One Night Stand with the Rockstar (With the Rockstar #1) (rockstar romance series) by Ana W. Fawkes Page B
Authors: Ana W. Fawkes
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Guided her. Where he had
moved her. Positioned her.
Slader opened his hands at the same
time and turned the guitar around and hung it back up on the wall. He then set
his attention back to Henry Plink.
“Tell me more about Jessica,”
Slader commanded.
“Such as?”
“How many stories a month does she
cover? A week? I want to know everything I can.”
“She’s not really a full-time
writer here,” Henry Plink said. “She’s more administrative for the moment. That
is, until I get this story run. Then we’ll bring her over as a writer for sure.
She covers bands, traveling at her own expense to do whatever she does.”
And that was the true beauty and
magic of Jessica. Her passion for music was real. It was alive.
“Someone like her and you put her
at a desk,” Slader said. “And you wonder why your magazine is garbage. I should
buy the company and fire you.”
“No, Slader, listen...”
“Listen?” Slader said with a growl
in his voice. “I don’t listen. You’re lucky I’m even here. Imagine how many
people are talking about this right now. That Alex Slader is in the offices of
PL Sound. You should be paying me for this.”
“Let me get you something to eat,”
Henry Plink said. “Anything you want. Okay?’
“I’ll get what I want,” Slader
said. “Soon enough.”
And Slader meant it. And he believed
it.
Sure enough, a short while later,
he saw Henry Plink point from his office. Through the open blinds Slader was
able to see everything he had been waiting for.
It was Jessica.
She had come.
For him.
A
man can wait as long as the sun warms the ground enough for her to walk on. And
if the time comes and the sun can’t warm that ground enough for her to walk on,
then a man will stand on that frozen ground, let his desires freeze to death on
that ground, because if it isn’t enough for her, it isn’t enough for him. Ever.
.18.
Carrie dressed herself and stood in
the doorway to her bedroom. Her mind was lost and deep in serious thought. Not
only had John pushed her harder than ever with this contract, he’d put her in a
position she never thought she’d be in. John considered it luck but Carrie
considered it cruel fate.
Her mind thought back to that first
night of meeting John. She had been a cocktail waitress at a party he was
hosting at a hotel. It was a hotel that she later found out he wanted to buy
but the process fell apart when talks with the owner turned sour. John had the
party anyway, to celebrate whatever he needed to make him feel special and
powerful still. Carrie had been paid to walk around with a tray of drinks and
take orders. The job wasn’t that great; having a bunch of horny businessmen
slap her ass and flirt with her all night wasn’t a real dream of hers. That was
until she saw John.
Just standing at the bar, scanning
the room.
She thought it was fate then,
seeing him, having the nerve to talk to him.
But now - and lately - it had been
like a slap of bad luck.
Carrie had been sucked into John’s
world instantly. He made her put her tray down. He made her put her hair down.
He whispered into her ear. He paid her in cash for the rest of the night to
stop working right then. He took her to one of the fancy hotel rooms and
ordered her to strip. Ordered her to the bed. Ordered her to touch herself. And
then he ordered her to obey him for the night. It was all so fast and so
erotic, like nothing Carrie had ever experienced before.
And she liked it.
She
really liked it.
That next morning she woke to an
empty bed except the contract next to her. She had one week to make her
decision. She could live her life without John. That meant struggling, worrying,
fearing the world. She could bounce job to job, gig to gig, hoping something
would happen. Or she could sign the contract. That meant she’d be paid for her
services to work for him on special projects but it also meant full sexual
submission to John. Again, reading it and thinking about it turned
moved her. Positioned her.
Slader opened his hands at the same
time and turned the guitar around and hung it back up on the wall. He then set
his attention back to Henry Plink.
“Tell me more about Jessica,”
Slader commanded.
“Such as?”
“How many stories a month does she
cover? A week? I want to know everything I can.”
“She’s not really a full-time
writer here,” Henry Plink said. “She’s more administrative for the moment. That
is, until I get this story run. Then we’ll bring her over as a writer for sure.
She covers bands, traveling at her own expense to do whatever she does.”
And that was the true beauty and
magic of Jessica. Her passion for music was real. It was alive.
“Someone like her and you put her
at a desk,” Slader said. “And you wonder why your magazine is garbage. I should
buy the company and fire you.”
“No, Slader, listen...”
“Listen?” Slader said with a growl
in his voice. “I don’t listen. You’re lucky I’m even here. Imagine how many
people are talking about this right now. That Alex Slader is in the offices of
PL Sound. You should be paying me for this.”
“Let me get you something to eat,”
Henry Plink said. “Anything you want. Okay?’
“I’ll get what I want,” Slader
said. “Soon enough.”
And Slader meant it. And he believed
it.
Sure enough, a short while later,
he saw Henry Plink point from his office. Through the open blinds Slader was
able to see everything he had been waiting for.
It was Jessica.
She had come.
For him.
A
man can wait as long as the sun warms the ground enough for her to walk on. And
if the time comes and the sun can’t warm that ground enough for her to walk on,
then a man will stand on that frozen ground, let his desires freeze to death on
that ground, because if it isn’t enough for her, it isn’t enough for him. Ever.
.18.
Carrie dressed herself and stood in
the doorway to her bedroom. Her mind was lost and deep in serious thought. Not
only had John pushed her harder than ever with this contract, he’d put her in a
position she never thought she’d be in. John considered it luck but Carrie
considered it cruel fate.
Her mind thought back to that first
night of meeting John. She had been a cocktail waitress at a party he was
hosting at a hotel. It was a hotel that she later found out he wanted to buy
but the process fell apart when talks with the owner turned sour. John had the
party anyway, to celebrate whatever he needed to make him feel special and
powerful still. Carrie had been paid to walk around with a tray of drinks and
take orders. The job wasn’t that great; having a bunch of horny businessmen
slap her ass and flirt with her all night wasn’t a real dream of hers. That was
until she saw John.
Just standing at the bar, scanning
the room.
She thought it was fate then,
seeing him, having the nerve to talk to him.
But now - and lately - it had been
like a slap of bad luck.
Carrie had been sucked into John’s
world instantly. He made her put her tray down. He made her put her hair down.
He whispered into her ear. He paid her in cash for the rest of the night to
stop working right then. He took her to one of the fancy hotel rooms and
ordered her to strip. Ordered her to the bed. Ordered her to touch herself. And
then he ordered her to obey him for the night. It was all so fast and so
erotic, like nothing Carrie had ever experienced before.
And she liked it.
She
really liked it.
That next morning she woke to an
empty bed except the contract next to her. She had one week to make her
decision. She could live her life without John. That meant struggling, worrying,
fearing the world. She could bounce job to job, gig to gig, hoping something
would happen. Or she could sign the contract. That meant she’d be paid for her
services to work for him on special projects but it also meant full sexual
submission to John. Again, reading it and thinking about it turned
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