Jack: An Alpha Billionaire Rockstar Romance Read online

  Jack

  The Delaney Brothers

  Candy Quinn

  Contents

  Preamble

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Candy Quinn

  Get More Romance & Erotica Here

  © 2016 Pathforgers Publishing.

  All Rights Reserved. If you downloaded an illegal copy of this book and enjoyed it, please buy a legal copy. Either way you get to keep the eBook forever, but you’ll be encouraging me to continue writing and producing high quality fiction for you. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Wicked Good Covers. All cover art makes use of stock photography and all persons depicted are models.

  This book is intended for sale to Adult Audiences only. All sexually active characters in this work are over 18. All sexual activity is between non-blood related, consenting adults. This is a work of fiction, and as such, does not encourage illegal or immoral activities that happen within.

  More information is available at Pathforgers Publishing.

  Preamble

  Book Themes:

  Billionaire, Rockstar, First Time, Pregnancy

  Word Count:

  15,396

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  1

  He parts my thighs, my cheeks flushing as I feel his rough hands on my sensitive, exposed skin. I know I should close them, squirm away, leave, but something keeps me there. In his grasp. Open to him.

  His hands grip my hips as he slides up, and his mouth goes to my naked breasts, sucking at my tits with such hunger. No words come from the tall, dark, handsome stranger’s mouth—he doesn’t even know my name. So why am I subtly pushing my hips up in need for him?

  Because I want it. I shouldn’t, but I do.

  I need his thick, muscular arms wrapped around me, his thick, husky voice panting in my ear as he gropes me, his hard bulge grinding against me.

  I gasp as I feel his cock on my lower lips. It’s massive and stiff, almost so large that I wonder whether I could really take the whole thing in. I start to open my mouth to say so, but he silences me with a deep kiss as he thrusts himself into me entirely.

  A hand goes up to my wavy blonde hair, feeling the locks as if they were made of gold, all the way down to the tips. My long legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts into me.

  It feels like he knows me, going into my deepest and most protected places in my pussy as he groans. I can’t believe someone this hot is getting so hard at the feeling of being inside me! I want to give it all up to him, to taste him on my lips and feel him filling me up.

  I feel his cock start to get tense inside me, and I roll my head back as I get ready for our shared orgasms…

  Turbulence on the plane wakes me up with a start, and I blink blearily as the smell of the coach cabin fills my senses, making me clench my eyes and want to go back to sleep and into that sweet, sweet dream all over again.

  Soft giggling to my right makes me crack a rueful eye open again.

  “Sounds like you were having a good dream, Jess,” says my friend Casey, raising her eyebrows. It’s only then that I realize I was blushing, and I run my hand over my face, embarrassed. My hand is down between my legs under the tray, but thankfully, my dream didn’t let my fingers roam under my pants where I wanted them.

  “Sorry,” I say, shaking my head. There’s no explaining my way out of this one. “Guess the travel has me a little pent up.”

  “Just wait ‘till we get to Amsterdam,” she says, her eyes bright and energetic as the moment we started off on this wild trip to Europe for the New Year’s break. “The city was, like, built on ways to help you unwind! Not to mention anyone we’re gonna meet when we see the band. But I guess that’s what you’re looking forward to most, huh?”

  I smile back at her teasing tone, blushing a little and desperately looking for a way to change the subject. I flag down a passing attendant.

  “Um, ma’am? Do you still have some of those mini-vodkas I saw earlier? I’d like to order one for us, please!”

  The stewardess smiled and went to go fetch the alcohol, and Casey raised her eyes at me. “Damn, girl, really going all out to travel in style, huh?”

  “We earned this,” I say, winking at her. “We raised all that money to get us here on our own, so even before the time we see The Seldom Strangers live on stage, I want to make this a trip to remember.”

  The vodka arrives, and Casey grins at me, paying for it herself. “Alright, Jess, you got me. To Amsterdam!” She unscrews the bottle and takes a drink, then hands it to me to do the same. I smile as the alcohol warms my system. I’m hungry, so it doesn’t take long for the vodka to make me feel less self-conscious about having just had a sex dream on a plane.

  I don’t know about everything Casey was talking about. I’m just an arts student at UCONN, and I’ve never really been much of a wild partier. The wildest I ever get is hanging out at the local dive bars and taking care of my two guinea pigs. If I’m being totally honest, Casey’s enthusiasm is a lot of what dragged me into all this. Going to Amsterdam should be one of the most exciting moments of any 21 year old’s life, and don’t get me wrong, this is exciting, but it’s also more nerve-wracking than anything I’ve ever done.

  At the same time, though, going to see local alt-rock bands with the local grunge scene is my one big vice, so to get to go see one of the biggest up-and-coming bands like The Seldom Strangers is a dream come true.

  So yeah, I guess Casey was right about one thing: this was going to be an unforgettable trip.

  2

  “Oh my god, look at the snow!”

  We step out of the airport in Amsterdam to a magical scene. Fresh, pure-white snow covers the world outside, and the chill makes our breath visible as we step out.

  I’ve had a little time to freshen up in the airport bathroom — glamorous, I know — and I look a little more like myself. My blonde hair is still kind of a mess, but my green eyes are accented by winged eyeliner, but I’m not sure whether it’s distracting from or drawing attention to the fact that I haven’t had a good sleep in almost 24 hours.

  I’m still in my travel gear, so that means a gigantic Amsterdam-grade coat over my flannel shirt and part of my distressed denim jeans. I wish I had something a little more comfortable than my black Mary Janes, but as a student, I took what I could get — in this case, what my parents got me for my last birthday.

  “There is snow in Connecticut, Casey,” I laugh, and she rolls her eyes as she takes me by the hand to drag me to the nearest bus.

  “Okay, yeah, but this is European snow. It’s nicer.” Her tone is tongue-in-cheek, and I giggle back at her.

  We take the bus to our hostel — a crummy little place that looks like it has seen better days, but hey, it’s a place to crash for the week, and that’s about the only time we’ll be needing it. We get a chance to really freshen up, shower, and change into decent clothes after meeting up with some of the other people we’re sharing the place with. They’re Casey’s friends, but we don’t really spend much time chatting. Casey is eager to get us out on the town.

  With touched-up makeup, I’m feeling good as we head out. The dark gray peacoat and black knit scarf I bought just for this trip is covering my dark red crushed velvet dress and thick leggings that make me
feel like I’m back home again. The winter chill only guts me a little bit when we step back out into the busy streets.

  “You cannot be serious — already?” I laugh a few minutes later, when Casey is dragging me toward what I can recognize as a pot bakery.

  “We’re in fucking Amsterdam, Mother Superior,” she teases me, pushing open the door to the place and letting the aroma wash over us. “I told you this was gonna be my first stop!”

  I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile playing across my lips. I kind of like the chance to cut loose, and Casey’s the perfect person to make that happen. Can’t imagine what it’s like to live life through her eyes.

  Maybe this is the chance to be someone else for a little while, though?

  The bakery is packed with tourists like us. I glance around, and I try to hide a smile at the fact that there isn’t a local in sight. After a battle to the front of the line, we walk away with my very first edible — a huge cupcake, big enough for two people, easily.

  “I was worried they’d ‘water down’ the cheaper stuff, so I saved up some tips from work to really splurge on this,” Casey gushes. Without so much as waiting to find a seat, we dig into the pot-infused pastry hungrily. I make a face at the very distinct taste, but it’s not as bad as I was anticipating, so we don’t hold back. I realize as we’re devouring the thing that it’s the first thing we’ve had to eat since landing, so it’s gone in a matter of seconds.

  “So...what now?” I ask as Casey disposes of the wrapper, then bursts out laughing at me as we head back outside into the crisp air.

  “You are the worst Art major ever, Jess,” she said. “It takes like half an hour to kick in. Just relax — let’s go kill some time before the concert!”

  I giggle, and we head down the road alongside the canals to look at the boats.

  As Casey points out a few of the really beautifully designed ones on our walk, I find myself finally getting swept up by the city. There’s a really specific kind of charm to it I can’t pinpoint, but it’s so distinctly belonging to the city that I feel incredibly lucky to have gotten here.

  That’s when I realize the cupcake is kicking in, and it just so happens to be while we pass by the outskirts of the Red Light District.

  Casey turns to point it out to me, but I descend into a fit of giggling, and she starts laughing at me in turn as we try to catch our breaths.

  “Should we go in?” Casey finally manages, her eyes drifting to the nearest row of buildings with a bunch of lewd signs hanging outside them. It isn’t all advertised for men, either, I see to my surprise. There are signs sporting ripped, muscular men that look like they’re modeled after Greek statues.

  I bite my lip, considering it for a moment, and Casey grins brightly at me.

  “You do want to, you little perv!”

  My eyes widen, and I punch her in the shoulder as we break down laughing again. “You’re the one who suggested it!”

  “Oh my god, you need to get laid, girl,” she laughs, and I feel myself blushing furiously in the cold air, glancing at a few of the people passing by us.

  “Jeeze, Casey, wanna say that any louder?” I hiss, but I can’t hide the smile that’s making my face sore as she covers her mouth with a hand.

  “Okay, okay, okay, seriously,” she finally says as she gathers herself. “Maybe tomorrow. We’ve got to head to the venue if we don’t want to be in the back row — besides,” she adds, tapping her purse, “the District is nice, but I uh, might have looked at some of the price tags on those studs, and it’s a little over our pay grade.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say, putting a hand on my hip and tilting my head. “Sounds like someone’s shy.”

  “More like someone wants to pay rent!” she laughs, and we take each other by the arm as we head off toward the venue.

  Privately, I do kind of wish we had time and money to stop by, but I’m also a little relieved that we don’t. It’s a weird mix of emotions. Partly from the fact that, well, I’ve never done anything like what the Red Light District offers.

  The fact that I’m a virgin is something I’ve guarded pretty well over the years. It’s kind of weird for a college girl like me, especially an Art student, but I guess I’ve just never felt that comfortable around most people. Not in that way, at least.

  Maybe it’s the pot, or maybe it’s just the magic of the city, but the more I think about it, the hornier I feel while I’m here. Something I hadn’t considered about Europe is that there are a lot of hot guys here. And I mean a lot. Every time we pass one of those tall, fit-looking guys, I feel my heart racing.

  I’m going to be in trouble at the concert. Too late to back out now, though. This is happening. And I’m gonna enjoy it.

  We reach the place, and I can’t believe it. Considering how big this band is, they’re performing in what looks like a hole in the wall dive bar. Casey and I beam at each other on the way in. It feels so much like home it hurts, but it’s still got that exotic tinge to it.

  There’s reddish lighting in the place, casting a dark glow on everything around us, and there are already a ton of people filing in.

  “Christ, I thought we were here early!” Casey says, running a hand through her hair nervously as we make our way as close to the front as we can. I can still feel the light high from the cupcake — Casey was right, the stuff they give tourists isn’t the strongest in the world, but it’s got me in a good place, and the crowd doesn’t make me nearly as nervous as it would any other time.

  “For a band like these guys?” I laugh, helping her muscle past a group of people on our way up. “I’m surprised there’s any standing room left!”

  As the minutes wear on, I’m proven right. We’re still a few rows of people from the front, but by the time the doors close, the place is absolutely packed, and I’m pretty sure I hear some unlucky people getting told that there isn’t enough room for them.

  The informality of this place reminds me of home. I hear someone with a microphone out of sight saying something in Dutch, but I do recognize the name of the band when it’s announced in a thick accent: “The Seldom Strangers!”

  The crowd goes wild, myself included. I left my coat at the door, and even as cold as the winter night is outside, it’s already feeling warm in here as I jump up and down with the crowd and the band makes its way to the front.

  And when the lead singer steps up to the front of the stage, I feel my heart leap in my chest.

  Now, I’ve seen pictures of Jack Delaney. His albums usually don’t have his face on them, but I’ve got a vinyl of their first release with the whole band on it, and I knew from that moment that he’s hot. But that’s nothing like seeing him up close.

  He’s a towering man, easily 6’3”, and every inch of that masculine body is rippling with muscle. He’s got on tight jeans, black Oxfords, and a snug-fitting faded plaid flannel. His square glasses outline a piercing gaze, accented by a strong jaw covered in sexy stubble. He looks like he just came back from a night out on the town, but somehow, the look makes him all the more irresistible.

  And damn it, he knows it.

  “Thanks for coming out here, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, smiling into the microphone with that easy British accent, his nonchalant demeanor effortless as he glances around at the crowd. “I guess word got out we were in town? I can’t tell.”

  His joke is met with a roaring cheer, female voices drowning out everything, and he raises his eyebrows in feigned surprise, glancing back at the rest of the band.

  “Well well! Suppose we should put on a show or something, don’t you think? Is that what you’re here for? I can’t tell!” The crowd roars again, and with a flick of his hand, Jack starts off the first song as the drummer launches into the music.

  Immediately, I start dancing to the music with the rest of the crowd, and soon the whole bar is a sea of energy, everyone dancing to the lighthearted and fast-paced rhythm. I’ve never felt so alive! Jack’s voice is like an angel’s, and I can see by the cocky smil
e on his face and the easy way he carries himself on stage that he was born to do this. And he knows it.

  He commands the stage like a master, despite being only a little older than me. As he sings, hitting a wider range of highs and lows than I’ve ever heard in person, the crowd eats up every second of it.

  None of them more than me.

  There’s something about Jack that makes me feel...energized. In a way I’ve never felt at concerts before, or anywhere. The way his body moves, the way he makes eye contact with the audience members, that confident smile radiating while he sings. And there’s that artistic spark to his performance that tells the world how much of his soul is in what he does.

  It’s breathtaking. I feel my heart pounding, even as my high is wearing off — he keeps me going with just as much euphoria. Not even Casey is as into the band as I am, and that’s saying something, because she’s starry-eyed.

  As Jack’s eyes pass through the audience, those gorgeous baby-blue eyes lock with mine for a moment, and I see his smile split into a shining grin. My heart jumps as if I’d been struck by lightning, and I stop dancing, grinning like an idiot while standing there among everyone.

  “Hey, you okay?” Casey asks, laughing and giving me a shake. I blink and nod absently.

  “Yeah — he looked at me, Casey!”

  “Oh my god, you gigantic fangirl,” Casey laughs, and we jump right back into what’s quickly becoming the most exciting night of my life.

  The afterparty on the rooftop takes the night to a whole new level. There’s smoke hanging in the air, wafting out into the cool breeze above, but the heat of all the people down here keeps most of the cold out as we make our way through the crowds.

  “I cannot believe we got to be so close to all that!” I gushed to Casey.

  “I know right? And this is only the first day! Oh my god, this was so worth it.”