doing to me? Is she bewitching me?

  It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she pulled out some ancient tome and admitted to casting a love spell.

  I hate to think her little experiment will be over in a week, because I have a sneaking suspicion a week of shagging Cadie O’Shea won’t be nearly enough. My plan to fuck her out of my system is backfiring.

  Her whole body tenses and she sucks in a breath, putting a stop to my uncertainties.

  “Shag, I think someone’s photographing us.”

  She untangles herself from my hold and drops neck deep into the water. I’m grateful she had her back to the shoreline, which hopefully was enough to hide her identity.

  Shielding my eyes, I search for our uninvited voyeur and find him not far from the cabana, half hidden behind a palm tree. Omar is already approaching him from behind. I have no doubt my security guard will deal with the situation.

  I take a few more minutes to scrutinize the area and am relieved to see that other than the one intruder, we’re alone. I have a good idea who the culprit is. I’ll confirm once we embark. Right now I have a frightened woman to console. She’s actually shivering, in spite of the ocean’s tropical temperature.

  “Omar’s got him, babe. You weren’t facing him, and the water was deep enough to cover…”

  “Just stop, okay? Let me have my moment. Being stalked and photographed might be an everyday occurrence for you, but it’s not for me. I feel violated, Shag. Can you understand?”

  “I’m trying to. Come here, please.” I hold out my hand. “Don’t let that asshole steal what just happened between us.”

  She gives me a nod and glances at my hand and then back at the cabana. When she’s assured we’re alone, she rises from the water and takes my extended hand.

  I’m pleased to see Omar has handled his business, and the fucker is gone.

  She lets out a sigh. “It’s not your fault, Shag. I understand its part of fame’s price. I just don’t like that we have to pay it. And you should probably give Omar a raise.”

  “Already at the top of my list, babe. Let’s go have a drink and I’ll find out what Omar knows.”

  “Okay.”

  “How about a piggyback? That way you’ll be behind me.” I turn my back toward her.

  She climbs up, and I realize my idea wasn’t the smartest. With her wet pussy pressed against me, my dick stiffens.

  Anyone watching would have the celebrity photo of the year. Shag Steal emerging from the ocean; cock hard; a naked woman riding on his back.

  I hope like hell LMZ is too busy in LA and New York to find their way to our secluded corner of the island.

  If the respectable Rolling Rock Magazine is gunning for non-sanctioned photos, and I believe their reporter is indeed the guilty one; then I can only imagine what the less reputable gossip source would do to get their hands on such candid shots.

  They’d do and pay just about anything. I need to make sure they have nothing to buy.

  Chapter Ten

  Cadie

  “No one’s busy thinking bad things about you. They’re all too busy thinking bad things about themselves.”

  -Patrick Stump

  My time with Shag has become blurred, forming a tapestry of memories, stitched together as reminders of our daytime escapades and ecstasy-filled nights.

  It’s hard to believe we’ve reached the cruise’s final evening and the end of ten unforgettable days of sun and sex. I’m doing everything in my power not worry to about what happens once we dock in Miami tomorrow morning. Shag swears we will continue our romance and make our relationship public. I requested he hold off until I tell my father and figure out the best way to deal with the media attention his announcement will generate, forcing me and my life into the spotlight for his rabid fans to dissect and then condemn.

  The chubby girl who gets the rock-star will undoubtedly cause a frenzy of opposing views. I’ll have to shut down my social media accounts, not that I use them that much anyway, but still. People will harass me at work, and the paparazzi will hound me with questions wherever I am. My life is going to be scrutinized, analyzed, and publicized, whether I like it or not.

  The question is: do I like Shag enough to endure it?

  I’m pretty sure I do, and my feelings may be stronger than like.

  Stretched across the bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Agonizing over what’s coming next is putting a serious damper on my mood. Staying in the now and enjoying the moments as they add up has become my latest goal and something Shag has been helping me embrace. He’s helped with so much, pushing me to live more dangerously by taking risks I wouldn’t have dreamed of before. He’s encouraged me to live with passion and pride while learning to value what makes me who I am. He’s almost convinced me that we can do this relationship thing, back in the ‘real world.’


  The incredible shagging doesn’t hurt either.

  Be in the moment, be in the now, I chant the words silently, but the mantra doesn’t work the same without Shag urging me on. When he’s around, I’m occupied with his overpowering presence and how he makes the practice of living in the present seem so simple.

  Considering my current moment consists of me waiting for Robin to finish up in the shower, it’s no real surprise my mind has wandered off. I could have gone to Shag’s cabin, but I want to surprise him with my gown and the amazing cat mask I’ll be wearing to the formal masquerade ball, the cruise’s final, big event.

  I’m counting on the ultimatum he gave Marcus Rodriquez, the Rolling Rock reporter, and trust it will keep him away from me for one more night. I’ve declined all his interview requests, and Shag somehow managed to get a hold of the photos taken on Grand Turk.

  I do my part to avoid Rodriquez as well, always making sure to sit at the opposite end of the table whenever we’re forced to dine together, and I never allow him to catch me alone. I’ve noticed him lurking around the ship when we’re between destinations but never at any of the ports, thank God. The few times we’ve made actual eye contact left me feeling apprehensive. It’s like he has a plan and is just waiting to unveil its devastation.

  Shag insists he’s handled the situation, but Roxie and Robin both believe my instincts shouldn’t be discounted. The best I can do is stay out of his path tonight, which might prove difficult with everyone hiding behind masques.

  On my way to the cabin, after spending an amazing day exploring Nassau with Shag, I spotted Rodriguez talking to Misty, the PA from hell. The two were so involved in their conversation, I snuck by unnoticed.

  Shag plans to fire Misty first thing tomorrow and is going to file a formal complaint and possibly a law suit against Marcus Rodriquez. I just can’t shake the feeling they are one step ahead of him.

  I hope I’m wrong.

  I’m so caught up in my thoughts it takes Robin calling my name three times to get my attention.

  “Should I ask what’s on your mind?” She enters my bedroom, wearing only a white fluffy towel, her hair a wet mass of tangles.

  “We would need all night for me to explain everything happening in my head.” The attempt to make light of my worries falls flat.

  “Good or bad?” She pulls my gowns from the closet. “At least give me a clue.”

  “A little of both, I guess.”

  “What about the dresses? Have you made up your mind?” She raises the basic black gown up before presenting a jade dress that is far bolder in both color and style. “You have to choose, you know. It’s important to make the right decision.”

  It’s obvious she’s referring to more than my clothing options, once again questioning my wisdom, or lack of, in relation to all things Shag Steal. I swallow a snippy retort guaranteed to get her up in arms and answer her question instead, “I thought I would wear the black and be safe, but nothing about his trip has been safe, has it?”

  “Uh…you’re shagging the sexiest rock-star on the planet, anywhere and anytime you get the chance. I’d say you left ‘safe’ behind the first night your spread your legs.”

  “Ouch! You make it sound so…so sleazy.”

  I know that’s exactly what she thinks about my relationship with Shag. The sleaze factor is high on her list of reasons for me to shut him down the minute we leave the ship behind. I guess leaving the ship is my cue to stop making a fool of myself.

  She’s warned me countless times this past week to keep my emotions out of the equation.

  My heart must not have understood the memo, because it added one Shag, plus one Cadie, and ended up with an oddly mismatched couple that just might work.

  “You figure it out. I need to get ready too. It’s not all about you, all the time.” She tosses the dresses on my bed, shocking me.

  Things have been a tad tense, but this is over the top.

  “Now you’re just being a bitch,” I snap. We’ve been bickering the past two days, all over my so-called stupidity with Shag.

  She seems to have forgotten that she was the one who begged me to go with her to the Crude Element concert in the first place, and then encouraged me to pursue him, to have a fling, fuck someone famous, all in the name of fun. I’ve had fun, all right. I just don’t want it to end with our vacation. Is that a crime?

  I haven’t bitched about her constant drunken behavior or the fact I know she slept with both twins, Marx and Stix. Not together, at least. I hope. That would be too weird. Shag informed me they frequently screw around with the same women, making it a competition of sorts.

  And she has the nerve to get all judge-y about me and Shag.

  Grabbing my towel, I march to the bathroom, while she storms the opposite direction to answer a knock at the door.

  Robin greeting Tony, ready to beautify us one final time, is the last thing I hear before turning on the water. It better still be hot!

  My BFF, Misty, and that freaking reporter are so not ruining my last night with Shag. I won’t let them. This is supposed to be a magical evening to remember. I have every intention of creating a memory that will last forever.

  * * *

  Shag

  The ballroom is brimming with people and uncontained excitement. It looks as if every winner and guest is in attendance, eager to enjoy one last bash aboard the Starlight Sea Queen. They all have adhered to the strict dress code, which doesn’t surprise me. Getting ejected from the cruise’s biggest event would be a fucked up way to end a voyage. I’ve managed to follow the code, for the most part.

  Masked men and women swirl around the floor, doing their best to match steps with the classical music streaming through the high quality sound system.

  I want to laugh. Our passengers are into rock, punk, and pop. I wonder how long this formal charade will last before someone finds a way to hook up an IPod, featuring a more modern playlist

  Music won’t be the only thing that changes as the night goes on.

  Bowties and suit jackets will end up tossed on tables, and women will discard their heels under those same tables once enough liquor is consumed, and I have a feeling, by the way folks are downing drinks, it won’t take long.

  I agreed to meet Cadie at nine, an hour after the event’s official start time. Due to our early morning arrival in Miami, Misty, ever the control freak, determined an earlier start would be the better option for our big finale. All I know is that I can’t wait to be done with the over-organized bitch. We’ve barely spoken since I said no to her advances and hooked up with Cadie. Since then she’s become chummy with my latest nemesis, Marcus Rodriguez.

  When I’m done with the reporter, he won’t be working for Rolling Rock or any credible publication. He’ll be lucky to find employment with LMZ.

  “Care to dance?” a woman with a feathery masque asks, leaning close and brushing against me.

  She’s blonde with tits that explode from her low-cut gown. Her lips are painted crimson, and her arms are weighted down with bangles. I can’t quite figure out the look she’s going for, but before meeting Cadie, the fact she was blonde and stacked would have been enough to arouse my interest. I would have taken her somewhere private, like a bathroom or utility closet, and released my pent up adrenaline with her mouth around my cock. Now the idea of touching her even to dance sounds revolting.

  I don’t bother with an answer, shaking my head instead. At least she’s not a complete airhead. She takes the hint and moves away, setting her sights on Stix. Apparently, even with our faces obscured, we’re recognizable to our fans, which I find amusing, considering I barely recognize myself.

  My Huntsman tailored suit was designed specifically for this cruise. It’s the only one I packed. The rebellious rock-star part of me refused to add a dress shirt or tie, instead pairing the pricey piece with a solid black t-shirt and Harley Davidson boots. My gauge ear plugs are black with a thin ring of diamonds and are my only nod, besides the suit, to the ev
ening’s formalities. Too lazy to worry about choosing a mask, I had Misty pick up a simple Zorro replica that does little to shield my identity. My height and bald head are dead giveaways, and there was no way in hell I was donning a wig.

  If I could get away with it, I’d boycott this whole ball and its forced extravagance.

  I am, however, despite my aversion, eager to check out the mask Cadie picked out in Punta Cana. She’d been all cloak and dagger, sending Omar to retrieve one she’d seen in a local shop, refusing to give me any hints. Omar wouldn’t give up the details either, siding with her. Had it been anyone besides Cadie he was covering for, his forthcoming raise might have been forfeit.

  With my sexy redhead occupying my mind, I scan the crowded room, wondering what’s taking her so long. She’s already fifteen minutes late. I wanted her to get dressed in my cabin, but she’d insisted on going back to hers, something about surprising me. I hope she isn’t in there arguing with Robin.

  Roxie let it slip that the two had been bickering the past few days…about me. Cadie’s roommate thinks I’m good only for sex and should be ditched the minute we hit dry land.

  Cadie believes otherwise.

  I’m relieved to know I’ve become more than a temporary research experiment. I am all for continued experimentation, but on a more permanent basis/relationship.

  Placing the word permanent next to the word relationship, in the same sentence, is inconceivable. Or I should say, was inconceivable, because I’ve finally found a woman I want to continue seeing.

  She’s already made it further past my one night rule than any woman since Lila. I keep waiting for my desire to wane, but it only increases. The more I’m with Cadie the more I want her. Go fucking figure. Now I just need to convince her that dealing with the press and naysayers will be worth the hassle, and later tonight, I plan to pull out all the weapons in my woo-a-woman arsenal.

  She wasn’t the only one sending Omar on secret shopping trips. I’d made use of his skills too and just happen to have two gifts to show for his efforts. After a few obligatory dances, I intend to get her back to my suite and present them, along with all the reasons why she should stick with me.