Reckless Love: A Billionaire Baby Steamy Fantasy Multicultural Love Story Rockstar Romance (11 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Jasmine and Leo

Jasmine got up and stretched, reaching her long brown arms above her head. It was just 5:45 but she hadn't really gotten used to the time change, so she never knew when she would awaken. She pulled on some jeans and a tank top, and as a last minute addition, grabbed a cardigan. Might as well, since you never knew how damp it could be in England. She grabbed her phone and shoved it in her pocket, before letting herself out the door, and walking down the street.
The sunshine was gentle, and the birdcalls were getting louder. There was a sense of peace in her soul, because of the success of the night before. She was always concerned about the quality of their concerts, but lately with all the distraction, it had been worse. And when rehearsals weren't going well one never knew if they would be able to pull off the performance. But last night she did.
She realized that in some ways, it wasn't peace and quiet that was making their performances great. The angst she felt was actually making things better. It gave the performance that edge of excitement, of vitality. When she touched the bow to the strings and felt the vibration through her body, her knees, her chest, as they embraced the deep cries of the instrument, in some ways she was making love to Leo. She was touching her strings as if they were his shoulders, his chest... his beautiful, leonine body. Strong, but lithe, the angles of his legs and ass elegant but powerful and dangerous all in one. Leo... she felt her breath catch in her throat. Had she made an impression on him after all?
Why did he text her?
It had to be something good, she thought. Maybe she had judged him too harshly after what happened with Nigel. Maybe she did mean something to him after all, something special, something real. She felt her phone alert her again, its vibration sharp and arresting in her pocket. She pulled out her phone, which was ringing. It had to be him. After all, nobody else would be calling at this time unless it was her family and there was some emergency. It was 5:30 AM and she was in England after all.
She pressed the button and answered. "Hello?"
There was no response, just the sound of breathing.
"Hello," she repeated again, wonderingly. What was going on?
"Do you want a blowjob?" came a seductive voice. Then there was silence, and the connection was severed. A coldness slithered over her heart. Maybe Leo didn't want after all. Maybe he wasn't thinking of her. Maybe he was thinking of getting fucked. And that was it.
 

***
 

Leo turned around to see Graham with a group of women - all young, gorgeous. Mostly blonde, all barely dressed.
"Ladies, I would like you to meet Leopold Wellington-Kerr," he said grandly. Leo knew he was trying to impress the Americans by using his full name. He was nonplussed.
"Hello, there," he said, and smiled, which set up a round of squealing from the girls.
"Leo, these are...” he paused, realizing that he didn’t bother memorizing their names.  “…the ladies. Would you like any of them to accompany you to your dressing room?"
They preened and did their best to look seductive in the awkward silence that followed the question. Leo was trying to think of something to say, fingering his phone in his pocket, when one of them piped up with, “Do you want a blowjob?" The rest laughed awkwardly.
"Maybe some other time," he answered, barely able to keep a sneer from his lip. It didn't do to be rude, but he was really not interested. He turned around to see Riff there with a Jack and coke in his hand.
"Drink?"
"Oh God, yes," he answered. "Thought you'd never ask."
Riff and Leo watched as Nigel worked the crowd of women, charming them with his accent and his best rock and roll persona. It was one of Nigel's absolute favorite aspects of being a musician, he knew, the afterparty's promise of sex. And lots of sex. And up until recently, it was one of the biggest draws for him as well. Since the concert was like foreplay in a sense, it was only right that it would end with a incredible, earth shattering orgasm. But Leo sipped his drink and thought.
If I can only get hard when thinking of Jasmine, if it isn't her there is no point. Still the others will expect me to take at least one girl back to my room. Perhaps there's one who just wants to talk?
He couldn’t believe the thought was in his head, but it might solve his problem.
Graham came up beside him, bumping his arm and speaking quietly. “Terribly sorry Leo, but were these girls not to your liking? I can find more you know, say, if you prefer non-blondes, for example," he said. He was clearly distressed, since Leo had never turned him down before. Here on one of the most crucial nights of his life, he might be disappointing his most important client.
Leo looked down at him, seeing the concern in his sweaty, slightly bloated face.
"Oh no, dear god no, Graham, please don't bother yourself with that."
"Would a brunette be more desirable? If your tastes have changed, just let me know," he continued. "I can easily find some darker-haired beauties - if you would prefer."
"Not at all, Graham, thank you," he said. Inwardly he felt a pang in his heart, thinking of Jasmine's dark hair, warm glowing dark skin, flashing dark eyes, but he suppressed it. "Look why don't you have a drink and relax, it's what I'm going to do."
Graham nodded. It was unusual to see his manager so unsure of himself, but he supposed it came from the rules suddenly changing and him feeling off his game. He didn't need an insecure manager, that was for sure. Maybe it would be the right thing to at least talk to one of these girls, just to get everyone off his back.
There was one in front of him right now, as a matter of fact. Her dress was silver, sparkling, and hung off her like it would from a clothes hanger, revealing plenty. Her blond hair fell in front of her face, cascading down her back in loose curls. She should have been just perfect, but Leo could barely muster even the slightest interest in her.
Could she make a cello growl and sing?
He didn't think so. But it was important not to lose face in front of the band. He stepped forward, took her by the elbow and led her over to the drinks table.
"I’m Leo Wellington-Kerr. And you are…?" he prompted.

***
 

What the hell even was that? Jasmine asked herself. Do you want a blowjob! She was fuming. Did he butt-dial her, or did he call her with the express purpose of her overhearing? And if it was an accident, what was he doing texting her anyway? She felt stupid for even thinking that anything was between them.
Still was there a chance that it was a mistake?
A small voice within her said.
A small chance that there was an explanation?
Another voice inside her argued.
Take a hint, Jasmine,
it said.
Don't be stupid. He's a rock star, and that means that he can have anyone he wants, at just about any time. And that's just the way it is. No man can resist that offer, can he? That's the dream. He's living it.
Trailing her fingers along the stone wall, she followed the narrow alleyway, forcing her mind to change focus to the music they'd be playing tomorrow night at their next concert. She carved the melodies in her head to their utmost perfection, doing the best she could to ignore the intrusive thoughts that threatened to derail her at any moment.

Did he want a blowjob...

She wished it were she who was with him, who was beside him, clutched to him. She who was undoing his jeans, sliding them off his thin hips, revealing his cock, bouncing out from the confines of his boxers. Taking him in her hand, feeling the springy hardness of his shaft, as she tasted the glistening tip. Looking up at him, his dark hair falling in his eyes as she wrapped her lips around him, running her tongue across the knotted skin on the underside, then taking him in as far as she could, and then slickly pulling away before plunging again, swallowing him.

She felt an irrational anger flare toward the random woman who had offered him this – something that she should do. She and only she – as her center flared with lust.
If that was the kind of girl he wanted, was that the kind of girl she should become? Could she even become like that?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Leo…and the new “What’s-her-name”

Leaning back in his chair, Leo regarded this girl who had ended up in his dressing room. He stared at her. One might say leered at her. Every curve she had, he practically memorized its degrees, its prominence, and every detail.

But it took work. And his dick wouldn’t move.

“Bloody useless thing,” he muttered. “Who needs it?”

“Excuse me?” Said the blonde, looking puzzled, her eyebrows knitting together. “What are you talking about?” Her voice wasn’t exactly a radio announcer’s or anything, but it shouldn’t have irritated Leo in the way that it did. It felt like nails on a chalkboard to listen to her speak, but he knew it was the classic, ‘it’s not you it’s me’ scenario. He watched her perfect lips form words, but nothing came to him but repulsion. Expertly done makeup enhancing flawless features, set off with the best of clothes, and he had absolutely no interest. Just contempt.

The problem was, he just couldn’t help but compare her.

Jasmine.

She’d never say that,
he’d think.
She’d never move her hand that way, or pronounce words in that specific inflection. And those tits! They were nothing in comparison to… Glorious, full, latte-colored orbs, that he had had his hands clutching once – just once. God dammit. Damn it all to hell.

Oh shit, she’d asked him a question. “Nothing dear,” he mumbled. “Nothing you’d be interested in.”
Interested in. Why couldn’t he be interested in those legs. Her gams were long and lean, curving in just the right places, set off by a clearly expensive pair of high heels. Probably Jimmy Choo, or Louboutins. Whatever they were made a perfect picture – two dimensional and flat.

The absolute opposite of Jasmine. Her warmth, her curves… Her tits. Her pussy
.
He’d never seen it, never touched it, never felt its wetness. Ah, there it was. Finally.
His dick was finally moving. He could feel the flickers and tingles, then the pressure as it strained against his jeans.

He could see that what’s-her-name was looking.
Wouldn’t it be nice if he gave a shit at all?

“Look, I’m enjoying this small talk,” she said sweeping a stray tendril out of her eye, “but I can see you’re ready for me now.” Her hand moved toward his fly in what he supposed was meant to be a seductive gesture. Before he knew it he had slapped her hand away. “What the hell!?” She recoiled in apparent disgust. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Her fists went to her hips, and she commenced a full verbal assault.

This made it even easier to tune her out. He sunk back into his chair, and watched, detached, as she screamed at him. In his mind, he went back to his childhood, his parents screaming, ignoring him, seemingly forgetting he was there, as they fought tooth and nail. All manner of obscenities would fly through the thick air as he would clutch a pillow to himself and attempt to shrink – to disappear into the sofa.

He was fucked.

Somehow, he felt a tear coming to his eye, as he remembered the way his mother would storm out of the room, and his father would grab a bottle and glass, pouring it full and drinking it straight down, before wiping his mouth and leaving as well, little Leo left alone, abandoned in the posh living room, no one but himself to tuck him in.
At first he would watch TV quietly, looking for something he wouldn’t be allowed to watch, and then he would sneak little sips of the bottle, always refilling the glass his father used, just a little, and taking little burning drops in his mouth until he felt woozy. When he finally was caught, that’s when they’d sent him to private school.

“Are you listening to me?” The blonde snapped, face right in his, finger waggling.

He grabbed her arm, so thin and weak he could snap it if he liked, but he was still barely under control.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he hissed, “you goddamned bitch!”

And with that he fell back in his chair, grabbed his drink and drained it, as she grabbed her fancy beaded purse and stormed out. She had lost a shoe in the debacle, so he almost laughed as she ran over to it with a strange loping gait.
Then she slammed the door behind him. “I’m going to sue you!” were her parting words.

Let her try,
thought Leo.
Let her fucking try. All of the English lawyers on her arse, she won’t know what hit her.
He curled up on the couch in the dressing room, clutching the one throw pillow to himself, and willing sleep to take him over, but not until he texted Jasmine.

“Are u up? Miss u. Thinking of U xo”

Then his eyes shut and he fell into a dreamless, remorseless sleep. That would come later.