by Jenna Jacob
ROCK ME HARDER
Licks of Leather, Book 2
Jenna Jacob
Published by Jenna Jacob
Copyright 2020, Dream Words, LLC
Edited by: Blue Otter Editing, LLC
ePub ISBN: 978-1-7325731-4-7
Print ISBN: 978-1-9521110-2-0
If you have purchased a copy of this eBook, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the rights to resell, distribute, print, or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. If you no longer want this book, you may not give your copy to someone else. Delete it from your computer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Author’s Note
I dazzle the world when I play the guitar,
But I never let anyone dazzle my heart…
Until I spent one night with her.
Darren Ash is living the dream. As lead guitarist for iconic rock band Licks of Leather, he seemingly has it all. But secretly he’s struggling to forget the woman he shared a scorching encounter with over two years ago. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her shattering in ecstasy, feels her soft body beneath him, and hears her screaming his name. Unable to purge his ache, he resolves to find and claim her. There’s just one problem… He doesn’t know her name.
Tori Combs can never forget foolishly tumbling into bed with bad-boy rocker Darren Ash. Every day, she sees his face. Every night, she’s haunted by memories of his addictive kiss and masterful touch. Thankfully, he’ll never find her; she made sure of that. If he did, he would destroy the new life she’s created…with the son he knows nothing about.
But Darren refuses to let her go. Soon, he’s at her door, demanding answers—and her heart. Though Tori tries to resist him, their undeniable passion explodes. But when he learns the shocking truth, can they recapture the chemistry they once shared? Or will her betrayal keep them apart forever?
Dedication
For you, amazing readers.
You are all my ROCK STARS.
Contents
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
Thank You
About the Author
Also by Jenna Jacob
Chapter One
Darren
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about, right there. Oh, yeah. That’s it, come to papa, you sexy things.” From the comfy beach lounger beside me, Syd Wilson slid his sunglasses to the end of his nose and locked a stare on the four bikini-clad beauties strolling on the sand. “You can have the two leggy brunettes. I want the blonde and the redhead.”
After wrapping up another nine months on the road, we—the members of famed rock group Licks of Leather—were enjoying our customary end-of-concert-tour sabbatical and chilling beachside in Maui. Lead singer Burk Jennings bought the pretentious, semi-secluded mansion as a tax write-off a few years back. It had been our oasis to relax, regroup, and decompress while drinking in the sun, rum-laced cocktails, and visions of barely dressed beauties—like the ones heading our way—ever since.
“Well, slap my ass and call me Daddy,” Syd exclaimed, rubbing his hands together greedily. “Those brunettes are twins. I’ve changed my mind. I want them.”
“Too late, fucker. You already called dibs on the blonde and redhead.”
“But they’re twins, dude. Twins! That shit’s at the top of my bucket list.”
“Stop whining. I’ll fill you in on all the dirty details after I put ’em in a coma,” I lied.
I had no intention or desire to bed any of them, but I wasn’t about to let Syd know that. If he ever discovered that I’d been luring eager groupies to my dressing room to talk instead of fuck after each concert, he’d shred my man card. He’d also bust my balls like he did keyboard player Ozzy Page and drummer Ross Walker. I didn’t know or care why the pair had been celibate since Jesus was in diapers, I just didn’t want my name added to Syd’s shit list.
“You’d do that. You’d rub my nose in it just for spite, wouldn’t you? Prick,” Syd grumbled under his breath before flashing a wide smile to the four women now pausing at the sand by our feet. “Good evening, ladies.”
“I told you it was them,” the blonde whispered breathlessly.
There was a hungry gleam in the redhead’s eyes as she silently knelt on the slats between Syd’s ankles and started climbing him like a spider monkey.
“Whoa.” He chuckled nervously.
Though noticeably startled by her bold behavior, he couldn’t peel his eyes off the pair of pillowy boobs spilling from her barely legal bikini top.
“Sign my tits, Syd,” she purred, cupping her breasts and shoving them in his face.
Grateful for not being the one she was trying to entice, I plastered on a fake-assed smile and watched the seduction unfold. Being a rock star had plenty of perks, but the dark sides to fame and fortune were all too real. Like the chick now throwing herself at Syd. Most men would call me insane, or worse, for growing disenchanted with the plethora of pussy women rubbed against me nearly every night. But it was getting old, fast.
Syd’s focus was still glued on the girl’s globes as he frantically smacked the pockets of his swim trunks. “Sorry, darlin’, I don’t have a pen to mark them with.”
“You can always use this.” The woman brazenly wrapped her hand around his dick and started stroking.
I arched my brows as Syd choked out in surprise, “Whoa. Easy there, sweet thing. After all, we’re in public.”
“I don’t care. I want you, Syd.”
“She wants you, man,” I echoed dryly with an indifferent shrug.
“Hate to break up the party, but dinner’s ready,” Ozzy called to us from the lanai.
Thank fuck!
“Damn the luck. Sorry, ladies, but we gotta go.” I stood and grabbed my towel.
Syd worked to pry the now visibly unhappy redhead’s hand off his junk as he crawled out from under her. He flashed me a grimace, then hastily headed toward the manor as if the hounds of hell were nipping his heels.
“No problem. I’ll be back for you tomorrow, Syd,” the redhead called out.
“And I’ll be inside…hiding,” he mumbled as we reached the lanai.
“Why, man? A couple of minutes ago you couldn’t wait to get busy.”
“That was before that ginger proved she was buckets full of crazy. She’s the type to rip your dick off and keep it as a souvenir to prove to her friends that she bagged a rock star. Christ. Aren’t there any women out there who just want me for me?”
I’d been wondering the same question for two years, three months, and five days—and yes, I was counting.
I thought I’d found her one hot, sticky night in Kansas City. But I’d been wrong. The breathtaking beauty who’d rocked my world with the most spine-bending orgasms of my life stole my heart. Then she promptly crushed it when I woke the next morning alone with a blurry photo of her on my phone and a bogus cell number.
Elizabeth—though it’s doubtful that was even her real name—fed me a mountain of bullshit, flipped my world on its axis, and then walked out the fucking door.
She’d fucked my world up so completely that I’d hired a private investigator to try and track her down. I’d even gone so far as to send out pleas on social media. But my posts and the PI hadn’t netted a damn thing.
Then six weeks later, the ground beneath my feet crumbled away when a popular celebrity gossip television show aired a personal and very private exposé about me. Oh, they didn’t bother mentioning a word about my musical talent but focused solely on the driving pain I was struggling with after the sudden death of my friend, mentor, and music legend, Mac Wayman. The whole world had a front-row seat to the anguish that had consumed me after his death. Like a fool, I’d sliced myself open that night in Kansas City and shown Elizabeth every inch of my broken heart.
She’d played her part like an Oscar Award winner as she drowned me in sympathy, milked every drop of grief and bereavement out of me by my cock, and made me feel alive again. Then she strolled out the door and sold every morsel of my personal anguish to the highest fucking bidder.
I’d never been kicked so viciously in the gut or had my ego eviscerated so completely in my life.
A rational man would have blocked the deceiving bitch from his memory, but not me. Not for lack of trying, but I couldn’t purge Elizabeth from my system with a golden-plated plunger. In one euphoric night, she’d managed to burrow so deep inside me I could still smell her, taste her, feel her…hear her scream my name as she shattered like fine crystal.
Tracking her down had become a moral imperative. It still was.
Tamping down my frustration over Elizabeth, I trailed Syd through the patio door and into the kitchen.
“How was your sex on the beach?” Ozzy smirked.
“Terrifying. Thanks for saving my life from that crazy bitch,” Syd drawled.
“What crazy bitch?” Burk asked, sliding his arm around the waist of his bride-to-be, our former road manager/promotions guru, Sofia Jackson.
Envy sliced deep as the couple exchanged a loving smile. Quickly dismissing the ache, I slapped Syd on the back. “He caught a real man-eater down on the beach.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t even fishing. I had my pole in my pants and everything.”
“There’s a first,” Ozzy drawled with a grin.
“Pole exposed or not, she still latched on to your worm.” I chuckled.
“And probably threw it back because it was too small,” Ross chortled dryly.
“When did you suddenly turn into a fucking comedian?” Syd jeered. “At least she found mine. Yours has probably crawled up under your liver from lack of use by now.”
The big drummer sent him a nasty smile. “No. It’s right where it belongs. Unlike you, I don’t have to prove I’m a man by shoving my dick in every available hole.”
Ross’s comeback ignited a volley of scathing insults.
After spending the last nine months listening to the same stupid banter, I’d had my fill. So I strode to the counter, loaded a plate with the seafood feast Sofia had prepared, then ducked outside to enjoy my meal in peace and quiet.
A few minutes later, Ozzy joined me on the lanai. The keyboard player was obviously seeking refuge from the commotion inside as well. Without a word, he sat down beside me and started eating. His silence was neither surprising nor insulting. Ozzy liked taking time to himself. I figured it was the only way he maintained his laid-back, easygoing nature. I could respect that since I used to be a lot like him. Sadly, my free, easy mien left the planet the night I met Elizabeth and hadn’t been seen since.
While Ozzy and I ate in companionable silence, the ocean waves thundered over the sand. When he finished his meal, the keyboard player stood, gave me a nod and a crooked grin, and wandered back inside the house.
The warm, briny breeze blowing off the ocean sent me tumbling back to that muggy, unforgettable night in Kansas City. But before that familiar tidal wave of angst could pull me under, a throaty female laugh grabbed my focus.
From the deck, I watched Burk and Sofia walking hand in hand along a path from the house to the beach. The lead singer stretched out on the chaise I’d vacated earlier before Sofia crawled onto his lap and straddled him. Burk’s mouth laid siege to her slender throat, and another shard of envy slashed me when Sofia tossed her head back and issued a guttural groan.
I didn’t need to watch any more of this shit. Turning toward the house, I strode toward the sliding glass door. Planning to hide in my room and lose myself in a preseason football game, I was reaching for the handle when my cell phone started to ring. Digging the device from the pocket of my swim trunks, I glanced at the caller ID.
When the name Angelo Russo—the private investigator I’d hired long ago—appeared, I nearly swallowed my tongue. A flicker of hope ignited the cold embers inside me.
“Did you find her?” I barked, disregarding any semblance of a civil hello.
“It’s good to hear your voice, too.” Angelo chuckled softly. “As a matter of fact…I think I have.”
“Who is she? Where is she?”
“Slow down. I haven’t been able to confirm anything yet, but—”
“I don’t give a shit if it’s confirmed or not. Tell me.”
“Verification pending, I think her name is Tori Elizabeth Combs.”
Elizabeth, huh? She’d told me a partial truth, though it didn’t ease the sting of betrayal, and it certainly didn’t absolve her from the lies she’d told.
The question I had been terrified to ask lay singeing the tip of my tongue and turned my gut to liquid. But I had to know.
“Is she…married?”
“No record of marriage that I could uncover,” Angelo assured.
A foolish flood of relief slid through me. “Where does she live?”
“Again, I haven’t substantiated any information yet. As soon as we’re done here, I’m going to book a flight and—”
“Dammit, tell me.”
I didn’t mean to yell at the man, but catching this break, verified or not, after two long years destroyed all the patience I possessed.
“I have an address of a house in south KC.”
She still lived in the city? Why the fuck didn’t she show up at any of the other concerts we’d performed there? I’d lost count of the number of hours I’d spent calling every law firm, checking out every restaurant and bar in my free time, hoping to find her.
“Just sit tight,” the PI continued. “I’ll book a flight to KC tomorrow and see if I can validate my infor—”
“Sit tight? You’re insane if you think I’m just going to kick back and wait for your call,” I barked. “Give me the address. I’ll find her. If I don’t, you’ll be the first call I make.”
“That’s not how I do business, Darren. I’d rather—”
“I don’t care what you’d rather do, Angelo. This is the first piece of tangible information you’ve been able to unearth in two years. There’s no way in I’ll risk you spooking this woman off before I get some goddamn answers.”
The line went silent for several long seconds before the man cleared his throat.
“I know you’re a hotshot superstar and all, but you’re not planning to hurt this girl, are you?”
“Hurt her?” I bellowed. “Hell no. I fucking love her.”
The instant the startling L word flew out of my mouth, my jaw dropped, and my body went numb. I had no idea why I’d blurted such an absurd statement, but it was out there now, hanging in the air and ringing in my ears.
I bit back a string of curses while another pregnant pause pervaded the call.
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“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t even know her name until a few minutes ago. How the hell can you be in love with a…stranger?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, exhaling heavily. “Look, I swear I have no intention of hurting her. I simply need to talk to her. Please, just text me the address. I’ll fly to Kansas City and let you know what I find. All right?”
“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me join you, but I’ll save my breath. Let me know what you find when you get to KC.”
“I will,” I assured before ending the call.
True to his word, the PI messaged me the address as I was charging up the stairs to my room. After booking a private jet out of Maui, I grabbed my guitar case and started packing my bags.
I glanced up to find Ross standing in the doorway wearing a quizzical expression. “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah. I-I…” Suddenly, had no idea what to say. While I got along with all the guys in the band, Ross and I weren’t exactly besties. Hell, he didn’t have a warm-fuzzy bone in his body, let alone act overly friendly with any of us. I wasn’t about to spill my guts to a man who’d probably never let a woman get close to him, let alone crawl inside his stony heart.
Ross arched a suspicious brow and studied me with a dissecting stare while he patiently waited for me to continue.
“I have some personal stuff to take care of on the mainland.”
“Everything all right? Family okay?”
“Yeah. My folks are fine, it’s just…I got some other stuff I need to handle.”
“Need help packing?”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”
With a nod, Ross continued down the hall as I zipped my suitcases closed.
