Tainted: The Complete Enemies-to-Lovers Rock Star Romance Box Set

by Carmen Jenner

  “Oh, fuck off, Quinn. I know how to take care of an infant. I’m dating Zed, remember? But if that kid shits, he’s on his own.”

  Brie shakes her head. “Go. I will be here virtually the whole time.”

  “Yeah, but not the whole time. We’re still gonna have to leave him with Mrs. Hellfire over there for half a set. We should have hired a nanny.”

  “Levi, there are twenty thousand Frenchmen out there who will not wait for you to hire a nanny at the last minute.” She wipes her lipstick off my cheek and presses her forehead to mine. “I love you, my annoying rock star, but get out of here.”

  “Why don’t you just call me daddy? ’Cause you know I’ll be owning that arse on the tour bus later.”

  Deb makes a gagging sound from the corner. She’s like an angry cat that someone forgot to feed.

  Brie’s mouth twists up in a grin. “Now who is the comedian?”

  “See you out there.” I spank her arse, and she shakes her head. I grab Ash’s tiny hand, and even in sleep, he clutches my finger tightly. Then I gently ease free and turn away from the loves of my life and head toward my other great love—music.

  I exit the green room and walk the hall, meeting Coop, Zed, and Kit—who looks a little green at the idea of playing a venue filled with thousands—backstage. Ali stands beside him. You’d think she’d be here supporting her husband, but you’d be wrong. She’s here for Kit. She’s still banging on about being his manager, something that Coop isn’t so happy about since she won’t manage us as a band. Her exact words were, “Why the fuck would I want to manage a bunch of overgrown teenagers?”

  You gotta hand it to Red, she sure knows how to keep a man on his toes.

  “Ready?” Zed asks, jumping up and down and twirling his sticks like he’s got OCD. Which of course, he does. He’s just never been diagnosed because his mum was a hippie.

  “Yeah, totally fucking ready,” I say, and my gaze slides to Ryan. We share a long look that I wasn’t sure we’d ever be sharing again. Not after he married the woman I loved. Not after Ash died, but here we are. “Speaking of ready, you look like you’re gonna hurl chunks, Kit. You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good,” he answers as if on autopilot.

  “There’s a bucket we keep backstage—you know, if you need it.”

  “He’s fine,” Ali growls. “Stop psyching him out.”

  I hold my hands up in surrender and grin at Ali. She punches me in the chest, and I throw her a wink before heading out on stage into the darkness that’s filled with twenty thousand people all screaming our name. The rest of the band follow and take up their positions. And then the lights go up, and a sea of human heads bob and eb before us.

  “How you doing, Paris?” Coop growls into the mic. A cheer goes up from the crowd. “I can’t hear you.”

  They shout again, louder this time, and I grin and look at my brothers. And we are brothers—we’re a band, a family. And while some of us have had some slightly incestual relationships in the past—I wouldn’t change any of it. The pain, the heartbreak, my attempted suicide ... nothing.

  Except for the part where my best friend is pushing up daisies.

  “Paris, you’re breaking my heart.” Coop plays with the crowd a little more. They stomp their feet on the ground, and it sounds like thunder rolling in, only I never felt a storm as mighty as this. Coop laughs. “That’s better. This is called ‘Blow’.”

  Zed leads us in and the next eight minutes are spent doing what Taint does best, rocking the fuck out as we play one song after the other.

  “So, Paris,” Ryan drawls into the microphone, “you might remember we put the call out for you guys to wear Ash’s shirt, little tribute for our brother who’s no longer here.” The cheers go up again, and I suddenly find it hard to swallow around the lump in my throat. “Jim, can we lower the lights?” The lights dim, just enough for us to actually make out the sea of faces, and more importantly, their shirts.

  I step up to the mic, staring at the ceiling of the arena. “Jesus, Ash, are you seeing this?”

  “Look how many beautiful pairs of French tits your face is on right now,” Coop says to the sky. I slide my finger over the fretboard and mimic a wolf whistle with my guitar.

  “That’s one he hasn’t been on before,” I say, and another cheer goes up.

  “Fuck yeah!” Zed screams into his mic.

  I glance out at the crowd again and read the handcrafted posters a few fans are holding. We Love You, Ash, and RIP, Ash, and Ash Cohen rocked my world. I shake my head. God, he’d both love and hate this shit. All he ever cared about was the band and the music, and that we were successful enough that he got to play for the rest of his life. A life that was cut way too short.

  “We’ve got one more really important thing for you guys to do right now,” Coop says. “We want you to sing so fucking loud that he’ll hear us all the way from heaven. Can you do that?”

  A roar goes up. I step up to my mic and say, “This one’s for you, brother. Tu me manques.”

  Zed counts us in to Ash’s song, “Cover Me”, and I swear the cheers are so loud and the voices so clear from the audience, that I bet all of Paris could hear them.

  “So, you guys know that Levi here is now an honorary Frenchman, right?”

  Cheers of “Vive la France” fill the stadium.

  “Yep, came here to escape his life, and fell in love with a French woman. They just had a baby.” He pauses to let that sink in, though most of them likely know. It was front page news.

  To my surprise, the screen behind us flashes from my face to a picture of Brie, Ash, and me at home, all cuddled up in bed together, sound asleep. Those fuckers took it from my phone, and while I’m shirtless with a baby on my chest, my woman’s rack is squeezed into a too-tight white tank, and I can see her nipples. I frown and shoot an irritated glance at Ryan, who’s busy ogling my wife-to-be like everyone else in this room.

  “Aww. Get a load of that, would ya? Have you guys seen his woman? I mean, she’s fucking hot. Like smoking hot. Way too good for this guy.” He jerks his thumb at me. “If I weren’t already a married man, I might even—”

  I step up to the mic. “If you like your balls where they are, do not finish that sentence.”

  Coop laughs. “Calm your tits, Quinn. I mean no disrespect.”

  “I’m pretty sure all you mean is disrespect.”

  “It’s true,” Zed says. “He’s got no manners.”

  “Right?” I say, turning to face the world’s greatest drummer. “Yeah, this one might look like a teenage dream,” I point to Coop, “but do not trust that face, ladies.”

  “Anyway, this schmuck is punching way above his weight, but don’t take my word for it. Let’s bring her out.”

  My Angry French Girl heads out on stage in a long black dress, smoky black eyes, and hair that’s been braided back from her face like some fucking stunning Viking woman. I get a boner just looking at her. Not ideal in these jeans. But I don’t think anyone is looking at me right now.

  She smiles, and slays every man in the room, probably some of the women too. “Bonsoir!”

  “On t'aime, Brielle!”

  Roadies scamper across the stage, bringing a seat for her, and getting her mic’d up. She takes her cello from the stand and sits, smiling sinfully at me as she nestles the instrument between her splayed thighs. I grin and shake my head. Thanking fuck I have a guitar slung over my crotch, so my massive erection is covered—mostly. Brie winks at me, and I throw my head back and puff out a breath.

  “Aww, aren’t they cute?” Coop says. “I think Levi might have a little problem.”

  “Fuck you, Ryan.”

  He laughs and grabs the mic stand. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the brilliant and equally fucking ... hot, Brielle Kagawa.”

  “Soon-to-be Quinn,” I correct, as my lovely hopefully-she-doesn’t-get-tired-of-my-dumbarse-and-will-one-day-be-my-wifey rolls her eyes and turns to nod at Zed who counts us in.
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  I play the whole rest of the set hovering near my woman. I can’t help it. I’m possessive, I’m too close, and all I want to do is take her backstage and fuck her till she screams, but a gift like hers should be shared. Besides, she’s smitten as fuck, and we’re completely vibing off one another. Everyone else disappears.

  Ryan has a couple more digs at my expense between songs, and when he starts in on Zed for fucking his sister, I join in. Kit—the poor bastard—doesn’t throw up, but spends the entire show looking as if he might, and before we know it, Zed is counting us in to our last song, and then we’re standing on stage looking out on a human sea of twenty thousand fans. It was a long, wild, fucked-up journey to get here, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

  “Paris, you’ve been amazing. We’ve been Taint,” Cooper Ryan says. “Thanks for the ride.”

  LIKE IT HOT?

  READ ON FOR A STEAMY DELETED SCENE FROM REVELRY.

  “Next time you need a wax, I’ll take you to a fucking beautician. Just don’t do stupid shit like this again,” Deb says.

  I just nod, because I’m afraid moving will cause my poor naked pussy to feel as if it’s on fire—or, even more on fire than it already is. “If either one of you care even remotely about her, you’ll get some ibuprofen and a cold pack, and keep it fucking coming all night.”

  Everyone leaves the room in a flurry of excitement and I want to die. I hold the washer between my legs, but even that has warmed against my flaming-hot skin, and I whimper a little as I roll onto my side.

  Why in the fuck do women do this to themselves? What the hell just happened? I feel like I just ... like I just signed onto some fucking BDSM porn shoot, had the shit fucked out of me, and was then shoved out into the cold without so much as a hug for aftercare.

  My whole vagina is throbbing, and sadly it’s not in a good way.

  When Coop returns ten minutes later it’s with a glass of water and ibuprofen. Levi comes in clutching a cold pack, and I cry because, apparently, I’m a motherfucking pussy when it comes to pain, but also, I adore them both for bringing me offerings of pain relief.

  They climb up on the bed. Cooper lies by my side and Levi settles between my legs. He wraps the end of the sheet around the gel-pack and lays it carefully against my vagina. It’s cold as fuck, but kind of nice too.

  “Looks fucking hot, Red,” he says, lifting the ice pack and licking his lips.

  “Do not touch me,” I warn. He gives a childlike little pout and runs his finger over the sensitised flesh of my outer labia. I hiss and jerk away, but his fingers cause desire to stir deep in my core.

  “I think you want me to touch you, Red.” He smirks. “I think you want me to kiss it better.”

  “No, I really don’t.” I murmur, though the protest sounds weak even to me. I know he sees straight through my ruse because he leans forward, his warm breath washes over me as he smiles like a devil with an agenda. I shiver. My mouth falls open, and an urgent breath rushes past my lips.

  Cooper tilts my chin up to his and kisses me, swallowing my mewling protests. Levi slides the ice pack gently over my pussy, until it’s resting on my pubic bone. His tongue snakes along my skin, licking me from opening to clit. I buck my hips beneath him. It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

  Levi’s tongue darts out, the hard silver ball of his piercing rolls over my needy flesh. I gasp, pulling away from Coop’s demanding kiss because I can’t breathe. I can’t think or talk when they touch me like this. I’m mindless, boneless—gone.

  Coop kisses along my jaw and down my neck. He slides his palm over my breast and pinches my nipple. I buck against the mattress. Levi wraps his arms over my thighs, pressing down on my pubic bone. He releases my clit with a loud suck. I jerk from the pain, but the second his mouth is gone, I arch my hips, begging for more.

  “Such a greedy little pussy.”

  “Be gentle with it. I intend to fuck it later,” Coop says. “Hard.”

  I’m soaked just thinking about it. I don’t feel Levi’s absence long because his tongue pushes inside, and he begins fucking me with short, sharp jabs. His stubble rubs against my pussy. My flesh is so raw, so tender, but he makes up for it with his tongue ring inside me, flicking against my internal walls

  “Make her come, Levi,” Coop commands.

  I don’t protest. I don’t beg him to stop. I moan, because I want it. I want his tongue, his hands, and his giant fucking cock inside me I want it all ... with both of my men.

  Levi removes his tongue from my body and stares up at me from between my legs. “Is that what you want, baby? To come?”

  I whimper; sore, exposed, and aching to be touched, to be fucked. “Yes.”

  “Say it, Red,” Levi whispers, he flicks his tongue ring against my clit, but not long enough to take me over the edge. He’s toying with me. They both are, I realise, as Coop pinches my nipple on the offbeat when Levi isn’t touching me.

  “You two are unnaturally cruel.”

  “You don’t like the way we play?” Coop asks, smirking again. If it wasn’t so beautiful, I might consider slapping that grin right off his face.

  “I don’t like the way you tease,” I say, gathering my wits about me.

  “I think you like it a lot,” Levi says, and without warning he plunges two fingers inside me.

  “Oh god.”

  “I think she definitely likes it a lot,” Coop agrees.

  “Say it, Red.” Levi’s fingers still.

  “No.”

  “Jesus, always so fucking stubborn,” Coop whispers in my ear. His own tongue darts out and licks a smooth wet line from my lobe to my breast. He takes my nipple in his mouth and bites down hard, punishing.

  “Say it, and I’ll make you come so hard and so fast, your head will spin,” Levi says. I need more. I need hands and lips and teeth, and I need that beautiful release that’s just out of reach.

  “Fuck me with your mouth, Levi. Make me come, please?” I beg.

  Coop releases my nipple with a pop. I jerk against his lips. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “I hate you both.”

  “You sure about that?” Levi says, staring up at me with bright, fervent eyes.

  “No. I don’t hate you. I love you both,” I say. Everything comes to a crashing halt inside me.

  What the hell?

  “I didn’t mean ...”

  Levi chuckles. “It’s alright, Red, we won’t hold it against you.”

  “I don’t ... love you both in that way,” I hurry to explain. “Because that would be weird. It’s just—I love what you do to me. I love your hands and mouths on my body, not ... love, love you, because that would be ridiculous, right?”

  Levi’s face is slick with my arousal as he grins up at me, but when I meet Cooper’s blue–grey eyes his expression is hard and unforgiving. I don’t have time to process that because the corners of his lips turn up into another lazy smirk. This one cold and unfeeling.

  “I mean ... obviously I don’t love, love you guys. We barely know one another.”

  “Jesus Christ. Make it stop, Coop.”

  “With pleasure,” he says, but the words are gruff, and all traces of his good-natured teasing have vanished. He kisses me—not the soft, languid kisses from before—now they’re hard and suffocating, but I can’t push him away. Not even when he deepens the kiss, driving his tongue further inside, demanding more with his anger and passion.

  Levi’s fingers hook in against my G-spot and he fucks me hard, the friction is too much. His hands don’t coax my orgasm, so much as they demand it. Pressure builds low in my abdomen, right at the very root of my core and when Coop pinches my nipples, I come hard and hot against rough hands and soft incessant mouths that won’t allow me any grace. I’m drenched, the bed is soaking, and Levi is one smug bastard.

  “Fuck, I love it when she squirts,” he growls, wiping my juices from his face and licking them off his hand. The fingers of his other hand are still inside me. I don’t even have t
he mind to be embarrassed because I can’t stop coming. Tremors rock my body and they don’t stop.

  Levi flexes his fingers again and my back arches off the bed as my muscles contract and convulse around him. Cooper slowly breaks our kiss, his eyes gazing intently into mine. There’s so much in that one look. I let my lashes drift closed, blocking my thoughts from him that I know he can read all too clearly.

  Cooper bites down on my earlobe, and I cry out as pleasure sluices through me, rocking my body as if I were a boat out on a rough sea. I pant and gasp for breath, riding the euphoria. I don’t have the mental capacity to try and figure out what that look means, or what we are to each other.

  Coop releases my flesh, whispering in my ear, but I don’t have the ability to process it right now. Words are no longer a language I understand—there’s only touch, only pleasure, and the acute pain in my chest because I know I’m about to come crashing down off this high, and it’s going to hurt all of us.

  A TAINTED CHRISTMAS

  LEVI

  “Père, père, père!” Aurelie races into our room, jumping on the bed and almost kneeing me in the nutsack as her little fists tug at our covers. The two older triplets, Amelie, and Anais follow suit. “Maman. Maman. The fat man has been.”

  Dog yawns and catapults himself from his pillow on the floor onto our mattress, stepping on limbs and organs to get to my chest, where he sits and licks at my ears.

  My woman groans and rolls over, her perfect tits peeking through the lace of her sexy little negligee. I glance at the rosy circle of her nipple and bite my lip so I won’t pin her beneath me and fuck her senseless right here in front of our three little girls ... because that would be bad.

  That would make me a very bad dad.

  “Père, Noël,” Amelie—ever the voice of reason—chastises her sister. I swear to god it’s like this kid was born a forty-year-old spinster librarian. “Do not call him the fat man, Aurelie. You may wake up with no presents under the tree.”