Seductive Chaos (Bad Rep #3) by A. Meredith Walters
For Matt.
Because you always knew I could.
“Mmm.” the deep throaty moan almost made me chuckle. But that would have been the wrong reaction to have when a girl had her tongue shoved down my throat and my hands were gripping her ass.
This chick was embarrassingly loud and I hadn’t even grabbed a boob yet. She was practically riding my thigh, rubbing herself all over me like a cat in heat.
I chanced a peek under lowered lids and couldn’t help but snort. She was throwing herself into it; I’d give her that. Her exaggerated hip thrusting would make porn stars stop and pay attention.
I really wished she would shut up. It made hearing what was going on out in the hallway difficult. Because I was waiting anxiously for what I knew was about to happen.
The impending explosion. The nuclear meltdown.
The possibilities of what would go down when the dressing room door flew open had me grinning like a damn fool.
And that was what was turning me on.
The impending shit storm had me really, really excited.
“Oh, yeah!” the girl groaned. I tore my mouth away from hers and glared down at her.
“Can you keep it down?” I suggested, annoyed.
She gave me, what I guessed was meant to be a sexy smile. “Shh,” she whispered, putting her finger over my mouth. Was she on something?
Then she was attacking me again.
Damn, she was aggressive.
Her name was Karly. Spelled with a “K.” She made sure to point that out after she had shown security her tits to get backstage after my band’s show. I wasn’t a stranger to randoms doing all sorts of crazy shit to see me.
It was the price you paid for rising fame and notoriety.
And I was Cole Brandt. Lead singer for the buzz worthy up and coming band, Generation Rejects. Even before our name started being thrown around as the next big thing, I had been playing the part of psychotic rock star for years. I partied. I did stupid stuff like run naked down a busy street or start a fistfight with a room full of bikers. I got so drunk I felt it into next week.
My bandmates laughed it off. The fans expected it. The women loved it. I had a reputation to uphold. I gloried in all of the hedonistic bullshit that came with playing rock and roll for a living.
The biggest perk was the women. And there were a lot of them. I wasn’t shy about it. I didn’t blush and make excuses.
I fucked.
A lot.
I was a slut. I embraced that. I slept with whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
My dick spent more time out of my pants then inside them.
So why was Karly (spelled with a K) and her double D chest and an ass I could set a cup on not doing anything for me?
Karly was the type of girl I usually couldn’t wait to drop my pants for. She had long blonde hair and a pretty enough face. Though honestly, her looks wasn’t what would have grabbed my attention. It was the body. It was curved in all the right places. And it was currently Velcroed to mine.
I knew what she wanted. It was the same thing I usually wanted. Quick, dirty sex.
And six months ago, I would have instantly taken her up on her blatant offer. I would have had my hands up her skirt before she told me her name.
But that wasn’t the purpose of this round of lick and grope. I had no intentions of letting Cole junior anywhere near this girl.
My ears pricked up. There was yelling out in the hallway. My heart started to thud loudly in my chest. My lips moved mechanically against Karly’s. She was shoving her tongue so deep into my mouth I could taste the burrito she must have had for dinner.
If I weren’t already completely turned off, that would have done it.
“I want to bang you so bad!” she moaned into my mouth. Bang? Really? Who said crap like that?
She reached down between us and cupped my flaccid junk in her palm.