Rock 'n' Stroller - A Rockstar's Secret Baby Romance (Baby Surprises Book 4)

by Layla Valentine

  “Really?” I asked, picking up my drink. “How’s that?”

  “When you’re a performer, you have to learn how to get into stage mode, right?” he asked.

  “So I’ve heard,” I said, thinking back to bands I’d known who’d said similar things.

  “Well, blending in when out in public is the same thing. You just turn that off.”

  “I’m still confused.”

  “Celebrities and rock stars always have a certain…swagger to them,” he said. “Something that makes them draw the eye, even when they don’t want to.”

  “The ‘X’ factor,” I said.

  “Right,” he said. “That ‘certain something,’ that ‘je ne sais quoi.’”

  Man, French sounded impossibly sexy coming out of his mouth.

  “So, when I go out,” he went on, “I do all I can to tamp that down. I dress nondescript, slump my shoulders, and avoid eye contact. You’d be surprised how well it works.”

  “I guess I am,” I said.

  “Think about it—would you have noticed me if I’d just sat down and ordered a drink, not talked to anyone?”

  “I could kind of tell it was you,” I said. “But then again, in my line of work, I have to be on the lookout for people who can’t help but have that special something.”

  “True,” he said, conceding the point. “But the results speak for themselves.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” I said. “Speaking of which—why are you here?”

  “Like, here with you?” he asked. “Because I like talking with you.”

  He smirked, letting me know he was doing some teasing.

  “You know what I mean,” I said, playfully touching his forearm and noting how taut it was.

  “You mean why am I sitting here in a quiet bar having a couple of drinks instead of in a pile of groupies right now?”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “The rock star lifestyle has its perks.”

  “And perkies, I’m sure,” I said with a grin.

  “Cle-ver,” he said, matching my grin with one of his own. “But seriously, lately I can’t even summon up the excitement to do all that hedonistic crap. The other guys in my band, however, are all about it.”

  “So you’re into peace and quiet,” I said.

  “Not always,” he said. “I still love being on stage—not exactly the most peaceful place in the world. But I started going for walks after shows in whatever city I happen to be in and grabbing a couple of drinks at low-key bars, and it’s been nice. I get to wake up without a pounding headache while I scramble to get ready for the next leg of the tour.”

  “Johnny Maxton,” I said. “The AARP rocker.”

  He laughed. “Hey,” he said. “Bust my balls about it all you want. But it’s how I ended up here talking to Jane Bond, secret agent delivery woman.”

  I smiled. “Good point.”

  He glanced toward the entrance.

  “Speaking of walks,” he said, “feel like getting out of here?”

  Whoa. Was Johnny Maxton asking me to leave with him? I knew what this meant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  “Like, ‘back to one of our places’ out of here?”

  “Sounded like the thing to do,” he said.

  Part of me knew that getting involved in that way with a rock star wasn’t the smartest move. But I didn’t care. I had one of the hottest men in the world picking me up, and I wasn’t about to say “no.” I was a grown woman, and I was confident that I could appreciate this fleeting moment for what it was.

  “Sure,” I said. “That sounds nice.”

  “Then let’s not waste any time,” he said.

  Before I could offer, he pulled out his wallet, withdrew a few twenties, and tossed them onto the bar.

  “Ready to hit it?” he asked.

  I was more than ready. And more than ready for anything else he had in mind.

  He got up, extended his hand to me, and I took it, a devilish grin on my face at thoughts of what the rest of the evening had in store.

  Chapter 8

  Kendra

  The air was a little brisker than it had been when I’d arrived at the bar. A chill ran through my body, and Johnny noticed, slipping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

  He felt so good against me that I wanted to scream. Instead, I bit my lip in quiet anticipation.

  “Nice night,” I said.

  “It is,” he said. “Quiet, too. At least as quiet a city like Seattle can get.”

  “I know you’re from the Pacific Northwest,” I said. “But where exactly?”

  “Small town called Pine Bluff,” he said. “Right on the east border of Oregon.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Small-town boy makes good.”

  He smirked. “Actually, ‘small’ might even be going too far. Place had a population under ten thousand.”

  “Damn,” I said. “Bet you were eager to get out of there.”

  “At the time, I sure as hell was,” he said. “I hit thirteen, and all I could think about was getting to Portland or Seattle or LA. Now that I’m a little older…”

  I raised my eyebrows, curious what he had to say next.

  “Now that I’m a little older,” he repeated, “I’m wondering if it was so bad. It was quiet, sure, but what’s wrong with that? And God, the nature—it’s incredible. I could spend days in all those open spaces. When you go from city to city like me, you forget about how nice being surrounded by nothing but trees can be.”

  Then he shook his head, and I wondered if he felt as though he was revealing too much.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Where are you from?”

  “You’re looking at it,” I said, gesturing to the city around us. “Grew up in Delridge, moved downtown when I was eighteen and haven’t looked back.”

  “A city girl, huh?” he asked.

  “Very much so.”

  We continued on, my head eventually settling on his shoulder.

  “So,” he said. “We might want to flag down one of those taxis—my hotel’s on the other side of town.”

  “You mean your hotel that’s probably filled with groupies and drugs?”

  He chuckled. “That’s the one.”

  “Probably not the best place in mind if you want some quiet.”

  “Good point,” he said. “Got a better idea?”

  We approached an intersection, and I pointed down it at a five-story building a little way down the road.

  “See that place?” I said. “The one with the red brick.”

  “Sure do.”

  “That’s me.”

  “That right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then it seems like it was meant to be.”

  Johnny stood in front of me, his blue eyes piercing and clear even in the low light of the evening. His hands were on my hips, and his lips looked so delicious, so inviting.

  He must’ve thought the same thing about mine, because his next move was to lean in and kiss me.

  He tasted like freaking heaven. Heat ran through me as soon as his lips touched mine, and for a brief moment, I worried I might melt right there at the intersection. I fell into his kiss, feeling so good in his hands.

  Johnny’s mouth opened a bit, his tongue slipping past my lips and into my mouth. I eagerly reciprocated, our tongues playing with each other, the taste of whiskey and sex flowing over my palate.

  Then he took his mouth from mine, leaving me stunned and speechless in the best way possible.

  “We ought to get moving, then,” he said. “Because what I want to do with you next isn’t fit for a public display.”

  Oh, man.

  Truth be told, he could’ve told me he wanted me right then and there in the middle of the street and I would’ve been down. Instead, he took me by the hand and led me across the street toward my building.

  It was only a short trip down, but it ended up taking a little longer
due to our inability to keep our hands off one another. It seemed like every five steps we had to stop for some serious, deep kissing. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so ridiculously turned-on by a man.

  Finally, we reached my building, a converted town-home built in charming early 20th-century style. I took out my keys with hands that shook with anticipation. Part of me was a little worried that Johnny would think I was just another overexcited fangirl, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was what was going to happen when I got him up to my apartment.

  A quick trip up the steps later and the door to my place was open. I flicked on the lights, revealing my small but charming and cozy one-bedroom apartment.

  “Nice place,” he said, his black boots thumping as he stepped into the apartment.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Probably not as nice as the penthouse suites you’re used to, but it works for me.”

  He stepped up to me, a sinfully sexy expression on his face as he put his hands on my hips.

  “There’s only one thing on my mind right now, and it’s not penthouse suites.”

  I gulped. “And what might that be?”

  “Getting you out of those clothes and into bed.”

  Oh man. Oh man, oh man. I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin with excitement.

  “Then let me take you to the bedroom,” I said. “Don’t want you to get lost trying to find it.”

  He chuckled as I took him by the hand, and seconds later we were there. I turned on the lights, revealing a somewhat messy space, piles of vinyl here and there, the walls decorated with band posters.

  “Nice stacks,” he said, stepping over to the vinyl.

  He moved over to one of the stacks and squatted down, eagerly flipping through what I had.

  “Damn,” he said. “Earl of Grey’s first EP? You’re the first girl I’ve known who’s had this in her collection.”

  He continued to sift through the albums. And as he did, I slowly took off my T-shirt and tossed it aside.

  “Shit,” he said. “And every Gravestone album? I’m impressed.”

  I couldn’t help but grin at how excited he was about the music. I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down my slender legs, soon in nothing but my matching red bra and panties.

  “You’re more than welcome to peruse,” I said. “But I think I’ve got something else that might catch your eye.”

  “And what might that b—”

  He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes falling onto my nearly bare body as I stood with my hands on my hips, one leg crossed over the other.

  “You’re…you’re right about that.”

  For the first time since I’d met Johnny, he seemed actually taken aback. The effect that my body had on him struck me, but before I could spend too much time pondering it over, he was up and on top of me.

  He went right into kissing me hard, his fingers moving over my bare, flat belly and down to the waistband of my panties.

  “This is very, very nice,” he said. “But we still have a little more work left to do.”

  He hooked his thumb under the waistband and began taking them down my hips.

  “Ah, ah,” I said, wagging my finger. “You first.”

  He knew just what I meant. With a sly smirk he let go of me and took hold of the bottom of his hoodie, pulling it and the white shirt on underneath off over his head. I gasped at the sight of his sculpted upper body, the perfect, toned muscles decorated with a tapestry of stunning, colorful tattoos. I bet that each one had its own story, its own special meaning.

  But that would be for another time.

  My hands shot to his black leather belt, and I eagerly got it along with his zipper and button undone. Johnny helped things along by stepping out of his boots, and soon he was in nothing but a skin-tight pair of black boxer-briefs, his trunk-like quads looking to be on the verge of busting out of the fabric. And that’s to say nothing of the outline of his massive erection.

  A rock star with the body of a gym rat—I was in heaven.

  “Now,” he said. “Where were we?”

  He pulled me into his embrace, his hands working on my bra clasp and quickly getting it off with the skill of someone who’d done it many, many times before. It occurred to me that I was about to be one of many, yet another notch on the bedpost of Johnny Maxton. But I didn’t care. I wanted him so freaking bad I could hardly stand it.

  My bra was off, and my breasts were bare, my small, pink nipples hard. Johnny leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, lashing it with warm kisses. When he’d given one sufficient attention, he went to the other, squeezing my breast and kissing that nipple, too.

  I let out a sigh of pleasure, my hands running through his ink-dark hair as he buried his face in my breasts.

  His lips moved down, kissing the outlines of my abs. He took hold of my hips, lifted me off my feet, and set me onto the bed with a playful toss, my hair spreading out around my head.

  Then he loomed over me like a prey animal about to pounce. I was ready for him, the tight, wet heat between my legs a clear message from my body.

  “Come here,” I said, beckoning him with my finger.

  “What the lady wants, the lady gets,” he said.

  He moved with a sexy swagger, staring at my body, and I spread my legs to accommodate him. Johnny’s hand went back to the waistband of my panties, and this time I let him take them down. His strong hands started stroking the inside of my thighs, caressing and teasing my delicate skin. Moving closer and closer to where I wanted them to be.

  “Yes, Johnny. Please,” I said. I looked down at him, a sly smile on his face.

  Without breaking my gaze, he began stroking my clit. I closed my eyes and leaned back, enveloped in the sensation building in my core. My back arched as the feeling intensified.

  Johnny continued stroking me and propped himself up on one elbow, this already-thick, ink-covered muscles even more taut from the tension of supporting his weight.

  “Damn,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

  I blushed, chewing on my lower lip in anticipation.

  Then the time for talking was over. I yanked down his boxer-briefs, his enormous erection springing out. I’d read rumors about Johnny’s penis size, but seeing it in person was something else. It was gorgeous and hard and just for me.

  “Come on,” I said, taking his erection into my hand and stroking it. “I need it.”

  Johnny was happy to oblige. He reached down, took hold of himself, and with a slow, deep driving of his hips, entered me.

  The feeling was…simply incredible. He filled me exactly how I wanted, warmth and pleasure spreading out from between my legs as he buried himself to the hilt.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, moving my hands over his back.

  His face focused into an expression of tight, pleasured concentration as he withdrew and entered me again. Then again. Then again.

  Each full plunge pushed me deeper into an ecstatic trance. I wrapped my legs around his slim hips and kept him close, his body solid and warm. He continued, and I alternated my gaze between watching him enter me over and over and watching his muscles flex and tense with each thrust.

  His pace picked up, my breasts bouncing wildly as he made love to me harder and faster. Soon the orgasm that was on the horizon before he even entered me was on the verge of happening, and in the middle of another steady, fast thrust it broke loose, filling my body with white-hot pleasure.

  “I’m…I’m cu—”

  It was all I could get out before the pleasure took hold of me and forced my face into a tight wince.

  Right at the peak of my orgasm, Johnny came, too. He looked so gorgeous, and I drank in the sight of him as my own climax ebbed and flowed.

  When we were done, he fell at my side, both of our chests rising and falling. He slipped his arm around me and held me close, and between the excitement of the day and the other kind of excitement I’d just been through, I was out like a light, my head resting comfortabl
y on his warm, solid chest.

  Chapter 9

  Kendra

  I woke up the next morning feeling rested and refreshed. But when I reached my arm over onto the other side of the bed, my eyes still closed, I laid my arm down onto nothing.

  For a moment, fear gripped me. I worried that my night with Johnny had been nothing but a very, very nice dream. I opened my eyes and saw that, sure enough, there was no one in the bed with me.

  But it couldn’t have been a dream—it was all so real. As the sleepy grogginess left my mind, memories of last night came back. It was real, all right, no doubt about that. But as soon as I’d convinced myself of this, another thought appeared in my head.

  Had he loved me and left me?

  Johnny Maxton was a rock star, after all. Sleeping with adoring fans then slipping out under cover of night was probably as natural to him as breathing. I scanned the area around me for a note or something that would’ve indicated that he hadn’t just left without a word.

  Right as a mild panic began to creep into my gut, however, I sniffed and smelled…something. I sat up and sniffed the air again, now able to make out the scent of something delicious in the air. I plopped my feet on the ground and prepared to head out of the bedroom, but a glance at the mirror reminded me that I was still totally naked.

  Once I had on a short, thin robe, I opened the bedroom door and was greeted with a few very wonderful sights and smells and sounds. Along with the scent of cooking food, there was music in the air, some 60s folk album that I’d forgotten I owned. With the door open, I could make out the scents of eggs, sausage and hash browns.

  And standing at the stove, wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, his gorgeous body on full display, was Johnny himself.

  “Morning,” I said, my voice still sleepy.

  He glanced over his shoulder, a smile spreading across his handsome face.

  “Morning,” he said. “Was wondering when you were going to get up.”

  “Well, you gave me a lot to recover from last night,” I said with a grin.

  I checked the clock and saw that it was a little after eight.