ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE) (49 page)

Concern flickered across his
face, but he swiftly brushed it aside. I appreciated that – that he cared, and
that he cared enough to not try and force me to open up.

“Of course,” Trent smiled,
pulling me into his embrace. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

My hand brushed against the
bulge of his cock, and I grinned wickedly up at him.

“I
can think of a few things to fill the time…”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled.

“That’s right,” I whispered,
unzipping him. I could already sense heat emanating from the growing bulge, and
I lowered my face as I withdrew his thick, mighty weapon…

Chapter 19

Trent

We settled into a fun
routine over the following few weeks as our band tour finally wound down.

Working on material while
Angel slept.

Chatting, eating together
during downtime.

Practicing with the band.

Rocking out onstage.

Briefly appearing at the
after-parties.

Finally, taking Angel in my
bed.

It was the perfect routine.
Out on the road, doing what I love, and coming back to the bus with the girl I
had slowly turned into my own, private sex fiend.

She might have been a
virgin, but she was making up for lost time. Angel loved fucking everywhere she
could, burning through my extensive repertoire of sex positions, and just flat
out reveling in our contact together.

Which didn’t bother me one
bit.

Besides being physically a
challenge in the bedroom, she still contested me mentally. She was always
trying to pry into my head and figure me out.

For someone who had been
stuck in the sticks for as long as she had, Angel had ideas – big ideas...

To my total surprise, she
was fun to brainstorm with. I’d sit in the room and write poetry – pretty much
the closest you can get to a song when you lack the instrumentals – and I let
her read some of it sometimes.

Angel made solid suggestions,
and helped me tighten up some of the lyrics. I’d sing a few parts, here and
there, and she’d recommend different tones or help guide me a little in the
delivery. The girl was a natural.

Sometimes we listened to
recorded jam sessions together when a song was coming along. I played a few
studio session snippets, singing some of my lyrics over them.

And the feedback she gave?

Golden.

It was fresh… Almost naive.
A new take on the sound.

Where
did this fucking girl come from?

Of course, I knew that. I’d
plucked her out of that place, thinking she was a challenging, hot piece of ass
that I couldn’t bear to part with.

Turns out I’d found myself a
diamond in the rough. Angel was proving herself incredibly useful in ways I
hadn’t even remotely considered.

She held up to her end of
things.
 
She was like a ghost to the
rest of the band, but I knew she was getting bored. Restless.

That’s how I noticed her
penchant for drumming her fingers. I didn’t think much of it at first, but the
more that she did it, I realized that she was pretty good at keeping rhythm.

“Do that again,” I asked her
one day.

“Hmm?”

“With your fingers.”

“You mean, this?”

She rattled out a slight
beat.

“Yeah. Do that again.
Faster.”

She did so.

“Do it four times in a row.”

Angel looked at me oddly,
but complied.

“You can hold rhythm,” I
observed. “And you’re pretty talented at it, from what I can tell…”

“Is that good?”

“It means you might make a
decent drummer someday,” I chuckled. “If Dylan ever drops dead on us, that
could be useful.”

We were interrupted by a
knock at the door.

“Yo, we’re refueling for the
road,” Terence called out. “You need anything?”

“Come on in,” I called out.

Terence quietly let himself
into the room, smiling politely to my girl. “Hiya, Angel. You enjoying
yourself?”

“When someone’s here, yeah,”
she smiled.

Of
course, out of everyone around us who would be even remotely civil about Angel
being around, it’s my bassist.
I didn’t overlook that fact
as I motioned him over.

“Hey
man, take a look at this…”

After introducing Terence to
her surprisingly rhythmic skills, we took turns giving her instructions for
drumming her fingers. I thought better and drug up a pair of pens, and had her
rattle out some cadences against a few surfaces.

“Yeah…” Terence nodded
thoughtfully. “Your girl’s good. She’ll need training to take it any further
than pens on your countertop, but this is actually pretty rad.”

“Yeah,” I thought aloud. “I
definitely agree.”

Since we needed to get
going, we left her to her devices for the time being. Taking advantage of the
pit stop for refueling and supplies before getting back on the road, I took the
opportunity to refill the mini-fridge in my room.

I also decided to treat her
to a tablet.

She almost didn’t accept it,
until I reminded her how much time she’d be alone while I was working with the
band on and off the stage. It was a bit of an impulse buy, but I had the cash
to blow, and I wanted her happy while I was gone.

Besides. Chances were, she
would stop putting out if I didn’t try to make an effort, anyway.

“Well… okay,” She whispered
to me after unboxing the device. “But seriously, you didn’t have to do this.
I’ve got books and everything, I could probably keep myself fulfilled anyway…”

Angel thanked me later that
night with a ton of fantastic sex; it culminated in the most incredible blowjob
I’d ever felt.

After that gesture, I felt
better about dragging her along and leaving her trapped in my small bus suite.
Most of our stops had decent wifi, and with some movies and books on the
tablet, she’d have something to occupy herself.

We were on the tail end of
our tour.
RipFest
was just a
last-minute addition that sold tickets – lining our earnings during what would
have been a brief lull, while taking an already great lineup and making it
better.

But that meant that we were
tired.

Tired and volatile.

I know that I should have
spent a little more time with them, instead of cooped up in the back of the bus
with my little Angel, but I hadn’t anticipated that the rest of the band was
growing resentful.

“Look who’s here!” Waylon
sneered at me when I walked into the practice session one afternoon.

“Sorry I’m late,” I replied.
“Lost track of time.”

“I’ll bet. Guess you’re
finally done fucking your little honey for a few minutes, eh?”

I ignored his remark,
knowing that he was just trying to goad me on. I would find a way to stick it
to him later, maybe after the tour…but there was no point in fueling him before
another big show.

“Let’s just get to it,” I
grunted.

Terence the bassist glanced
up at me with a slight nod of his head. No matter what, he was always the
agreeable, reasonable one.

We practiced for a while,
but I wasn’t really feeling it. The rest of the musicians seemed to pick up on
it, but I forced myself to go through the motions.

Angel
was
a distraction.

But not the kind they
probably thought.

It had taken her presence
for me to realize how grueling and miserable the tour had been. Part of me felt
bad that the others didn’t have this – that they had to watch me experience
this bliss without finding their own way to attain what I suddenly,
irreversibly had.

The stress relief helped,
that’s for sure.

But she complemented me.

The more I talked to her,
the sharper I realized she was…and the more vulnerable. It was this pervasive
feeling hidden just out of view. I knew that her forgotten past bothered her,
although she tried to keep it out of the way. I also knew that she did her best
to leave it well out of sight, but the unanswered questions burned in my bind.
Why had she run away from home? How much of her past was lost to the accident,
and how much had she
chosen
to
forget…

Didn’t take long to realize
she was just as stressed as me…And just as grateful for the endless carnal
distractions.

The rest of the band
wouldn’t understand.

That was fine by me.

I remembered thinking about
the filth that I was drenched in…and how the darkness swallowed me whole,
tainting me in its depths.

But when I was with her…

I felt a little lighter.

I didn’t directly understand
this intoxicating whirlwind of tension just beneath my skin… not until she
brightened her light on me.

I was tired.

I was ready to go home.

I was
done
.

And I couldn’t wait to take
her with me.

Chapter
20

Angel

“This is our last night on
the road,” Trent whispered to me one early morning in the dark. We were lying
in bed together, cuddling naked. It was swiftly becoming a favorite pastime of
mine.

“I’ll bet you’re ready to be
done with this.”

“Oh,
you have no idea…”

I knew what I wanted to ask,
but he never made it easy on me.

“So…” I started.

“So,” he repeated, a sly
smile on his face.

“After tonight…what happens?
Do I have to go back to Alabama, or…?”

Trent rolled over, propping
up his face with his elbow. “Well, that’s up to you, honestly.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Trent grinned. “Kind
of grown to like having you around for now. You’re just so great in bed,” he
whispered, kissing my neck as he hand ran up my thigh. It sent a shiver up my
spine, even if he was mixing in a little too much arrogance into his words for
my taste. “I was sort of thinking you would come back with me.”

“What, to your place?”

“That’s right.”

I searched his eyes, but
there was nothing there to tell me that he was anything less than completely
sincere – regardless of his inability to be kind for more than a few minutes
without making himself sound like an egotistical or insensitive prick.

Truth be told… I didn’t want
to leave him even if I knew I was playing with fire. This thing that we shared,
whatever it was, struck me as the flicker of a lightly burning fire. So far, we
could pull back from the heat, save ourselves from the inferno in our future.
Everything that we did only added fuel to the flames; it built up a glowering
blaze that threatened to erupt into wildfire with too much tinder on the pile.

Am I
equipped to handle it if I get burned?

I tried to push these
thoughts aside, focusing on something true and solid. I needed another stone; I
needed something else to take my attention, something to focus on when things
grew too wild between us.

I
will not be a burning Angel,
I thought.

So, I agreed.

Why wouldn’t I have?

It’s not like I really had
anywhere else to go, anyway.

The last performance night
came and went, surprisingly quicker than I thought. I’d never thought to ask,
but apparently the whole band – manager and all – lived in the same city. That
made sense, explaining how they’d come together in the first place.

The tour had been scheduled
to end at their hometown, earlier than usual. After they came back into the bus
and cleaned up, the driver took us by each home, dropping each member off. As
the prospect of rest came, each band member was clearly relieved, if not a bit
exhausted.

They even allowed me out of
the back of the bus to say their proper goodbyes for now.

I hadn’t heard anything but
awful things about Steven, but even
he
seemed civil, given that the tour was finally over. Although, we clearly
weren’t on the best terms after all; he angrily sneered at me when he saw me
pop out to head for the bathroom.

Soon, there was just the two
of us left, Trent and me, and the bus pulled up to a curb to let us out in a
small neighborhood.

Throughout our entire time
together, Trent had barely said a word about his place. I guess I came up with
my own idea of where a rock star lived… Somewhere cold, industrial, and
smelling of the filthy city.

As I stepped out of his car
and gazed up the driveway, I realized just how wrong I’d been.

Beachfront.

Honest to God beachfront!

For such a cocky and
egotistical guy, he’d been modest in his silence. Here I was, thinking he lived
in some rudimentary, dirty old house, but the truth was just completely incredible.
Sitting against the water with the ocean to its back, his house put me in awe.
A place like this had to cost an absolute fortune...

Once we stepped inside, I
realized just how big a star Trent really was… As beautiful as the home was
from the driveway, the interior was on a whole different level. I’d never seen
a house like this… Hell, I’d never been in the same
county
as a house like this!

For the generous den area, a
massive 81-inch television screen dominated the space with ample sectional
seating for a dozen people or more. One hell of an interior designer must have
come through at some point, because nothing about Trent exactly screamed
tasteful stone paneling
or
expensive, modern lighting.

A few entire bedrooms on
both floors were closed off, collecting dust from disuse. He kept two – one for
himself, and another as a practice room, with a few instruments around and a
sound recording chamber.

I didn’t even
know
that he could play, but these
guitars, drums, and other assorted instruments were clearly not just for
display. As I thought about this, I remembered that his fingers were slightly
rougher than the rest of his hands. Once I’d put two and two together, I came
to have a deeper appreciation for his talents.

Trent’s small fortress of a
kitchen featured top-of-the-line appliances, enough counter space to feed a
full party, and cookery that would make a professional chef weep. For a girl
used to a hot plate and a microwave, it was like stepping into heaven.

“
HOW
,” I muttered breathlessly as I took it all in. “
HOW CAN YOU AFFORD ALL OF THIS.
”

“Friend of mine in the
industry got it up his ass that he wanted to leave the country. Head somewhere
exotic, like Hong Kong or something. I wound up getting a pretty killer
deal...” He grinned self-importantly, carefully watching for my reaction.

“Still,” I murmured. My
hands ran along the sectional couch. It was plush, comfortable, and looked like
it had been barely used at all. “This thing probably cost more than I made all
year…”

“This is the kind of money
you wind up with when you’re smart, negotiate a good contract, and happen to
strike it lucky with a few big singles,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt that I
got a competent lawyer involved at the start… or that we’ve been touring pretty
much nonstop.”

Trent glanced around for a
moment, lost in thought. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually stepped
foot in this place in months. That’s kind of strange to think about, now that
it’s all over and I can finally kick my feet up…”

“It looks like it. You could
probably put most of this stuff back in the boxes, they look so new.”

“Yeah, well…material
possessions were never really my thing,” he shrugged. “Just sort of weigh you
down, you know? All I ever really needed was myself.”

“For someone who says that,
you have a lot of it.”

“Look around,” he retorted.

I did, and I saw his point.

There was barely anything in
the way of decorations. I could see now that on a couple of bookcases, he had
some books…and a few awards, but a lot of empty space. There weren’t any
paintings on the walls; he didn’t have the patience for extraneous pieces of
décor on his countertops. Hell, the only thing that kept his coffee table
company was the TV remote.

I flipped through living room
cabinets, expecting a sea of blu-ray films or DVDs. That’s what guys like,
right? Collecting up a sea of barely-watched multimedia to show off to their
guests? Instead, they were almost all completely empty.

“My accountant basically
forced me to buy this place. Said I couldn’t just leave my money sitting in the
bank with the low interest rates… All this shit? It came with the house. Give
me a ten by twenty hotel room and my guitar and I’m happy…”

“So… We’re supposed to live
here? In a place like
this
?” Angel
asked quietly, taking it all in.

“That’s the plan. We’re
going to need to shop for some groceries,” he answered as he watched me peer
around. “No point in stocking up prior to a tour, you know. Unless you have a
problem with that…”

I almost burst into
laughter.

“What did you want to do for
dinner?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” he smiled
cockily. “I was thinking something nice, tender, and juicy. Maybe you. Serve
you up on a plate, your legs spread wide for me… nothing juicer than that.”

I lightly slapped at his
wrist as he reached for the hem of my shirt. “There’s time for that… but I’m
actually
really
hungry. Can we order
take-out? Is it too late for that?”

“Nah,” he chuckled,
immediately fishing out his phone. “What’re you in the mood for? Anything in
particular?”

My stomach rumbled, as if
offering a suggestion.

“You know, I feel like I
could go for a pizza.”

“Kind
of what I was thinking, too…”

We rattled out the details
and settled on it, and he placed an order to a gourmet delivery pizza spot.

About half an hour (and an
autograph to the star-struck delivery teenager) later, we were settling down in
front of the big screen on the couch and enjoying thick, greasy, cheesy pizza.
A sitcom was on in the background – one of those late nineties shows that
seemed vaguely familiar.

We didn’t have cable much
while I grew up, so pretty much
anything
on
the television was alien to me.

“This is amazing,” I told
him when the commercial break came back on.

He flashed a smile. “The
pizza?”

“All of it,” I confessed.
“The pizza. This place.
You
,” I added
seductively. “A couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t imagine having this kind of
life…and now…for a little while, at least, I do.”

“Hey, none of this
for a little while
bullshit,” Trent told
me, sliding down in the couch to look me in the eyes.

“You…
can’t
mean that,” I replied, gazing into his eyes. “There’s no
way…”

“I mean it,” he whispered
hungrily, pulling me close. “You are
mine
,
Angel. You belong to me… no exceptions. None whatsoever. Do you understand?
You’re
MINE.
”

“I…”

The sheer force of
conviction burning in his dominant eyes took me aback. They were filled with
fervent fire, burning deeply and brightly.

I
will not be a burning Angel.

“Shhh,” he whispered, a
finger to my lips. He drew me up from the couch, tossing me over his shoulder,
and dragged me upstairs towards his bedroom. Every ounce of resistance I had
melted away under the heat of his desire, because deep down, no matter how
badly I might be burned… I wanted it too.

“Not the bed,” I murmured as
I took in his room. There was a large, four-poster king with velvety bedding of
rich red and black hues. It was almost hilariously bohemian.

“Making demands?” He growled
into my ear.

“Making
suggestions
,” I cooed.

Trent dropped me to my
knees, shoving me towards a wall. I could already spot that insatiable bulge
desperate for release, and I reached for it.

He swatted my hands away.

“No.
I’m
in control,” he snarled, advancing with ravenous eyes upon me.

The lust had taken hold.
Seeing him like this was the biggest turn-on in the world. I already knew I was
in for the night of my life. Trent wasn’t accepting anything less than complete
and utter submission.

A sly smile crossed my lips.
“Come here, you,” I grinned sexily, beckoning him with a finger.