Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 59(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 59(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Ignoring the little voice telling me not to touch her unless I’m ready for the consequences, I reach my hand down toward the curvy little beauty.
Shock blasts through my entire body as our skin touches for the first time. Fuck. I’m a goner. A security guard rushes up to help her onto the stage, and I have to bite my tongue to stop the enraged howl from emerging at the sight of another man touching her. After the fucker releases her, I drag her sweet body close and inhale deeply, drawing her intoxicating scent through every molecule of my body.
Holding her close, I see I was right. Her cornflower blue eyes have a dark ring of navy circling the irises. Right now, they’re widened in shock. When she nibbles on her plump bottom lip, I stumble over the lyrics to the song I’ve sung thousands of times. I tug her closer and feel her luscious curves melt against my body. I forget everything but her. Fuck the concert and the thousands of people in the room with us.
I lean over and run my tongue along the vein pounding at the base of her throat, and her taste cuts through me, nearly bringing me to my knees. While Sean plays his solo, I turn off my mic before whispering, “I can’t get enough of your gorgeous body.”
Her bright blue eyes narrow as she stiffens against me. “I’m sure,” she mutters, rolling her eyes before attempting to put distance between us, but I refuse to let her go. She has no fucking idea how things have changed for me. One look at her gorgeous curvy body and I lost my heart.
The band puts on a light BDSM show on stage, but I’m not really into all that. A few years ago, we were having a hard time getting noticed and needed a way to make our band stand out from all the others. Sean came up with the idea to spice up our concerts with a little play.
For God knows how long, we’ve done the same thing each concert. I pull a female fan up on stage and dance a little with her before handing her over to Sean. Then the lead guitarist handcuffs her to a special bench we have set up on the right side of the stage. While I finish singing the song, Sean does a dirty dance for the fan then sends her off to get a thank-you gift from security.
The first time we pulled a fan up on the stage and put on our act, the crowd went wild. We started using the routine at some point in our shows. When “Addicted 2 You” became a hit, we began to do our “act” during this song. We make sure the fan is up for our little performance by having security give an iridescent choker to every woman in the front and second rows who is willing to come up on stage.
“I want to eat you up,” I growl and lean over to nip her plump bottom lip. “You’re fucking mine.”
River Torres takes over the guitar solo for Sean to come over, but I change things up at the last minute. There’s no fucking way this asshole is doing a goddamn dirty dance for my girl. I glare at the fucker and mouth, “Not tonight,” before pulling my dream girl into my arms. Her mouth opens and closes silently as I lift her into my arms without missing a note.
Holy moly. I’m in so much trouble. I wrap my arm around his muscular shoulders and hold on for dear life. He holds me close to his chest, and I can feel his pounding heartbeat. I get a little dizzy when my pulse accelerates to match his.
Riley August sets me on my feet next to a torture device-looking thing and reaches for a set of handcuffs one of the stagehands is holding out to him. I swallow as he snaps one of the handcuffs on my right wrist before whispering in my ear, “We have to keep this PG-13 on stage, but I plan to go all the way to R later tonight.” His warm breath brushes against the side of my face, causing my brain circuits to overload. A Riley August fog wraps around me, drowning out everything else.
I’ve seen tons of Sp*nked concerts online, and this isn’t how they do things. He snaps the other handcuff around a hidden hook behind the wooden bench. I drop down on the soft black leather cushion and stare up at the hot Rockstar. “I’m not some groupie.” No matter what it looks like, I’m not going to be some rich man’s plaything. I’m holding out for the real thing, the forever kind.
Humor dances in his emerald-green eyes as he smirks. “I already know that, Dream Girl. I don’t want a groupie for the night. I want you for the rest of my life.” What in the holy heck? Can he read minds, too? And has he lost his mind, or have I?